#so everything has to be thin and layerable

[frozenjokes]

A Collection Of Encounters From Bloodied Waters To Murky Bogs [1/2]

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this chapter of the mumbomaid au series is a lot different than the others, so please check the ao3 link for CWs

What do you like? (Not Evil)

His Makers had asked the question over dinner one night, during one of very few excursions Joel was allowed onto the mainland, heavily supervised of course. A treat for their creation, their experiment gone wrong. In Joel’s humble opinion, if you weren’t ready for your [Inexplicable Creation] to have zero moral compass and a lust for blood, then maybe you shouldn’t go about playing god, but ah well, he was here