#props to whoever drew this love you so much

[pumpkinbxtch]

hello, a request please, from apollo x readerposeidon, how does apollo react if hermes tries to flirt with his girlfriend reader (hermes just wants to bother his older brother)

• this is a message for THAT nereid!

— apollo x daughter of poseidon!reader

warnings: none

a/n: Hi baby. here's your apollo crew being jealous there's nothing more like him than that.

✷

Apollo started biting his nails as soon as he heard your laughter echoing in his dining room, which he found stupid because it was HIS dining room and you were laughing with another guy right in his face. Well, it was not just another guy, it was his brother, which made it a million times worse.

His visits used to be enjoyable, now not so much.

— So, ¿what do you say? — Hermes asked, winking at you, and Apollo wondered about the sudden need to make his life miserable by looking you in that way.

Your lips painted another smile as you playfully shook your head, glancing sideways at your boyfriend, who was struggling not to throw the vase at his brother's face. Honestly, it amused you. “This is for all the times you let that Nereid flirt with you in front of me,” you thought, it was your perfect revenge, and with his brother willing to play along, they were hitting the nail on the head.

— Hmm. What do you say, darling? We can stay in that house for the summer. It's close to the water, and I think it would help me train while waiting for the swimming tryouts.

Apollo forced a smile and nodded silently, if he spoke, he'd surely yell. Hermes played with the crystal glass and leaned slightly towards you.

— Even if my brother can't be with you all the time, you can go on your own — he said, looking at his brother, pretending to be kind, and Apollo felt his blood boil. — I'll keep an eye on her for you, brother.

Apollo scoffed — I don't want you keeping any eye on my girlfriend, thanks.

The double entendre floated between you, and you pressed your lips together, trying not to smile.

Hermes ran his hand through his black curls while making loops with his hand, trying to find words to elaborate. That was exasperating, Apollo thought he was just trying to look dashing. For his misfortune, his brother kept talking.

— I think it'll be fine, she needs it for her training, after all, right? — He turned to you with the blue eyes that every son of Zeus seemed to possess. — Although, they should fear you from now on, doll.

Apollo choked at that word and drew both of your attention.

— Is everything alright, Apollo? — Hermes smiled maliciously, and the sun god remembered the stupid rule that whoever gets angry first loses.

— Nothing — Apollo replied, snapping his fingers to start the music. maybe breaking that stupid tension.

When “The Girl Is Mine” by Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney started, you were close to crack up. You couldn’t believe him.

— I love this song, little bro — Hermes hummed while drumming his fingers on the glass table, passing over the message on purpose.

“'Little bro'? I'm the older one,” Apollo thought, annoyed. He couldn't wait to kick that idiot out of his mansion.

The part with the ex-beatle began, and the messenger of the gods leaned closer and starting to sing to you.

— I love you more than he… — Hermes winked at you.

— Okay, enough — Apollo exclaimed, standing up and covering his brother's mouth with his hand. He kept singing even as his voice died in your boyfriend's palms.

 Apollo growled and shot you a furious look before disappearing with him in a golden dust.

As you were left alone in the dining room, you burst into laughter and took a sip of water, impressed by your brother-in-law's performance.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway, and you masked your smile with a serious expression.

 Apollo dusted off his hands and sat back down, his eyes fixed in the center of the table. You cleared your throat and casually propped one leg up on the chair, playing with your hair as you listened to him rant.

— And tell me, my love —your voice echoed through the palace vaults, — how does it feel? — In the midst of those emotions that had him on the edge of a psychotic episode, that question caught him off guard. You raised your eyebrows sanctimoniously and smiled smugly.

Oh.

— You! — He pointed at you accusingly, and you ran off giggling.

As he tried to catch up with you, he heard the echoes of the palace bringing the reason you played along with his brother's stupid game: “Tell that damn Nereid to screw off, you're mine!” And the brake on his heels, now fearing you'd walk back to him.

Okay, you won. Definitely, Apollo wouldn't even talk to a rock if it kept you from flirting with his brother again.

✷⁠

#maría's shared dreams☆｡ﾟ✧ #pjo hoo toa #trials of apollo #heroes of olympus #apollo x y/n #apollo x you #apollo x reader #apollo #lester papadopoulos x you #lester papadopoulos x reader #lester papadopoulos #hermes #pjo #percy jackson

[innytoes]

I read prompt 51 in Reggie’s voice, so please - with whoever else you think!

- @anotherfantom

Set in the Cat!Reggie and Sugar Salmon!Daddy verse.

Reggie was lounging on Caleb's bed, waiting for the guy to get out of the shower. He kind of regretted not joining him, but he'd still been in Cat Mode when Caleb got home, curled up in the middle of the bed in the perfect pool of sunlight, and he'd been too cozy to move.

It wasn't like he lived here, or anything. It just wasn't like he didn't live here, either. Caleb had installed a magical cat flap that only let him in, and he had his own drawers in Caleb's drawer, with fancy outfits Caleb had gotten him, and a toothbrush in the bathroom, and all his cat stuff around the house. But he was free to come and go as he pleased.

He just happened to like to be here at times he knew Caleb would get home. Especially if he was going to be naked. So sue him. His boyfriend was hot.

He perked up when he heard the water shut off, changing back to human so he could fully enjoy the view. He was still in the cozy patch of sunlight, except it only covered part of his back. The light on bare skin was different than on his fur, but also nice. He was just wearing some cute cotton shorts Caleb had gotten him as he lazed on his stomach, kicking his feet in delight when Caleb came out of the shower, still toweling off his hair.

"Hello, Kitten," he said, leaning over to kiss Reggie.

"Hi," Reggie said, a little breathless after the kiss, and the view. "How was your day?"

"Oh, simply awful," Caleb said, as he rooted around his drawers for some comfortable silk pants. Reggie enjoyed the view while it lasted, though Caleb in silk was also nice. "The Council is all up in a tiff because apparently the pixies that have roosted in my Club are 'illegal' and 'not supposed to be there'."

"You don't mind them?" Reggie asked, making grabby hands at Caleb until he sat back down on the bed. Okay, so he only did it to put on his socks, but he was still shirtless. Jackpot. Reggie draped himself over the man's back, enjoying his warm, clean skin against his own. Caleb happily leaned back.

"No, if you give them something to do they're actually quite helpful. Also they've been ah, deterring staff who keeps trying to use my props room as a make-out spot, which is ever so helpful."

"So how are you going to gaslight gatekeep girlboss your way out of this?" Reggie asked. From Caleb's rants - he did them less when Reggie was human, but he loved grumbling about it when Reggie was a cat, especially when they hadn't yet officially established Reggie could be human - the Hollywood Wizard Council were pretty much sticklers for the rules they themselves made up.

"How am I what?" Caleb asked, turning to him. He looked adorably confused, which was a new expression on him. Reggie kissed his nose, and he wrinkled it even more adorably. And handsomely.

"It's a thing," he shrugged. "An internet thing."

Caleb turned to kiss him properly. "It's a good thing you make me feel so young, darling, because you just made me feel very, very old."

"Oh, I'll make you feel young, alright," Reggie grinned.

The silk pants came off again, and they had a very, very nice evening. Later, when Reggie was curled up on Caleb's chest, feeling like he'd be purring if he was in Cat Mode, he looked up. "Okay but how are you going to get the Council off your back about the pixies?"

Caleb looked down. "Oh. I drew up a contract and had them sign it. They're now officially employees of the Hollywood Ghost Club, paid in room and board and one shiny button a month. They negotiated hard for that last one."

"You do have a lot of nice and shiny buttons," Reggie mused.

"Is that girlboss gamer gatelight of me?" Caleb asked, and Reggie laughed so hard he accidentally turned back into a cat.

#julie and the phantoms #calebxreggie #fanfic #cat!reggie #sugar daddy au #AUs are awesome #I wrote a thing #you know that Reggie keeps all his normal clothes at home with the guys #but the stuff at Caleb's is like Expensive Fancy Longewear and Sex Kitten stuff but also a few really fancy outfits #for when Caleb wants to take him out on the town #also like 4 different lint rollers and cat hair removers lol

[mable-stitchpunk]

Going Home in a Box: Chapter 64- Teaser

“I’ve got to be honest, this doesn’t seem like a good idea,” Mike said. In a surprising twist, he was playing the voice of reason for once.

Of course, he was currently driving towards the Pizzaplex with a car full of animatronics, so he knew good and well it was too late to even pretend that he was the reasonable one.

“Oh, it’s not,” Marionette agreed. “But I don’t see how it is possible that it can be any worse than last time.”

Foxy and Charlie agreed from the backseat.

“And by that I mean: under no circumstances will this end up like last time,” Marionette clarified.

The grumble and hum of agreement responded again.

“Because if it does, I am throwing whoever is the cause of it directly into the nearest dumpster to make an example out of them.”

“I would’ve loved to see you wrestle Ennard into a dumpster,” Mike said off-handedly as he turned off the highway.

“Yer just built like that Schmidt,” Foxy scoffed.

“I get my kicks on route six-six-six,” Mike replied. “Speaking of hell, we’re here.”

“Not counting the thirty minutes it takes to get inside,” Charlie quipped.

“Nah, we’re gonna be halfin’ that. Freddy’s got us on a tight schedule, and we got a double birthday before lunch. We’re going to be leggin’ it less we want to spend our whole time walkin’,” Foxy explained. He shifted his legs in the tight confines of the space behind the passenger seat, Marionette already scooted up as far as he could go. “Let that be yer warnin’ that if ya guys get distracted with Jake ‘er Sun, ‘er whoever, I be leavin’ you.”

“And what happens when Freddy gets distracted with Sun?” Marionette playfully asked. Pulling down the passenger mirror and peeking into the back with it.

“Then I’m grabbin’ the boy and leavin’ ‘em both,” Foxy said. As unamused as he sounded, everyone in that car knew he wasn’t kidding.

They pulled up towards the back of the Pizzaplex, further down past Natalie’s car and closer to the back entrance where they would be heading in. They got out of the car and hastily hurried around back to the exit door and found it propped open.

Foxy led the way into the loading docks where Freddy and Gregory were waiting. The bear anxiously pacing around while the boy spun back and forth in the office chair behind the loading dock controller desk. Then the doors opened, and Freddy looked up to see Foxy sauntering in, tossing his arms open in a silent proclamation of his arrival. Freddy perked up with his eyes glowing with excitement.

“Foxy, you came back!” Freddy cried. Then he lunged.

“Ya couldn’t keep me aw- Omph!” Foxy was cut off by Freddy misreading his gesture and taking him into a big hug. It would’ve knocked the air out of his lungs if he still had them. After a second he recovered enough to chuckle and pat Freddy’s back.

“I missed you so much!” Freddy finally drew back but kept his hands on Foxy’s shoulders. His mouth open in an excited grin.

“Blimey, Freddy. It’s only been a few weeks,” Foxy pointed out. His voice low in a mixture of confuse and concern.

“It has been a long few weeks,” Freddy answered. His eyes briefly giving away a melancholy look, only for him to quickly cover it back up. “But now that you are here, are you ready for the raddest night of your life?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” Foxy proclaimed. He pointed his hook back. “Yar, I brought them too.”

Mike, Charlie, and Marionette greeted Freddy with two “Hey”s and an “Good evening”.

“Hey, guys!” Gregory chimed up.

“Ahoy, Lad!” Foxy greeted.

Mike walked up and tussled his hair. “How’re you doing, Kid? Staying out of trouble?” he asked.

“Kind of. Nobody’s caught me yet,” Gregory answered.

“That’s how you do it. You keep that up and you’ll be set for life.”

“Mike,” Freddy lightly disagreed.

“He knows I’m kidding,” Mike said, sending Gregory a playful wink. The boy smiled back, apparently won over by the ‘cool’ display.

“He knows you’re not kidding,” Marionette retorted. Gliding up beside him before smiling down at Gregory. “Nice to see you again, Gregory. I like your shirt!”

“Thanks! Freddy got it for me,” Gregory replied.

He pulled it out so it could be seen better. It was another Freddy shirt, but this one didn’t have Freddy himself but instead crisscross claw marks and a microphone, with a cursive autograph-grade ‘Freddy Fazbear’ in the corner. It was deep navy in color. Though the shirt wasn’t the only noticeable thing. Gregory seemed generally more put together, with brushed out- but still naturally tussled- hair and a face clean of band aids and lacking the sunken in marks that used to be prominent under his eyes.

Both Foxy and Marionette easily recognized the signs of a neglected child. Seeing those signs start to disappear off Gregory were both noticeable and filled them with joy.

Freddy perked up happily at Gregory’s showing off the shirt, then turned his attention to Charlie.

“Speaking of cool digs- Charlie, I notice your jacket! It is very cool. Did you get it for your birthday?”

“I did! It’s brand new,” Charlie said. Stretching out her arms to show it off.

“It’s a high-grade costume with everyday wearability. We had the ones who made Foxy’s coat make it,” Marionette explained proudly.

Both Freddy and Gregory looked at Foxy’s hoodie.

“Not this! Me pirate’s coat! The one back at the pizzeria,” Foxy interjected with a half-chuckle.

“Oh! Of course!” Freddy said. “It IS a good quality hoodie though.”

“Hasn’t died on me yet,” Foxy replied.

“Only smells like it has,” Mike quipped with a grin.

“That’s because of you-!”

“Hey Charlie, did you get our gift?” Gregory asked, ignoring the upcoming battle he had inadvertently cut off.

“I did, and I love it! I’ve got it set up on my nightstand and it makes for an incredible nightlight,” Charlie said thankfully.

“Gregory, we should get one for you! That way you will have a nightlight during the hourly recharge,” Freddy suggested. Gregory got a somewhat embarrassed look at this.

“Okay! But only because it’s cool, not because I need it. I’m not scared of the dark or anything,” he amended.

“I’m not either. I just like to leave a light on,” Charlie agreed to assure him.

“Usually, we keep the hall light on to see. There’s a difference between being scared of the dark and being scared you’re going to trip over something walking to the bathroom and chip a tooth,” Mike added on.

The mix of both statements making Gregory a little less self-conscious. The group started to make their way out of the loading docks and towards the elevator.

While on their way in, Charlie reached out to Jake through her radio.

“Jake, are you there?”

“Hey, welcome back! I heard you have a hot date up in the Fazcade,” Jake greeted with a cheery pep to his voice.

“Oh yeah? What’s it like?”

“I can’t tell you… That is, if I tell you, it will ruin the surprise. You just have to see it for yourself!”

“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be,” Charlie replied jokingly. “Then I guess I can’t tell you how far I’ve gotten putting together your gift.”

“Uh oh. I didn’t foresee this possibility,” Jake replied. “Guess I’m going to have to bribe you with information.”

“Give me a hint and you’ll get the goods.”

“Okay, let’s see… Well, first off: If you’re expecting the West Arcade to look anything like the East Arcade, it doesn’t. Expect a lot of stairs.”

“In this place? I already do,” Charlie joked. “So, I’ve gotten the chest section together. The frame, I mean, but I haven’t even started on the wiring-.”

As she was talking with him, falling a little behind to do so, Marionette decided to catch up to Freddy’s side and start his own conversation.

“How is Chica?” he asked.

“She is… managing. I do not know if Foxy told you, but she did not have her voice box replaced. I spoke with the technicians today about replacing it, but they refused.”

“What excuse they give fer that?” Foxy asked.

“They said… due to the fact that her upgrade was such a valuable piece of equipment, and that they are not authorized to replace it with anything else, they will not be replacing it. Not until higher ups tell them to do so.”

“I’m sorry, Freddy,” Marionette apologized remorsefully. Foxy patted his shoulder sympathetically.

Mike was silent. That was the most he could do. Listening from beside them, there was a lot he wanted to say- and a lot that immediately sparked frustration- but venting those feelings wouldn’t exactly help Freddy. Especially when he started venting them himself.

“I do not understand how they can be so callous. I understand the thinking process, to stop this from happening again, but… it is ridiculous to treat us like this. Monty is right, they would not treat human employees like this.”

“Agreed, but if they’re anything like the old Freddy’s they don’t treat the human employees much better. That’s how many of them wound up being the next line of entertainers,” Mike said cryptically. Marionette nodded in agreement.

“Only reason the employees ‘round here got it so good’s ‘cause there ain’t more than a handful of ‘em,” Foxy scoffed.

“You’ve got a point about that. It’s easy to ‘lose track’ of one of hundreds of employees, but if it’s one of ten, you’d think people would ask questions,” Mike agreed.

“Sometimes…” Marionette ominously half-agreed.

“But we are supposed to be part of the new and improved Freddy Fazbear’s! How can they accept that same behavior of the old franchise if we are supposed to be doing better? Safety first, then service. What they are doing to Chica is just pure laziness,” Freddy said. He sighed and then perked up slightly, “But for now, she is at least no longer in Parts and Service. Chica will be at the salon with Roxy tonight, so we will not have to worry about her hearing us. They are having a girls’ night out, but in!”

The conversation lightened up and thinned out as they continued to the elevator and rode up. Then headed out to the atrium and rode an atrium elevator up to the top floor, barely able to squeeze everyone inside.

“There is something I should tell you before we get to the West Arcade. There is a possibility that you may lose me sometime tonight,” Freddy warned.

“What? When’d that happen?” Gregory asked in surprise, turning around and looking up at him. Foxy also looked over in surprise, nearly getting a mouthful of shoulder pad in the process.

“It is true. Regretfully, I will no longer be in control…” Freddy said cryptically. “When I step onto the West Arcade dance floor, I cannot stop myself! It is a programming bug.”

“Ugh, Freddy,” Gregory pouted. Freddy chuckled.

“I have the same bug. I do a mean macarena,” Marionette chimed in. He then proceeded to do a very brief demonstration- one Freddy could barely see over his shoulder and somehow managed to dodge hitting Mike and Charlie in the process.

“Yar, I be partyin’ with a coupla dorks,” Foxy said with some fondness and strode out.

“But all jokes aside, I do have to get in at least five minutes of dancing to stop the irresistible urge to return myself to the dance floor,” Freddy remarked.

Foxy sent him a weird look only to see Freddy smiling, dead serious. He decided to not even question it; it wouldn’t be the worst Fazbear mandated ‘quirk’ he had seen.

Freddy got them through the Party Bot, and they started walking through the entrance hall outside of the Fazcade. When they were suddenly interrupted by a long leg with puffy star-studded pants stepping out from behind a pillar. The rest of the jester body slinking after.

“Gooood eveniiing,” Moon greeted. The wicked grin on his face appropriately matching his tone.

As suddenly as he appeared, nobody was that surprised to see him. At least not beyond a second or two.

“Hey Moon,” Charlie greeted.

“And hello to you too, Jingle Bell,” Moon greeted. His face rolling in a display of fondness that showed Sun just beneath the surface.

“Ahoy,” Foxy also greeted.

Marionette gave a chime and a wave while Mike got a little grin.

“So, have you been waiting for us long or did you beat us up here?” Mike asked cheekily.

“My time is very valuable, Mr. Schmidt.”

There was a pause in anticipation for a further answer, but Moon didn’t give one.

“Did you change your mind?” Freddy offered, finally breaking that silence with a hopeful warmth to his tone.

“I’m afraid not. Here’s the deal for you all to hear,” Moon announced. He tented fingers, made a motion and sound like inhaling, and then began to list off his grievances on his fingers. “No setting off any alerts, no rousing suspicion with any of the Glamrocks, no entering into the Hive Arcade, no annoying the DJ, no climbing over the railing, running down the stairs, riding down the railings, using fake coins, tokens, or any inappropriate coin-shaped objects in any of the machines…”

He paused for dramatic effect, then pointed at Gregory.

“And he is downstairs and in bed before three.”

“What?!” Gregory cried.

“My only offer.”

“I think that is a very fair offer!” Freddy agreed. Gregory looked up at him in betrayal before huffing.

“You would say that,” he grumbled.

“Just fer me own curiosity, but when’d you start calling the shots?” Foxy asked. He sounded more amused than anything. Or perhaps not amused, maybe a little smug, a shred of mocking in his tone.

“I have been calling the shots since the first night you got here. I just haven’t put my foot down until now,” Moon quickly corrected. “Don’t like Misss Smith fool you. I am the night guard.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” Mike agreed.

“Then you best follow my rules, or I will be sure to escort you out,” Moon tutted. He then, finally, stepped aside and made a sweeping motion back with his arms. “Now then… Enjoy your stay.”

The group passed by- Freddy giving him a wink as he did- and headed through the security door and into the West Arcade proper.

#Mike Schmidt #Marionette #Charlie Emily #Foxy #Glamrock Freddy #Gregory #Moon #Jake #West Arcade #Going Home in a Box #GHIAB #Chapter 64 #teaser #it is a programming bug

[thanatasia]

Great Con-Junction 2022

This past weekend was very busy but a lot of fun!

It was so nice to be able to be in the same room as so many people who made TDC:AoR and the original TDC film. So much so that it was a bit overwhelming lol

I believe my rambling became the star of the show when talking to fellow artists and people involved with the film and series. My best friend @yellowtribalwolf and I were lucky to get tickets to the lot party and tour. I'll share this gem because I've got this song stuck in my head. Maybe I'll share some more photos. Maybe stuff from the Henson Lot and Creature Shop

I was so lucky enough to meet @sifanjewel and I was so so much fun talking with you and going to different panels and the workshop! I still can't believe we got to hang out out there lol

One of those panels was a quiz where whoever got the last question right would win a Stone-in-the-wood prop- my head heard a question related to the Trial by Stone Podcast where they spoke with one of the writers who spoke of a scraped scene where there was going to be a fight on Rek'yr's Sandskimmer with SkekMal. This scene was replaced with Seladon's Gothic transformation. In my head I heard, flight and Seladon and- got the question wrong. The funny thing is they gave me a second chance, I got tongue tied and almost said; Flight of Passage 🤣 I was close to owning a prop but it's a funny story I'll get a kick out of lol

I got to meet Beccy Henderson! She said my Elf/Gelfling outfit was lovely. She also recognized my artwork because I gave her a Stonegrot sticker. I felt so happy! I will die happy getting complimented by her. I even got an autograph from her...but my dad who also went along but explored on his own lost my autograph before my friend and I got to the Henson Lot party

Gelfling are TINY! I always knew they were small but they are literally the height of a young child lol

I couldn't take pictures but while at the Creature Shop I saw the SkekTek prototype puppet used for the initial idea of puppet Skeksis and CGI Gelflings. There was also a Podling head sculpt that was nicknamed, Stoned, I thought that was hilarious.

Continuing from the Creature Shop tour I saw a prop used for the deleted scene of the Emperor's Funeral in the original film, as well as Crawlies. I think everyone who watched the TDC documentary that's included in the bonus features of the DVD knows the Crawlies were basically wind-up toys; I couldn't tell what they were beforehand but they were very flakey and delicate

My friend and I got to puppeteer an animal tail. It was both weird but mesmerizing seeing it move to how you moved the handles

I got my artwork reviewed by TOBY FROUD?!?! I wish I had original art but 1) I haven't completed any 2) most of whatever original art I make is depressing. Regardless, he said my art was, "very lovely" and that I should consider storyboarding

I wanna make another post regarding the drawing workshop with the amazing artist, Cory Godbey. That Mystic I drew came out pretty good...profile views are all we'll see from me. Hearing his input about his experience in art and getting work was very informative. He has a nice calming voice which made the workshop relaxing. My only criticism of the workshop is that it was a paid activity but the event organizers didn't provide paper and pencils. Excluding that it was a great class!

Lisa Maxwell had a fun time talking to my best friend and I because we share the same name but there's one letter in our names that are spelled different. She called us, Clever Girls and I will die happy being complimented by her

A buddy of mine couldn't attend so while passing her art to Stephen Garlick (Jen), Lisa Maxwell (Kira) and Victor Yerrid (Hup), I had some sweet conversations. I even got a picture with Stephen Garlick. Victor Yerrid said my online name was really cool. Again, I will die happy getting complimented for my interesting art name.

I got to meet @feusus , @candythemew and another artist named R0b0crazylady (IG, please correct me if she does have a Tumblr) at their art tables. It's still surreal I got to have conversations with you all. Albeit I was rambling way too much (or maybe I'm too hard on myself) I hope you all had made a great profit. Tbh I think I was more excited matching faces to online profile pictures. You all are very sweet people and I'm so happy to have met you

TDC museum they installed was lovely! SkekSil and SkekOk were there in all their Skeksis glory. Which surprised me- mostly SkekSil I did not expect to see him. If we include the lot party I met my sister's favorite Skeksis, SkekEkt.

At the end I had gotten a picture with Lisa and Cheryl Henson. Mostly for my mom's sake because she would've figurativly killed me if I didn't. I also wanted to, I mean now I can say I got to meet the daughters of Jim Henson who helped keep TDC alive and helped get AoR running

The ending ceremony was an experience. Reciting the Gelfling prophecy was a fantastic end to a great TDC convention. I truly hope there is something again in celebration for AoR

I could probably write more but I'm drawing a blank, and maybe I'm rambling lol

Idk if Thames Con has a Tumblr but thank you for setting this event up. Thank you Trial by Stone Podcast for the coverage and amazing episodes to your Podcast, I was too shy to say hello lol

My only regret is not mingling/networking during the Henson Lot party. I had gotten about 3 hrs of sleep the night prior because I was excited like a child on Christmas Eve. So by 8pm I was getting sleepy lol

#thanatasia #great con junction 2022 #dark crystal #i didn't ask many questions to the puppeteers/actors lol #I'm not the kindest person to myself and think I make a fool of myself in front of people I admire so a lot of that is on me #but that doesn't take away from the fact that I did have an amazing time #dark crystal age of resistance #for anyone on IG get ready for my monster description in tomorrow's post lol

[its-not-called-an-arrow-thrower]

Found this on reddit, thought of Crablor, and laughed so hard I cried

#happy halloween yall #crablor #silmarillion #maglor #tolkien #props to whoever drew this love you so much

[americahasasuperstar]

𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐇 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘! ( 𝐒. 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍 )

pairing ( s ) — sarah cameron x pogue! female reader

summary — sarah teases you the point where you have to remind her who’s boss… with your friends in the next room

warnings — smut ( duh ) , graphic descriptions, fingering, semi-public sex, overstimulation, brat sarah because that’s canon stfu, cum eating ( drinking? idk what tf to say. her cum is your mouth ) & mentions of bdsm

Sarah couldn’t really blame you for snapping, considering she pushed you to your limits on purpose. But she didn’t think that you would make an excuse that excused you both to the bathroom and teach her a lesson right then and there. That was a shock to her but then again, you were a Pogue and you didn’t give a fuck about anything. One of the reasons why she loved you so much. Another reason being how good you made her feel.

The shower was turned on and the sound of the water was supposed to drown out the moans that you drew from Sarah without much effort. Key word : supposed. She was never one to stay quiet when you two were having sex and you didn’t know why you stupidly assume that now would be the time that she stayed quiet but you couldn’t be more wrong.

Legs propped up on the counter, panties pulled down to her ankles, Sarah threw her head back as she watched you devour her from your spot on the floor. Your tongue lapped up all the juices that her pussy was leaning, savoring the taste of your girlfriend. You didn’t know what you did to score such a hot girl that tasted so good, hit you were surely glad you did it. It was a dream come true to be staring into Sarah Cameron’s cunt. Truly.

Sarah whined as your tongue maneuvered its way in the best ways possible. Her cunt was throbbing for more, despite having you between her legs. She wanted more. She always did. Your beautiful baby was always so ungrateful until you put her in her place and rocked her entire world with an orgasm that sent her limping home for a well needed nap. Which is exactly what she wanted now. But you both knew what she had to do in order to get what she was craving.

And that was beg.

“Y/N!” Sarah mewled, not caring anymore that the others were in the other room and could her being slutted out just like she wanted to be. “Do more, please. I want to cum!” She moaned, grabbing your head and pushing you deeper.

You retracted your mouth for a quick second, blessing Sarah with the view of your entire face covered in jet juices. “I didn’t hear a please.” You smirked.

“I just fucking—“ Her words were cut off by a pained moan that slipped past her lips when you slapped her on her clit. She loved how much it hurt, grinding her hips to get more friction.

“Say it again.” You ordered.

“God, just make me cum already! John B was better than this!” Sarah groaned, throwing her head back as she tried to push your head back into her pussy. But you wee much stronger when than you. Especially with the new found anger that her comment sparked inside of you.

Whoever spread the false information that being on top meant you were in charge surely didn’t know about Sarah and you. Sarah was a brat, it was why she turned you on so much. It made you so wet thinking about all the things you could do to put Sarah in her place. Yet, that didn’t mean you had all the control. Sarah always got what she wanted whether it took a long time for her to please you and meet your standards or not.

You were used to her comments that were an attempt at pushing you to be rough with her by now. She always mentioned how she could find someone else to fuck her better or how your tongue was more useless than her fingers. But she never once brought up her exes. That was something that she figured was off limits because who wanted to hear about their girlfriend’s ex during sex? But now was a different story.

Sarah knew how much you didn’t like the fact that John B got to her first. It pissed you off that he got a taste of her before you did when you had liked her longer than anyone else on the island. And she knew all of that and still chose to taunt you with it. You two hadn’t had sex in two days which wasn’t really long for you, but for her it was a lifetime. So if she had to piss you off for real to you to fuck the orgasm out of her then so be it.

It’s not like she meant anything that she said. Not that you cared whether she meant it or not.

The blonde girl was taken aback when you shoved your two fingers inside of her, making her arch her back and let out a sinful moan that the Pogues outside most definitely heard. The mixture of your fingers pumping in and out at a rough pace and your tongue lapping up her juices was enough to make Sarah cum right then and there, leaving your face soaked with the juices that squirted all over you when she came. That was new… but still hot.

You didn’t stop there though. Sarah wanted to be a brat and get punished, so that was exactly what you were going to give her. She didn’t think the comment she made about John B pissed you off that much but when you didn’t stop fucking her with her fingers and lapping up everything she was giving you, she knew that you weren’t playing around.

Embarrassingly loud moans were forced out of her mouth as you kept shoving your fingers inside of her. Your nose was still brushing up against her clit too, joining the pleasure being brought by your tongue invading her lips. She didn’t know how she was going to love this down when she was around the others but you didn’t care. Your only mission was to put her in her rightful place, which you were succeeding at.

“I’m going to cum again!” Sarah groaned, covering her face with her arm. She was embarrassed that she became such a mess at your command but it wasn’t like she could help it. You try and keep your composure when you’re being fucked into oblivion!

“Good. Give me everything you got.” You muttered, your woods sending vibrations up her core.

“It hurts so good Y/N! Oh my god!” She cried out.

You smirked at how much she was affected by your fingers and mouth, pulling back while you still fingered her. Even curling your fingers a bit to fuck with her even more and make her moan loudly again. “I cant wait to tie you up later and fuck you with everything I have.” You told her.

“I can’t wait either- fuck, I’m cumming!” She gasped, grabbing your head and shoving you back into her pussy as she came all over your face again.

You gladly sucked on her clit as if it was a piece of candy, which it really was to you since she tasted so sweet. She started shaking as you fucked her through her second orgasm, slowing your fingers down a bit as she came down from the blissful high she was experiencing in the bathroom of her ex boyfriend’s house with all of your friends in the next room.

And speaking of your friends. It seemed like they had enough of her constant moaning and whining when you heard a rapid set of bangs on the bathroom door.

“Hey Sarah! Can you cum a little quieter next time? We can’t hear the damn tv with you screaming!” Kiara shouted, a chorus of laughter coming from the boys and you while Sarah just blushed and buried her face in her hands.

You chuckled as you pressed a gentle kiss to her sensitive clit, making her buck her lips up towards you. But as tempting as it was to keep on fucking her until the day was over, you pulled back and let her rest. Plus, she was already serving fatigued and embarrassed from cumming so loudly when her friends could hear her. But her embarrassment wasn’t something you cared about.

It’s what a brat like your beautiful girlfriend deserved.

#sarah cameron #sarah cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks smut #john b x reader #jj x reader #pope x reader #kiara x reader #rafe x reader #madelyn cline #sarah cameron smut #sarah cameron imagine #outer banks imagine #obx netflix #obx s2

[andypantsx3]

subtle | shouto todoroki/reader

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

status: complete

length: 2,171 words

summary: Someone leaves chocolates on your desk. You're determined to track down the sender, certain it's a mistake, and Shouto Todoroki makes himself as unhelpful as possible.

tags: romance, reader-insert, fluff, valentine’s day

warnings: aged up characters (no smut though!!)

There was a box on your desk.

There was a box on your desk, and the sight of it was enough to instantly set you on edge.

The box looked normal enough, if a little fancy, maybe. Its lacquered top glinted brightly under the fluorescent office lighting, its smooth, polished sides waterfalling into the soft matte of your desktop underneath. You weren’t close enough to read the inscription, but you could just make out some elegant, curling script inlaid into the top of the box, possibly the name of whichever company had produced it.

The box looked very normal, in fact. Only, you knew it wasn’t. Boxes didn’t just show up in the middle of the Todoroki Hero Agency, a campus swimming with pros and armed with layers of security so deep it took even you--Shouto Todoroki’s manager--fifteen full minutes to get through screening every morning. It was something very much like being a prison guard at Tartarus.

So either this box meant the agency was dealing with a security breach the likes of which had scarcely been seen before, or someone had mistaken your desk for somebody else’s.

Which, considering it was Valentine’s Day, made a lot more sense.

Buoyed by the realization it wasn't a security risk, you crept closer, peering at the box, and the script resolved itself into the name of the extremely fancy chocolatier in Hiroo district that you made a point of drooling over every time you had to make a house call on Shouto. Their prices were literally insane, so you had never let yourself wander inside, unwilling to shell out an entire week’s pay for a tiny set of chocolates. Even if they did look absolutely fucking unbelievable from the window.

Your mouth watered.

That confirmed it--this was a Valentine's gift, and it was definitely a mistake. For the briefest of seconds, you’d wondered if maybe you had gotten obligatory office friendship chocolates, but this was too much. Some poor, love-sodden flop had gone out, spent their week’s pay on someone they were clearly very serious about, and then proceeded to fuck the entire thing up by plonking their gift straight onto your desk instead of their intended’s.

You frowned, quickly checking the box over for some kind of clue as to who had left it. There was no note included, nothing even mildly helpful that would give you the slightest hint of the person who'd left it here. Which left you with the question of how to return the box to the sender without knowing who they were, or how to pass it on to whoever they’d really meant it for.

You drew your bottom lip between your teeth, staring hard at the surface of the box like you could crack its code if only you glared hard enough. The box stared back at you, unhelpfully silent.

You were still skewering the box with your gaze some minutes later, determined to unravel its secrets, when a deep voice murmured from your doorway.

“You look puzzled."

You startled, whipping around to find Shouto propping up the wall, looking as unfairly handsome as usual. He was watching you intently, those heterochromatic eyes fastened to your face in that careful way he had, the one that always made you feel too warm and slightly unfocused. As usual, it was all you could do to remind yourself that you were a professional and he was something solidly between a friend and a coworker, and no matter how cute and attentive he was, you shouldn't get any ideas.

This morning, he was dressed in his hero uniform, tall and broad-shouldered, his distinctive hair only a little ruffled from his early patrol. It wasn’t often someone tried something in the districts he watched over anymore, probably too nervous to find themselves on the wrong end of the number four hero’s temper. You knew from the reports you received to your phone that the only trouble he’d encountered this morning was a pack of amorous school girls purposely misusing their quirks to draw his attention.

Thirty minutes ago, in fact, you’d almost spit out your coffee laughing at a photo of him looking wildly uncomfortable as he attempted to ice down some girl’s lava quirk with his right hand while fighting off her unfathomably enormous bouquet with his left. It was only right that he should suffer once a year, when every other day he got to stalk about as handsome as you please, oblivious to the effects his appearance had on every breathing person within a five mile radius.

You gave him an absent nod, gaze drawn back to the box on your desk.

“Somebody accidentally left something in here,” you told him, gesturing to it. “I’m trying to figure out how to track down who it was, or who it was meant for.”

Shouto made a small noise in the back of his throat, almost like a cough, and it was enough to startle you into looking up at him again.

“What?” you asked, peering at him. Was he coming down with something? It wasn't often he got sick, but when he did, he usually attempted to hide it and needed to be steamrolled into taking time off. You looked him over, trying to assess whether or not you needed to start badgering him now.

Shouto gazed back at you evenly, his expression deceptively bland. “...You think it’s not for you.”

You felt yourself blink at him, surprised by the comment and struggling to discern his meaning. What did he mean, you think it’s not for you? “Of course it’s not for me, Shouto, it’s from Grégoire Chardin.”

You knew he’d know the place, considering he lived in the same fancy rich people neighborhood as the chocolatier, but Shouto looked unimpressed.

“Why should that mean it’s not for you?” he asked, his tone dry.

The remark caught you off guard, as his comments sometimes did, and you bit down something like a smile. Bless his sweet, oblivious, rich boy heart. Either he overestimated your appeal to his agency staff, or he really did not understand the concepts of cost and return on investment.

“It’s expensive, it’s not something you would give someone as obligatory chocolates,” you explained, watching as a white eyebrow went up. His expression sharpened into something you couldn’t read well.

“It could be a secret admirer,” he said.

You stared blankly back at him, absolutely floored by the idea.

He thought you had a secret admirer? The idea sent an excited thrill all the way down to your toes, but you quickly squashed the feeling. So far, you'd never been on the receiving end of any furtive but romantic gestures, and you really didn't get any interested vibes from anyone in the office, no lingering glances or excuses to spend more time with you. The person who paid you the most amount of attention was Shouto, which was to be expected, considering how closely you worked together. And obviously he wasn't interested, he was just happy to stand in your doorway spouting wild conspiracies about his agency staffers like they were completely reasonable things to say.

“I don’t have a secret admirer,” you told him.

Shouto’s mouth pressed into a thin line and he took an intent step forward into your office. “Is the point of a secret admirer not to be exactly that--secret? How can you be sure?”

You couldn’t help it--you gaped at him, your face going weirdly warm. Okay, was he--was he serious? You obviously weren’t the most unfortunate creature on earth, and you even had your good days, but nobody in their right mind was going to attempt anything with you when there were girls like Nejire Hado and Ibara Shiozaki roaming the hallways of his agency. Even several of the analysts and most of the support crew had you beat out in terms of appeal--literally bless this man for his obvious indifference to your appearance.

“I, uh--thanks for your confidence in me,” you said, fighting down a laugh. “But I assure you, it definitely wasn’t meant for me. I just have to figure out who left it and who they meant it for.”

Shouto shifted impatiently, like he was waiting for something.

“You’re so certain,” he said, sounding frustrated.

“Of course I am,” you waved at him vaguely. It was actually super cute that he thought you could net yourself a dude who was willing to shell out Grégoire Chardin dollars, but you were just wasting time now, lingering over the least important part of this entire affair. “Listen, Shouto. I know sometimes men talk in the locker rooms. If you--if you hear anything, will you let me know? I just want to return it, it looks way too good sitting here.”

It was actually taking all your willpower not to open it and avail yourself of Japan’s finest chocolate, considering you would never have another opportunity like this again. Maybe you should just pretend it was for you....Really, no one could fault you for opening something left in your own office. But...no. No, you knew better.

Shouto appeared indifferent to your internal struggle. He watched you for a long moment, his features impassive. “Under one condition,” he finally allowed.

You cocked an ear to show you were listening, rifling around with the paperwork on your desk to distract yourself from the chocolate. You were strong, a good person. You had willpower like steel. You did not need to eat it, no no no.

“If no one comes looking for it by the end of the day, you will open it,” he said, moving closer.

You glanced up at him, shocked. “Shouto, this is someone else’s gift,” you hissed. “I can’t just open it.”

He placed a large palm down on your desk, leaning over you slightly. “That is my bargain.”

“You want me to steal somebody’s shit in your own agency,” you accused him. You tried not to pay attention to how close he had gotten, how straight his nose was up close, the way his eyes seemed brighter and his mouth pulled into a pout almost too pretty for a man.

The rest of his expression slipped into something like annoyance, matching his pout. “If no one comes for it, then it must be evident that it was meant for you.”

You suppressed a derisive laugh. Now was not the time to get shirty with your own boss, especially when his delusions were kind of sweet. It was honestly just short of a miracle that a man who looked like Shouto did could possibly think anyone on earth would have a thing for you, regardless of his own tastes.

“What if they’re just too shy to ask for it back?” you asked, watching those heterochromatic eyes flick over you curiously.

“If it’s as expensive as you say, someone will come looking,” he said. Which was actually kind of annoyingly reasonable.

A smirk flitted across his maddeningly perfect face when you failed to come up with another argument. He had a point, and he knew it.

You let out a gusty sigh. “Fine, but only because I’m certain someone will come looking for it. Please be subtle when you’re gathering info, okay? I'm sure this is embarrassing for whoever made this mistake.”

Shouto looked almost offended. “I am perfectly capable of being subtle,” he intoned in his deep voice.

This time, you did laugh. He was quiet, maybe, very perceptive, and unobtrusive when he wanted to be, but no one had ever accused the man of possessing tact. “Yeah, okay. Just, try to channel more subtlety than you think you need, okay? No one else but the sender needs to know about the mix up.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Shouto was leaning over you more fully, eyes glittering strangely as his clean, fresh scent met your nose. You froze in your chair, brain going horrifyingly vacant as he leaned impossibly nearer. What the fuck was he doing?

“It will be like I’m not even asking,” Shouto promised, his voice light. “Not asking anyone at all.”

You tried to scrape your thoughts back into something resembling order, but the effort was all but futile. You needed to get him out of your space stat before you embarrassed yourself.

”Okay, then it’s a deal,” you said quickly. “Now go...flambé a villain or something.”

Shouto lingered for a long moment, his mouth curling a little at the corner, like he was being let in on a secret you couldn’t hear. His eyes brushed over you, almost like a physical touch. And then he was gone, pulling open the door to your office, looking annoyingly pleased with himself.

“You will see,” he said by way of farewell. “You will find out how subtle I can be.”

You stared at him in confusion, but he didn’t explain himself. He just smirked, and closed the door behind himself.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #shouto todoroki x reader

[sukuna-slut]

teacher’s pet - pt. 1

yan!sukuna x reader x yan!gojou

as you fall deeper into an unusual relationship with the king of curses, your favourite teacher becomes increasingly worried for your safety.

warnings

mild depictions of injury, abuse of power, infantilisation, noncon

rating - teen

word count - 1558

What was happening? As a Jujutsu sorcerer, you had lived by the affirmation that you would not regret death once it came upon you, but you never prepared for the possibility that death would sneak up on you when you least expected it. Before stupid Itadori crashed into your world like a bull in a china shop, you were Tokyo Jujutsu Technical High School’s most promising student. That freaky Okkotsu kid had that super-powerful Cursed Spirit living inside him which automatically made him Special Grade, but with your extraordinary natural talent for jujutsu, you were sure to one day reach his level if you just worked hard enough. Gojou-sensei had said it himself, you were a rare talent. You still had so much further to go, so much more to achieve, so why were you now bleeding out in some random alleyway with nothing to show for your sorry life but a few empty words of praise?

Your opponent let out a rumbling peal of laughter. ‘Oh yes, I love that one… you know, of all the expressions people show me before I kill them, anger is my favourite.’

Even with the tattoos crawling up his arms and extra eyes blinking on his face clearly marking him as Ryouma Sukuna, you couldn’t help but hate Itadori for once again ruining everything. Gritting your teeth, you ground your twitching palms into the cold asphalt in an attempt to push yourself up, but your elbows gave out, making Sukuna laugh even harder.

‘I’m not… done yet,’ you spat, blood spilling down your chin in direct betrayal to your words.

‘Yes, you are.’ 

Sukuna turned to leave and you attempted to will away the black spots clouding your vision. Despite your pride, you wondered when your life was going to flash before your eyes like it was supposed to.

‘Such a waste… you might’ve had a chance if you’d tried a little harder,’ he murmured with a slight chuckle. ‘A small chance, but who knows.’

Huh?

The shock you felt at his words momentarily numbed the pulsing pain in every muscle of your body, giving you the strength to prop yourself up on one elbow.

‘What… do you mean?’ you forced out.

‘Hm?’

He turned his head with a slight raise of his eyebrows, as if he hadn’t expected you to still be alive.

‘My technique was perfect,’ you insisted.

Itadori’s features morphed into a derisive smirk unbefitting of the cheerful boy.

‘Who told you that? That irritating teacher of yours, no doubt,’ Sukuna laughed. ‘So much untapped potential… if only they taught you how to really use your powers, you could even rival dear Itadori.’

Your eyes widened. You had potential to match Itadori, the vessel of the most powerful Cursed Spirit in existence? Sukuna was turning away again but you couldn’t let him leave, you had to stop him. Ignoring the screams of your body, you pushed your weight back until your butt rested on your heels, your arms stretched out in front of you in a deep bow.

‘Teach me!’ you begged with every bit of energy you had left.

Sukuna paused where he stood, turning to regard you with an expression of utter shock. It was only there for a moment though, melting as soon as it had appeared into raucous laughter.

‘You want me… to teach you?’ he managed between cackles. ‘Interesting! Maybe you’re worth keeping alive a little longer.’

He took slow steps towards you before crouching to lift your chin between his thumb and forefinger to gaze into your teary eyes, silently pleading for his help. You were barely holding onto life at this point, yet he seemed to be in no hurry, a grin stretched wide across Itadori’s face.

‘A teacher, huh?’

The last thing you saw before you blacked out was Sukuna’s extra eyes and tattoos melting back into his skin, his malicious expression replaced with your classmate frantically calling your name.

Gojou Satoru was livid. Staring at the swirling mahogany of his desk, he forced his bloodlust down to a simmer and fixed his face into a painful smile with which he regarded the snivelling boy before him.

‘You lost control,’ he accused, ‘a mistake which nearly caused the death of your classmate. What do you have to say for yourself?’

As Itadori began blubbering apologies, Gojou’s mind returned to the sight of you lying in a hospital bed, a mess of wires and bandages around the gaping wound in your stomach that nearly cost you your life. The image of you, his bratty little (YN) looking so defeated made his blood boil with the desire to tear whoever was responsible to shreds. Unfortunately, the perpetrator was the very student he had insisted on keeping alive. Was it worth the risk? What if losing you was the risk?

You came into his life bright-eyed and brimming with terrifying reserves of untapped potential. Whether or not you were aware of just how much power you possessed, you had an inexplicable desire to distinguish yourself which reminded Gojou of himself at your age. While others were irritated by your brashness, he found himself growing fond of his latest protege. He liked to think that he was the only one who truly understood you. When he informed you of exactly how exceptional you truly were, your face lit up with such fervent excitement, he couldn’t bring himself to be ashamed of the sudden increased blood flow to his nether regions in that moment. He ended up complimenting you whenever possible during his private sessions with you just to see that face again. He loved the way you lapped up his praise like a cute little dog, he loved how you treated his word like gospel… eventually, he came to terms with the realisation that he just loved you.

Even so, you scared him sometimes. At first he had lived to see you shine whenever you discovered a new ability with his help, but with every milestone, he felt you edging further and further away from him. At that rate, you would surely become a Grade One Sorcerer, and then… you’d have all these responsibilities, responsibilities he honestly wasn’t sure if you could handle with your weak constitution, responsibilities that would lead you away from him.

So he altered your training program a little. Taught you to unknowingly hinder your own abilities, just enough so you’d still need him by your side. Maybe it was underhanded, but you were the purest thing in his life and he wasn’t about to let you leave him so easily. But his selfishness had backfired. With your stoppered abilities, you were unable to defend yourself against Sukuna, and because of him…

Gojou buried his face in his hands.

‘Sensei?’ Itadori asked nervously.

He shook his head, donning a carefree smile.

‘You shouldn’t apologise, Itadori. After all, I’m the one who miscalculated when I assumed you would be able to sustain Sukuna’s growing power.’

‘Am I going to be executed?’ Itadori’s face turned sheet white.

Gojou had considered killing the boy himself when he first saw your beaten body. Itadori’s hold against the ancient Curse had been gradually slipping ever since he ate the fourth finger, but he had been so consumed with capturing Sukuna, that he failed to see the situation for the disaster it was.

However, logic soon overruled his desire to destroy anyone and anything that hurt you. The inconvenient truth was, they had no hope of stopping Sukuna without Itadori’s body. But in order to mitigate the risk…

‘No, you won’t be executed. But you will be detained, at least until we figure out a better solution. For the time being, your responsibility will be reduced to being a vessel for Sukuna, nothing more.’

Itadori hung his head but did not protest.

It had been a whole week since you were discharged from hospital, yet Gojou-sensei still refused to let you train. Before, when his presence had been fleeting due to his foremost duty as the strongest sorcerer calling him away every other day, you had craved his attention, but now you wished he’d just disappear.

‘(YN)-chan, you should be resting!’

You had barely taken seven steps down the hallway before he intercepted you and corralled you back to your room, gripping your upper arms firmly as if he were redirecting a wandering child.

‘I should be training!’ you protested, noticing with no small amount of irritation the way his lips drew tight. ‘I’m almost fully healed, the nurse said I could participate in moderate physical activity the day after I was discharged. It’s been a week, Gojou-sensei! When are you going to stop treating me like a- mmh!’

Suddenly, your lips were captured in a suffocating kiss. Gojou-sensei wasted no time pushing his tongue between your unprepared lips, the wet muscle surprising you with its coldness as it invaded your mouth. At some point, his hold on you had tightened to the point of being painful.

‘S-sensei!’ you exclaimed, shoving him back.

His blindfold prevented you from gauging the full extent of his emotions, your teacher raising a hand to his parted lips as if shocked by his own actions. Before he could regain his composure, you bolted down the hallway, your only goal to get as far away from your attacker as possible.

#yandere gojo #yandere sukuna #yandere gojou #yandere gojou x reader #yandere gojo x reader #yandere sukuna x reader #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x reader #gojo x reader #gojou x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere headcanons #yandere smut

[the-sympathetic-villain]

For your prompt thing about Virgil, I'm not sure if you're still doing it but can you use

"Holy shit, you're my soulmate?!" With any ship

If you're not writing about him can you use it for whoever else you're doing?

This one was a lot of fun and I'm pretty sure this wasn't the ship you were guessing I would pick, but I hope you enjoy! 💜

Damn Right

Description: Virgil can't find his soulmate until he runs into him, literally. In this AU, your eyes remain grey unless you are close to your soulmate.

Pairings: Anxsleep (Virgil/Sleep(Remy))

Characters: Virgil, Remus, Remy

Word Count: 850

Warnings: Sexual innuendo and Remus-type commentary, Swearing (Let me know if I missed anything!)

-

     “Your eyes are purple again.”

     “What the—Why didn’t you tell me?”

    “I just did—"

     Virgil ignored Remus as he pulled out his phone, flipping his camera to face him. His shoulders dripped as he drew a finger underneath his eyelid and stared at the bright purple hue of his eyes.

     “This is the third time this week, dude. How the hell haven’t you figured out who your soulmate is?”

      “You tell me, Re.” Virgil muttered as he put his phone back on the table with an exasperated sigh. “Do you see anyone else's eyes changing color?”

      Remus sipped from his straw as he propped himself up in the booth to glance around the packed café. The frappé was nearly every flavor the shop offered melted together into a sludge that made Virgil sick to watch as Remus sway back and forth, looking around the café.

     “No dice. Same grey eyes all around except for the barista and everyone knows is sucking the owner behind the—”

    “Remus, focus.” Virgil cut off his friend wandering thoughts as he scanned the room. “Help me figure out who it is.”

     “Sorry, Smoke on the Water. I don’t see another bejeweled raccoon sporting your signature color.”

     “Why do I even bother keeping you around?”

     “Personally, I think it's because want to lick the frosting off this cake but you're to proud to admit that you know if you’re anything more than nipple tassels you won't hold my attention.”

    “You’re insufferable.”

    “Bitch, please. I am suffering.”

     Virgil massaged his temples as he let out a sigh. The ambient sounds of indie pop droned around them as Virgil scanned the faces of the other patrons for any hint of color.

     This hole-in-the-wall coffee shop had caught his attention months ago. He'd became an instant regular patron, managing to drag Remus here every few days for a much needed dose of caffeine. Everything had seemed so normal until the first time Remus had caught the first hint of color in his eyes.

     The sudden shift from his usual grey eyes to a bright purple was a clear indication his soulmate was nearby, and yet two weeks later, he'd been here nearly every day and he was no closer to finding his soulmate than the first day the color had shown up.

     “Maybe, they just don’t want to meet me.”

     “Relax, Dr. Doom. It's no big deal. Plenty of people have chance passings before they meet —”

     “This is stupid. I'm just going to go.”

     Remus' carefree smile faltered as Virgil threw his hands on the table. He felt a pang of guilt in his stomach at the flash of genuine concern in Remus' eyes, but he suddenly needed to go. “Hey, wait—”

     Virgil jumped up from the booth. He spun on his heel, slamming into a wall of warmth as a loud clattering sounded as an object dropped to the ground next to him.

     “You really know how to knock a guy off his feet. Don't you, babes?”

     A heat burned in Virgil’s cheeks as he regained his balance long enough to lift his eyes up to the familiar voice.

    “Remy?”

    “The one and only.” Remy sucked on his lip. Hues of purple mixed in his eyes as he stared back at Virgil a slightly abashed smile spread across his face. “It's been a long time. Hasn’t it, love?”  

     “Holy shit. You’re my soulmate?”

     “Don’t act so horrified, love. You'll hurt my ego.”

     “I'm not—” Virgil stuttered, unable to keep his mouth from falling open. “But we've met before. How did I not—”

     Remy's face fell into an uneasy smile as he reached down to the ground to pick up his dark sunglasses from where they’d fallen onto the ground when they'd collided.

     “The sunglasses.” Virgil muttered under his breath, feeling his breath rush from his lungs.  “I didn’t even think—I'm an idiot.”

     “You really need to learn to sell yourself, hun. Though the way you get flustered over the smallest detail is totally adorbs.”

     Virgil's face flushed a light shade of pink as he glanced at the other patrons of the café who had started to keep a curious eye on their confrontation.

     “Listen. I didn’t mean to hide in plain sight.” Remy’s smile softened as Virgil dipped his head in embarrassment. “Little did I know the lengths you would go to unmask me.”

    “Can we start over?”

     Virgil felt himself hold his breath as the words passed his lips. The stares of the coffee shop patrons had locked on their exchange and the tension grew thick in the air. His heart had lightened when Remy had brushed off his carelessness, but that didn't make waiting for his answer any easier.

     Remy's sweet laugh brought Virgil’s eyes back to the mischievous glimmer in his bright purple eyes. “Honey, I'm not letting a snack like you get away that easy.”

     “If you don’t want to kiss him, I will, Hot Topic.”

     “Hands off, Remus. He's my soulmate.”

     Remy's smile widened as he reached to take Virgil’s hand. “Damn right, you are.”

-

General Taglist:

@im-an-anxious-wreck @justanotherhumanstuff @shadowyplaidpurseegg

#thanks for the prompt! #sander sides fic #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #ts #tss #ts virgil #ts virgil sanders #virgil sanders #ts remus #remus sanders #ts remus sanders #ts remy #ts sleep #sleep sanders #remy sanders #anxsleep #soulmate!au #Damn Right #villain writes

[babylooneytoonz]

The Vessel [Pt. 15- Final Chapter]

Geralt of Rivia x fem! reader

A/N- This is officially the end of my book, and I want to thank you all for sparing the time to read it. Thank you! 🤍

Warnings: fluff and soft Geralt

*Please reblog if you like it, do not repost or claim my work as yours.

[My Masterlist] [My Witcher Masterlist - Read the other parts here!]

Geralt grumbled under his breath, yet his movements were quiet; stealthy like a cat as he didn't want to wake you. You were almost due to give birth, and Geralt didn't want to disturb your sleep, because you hardly got any. Although it was strangely pleasing to him to watch you try to pacify your baby, sometimes stroking your bump, or sometimes singing to it, and he didn't want to admit he secretly loved it, he was happy the baby was calm today, and you were peacefully asleep.

He entered your shared bedroom back in your home in Redania where he now mostly spent his time, when he was not out hunting monsters, that was. His armour was soiled with gore, fragments of the kikimora's intestines, and he wanted nothing more than to drown himself into a bath, and relax but he didn't want to wake you up.

The size of the body the man had, silence was the least dominant trait that he had. As he took off his armour, the armour fell from his hand, crashing against the floor with the clatter that woke you up instantly.

"Fuck, who's there?" You almost sat up in bed, grabbing a nearby empty pitcher of water in your grip, ready to throw it at whoever it was, your mind slightly disoriented as you had been asleep.

"It's just me," Geralt grumbled, frowning at how clumsy he was, immediately bending and picking up his armour. Finally, your eyes adjusted to the lighting of the room, and when you saw him, you slowly slid out of the bed and waddled towards him.

"What have you done to yourself, my love? You look like a piss pot."

"Hm, blame the kikimora," Geralt grumbled, under his breath, and you ended up chuckling as he tried to shoo you back into bed, waving his hands.

"Didn't mean to wake you, go to bed, [Y/N]."

"It's okay, Geralt. Let me draw your bath," You motioned to him to take off his dirty clothes while you decided to warm some water so he could take a bath.

Geralt didn't let you carry the pails of water yourself, of course and neither could you. In fact, it was difficult for you to climb the stairs owing to the fact that your bump was blocking your view of your feet.

You watched as he slid into the warm water, his body immediately relaxing as the soothing touch of the heat hit his sore body.

"I can't wait to give birth, Geralt," you mumbled as you sat against the edge of the bed, rubbing a paste that you had created over your swollen ankles, as much as you could bend, while Geralt relaxed in the bathtub, his eyes flicking occasionally towards you and a small smile graced his lips at the sight of you.

When Geralt didn't reply, you lifted your gaze, fixing it on him, noticing how he was staring at you. His lips were curved— so minutely, that only you and Jaskier could understand now, little details about him, like when he was amused, or in a jestful mood. You stood up, letting the vessel down on the bed, and walked up to fix yourself behind your Witcher's back, your hands coming to rest against the base of his neck as you began scrubbing him. Geralt of Rivia's company had taught to treat silence as bliss.

"What was that?" You frowned as you looked up at the wooden door of your bedroom. You had been sitting against the headboard of your bed, while Geralt was laying on your lap, almost having dozed off; your fingers gently stroking through his locks, lulling him into an even deeper sleep.

The words had barely escaped your lips, and Geralt was up, rigid and alert, like a wolf. He jumped, in one movement, standing by your bed, his hand drawn towards you, his palm raised, motioning you to stay still as he grabbed his sword with the other hand.

"Jaskier? Is that you?" Geralt snarled, but the pounding outside your door didn't stop, and instead it worsened, the loud noise now giving you a headache, forcing you to press your hands against your ears.

Just as Geralt darted towards the door, ready to pull it open and see for himself as to exactly who this intruder was when suddenly, the door flung open, and a Cintran guard tossed Jaskier in, who fell on his knees where Geralt was.

"Geralt! Say something, I am being tossed about like a worthless sack of grain!" Jaskier dramatized, and you hurriedly slid against the edge of the bed while Geralt drew his sword towards the Cintran guard.

The guard turned, regarding you through the armoured helmet that covered his face partially, and then nodded to himself before his voice rang out, "My Queen, the Princess is here, as expected."

"Touch her, I'll break your fucking bones," Geralt growled, his grip on his sword tightening when suddenly, "Lower your weapons! I'm here to talk," a familiar voice commanded, and you knew who it was. You pressed your lips together in a slight anger, both your hands coming to rest protectively against your swollen belly.

Calanthe entered, her eyes falling first thing on the Witcher and her frown widened, before she turned towards you, "Knew I'd find you here."

You bit your lip, eyeing her carefully, when Geralt began speaking, and her head shot towards him.

"If you're here to drag her to that King who fucked his own sister, then it's too late."

You nodded at Geralt's words, immediately rushing to Geralt's side, stepping behind him, grabbing on to his hand that wasn't holding the sword, your fingers entwining with his, "Yes, mother. My baby will not be a bastard anymore. We're married now."

"I'm not here to ask you to marry Foltest, I'm here to—" she stopped talking, throwing out her hands towards you, trying to nudge you to go to her but you stayed by Geralt's side, "I'm here to take you home. Your Kingdom needs you. I need you. If the Witcher is who you desire then, I give my blessings."

"What?" You and Jaskier said almost together, and you almost choked on a gasp.

"All my life, I thought you were dead and then I found you only to lose you again. Come home, I can't rule a Kingdom anymore, I need you to sit on that throne."

The shock of it all was hard to process. You gasped, tightening your grip on Geralt's hand and he turned towards you with a frown, "You okay?"

"A throne? This is too much."

"You were born for this, [Y/N]." Calanthe continued.

Suddenly, your mind began zoning out the voices, and the voices of Geralt, Calanthe and Jaskier were just background noises to you. You felt something wet slide down the inside of your legs, and your eyes widened. Your breathing laboured suddenly as a sudden cramp tore through your stomach, all too suddenly, and you whelp escaped your lips, causing Geralt to turn towards you.

"I don't think.. I can think of any throne right now.. mother.. I think the baby is coming."

That was, perhaps, the fastest journey Geralt had made, to the village to get the midwife, while Calanthe stayed with you.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Calanthe wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand and you growled at her, "Then what exactly am I doing mother? You are not helping!! I would rather have you switch places with Jask'."

"Leave me out of this. I have a history of fainting at the sight of a lot of blood," Jaskier called out from outside the room, and you groaned in pain, and part annoyance, now aware that he was lurking right outside your door.

You screamed as another contraction tore through your body, the midwife having finally arrived as Calanthe switched positions with her and you felt her squat down by your lower region. You tried breathing, preparing yourself for another crippling contraction, spreading your legs and arching your back, as Calanthe tried to soothe you.

"Geralt, I fucking hate you for doing this to me! I hope you hear me!" You screamed in pain, even though you knew you would regret this later when you would have your baby pressed to your chest.

The sun set, and the sun rose again the next day; but your screaming didn't die. It was only when the sun was right above your home did the first cries of your girl finally fill your shack. Tears of joy flew freely through your eyes, and your mother's as she pressed the babe to her chest, looking down at her slightly golden eyes in awe.

"She's got Geralt's eyes," she whispered to you, as you let out a sob, and weakly threw out your hands so you would hold her in your arms. She was so tiny, and so perfect, her eyes like Geralt, a tuft of golden white locks already on top of her otherwise bald head.

"Mother, can you take her? I feel.. like all my energy is gone."

"Lay down and close your eyes, child. You've birthed a baby, and that isn't easy as the menfolk think it is. I have her," she took her from your arms, and you smiled weakly at the sight before you let your eyes shut.

You were in a dreamless slumber, your slumber so deep that even Jaskier playing the lute against your ears would not have been enough to wake you up.

After a long time, you stirred in your sleep, your eyes slowly fluttering open.

The sight in front of you, as you propped yourself up against your elbows, made your heart swell with love. Geralt sat on a chair, his eyes pressed shut, his chest rising up and down the only movement that you could see, holding your daughter close to his chest. The little babe looked tiny as compared to the Witcher's bulky frame, yet this was the softest sight you had ever seen. You slid to the edge of the bed, letting the bare pads of your feet brush against the cold floorboards as you pushed your still sore body up. Just then, Jaskier entered the room, his eyes lighting up as he saw you.

You smiled when you saw that he was holding the blanket that you had knitted for the baby when you had found out of the pregnancy.

"Here," he whispered in a low voice so he didn't wake the father and the daughter as he threw out his hand towards you. You only shook your head and pointed towards Geralt.

"Scared to put it on him?" You joked, your voice a whisper too.

"For the first time, I don't want to ruin the moment," he smiled, as he pulled you into a side hug and you almost sniffled dramatically, pouting, "Well, Jaskier. Aren't you in love?"

"Princess, I'm not ashamed to say I'm in love with her. She is the best thing that's happened to us."

"Oh, Jaskier—" You blurted out, a little too loud, and the Witcher grumbled slightly, stirring from his sleep as he fluttered his eyes open; the first thing his eyes falling on being the baby in his arms, and then up at you.

Geralt smiled and nodded, as you walked up to him, lowering yourself on his thigh, carefully placing your palm on top of her head.

"She's perfect, my love," Geralt whispered, and you nodded, wrapping your arm around his neck, letting your head rest against his.

It was the calm before the storm.

You stood by the massive window of your chambers, staring at the city ahead of you— Cintra.

Your Kingdom, your home, which you now ruled, with your Witcher by your side.

"What are you thinking, love?"

The familiar rasp of a voice made you turn towards him, a faint smile breaking out against your lips. Geralt was propped on his elbow, his naked chest glistening as a ray of sunshine fell directly on him, his lower body wrapped in the silkiest of the blankets.

"I have an ill feeling, Geralt."

"Come to bed, love. Let me make you feel better," Geralt smirked, as he patted on the empty side of your bed but before you could, a loud babble of a baby filled the room.

Both you and Geralt turned towards the door, watching your one year old taking baby steps towards the two of you.

"How the hell?" Geralt muttered, when Jaskier darted into the room; his hair unkempt, paint caked on his cheeks and his shirt. He grabbed Fiona in his arms, and swung her up and the little girl cackled in glee, making you grin.

"Sorry, I was just teaching her how to paint. She ran off with my brushes," he sheepishly grinned before his eyebrow shot up and he eyed Geralt, "Don't let my interference stop whatever the two of you were planning to do. Perhaps, planning a sibling for her."

Geralt grunted under his breath, while you ended up snorting to his comment, shaking your head, "That's not happening, Jaskier. I'm done with mages and their spells. Now run along, we've got things to do."

The Vessel Taglist:

@kawennote09 @viking-raider @raspberrydreamclouds @pterodactylterrace @singeramg @historianwithaheart @miss-emilia-cavill @ayamenimthiriel @crazynocturnalkiki @xxxkatxo @coffeebreathy @fanaticnae @kmuir1 @little-jana @pineapplemama @auds24 @sassy-pelican @bitchynicole @cavillsim @ragamuffin285 @hista-girl @oliviali0930 @introvertedmouse @madbaddic7ed @libbymouse @nerra75 @maxineswritingcenter @superawesomegeek @waifu4lifeu @funalpaca @petitefirecracker10 @marantha @vikingsbifrost @babypink224221 @jessyballet @strrynigxts @rn7rocks @theroyalbrownbarbie @amirra88 @naughty-koala07 @xuxszx @iminlovewithenchilidadas

#geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia works #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #witcher geralt #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n #the witcher x reader #the witcher #henry cavill x reader

[mmvalentine]

Maybe Rhys drugs Feyre so she can talk and see but she can’t move and he has his fun? 👀

Pinned

Feyre and Rhys are at war.

Whoever pins their mate first wins. If Rhys wins, he gets to fuck Feyre. If Feyre wins, she gets to fuck Rhys.

It’s a good game.

It started off as a training exercise, if Feyre recalls correctly. Rhys would come up in a sneak attack and incapacitate her, and timed how long it would take her to get free, fight back, and pin him to the ground.

Of course, Rhys enjoyed this far too much.

The first time, he plunged her into utter darkness while they were walking in the forest, and Feyre was left groping around trying not trip over roots or walk into low branches. She strained her ears but her mate’s low chuckle seemed to come from directly behind her, at the nape of her neck no matter which way she turned.

Where are you going, lost little bird? he purred in her mind. Feyre spun, reaching out but touching nothing. Suddenly, rough hands shoved her and her back hit tree back. Feyre tried to open her eyes wider, but it was no use. She was blind.

“Why don’t you show yourself, coward,” Feyre lashed out. The darkness was amused.

I can see, he said. Feyre jumped when his tongue hit her neck. Licked a broad stripe all the way up the side of her throat and ended just below her ear.

Where’s your fight back? Rhys crooned. Maybe you need to learn not to rely on your eyes so much.

“Maybe,” Feyre conceded. Rhys was now moving his lips back and forth along her jaw. “Or maybe I just need to look on the bright side.”

Rhys had just lifted his hands to cradle her skull, when Feyre let a ball of light burst forth from her chest. Rhys flinched and stumbled back, while the day court glow flooded down Feyre’s limbs. She gave him a wide smile as she drew in a deep breath and looked around herself.

“Much better,” she said, and before Rhys could recover, she knocked him to the ground. He made an oof sound as he landed, and Feyre straddled his chest on the leaf covered forest floor.

“I win,” she said, and kissed his nose. Rhys laughed and pulled her down to kiss his mouth. His hands wound her hair around and around his fingers, and Feyre pulled his trousers open. The shadows melted away, but Feyre didn’t stop glowing while they made love amongst the trees.

The second time, Rhys bound Feyre in her sleep, and woke her up with his breath hot on her lips and his fingers poised at the apex of her thighs.

Feyre moaned softly, and her eyes fluttered open. Rhys smiled at her, kissed her gently, and said “Good morning, lover.” Feyre smiled back at first, but then tried to reach for him and suddenly realised what he had done. Rhys smiled wider.

“Untie me you prick,” Feyre growled.

“Untie yourself,” Rhys replied, and then started stroking his fingers gently over her pussy. Feyre groaned and squirmed against the soft cotton ropes, but they held firm.

“How am I supposed to untie myself?” Feyre snapped. But Rhys only shrugged, and moved his teeth in her shoulder.

“Doesn’t really sound like my problem, does it?” He winked at her, then reached his free arm under and around her to squeeze her breast from behind.

Anger coiled in Feyre’s gut. This arrogant, smug bastard. She clenched her fists together and pulled her wrists apart. Of course the rope didn’t budge.

And yet Rhys let go of her suddenly, as if burned.

Burned.

That was the answer. Feyre fanned her anger into flame, and with a white hot flourish the rope against her skin burned away. Feyre turned to Rhys in triumph, and found him sitting up against the headboard. Watching her with light dancing in his eyes, even as he blew on his singed fingertips. Feyre laughed, and sat herself over his lap.

“I win again,” she said, and Rhys leaned his head back and pushed her hair behind her ear.

“Clever girl,” he whispered. Then he gripped her hips and ground her down over his lap, right onto his hard cock. Feyre’s hands found the top of the headboard as she rocked against him, until she was soaking through her panties.

She kneeled up off Rhys’s lap, and he met her eyes only briefly before he was sliding down the bed so that his face was level with her hips. He pulled her underwear down, tugged her forward and sucked her clit into his mouth. Feyre moaned and let her head fall back, hands still gripping the headboard, as Rhys ate her out while his fingers softly stroked the backs of her thighs where he held her.

After that, Feyre started getting revenge.

One time Rhys stepped into the bath, and the water rose suddenly into great spikes of ice that imprisoned him in the tub. His naked flesh broke out in goosebumps and he shivered so hard his teeth clacked together, while Feyre stood before him and ran her hot tongue over his chest.

One time Feyre soaked a pair of leather cuffs in faebane, and when he closed his eyes to kiss her she shackled him to the bed frame. He strength was sapped in an instant, and the shadows thrashed helplessly while Feyre dripped candle wax onto his wings.

One time Feyre painted herself to camouflage in with the mountain side, and lay in wait until Rhys walked by and then abducted him into a small cave. Rhys had yelped in surprise, then pushed her up against the wall and began to muddy the paint on her skin.

So now, Rhys has a plan.

He makes her breakfast in bed one morning, and laces her orange juice with a paralytic potion he pinched from Magda’s stores. He knows that if Feyre tries very hard, her healing powers can rid her body of the stuff in minutes. But only if she tries very hard.

It's a good thing Feyre is training.

Rhys lies across the bed propped up on an elbow, still in his undershorts and mussed hair. He watches Feyre smile as she bites into her toast, and then raises her glass to wash it all down. So innocent. So adoring. So full of trust.

As if he didn’t still have her nail marks in his back.

The potion works quickly, and Rhys’s grin spreads wider as Feyre looks down first in confusion, and then in rage as her limbs slow and stiffen.

Rhys tsks as he swiftly removes the tray of food before it spills.

“Never accept food or drink unless you're certain of your trust, dearest,” he lectures. “I shouldn’t have to explain that to you.”

Feyre raises an eyebrow, finding her face still able to move although her legs are now lead. “And am I not to trust you, mate?” she throws back at him. Rhys looks affronted.

“Of course not darling, we’re at war.” He shakes his head, and arranges her arms above her head. Feyre tries to push back against him, but cannot.

Rhys drapes himself languidly over her body, tracing his finger from her brow to her lips and around the edge of her breast.

"I think I like you like this," he says, and the weight of him presses the air from Feyre's lungs. "Laid out on my bed and unable to lift a finger."

"This is cheating," Feyre protests. "How is it training if you've poisoned me?"

"How indeed?" Rhys echoes. "If only there was some way you could rid your body of toxins and ailments. Pity."

Feyre glares at him, and he starts to slide her night dress up her body like he has all the time in the world. "Well," he muses. "I guess you'll just be my plaything until you figure it out." And with that he closes his mouth over her breast and pulls her nipple between his teeth.

Feyre gasps and instinctively arches her back, but her spine does not obey. Rhys chuckles, and flicks his tongue over the tip of her. His hands continue undressing her, fluttering over her skin as it is increasingly exposed.

"Did I ever tell you you have the most divine skin?" Rhys says, as he begins to press kisses all over her abdomen. Across her ribcage, down her stomach. His fingertips smooth over the length of her legs, and then his warm hands glide up the inside of her thighs. "No one makes silk like your skin, not even in the faerie realm." Rhys's nose skims across her hips, and goosebumps rise up her useless arms. "Just want to spend all day touching you."

Rhys keeps moving his lips, lower and lower. She can feel him smile when she tries to lift her hips to him. His thumbs circle against her so that they just barely brush the cotton of her underwear, and his tongue starts to play everywhere but where she wants it most.

"Rhys," she whispers, straining against the drug. But her mate frowns.

"Now now," he says, "playthings don't talk."

Finally, finally he licks a stripe up her pussy and it ends in a suckling kiss against her clit. Feyre sighs in relief, but then he's teasing again. He's flicking feather light touches against her clit, and if she could just get closer-

"You're thinking far too loudly pet," Rhys says mildly, lifting his face to look at her. "Be a good girl and lie still now."

"Prick," Feyre spits back at him, and without batting an eye Rhys slides two fingers inside her.

Feyre's eyes roll and her fingers twitch as she's stroked, in and out with his expert touch. For a minute, she forgets to struggle and just lets herself relax while he slowly builds her up. Rhys smiles as Feyre begins to moan.

"More," she breathes. "Faster."

But Rhys does the opposite. Adds a thumb over her clit but slows his movements down and grins feline when Feyre's eyes snap open.

"What's wrong, Feyre darling?" he coos. Feyre cries out in frustration, and tries to rock herself on his hand. Of course, she can't. Rhys's grin spreads, and she wants to smack him.

Feyre closes her eyes, and tries to take a deep breath. She knows she can access her healing powers if she can just calm down.

At that moment, Rhys starts rubbing the flat of his tongue up and down her clit while his fingers continue their torturous motion. Feyre's mind slides out of clarity, and she can feel herself soak his hand.

She sucks a breath in through her teeth, and tries to focus again. Rhys is now taking bites over her hips, hurting her just enough to pull her attention. Feyre ignores him as best she can, and imagines the potion being drained from her veins.

In a strange mix of sensations, Feyre starts to feel her energy draining into the effort of healing herself, but also begins to feel lighter. The heaviness lifts, just a little, from her limbs.

When Rhys slides up her body and licks his tongue up her throat, Feyre's head tilts back and her hips find his. She still can't get her arms to move, but her back arches up slightly, and her breasts press up against Rhys's bare chest.

"Good girl," Rhys whispers. He is rock hard between her legs, and grinds into her with rolling hips. He pulls her underwear the rest of the way off. Then his. His cock glides against the wetness of her, and his lips find the line of her jaw.

Feyre's toes curl, and her knees start to bend. She wants so badly to get her legs around his hips, but she can't quite do it.

"Is that the best you can do?" Rhys taunts, words vibrating in the hollow of her throat. Her fingers twitch toward her palm, and Rhys spots the motion. He smiles, bites down on her lip and lifts her wrists above her head. His knees cage her hips. "I think this is you pinned," he says in her ear, and then kisses her mouth.

Feyre throws everything she has into pushing the poison out, and just as Rhys's lips leave hers, she pulls out of his grip like Cassian taught her, flips their position and straddles Rhys's hips victoriously.

Rhys laughs and laughs.

"I almost had you there, dearest," he says. But Feyre is in no mood.

"Shut up," she tells him, and then takes his cock in her hand and sits down on it.

Rhys groans as she comes down tight around him. His hands grip her hips, but at this stage Feyre doesn't care what he does. She puts her hands on his thighs behind her and bounces on his lap, getting him exactly where she needs him. Rhys holds his thumb over her clit while she moves, and lets her take over.

Feyre's head drops back and release drips down her spine. She's so wound up she knows it won't take much to push her over the edge. Rhys leans forward to get his mouth on her breasts, and when his tongue flicks at her nipple she start to come. Rhys grabs her hips when her movements get erratic and keeps fucking her through her climax, so that she keeps screaming as he finds his own release and by the time he lets her go she is limp in his arms.

Feyre rests against Rhys's chest, as they breathe hard together.

"I win," Feyre mumbles. Rhys chuckles softly.

"When this is losing," he says, "somehow I don't mind at all."

****

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #asks #prompt fill #it's really been a minute #hope they're still coming out okay

[bvccy]

Friend, if you are still open for request, can you please do Heliotrope with the Winter Soldier? 🥺 please thank you 💛💛💛

My dear 😭 I am so so sorry for how long this took! I just hope you can enjoy the fic. It’s a little bit spooky at the beginning, but WS is soft and so is our reader. And they get their happy-ever-after 💗

Thank you very much for this prompt also! 🌺🌺🌺

— PAIRING: soft!Winter Soldier x female!Reader — PROMPT: Heliotrope - walking in the sun, and losing each other — LINKS: Masterlist • love stones prompt list — WORDCOUNT: 2.1k

They had been living in darkness for months, and the oppressive cold that battered against the walls with fierce winds all day, and hungry howls at night — not that one could tell night from day in the sunless vastness, except by the ticking of the clock.

Hydra had installed that arctic facility at the mouth of a crater, covered by ice over the ages to conceal its dubious treasure. It was clear to the Soldier that the treasure was not made up of precious things, but it was only when the crew finished digging all the way down that he understood why all the scientists were there...

It was difficult for him to tell who the shuttle belonged to. It might have been some advanced technology from America, but then how did it get so deep down, so quickly? Maybe it was an old German prototype from the war, but it didn't look like any he'd seen before. Or maybe Hydra was just recovering their old property from past attempts... It didn't matter, he was just there to guard the scientists while they did the work.

The other soldiers stationed with him stopped taking the job seriously after the first three months, but he kept watch, and paid attention, and didn't miss the odd slimes that seeped across the floor out of those metal shells, nor the odd crunch as the scientists cut into something that looked soft and milky, but held like bone. And the smells, the cold metallic smells like iron dipped in silver... It sometimes felt like home, but he knew better than to let that grip him. And he kept watch.

The one chemist that doubled as the chef didn't make particularly good meals, but they were hearty, and if he was being honest, he was eating better at this isolated station than he did at the Base — felt freer too, almost in charge of his destiny, if one didn't count the frozen wastes he'd have to survive if he ever wanted to run. But the Soldier couldn't imagine why he'd ever wish to run.

Especially when she was here.

Studying the files of all the scientists on the mission, her portrait stood out as particularly sad, morose, with a bit of a death glare toward the cameraman. But when he actually saw her, she seemed sweet like a spring day and even happy to be there. She looked up into his eyes as she walked into the protected area to study their find, blinking up from beneath a mess of furs and protective equipment, but there was a smile crinkling around her gaze. As the months drew on and everyone got more bored with staying there, and loose with themselves, they'd sometimes play some music in the lab, and the Soldier didn't know why he liked it so much or felt the need to dance with someone.

The military staff initially had their own mess hall, a small room with a kitchenette where they could eat together, but then one of the doctors needed it to test the effects of temperature changes on some of the samples, and the place was... contaminated every since. Now, they all ate together. The girl who'd caught his eye tended to eat with her own team, the Geologists, but he could feel her looking at him sometimes, he noticed her lingering when he was around even if she was about to leave, and a few times she even dared approach him — under the excuse of getting the jar of sugar that was on his other side rather than reaching for the one next to her, or leaning down to get some plate she didn't need from right by his knees. It wasn't until she tried to reach a glass above his head, beyond her grasp, that he gave in and acknowledged her.

"Thank you," she said as he handed her the cup — the first time she'd ever said anything to him. Her voice suited her, but beyond its soft tones the Soldier was struck by being thanked at all. When was the last time that happened? What did one say in response?

"You're welcome?"

And he seemed so unsure saying it that he made her giggle.

She was inevitable after that, not because she was trying to be found but because he allowed himself to be around her, to guard her door while she chipped at stones and studied them, to sit near her during lunch — not right beside her, the Soldier still had a lingering shyness about that, but at least on the table opposite, from which they could look at each other if they wanted.

The long night was almost over, four months into their stay at this forsaken place, and the pair had taken to something really dangerous: in the small barn attached to the base, where some dry supplies were kept along with canisters of fuel, they escaped together while everyone else slept. He had led her there first, asking timidly whether she'd...

"Want to see something new?"

"Always," the girl grinned.

And so they found themselves piled on top of one another like firewood, almost not feeling each other beneath the layers of fur that kept them warm, but just being in each other's presence was... something. It was quiet without being quiet, with another real soul there, thinking its own thoughts in harmony with you.

The Asset wouldn't allow himself to fall asleep, though he did close his eyes sometimes and let the girl relax against him, and doze off, and during those times he allowed his arm to come down from where it propped his head up and wrap itself around her, holding her still — as if she were in danger of falling off some imaginary bed.

Nobody ever seemed to wonder where they both disappeared to, nobody noticed, which was why he was all the more surprised to hear shouting on that day. The Soldier didn't move, just tightened his arm around his little partner more. But when a bloodcurdling cry echoed through the vastness, he shook her awake.

"Wha—"

"Get up. The base is under attack," he muttered, reaching for the rifle laid beside him.

"That's crazy, who would attack us all the way out here?"

He didn't want to tell her what he thought, but only made her hide out in the shed while he went out to scout the area. Turning his radio on, nothing came through. There were no helicopters around, no trucks, no marks in the snow that anyone had attacked — at least, not from the outside. On the horizon, just the rays of a reluctant dawn were shining.

There was silence for a while, and then another symphony of screams rang out, muffled by the walls and the desperate shots of whoever was left inside, glass and metal knocked over, broken, and silence once again. Stepping away slowly, then more hurriedly, the Soldier returned to where he'd left the girl and picked her up by the elbow.

"Come on, we're leaving."

"Leaving where?" she cried out, confused and even slightly angry. "What's going on?"

"We're under attack."

"But our research..."

The Soldier dragged her to where the trucks were parked, and after the first flush of confusion she went along quietly. He gave her the rifle to hold while he looked in the back, making sure they had enough supplies for whatever drive awaited them — gas was there, some blankets too, and more ammunition. It would have to do. And without sparing another moment, he got in beside her and drove off. Against the rumbling of the engine as it drifted on the ice, a shrill scream cut through the frozen air and reached them, not sounding human nor animal nor like anything in the world, except perhaps a demon. The girl didn't look back, she wouldn't dare, she just looked quietly at the Soldier as she slowly understood. They drove into the sunrise as its rays burned away everything behind, and the snowdrifts buried it.

They didn't stop until the sky was bright as a midday, many hours later.

"Are we slowing down?" the girl mumbled sleepily.

"We're nearing a town," he said, eyes on the GPS. "Need to check that the road is clear. And that we are, too."

She stretched the shivers from her bones, but deep down she trusted the Soldier to keep them safe.

Getting out in what-felt-like days, frozen stiff, muscles aching from the shot of fear that penetrated down to her bones, the girl got out and reached for the sky with all she had. The air felt freer and fresher than ever before, even though it still hurt her lungs when it reached to their very bottom, but she loved such a pain — it felt like life.

The Asset walked slowly to her, just watching silently and smiling a half-smile at the sight of her all ruffled and soft, and safe.

"What do you think happened to the base?"

"Guess it's a mess by now," he hummed, bringing one gloved hand to feel around her head, her shoulders, down her arms, but always gently.

"We woke that thing up, didn't we?"

"You're the smart one, you tell me."

Her lips pursed — she never liked it when he teased her, but she tried never to reproach him for it, loving this sign of his personality shining through. "Are we far enough away now?"

"I don't know," he sighed, finally looking back into her eyes. "Are we?"

"The sun would kill it."

"How do you know that?"

She didn't answer but wouldn't look away either, and her determined gaze was enough for him. She did know more than he did, she'd spent months studying whatever that was, and that was fine by him. So long as none of it had managed to sneak on board.

"Stay close to me."

They walked around the car together and he checked the back, the wheels, then climbed on top and checked there too. Through the clearness of the day, he could even see the edges of a road that must've lead to that town. The car seemed clean, but they were close enough to a rescue that he'd rather not take any risks, and so picking up just a few useful things and one backpack, they started walking.

The snow got less deep and crunched beneath their boots, the wind was gentler downhill and even moved through the tendrils loosened from their hoods, shaking off the frost. In the distance, one tree stood tall, thin and dark and barren but alive, and over all of them the sun kept shining.

"We're almost at the road," said the Soldier, spotting a black snaking line a few meters ahead. He turned his head when he didn't hear anything back, but there was only the glint of sunlight on the snow.

Amorphous fog covered the horizons, and hills and dales of white, and suddenly the light felt very hot and burned his body as he turned frantically around and called for her. With mad fear, he traced back their steps up the snowy hill, nearly swimming through it as he called for her, terrified of the unthinkable.

Then, as if from the sea, a lone hand reached up and waved at him. Within one breath, he'd reached her, sitting in the snow just a few feet away.

"I'm so tired..." she huffed, burrowing like a rabbit. "Can't we rest a while?"

"You didn't rest enough in the car? Get up," he grumbled, pulling her up to her feet. He regretted snapping as soon as he saw her sad little face, and sighed. "I'm sorry. I was worried."

"I'm sorry too, for being so weak..."

Before thinking, he pulled her in and kissed the snow off her mouth. "None of that," he smiled as their lips parted. "Come on, we're so close. I'll carry you a bit if you want."

The girl shook her head mutely, face already flushed from frost but now truly heated. To be cared for, and worried about, and searched like that, and kissed... It put the life right back into her.

He kept his word and carried her in his arms at one point, but they both walked in the town together. Nobody knew who they were or where they came from and some had a few murmured questions, but by the time Hydra sent an extraction team for them, it didn't matter — they were gone, lost in the wind like two rays of sunshine.

#wint3r-h3art #Bucky Barnes #James Buchanan Barnes #Winter Soldier #Sebastian Stan #marvel #mcu #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes x reader #Sebastian Stan fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #Winter Soldier fanfiction #Winter Soldier imagine #Winter Soldier x reader #bv;fanfiction #bv;oneshots #bv;answers

[tkc-info]

Confession At Night

OCtober 2021 day 2 - glass

2018

“Did you know that glass is made out of sand?” Oliver asked.

Cal hummed. She wasn’t paying much attention to him, but rather was laying on her back —heedless of how her scalp would be itching with sand for days— with her eyes trained on the sky. Tonight, like most nights, it was almost devoid of stars; yet Cal insisted, like most nights, on checking for her ‘second star to the right’.

“It’s molten at a very high temperature to create a whole new material.” Oliver continued. He was rambling, and knew it.

“Lovely.” Cal murmured noncommittally “That means that if we set this place on— ah, there!”

She clutched his shoulder (not his hoodie; she was wearing that) and yanked him down to the sand. Then, she pointed up at two stars in particular. “‘Second to the right, and straight on till morning’. That, Peter had told Wendy, was the way to Neverland.” she slapped his pectoral “I told you today was the day I’d find it.”

Oliver snorted. His parents had decided to bring them to a beach outing so that they would destress from school. Oliver, of course, knew the trip was but a plan to get him to see whether Cal was Saz, but Cal had proudly declared today would be her lucky day because ‘beaches weren’t all that polluted and shit’.

“I thought the place was called Wonderland.” he said as he propped himself up on his shoulders. Just to annoy Cal.

And indeed, Cal was close to enraged. “Neverland, asshole.” she lightly kicked him “Don’t compare a piece of art to such bloody rubbish.” she groaned, then sat up “Really, I don’t know what kind of crack Lewis Carroll was on when he wrote those books. I finished Alice Through The Looking Glass last week, and it’s all nonsensical. She goes through a mirror and ends up in a world similar to her own, but where giant insects take the train and laws are impossibly alien? Oliver, dude, what does jam tomorrow and jam yesterday but not jam today mean?”

Oliver shrugged. “As if I knew.”

But Cal’s words secretly bothered him. In his current state of tension, he couldn’t help but think of his homeland. Her homeland.

Mirror was a reflection of the only world Cal had ever known. In a metaphorical sense, a thin coat of glass separated her reality and the life she should have lived as Saz. The Kinship was much like the literary world she found so nonsensical: a united nation hidden in the depths of the Earth, twisted conservatism, beings who could pretty much become talking insects, people who could bend reality in unimaginable ways…

Cal stood up and walked to the freezing sea as a familiar guilt enveloped Oliver. There was also a wall of glass standing between his best friend and him. A one-way mirror that showed him everything about her, and her only what he was allowed to show Aboveground.

Heck, Oliver knew more about Cal than Cal herself. He knew what her parents were —had been— the position her aunts and uncles had in The Kinship, the friends that so fervently wished for her safety… and a dozen other secrets she should’ve been entitled to knowing.

Oliver looked at the sand, hesitating momentarily before deciding to go for it.

‘I’m sorry’, he wrote. In Sazla; Oliver may have grown up in Aboveground London, but Sazla still was his native tongue and the one he felt the most comfortable in.

The guilt over lying to Cal had began gnawing at him when he was around eight. At the time, he’d promised himself never to keep non-Saz secrets from her. He’d succeeded. At least for the most part. Recently he’d realised something about himself he needed to tell someone —Cal— but whenever the opportunity to tell his secret to her arose, Oliver always backed down.

Cal came back to him with her legs freezing wet; on her hands, the bottle of iced tea she’d buried underwater a few minutes ago. She plopped down on the sand, opened the bottle and chugged down half its contents. “Tea?” she offered Oliver, who took the bottle but didn’t move to drink from it.

This morning he’d promised himself he’d tell Cal that secret of his. No matter what. Oliver knew he had to tell her or else he’d explode.

“Oliver, what’s wrong?” Cal’s laidback demeanour promptly disappeared as she noticed the change in Oliver. Gingerly, her hand moved to grab his —Oliver noticed she’d began doing that when she wanted to comfort but didn’t have the necessary words.

Oliver squeezed her hand gratefully; closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “I want to tell you something.” he opened his eyes and turned to her “Mind you, I’m irrationally scared of telling you this.”

Cal tensed. Oliver wasn’t allowed to do this, but he reached out to her and willed her shoulders to relax ever so slightly. Using his insignia helped release some of his own tension, and when he next spoke, his voice didn’t sound as scared as he’d feared. “I’m bisexual.”

He studied Cal’s face to see her reaction. At first, she only blinked at him —processing the information— but a second after his confession, she exhaled as if tremendously relieved. She used her free hand to also take Oliver’s, and pressed her forehead to his arm. Oliver could feel her silent laughter.

“Cal?” Oliver asked “Did you hear me? I’m bi.”

“Yes, yes. I did.” Cal drew back and met his eyes, a small smile grazed her lips “I just— Oliver I thought you were going to tell me you’d been diagnosed with something, or were moving to —I don’t know— Gloucestershire.” she smiled at him “But you’re bi. That’s amazing, dude.”

“Really?”

It was as if a part of the weigh he’d been carrying since childhood had been lifted off his shoulders; and if Oliver couldn’t quite walk straight, he now could at least walk on lighter feet.

“Of course it’s amazing.”

It wasn’t only that keeping unnecessary secrets from Cal hurt him. He had needed to tell someone, and to be reassured that his bisexuality was valid. No Saz would ever care about him not being straight, but Oliver lived at the other side of the wall of glass.

He’d heard his classmates say horrible things about queer people, and was terrified of what their reaction to him would be. Clara and Carter Whitaker always told their son not to care about his inferior’s ‘senseless bigotry’, but Oliver had to care. Otherwise he’d become the target of their hatefulness.

“Are you going to come out to everyone?” Cal eventually asked.

A breeze of salty air pulled her hair backwards, allowing Oliver to fully see her face: Cal’s eyes shone with fondness, and something else. Was it…? But no.

“I have to, don’t I?” Oliver shrugged; half achieving the confident tone he’d been going for.

“No.” Cal snorted, but wiggled closer to him “Your bisexuality is yours to share. No one’s entitled to knowing your secrets.”

“I know that. But I want to be out —or at least reach a point where if people don’t know I’m bi, then that’s on them— and talk about boys comfortably.”

Oliver didn’t ask for anything too extravagant, just to be recognised and respected. That wasn’t too hard, was it? His classmates and teachers would surely understand him.

But Cal frowned at him. Oliver thought she’d say something, but the only thing she did was lean against his shoulder silently. “I’ll kill whoever’s homophobic or biphobic to you.” she eventually said.

Oliver snorted. “You’re the best, CC.” he thanked, putting his arm around her shoulders and briefly kissing the top of her head.

“Oh, come on, don’t cover my hair in saliva.” Cal protested, but didn’t move.

“It’s already full of sand. How are you even going to get it off?”

Cal rolled her eyes. “You. I’m helping you dye your hair, you’re helping me wash mine.”

“Hm.”

The two sat in silence, then. Oliver allowed himself a contented smile as he basked in his first moments of being out. This was good, he thought. Just the feeling of being accepted and loved unquestioningly. And Cal had said it was amazing that he was bi. Oliver felt on top of the world.

“Oliver?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for telling me.”

Oliver quirked an eyebrow at her. “Prepare to hear it many more times. ‘I am bisexual’; it sounds good, doesn’t it?”

@oc-growth-and-development @wagnerthedragon @iloveallmyocs @littleturtle95

#the kinship chronicles #oc-tober

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Can’t wake up

It felt like you were floating. You were so sleepy, and you felt like you were floating. The white noise in your ears, was it the sound of waves lapping at the ocean shore? Because that would explain why you felt like you were floating. It was so peaceful and calm, being weightless and relaxed in your own personal sea of tranquility. You drew in a deep breath and sighed, allowing your worries and anxieties to wash away with the constant lapping of the tide.

Somewhere, on the shore maybe? You could hear a voice. Deep and clipped, a rumbling staccato buzz in the back of your head. Whoever he was was calling your name. The sound of the waves, the lull of the ocean - the pull was too great, and you couldn’t hear what he was saying. Just that his voice was strong and masculine.

The gentle tug of the waves was washing you out deeper into the ocean, but you didn’t fight it. You allowed yourself to float, buoyed by the water, eyes closed and relaxed.

“Come back to me!” The words cut clear through the static of the water, and you felt yourself jolt from floating to just laying. Had this man grabbed you? Was he trying to pull you back to shore? Were you in danger? From him? From the sea? The waves wrenched you from his hands, and again, you were floating. You considered listening for his words again, but the gentle rocking motion of the water lulled you back into relaxation and you could feel yourself drifting away from shore again.

“We’re losing her!” The man’s voice was starting to sound panicked, and again, you jolted into awareness, just for a moment. A shot of pain ripped through you as you felt him drawing you back to the shore. The waves dragged you back and you felt yourself flail and start to sink, just for a moment.

XxX

“We’re losing her!” Steve tore your tac suit open, baring your chest, and started chest compressions. “Get the medkit for me! I need the shears!” 

Tony shoved the back toward him, and Natasha pulled it open, grabbing the shears from the top and handing them over quickly. While Steve sliced through your sports bra, Nat readied the defibrillator. Steve held a hand up to stop her from placing the pads, and continued the chest compressions and rescue breathing. 

XxX

The floating sensation left you, and you felt yourself being dragged down by the undertow. You tried to paddle against the straining waves, but couldn’t so much as move your arms. You vaguely remembered your surf instructor telling you to swim with the current toward the edge of the riptide, and tried to manoeuvre yourself to where you thought the waves might be gentler, but you couldn’t.  You broke through the waves, gasping, and finally fought against the drag until you were out of the rip and floating again. You rolled back onto your back, closed your eyes against the sun and floated.

XxX

You’d drawn in a deep ragged breath, and then fallen back unresponsive. 

“Tony?” Steve asked. Tony dropped his visor and starred at you. 

“She’s got a heart rate. It’s slow. BP is low. Oxygen sats are crap. We need to get out of here and get her back to the compound. Nat, get us up in the air,” he ordered. Steve pulled the oxygen tank off the wall of the quinjet and attached a mask before attaching it to your face. 

“I can’t find anything wrong with her, Tony,” Steve sighed, throwing a blanket across your naked form. “I don’t suppose that suit has a CT in it?”

“No such luck, Cap,” Tony shook his head. “We’ll get her in the cradle, she’ll be fixed up just fine.”

Steve entwined his fingers in yours and leaned against the bulkhead of the quinjet. “I hope so.” XxX

You washed up on shore with the changing of the tides, and felt your skin prickle against the sun. Fighting the exhaustion you felt from your swim against the riptide, you sighed and stretched out on the sand. You yawned and opened your eyes as you rolled onto your side, and saw a beautiful woman sitting on a rock observing you. She was stark naked, but had drawn her legs up against her chest. The sun refracted off her skin, which was gleaming ultramarine, complementing the regal blue of her ultramarine hair.

“I didn’t think mermaids had legs?” You asked. The pitch of her laugh felt unnatural.

“You tell me, I’m only here because you summoned me,” she replied. You propped yourself up on an elbow and looked at her, and then around the beach. 

“Am I dead?” You asked.

“No.”

“What’s wrong with me then? Why am I here?” You asked.

“Your brain is protecting you.”

“From what?” You demanded.

“From feeling the pain.” She was nearly expressionless as you spoke, and refused to offer more information.

“What pain?” You were getting frustrated.

“Intercranial hemorrhage.” Her voice was soothing at least. “Now rest. Or you’ll never wake. Stop fighting and rest.”

“If this is a dream, I won’t get a sunburn?”

She laughed again. “No. You’re quite safe from that.” She rose and stepped back to the water’s edge. “Rest.” She dove into the shallows and when she resurfaced, you saw her tail breach and slap the water in acknowledgement.

You took her advice and laid back down, closing your eyes against the sun, and allowing your body to rest.

XxX

Steve sat beside the cradle, partially stripped out of his suit, just watching you. Nat came over with a glass of water and nudged him.

“Go have a shower, get some food,” she recommended. Steve shook his head.

“What if she wakes up?”

“I’ll be here. She���ll know I love her more,” Natasha teased. Steve scowled. “Steve, you won’t do her any good stinky and hangry. Go get washed up. There’s a chicken rice bowl in the kitchen with your name on it. I’ve got this.”

Steve sighed and pushed himself to his feet, leaving the quiet of the infirmary. Natasha looked down on you and flopped in the seat Steve had vacated.

“As much as I want you to wake up, you should probably save it for when he gets back,” she said to you. “But don’t even think about dying on us.”

XxX

“I want you to wake up.” The feminine voice broke through the wash of the waves, and seabird song. You groaned and opened one eye, thinking the mermaid had returned. There was no one around. You sat up, and took in your surroundings again. The island was beautiful, from what you could see. And your subconscious was ensuring all your needs were met. A small, but sheer rock face a short way down the beach was home to a waterfall that you could only assume was fresh water. There were coconut trees at the edge of the beach, and a few short bushes that looked to be pineapples. You could be quite happy here, you thought. “Baby, you’ve got to come back to me.” The same male voice from before echoed in your head. It was so loud this time that it made you dizzy, and you stumbled toward the shade. You might not get sunburn, but your brain felt scrambled from the heat. XxX

“Baby, you’ve got to come back to me,” Steve kissed your knuckles. “It’s been three days. Doctor Cho says all your scans have returned to normal. You’re okay. Wake up. Please.”

XxX

“Please.” It was a single word, but it held more passion and pain than you could ever remember hearing. You looked around the beach. The voices came in waves every so often, but usually quiet, just breaking through the gentle but persistent noise of the ocean waves lapping against the shore. If only you knew where the voices were coming from. 

Since you’d washed up on the island, you’d searched the entire thing, looking for the ghost voices. They all seemed familiar, but you couldn’t place them. You flopped down against the soft branches you’d turned into a makeshift mattress and allowed your mind to wander, trying to place the male voice you kept hearing as you watched the clouds drift across the sky.

XxX

“Any change?” Tony leaned into the infirmary, holding a bag of dried fruit. Steve looked haggard. Tony couldn’t guess when the man had last slept, but he looked like he might not have shaved in at least a week. Natasha had stopped nagging Steve about hygiene when he’d told her to fuck off earlier in the week. 

“Nothing.” Steve’s voice was devoid of emotion.

According to Dr. Cho, there was nothing wrong with you, but the vegetative state was persistent. Steve was grieving you, despite your textbook vital signs. He hung his head in his hands and his shoulders started to shake.

“Whoa there, Steve, Dr. Cho says she’s going to be fine. Let her brain rest. There must be more to it than the cradle can see. Tony rushed forward, not even thinking, and rubbed his hand on Steve’s back. Steve leaned into his friend and wept.

“What if this is it? What if this is all I get? Just a few months with her and now she’s gone?” Steve asked, his voice overwrought with sorrow. Tony patted Steve’s back awkwardly.

“This isn’t it,” Tony promised. “You need some rest, and a shower. And maybe a shave, although I have to say the beard is fetching. I’ll sit with her. If you come back in less than six hours, I’ll smother her myself.”

Steve glared at Tony, but pushed to his feet. “You wouldn’t dare. I’m only going because I owe Nat an apology.”

XxX

The male voice was different, and his chatter was non-stop. You wanted to find him and tell him to stick a cork in it, but as usual, there was no one on the island but you. Yet another fruitless search for the voices that haunted your island made you realize how lonely you were.  Had you always been here? How had you gotten here? You remembered floating in the ocean, but where had you been before that? You sat down and struggled to remember. As you stared out at the water, you idly doodled in the sand with a small twig. The nattering man finally stopped speaking and you sighed in relief. You pushed yourself back on your feet and rose, looking down at the series of circles with the star in the centre. It had to mean something, it was the only thing you ever seemed to draw when you were thinking about things.

XxX

“Tony says the beard looks good. I never would have worn a beard before, but I kind of like it. It’s not fancy like his either. It’s just a beard.” Steve smoothed down the hair on his face and took a sip from his coffee. He picked up your hand and placed it against the hairs on his cheek, smoothing your hand down the scruff. Your fingers reflexively curled into the hair and you let out a soft sigh.

Steve leaned forward, “Come back to me. Please.”

XxX

“Please.” The anguish in the voice tore through your heart and you sat up. Had it never been nighttime since you got here?

“Please.” Your ears started to ring and your vision blurred. The ocean was placid, calm. It had never been so calm.

“Please, baby.” Memories rushed through you and you looked around at the island, no longer beautiful and friendly, but instead looking depleted and dangerous.

“Steve?”

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

@rampant-salamander @bolontiku @bkwrm523

#whump of july 2021

[tendermiasma]

i’m not even into overwatch anymore but i just wanted to say I ADORE your art style and hope to develop my own into a similar semi-realism leaning...have you made a post about your art journey? I’m assuming I just need to buckle down and do anatomy studies but any tips are very welcome!! Ty for your time <3

Oh man thank you! I’ve never made a comprehensive post about how I got to *gestures* whatever this point in my art this is, and I definitely sat here wondering what “art journey” means for me since I always feel like I’m stumbling around so I’ll answer as completely as I can. But a great way to develop a realism-minded eye is to draw from photos and life. Everyone in the world has said it over and over but it really gets it done, it’s not any more complicated than that. It’s how I started when I was little and it’s not something I planned, but the Legolas posters were right there so how could I not? Your own non-realism “stylistic” touch will bubble up whether you want it to or not and that’s a beautiful thing. It’s not something you need to look for because it happens on its own, whether it’s you seeing something another artist is doing that you like and assimilating it into your work, or it’s your own unique way that you absorb information from the world and use it to solve problems in the drawing in front of you. Some new artists also still have the idea that using references is cheating-- I’m not blaming them, sometimes this weird thing is circulated by more established people as well-- but this is a very small minority. Please use references. I’d be lost without them. The Castlevania team has a giant collection of references for faces of every character from every angle, props, etc. and I always have a second screen up with 10 different sheets of whoever I’m drawing. Feeding yourself info is essential to getting better. Look at how other artists handle something you’re having a problem with too. If they’re doing a similar pose or something, study their drawing and ask yourself what specifically, extremely technically about that drawing is convincing-- what marks are where, and what is the quality or direction of the strokes? Try it out on your own drawing. If you’re stuck, become aware of if you’re holding on too tightly to what you think something should look like. I have to remind myself this as well. Really try to let go of the idea you have in your head about how something works and simply try instead to draw what you see, even if it feels weird. The results are often pleasantly surprising. 

I have a funny relationship with studies. You seem to be looking at them like a chore and I feel the same way. It’s impossible for me to sit down and just draw something over and over, disconnected from emotion or a larger narrative. I think a wonderful way to “study” is to incorporate those studies into a project that you wanted to do anyway. I’ve used my minicomics to get better at background painting or specific figure poses that I needed for the story but wasn’t sure how to do. I’m a very “oops I need it now better learn TODAY” kind of artist, if that suits you better than buckling down and doing anatomy studies for hours. Both are great ways to improve, but you have options for how to get there. 

In terms of how much time I spend drawing.. well lol it’s a lot. I almost typed “but I don’t do it every day” but yes, my jobs have made sure that I do (I tend to separate personal drawing and job drawing). But the truth is, to get better, a lot of very focused drawing time is important; how much of it is up to you and your schedule. You can sit down for 6 hours and doodle or you can sit down for 3 with an extremely critical eye. It’s about the volume of time as well as focus and I don’t have a clear answer for it, but I can point to one specific year in my life where I made artistic progress like I’ve never seen from myself since. I drew a comic with regular updates during that time and, looking back, the art was not good. But the point was, I was drawing for 7 hours a day after work, at least 5 days a week, and actively looking to draw things that I hadn’t done before or knew that I wasn’t good at, and the result was that every single update was almost like it was drawn by a different person-- readers noticed and commented on the progress as well. It was very much an art bootcamp and I wouldn’t have the skills I do at this point if I hadn’t done it. It’s important that you’re loving what you do if you do it for yourself! That’s how you get through big projects and continue to be excited with where you are. Love is one of the most important motivators and discipline-keepers in art, in my experience. Draw what sets your brain on fire and attack it wholeheartedly even if it’s really weird or niche, not what you think you should be drawing, and you’ll improve a million times faster.

Art journey in terms of what I’ve done with my life (if this is what you meant from the beginning I’M SORRY I’m just trying everything you might have meant) uhhh I haven’t been to art school. I have no idea what my relationship with art would be like now if I’d had any formal training and I don’t really dwell on it. I could either be a testament to being able to get by without it or an example of someone who has no idea what she’s doing at all and lacks many basic foundational art skills. I have an architecture degree. I love architecture, I love the language of space we build for ourselves, and I’m truly, deeply glad for that eye-opening and often grueling experience, but I think my current field is a much better fit. Before animation I worked as a graphic designer mainly drawing storyboards for commercials and internal-industry stuff-- lots and lots of quick colored sketches (one of our main clients was a big glass company and my god I never thought I’d draw so much glass in my life). I was able to do that job due to the skills I developed through personal work. Maybe I’d be a hundred times more powerful if I went to art school! Maybe I’d be completely burned out and bitter and not drawing anymore at all! I just don’t know. I have friends who have had both experiences. Whether you choose art school or not it’s best to keep tabs on if the art you’re currently making brings you joy. Joy and struggle aren’t mutually exclusive. Oftentimes I’m drawing something I care deeply about but it’s VERY FUCKING HARD and I’m frustrated but it’s worth it.

I also do everything while being very scared of the thing. I have a lot of deep-seated anxiety that I’m constantly trying to root out and my brain compulsively twists things around into why I can’t do something, why people secretly know I’m below-par and are just too nice to tell me, how I’m “tricking” people into thinking I’m better than I am, etc. It’s so bad that my first thought when I was initially offered the art test for my current job was to say no; not because I didn’t want it so badly it hurt, but because I thought I’d be too much of a disappointment.  After completing the test I spent an hour figuring out the most gracious way to apologize for not being enough. It’s common, but not something to accept and we’re all working on it. I just thought it was important to mention because art is also a mental journey and forces you to do all this navel-gazey shit in order to advance, and feeling like you are Not Enough is rife in the creative community. The work feels entangled with my value as a person because art is a massive part of my life. Something I’m learning is that I don’t have to be confident or sure of myself all the time. This ensures that the process is usually painful and frightening. Often there’s no way to make it less painful or frightening, and I just have to hold my breath and do it. An oddly comforting thing to me the past couple years is to remind myself that the scary thing I’m about to do won’t be the scariest thing I’ll ever do. I implies both that this isn’t the pinnacle of my progress and also that I will inevitably get over it. If you continue with art you’re going to run into things like this and I guess if it was me it would’ve been helpful to know I’m not alone in it.

I hope that maybe answered some of your questions, maybe? If you have some specific questions feel free and I’ll try my best. Hope you have a good day/night!

#anon #asks

[fruitcoops]

Hey!! So if u want to, could u write a short fic or smth for number 25, because I am LIVING for a scenario where sirius just playfully bites remus and then he gets like super horny or the other way around.

The biting isn’t the central part of this fic, but all three parts of this series involve a solid amount of playful spicy bites. Here’s the third and final part of the night of Remus’ first goal! This has been a wild ride and honestly gave me great practice for smut writing, so thanks to everyone who supported the miniseries!

Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for restraint (holding, mentioned once), a teeny-tiny moment of injury angst, and sickening domesticity. Oh, and the smut of course.

Whoever figures out the song this series was inspired by first gets a shoutout in my next fic! Hint: look at the titles...

They wasted no time in getting up to the bedroom again. Sirius tripped over his own shirt in the rush and grabbed it off the stair as Remus laughed his ass off a few steps ahead, despite the fact that his own long sleeve was still abandoned by the front door.

Their sheets were a mess from the night’s previous activities, but Sirius was too busy falling even more deeply in love to really care as they laid down on their sides, tangling their legs together and smiling into each kiss. “Are you sure you’ve got one more in you?” he asked, half-teasing.

“Do you?” Remus hooked his ankle around Sirius’ calf and rolled on top of him, cradling his face in his hands as Sirius lovingly felt along every bump of his spine. He was still a little foggy from the mind-melting blowjob, to be honest—nonetheless, he felt a familiar pool of heat gathering low in his abdomen as Remus shifted.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Sirius murmured, slipping his fingers through soft caramel waves. “What do you want?”

“You.”

“You have me.”

“I want you,” Remus said again with more emphasis as he skimmed his hands under Sirius’ waistband. “My second goal only happened because of your perfect assist.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one who got it in—hmmm.” He rolled his hips and Remus’ warm palms squeezed his ass gently. Lips moved down his neck, pausing to nip a hickey on the hinge of his jaw. A shiver ran through him, and he felt Remus grin. “I love it when you do that.”

“I can tell.” Sirius moved his hands further down, but Remus reached up and pinned them to the bed by his wrists. “Nope.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. You asked me what I want, and I want you.” Remus loosened his hold and leaned back to scan his face. “Is that okay?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Consent is sexy.” Remus snapped the edge of his waistband lightly, looking around. “Do you know where the lube is?”

“What?” Sirius sat up on his elbows. “Wasn’t it on the bed?”

“I thought so, but I don’t see it anywhere.” After a moment of deliberation, Remus slid off his lap and began to straighten the sheets out, muttering under his breath. “It was here, right? I’m not going crazy?”

“Non, it definitely was.” Sirius got to his feet and joined the search, but he didn’t see the blue-tinted bottle anywhere. “Okay, you took it out of the dresser and hit your hand, then I put it here—” He tapped the right side of the bed. “—and I don’t think it moved much until after the thigh incident when we used it again.”

“Have we become those old people already?” Remus asked as he got to his knees and reached under the bed. “I’m 25, I can’t lose track of the lube yet. That’s got to be some sort of warning sign.”

“The only warning sign is that we’re both going to go to bed horny if we don’t find it,” Sirius grumbled, picking a dust bunny off his hand and shuddering.

“…not necessarily.”

He paused. “Fair point. Oh! Found it!” They must have moved more than Sirius remembered, because the lube had ended up wedged between the nightstand and the bedframe. “If I find any spiders down here, I’m going to scream.”

“Oh, you’ll be screaming alright,” Remus said as he flopped down on the bed and winked down at him.

“See, I know you love me when you still make sex jokes while I’m elbow-deep in dust because both of us are too lazy to move these and vacuum.” He groped around for a second longer before his fingers closed around a familiar tube and he drew his arm out. Unfortunately, something brushed against the back of his hand mere inches from the light and he shouted in alarm, scrambling away from the nightstand like it burned him.

“Are you okay?” Remus asked, looking mildly alarmed.

Sirius scooted forward slowly, all his senses on high alert as he retrieved the lube. “Oh my fucking god, Remus.”

“What?”

“A sock? Really?” He reached back in and grabbed the stray sock, shaking it out as evidence. “I thought this was a spider!”

Remus was clearly biting back a smile as Sirius threw the sock in the laundry hamper that was literally three feet from the bed. “I love you?”

“I love you, too.”

“Now that you’ve successfully completed your rescue mission, can I make it up to you?” He sat up on his knees and drew Sirius back in with two arms around his waist, leaning up for a kiss.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Sirius said as he obliged, allowing himself to be pushed into the mattress as Remus returned to his earlier position. The slight break had definitely had a negative effect on his general horniness, but it came back quickly enough under the heated touch of his fiancé. By the time Remus got around to sliding his pants down his legs, he was a puddle of bliss.

“Are you ready?” Remus asked, kissing the dip of his hipbones. “For real this time.”

“Hell yes.” Sirius handed him the lube and settled back into the pillows with a sigh, closing his eyes as the cap clicked and one of Remus’ hands pushed his thighs apart.

He took his time, mapping Sirius’ torso with kisses and love bites while his long fingers pulled and pressed in all the right places. It wasn’t until Sirius was keening on every breath that he finally slicked himself, distracting him from the initial pressure with a bruising kiss that seemed more fitting with the energy they had come to the house with all those few hours ago. “You’re so loud.” Remus grinned against his cheek when a particularly excellent thrust made Sirius moan.

“Says you,” he managed, nipping at his earlobe. “Fuck, that’s good.”

“How should we celebrate that beautiful assist?” Remus asked. Sirius was rather glad he sounded like he wasn’t expecting an answer, because at that moment his shaft slid against his prostate and the world went staticky for a second. “This seems to be working well enough.”

“You’re too coherent,” Sirius panted, gripping his waist tightly. “Merde, sweetheart, there—this night was supposed to be about getting you off.”

Remus’ quiet laugh was a little too tense around the edges to be as casual as he clearly wanted to make it and a sense of satisfaction joined the bubbling arousal in Sirius’ abdomen. “Believe me, baby, this is doing it well enough.”

“I can do better than ‘well enough’,” Sirius muttered, hitching his leg up and flipping them over to slide onto his lap slowly, relishing in the steady drag. He let his head fall back slightly and adjusted his knees into a better position. “Huh. This is actually kind of difficult after a game.”

“Told you so.” Beneath his hands, Remus’ chest was heaving, and he looked back down to see his eyes were wide.

Take it slow, he reminded himself. “At first I thought you were just being a baby about it, but apparently not,” he teased, pushing himself up a few inches before dropping down.

Thankfully, Remus didn’t immediately kick him out of the bed for bringing up the thigh incident. Instead, he cocked one eyebrow and started pushing his hips up to meet Sirius’ movements. “When have I ever been a baby about anything?”

Sirius pretended to think for a moment, then dissolved into laughter when Remus smacked him on the thigh. “Never, mon coeur.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Remus pushed him down with slightly more force and Sirius’ knees jerked inward reflexively. “Oooo, okay then.”

He did it again and Sirius’ back bowed, forcing him to prop his elbows on Remus’ chest. The sparkles faded from his vision after an indeterminate amount of time and he tried in vain to catch his breath, twisting a handful of sheets in his hand. “Close.”

“Close to what?” Remus’ voice was low and a little raspy, sending tingles down his spine.

“Close.”

“Not yet, you’re not. Can you sit up?” Sirius’ forearms nearly gave out, but he succeeded. Remus stopped moving beneath him. “Can you—can you loosen your grip a bit?”

“Huh?” Sirius blinked away some of the muddled dizziness; the snarky, dominant angles of Remus’ face had faded, replaced by discomfort. He frowned and let go of his shoulders, which he had been gripping for leverage and emotional support and—“Oh. Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, just a little tight,” Remus assured him, running his hands along Sirius’ waist and ribs. The marks on his skin where Sirius’ fingertips had dug in were light, all things considered, but guilt trickled in when he saw the placement. “Hey. I’m fine, baby, really.”

“I’m so sorry, Re. I should’ve been paying more attention—”

“Stop. Look at me.”

“I am looking at you.”

Remus squeezed his hips lightly. “Look at me, Sirius. I’m okay. It was not your fault. Honestly, I’m a little flattered that I could make you stop thinking.” He reached up and pressed his thumb between Sirius’ eyebrows to smooth out the worry crease.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Consent is sexy,” he reminded him. Remus smiled up at him, bright and brilliant and so beautiful, then closed his eyes as Sirius circled his hips. This closeness with Remus never failed to set him alight from the inside, no matter how they did it. He was exhausted from the game and from coming twice already, but he was afraid he’d simply burn up if he stopped moving now.

“Oh, fuck,” Remus choked out; one of his knees drew up against Sirius’ lower back, which tilted him at just the right angle to brush his sweet spot with every thrust. “Fuck, baby, yes.”

The last shred of awareness left in his mind registered a string of desperate sounds rushing from his lungs, half-syllables of Remus’ name between wobbling whimpers and pleas for more, more, more.

“Come on, come for me.” He knew that voice. That voice featured in all of his best dreams, starred in his favorite memories, and highlighted everything he needed. That voice brought him home when he was lost in the dark. “Sirius, come for me.”

A wave of pleasure ripple down his back and he came, gasping and writhing, distantly acknowledging Remus’ moan when he followed suit with a final push. His thighs were completely numb when he laid down on his back, turning to drink in the sight of Remus’ flushed profile in the low light. He could barely see the places his fingers had been before around the pink of his post-orgasm skin. “Can we skip the shower?” he asked after a moment of astonished silence.

Remus nodded, laughing lightly as he looked over. “Yes, we definitely can.”

“I hate going to bed all sticky, but I don’t think my legs are functioning anymore.”

Remus kissed the tip of his nose and rolled onto his side so their knees touched. “I would love to agree with whatever you just said, but your accent is so thick right now and my brain is gone, which is not the ideal combination.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sirius murmured, kissing him chastely on the lips and wrapping an arm around his shoulders to pull him close. “C’est bon.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Remus yawned, snuggling closer and tangling their calves together.

“Hey.”

“Hmmm?”

“You played your first NHL game. And you scored two goals.”

“Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“I played next to you in my first NHL game.”

A slow, sleepy smile spread across Sirius’ face. “Yeah, you did.”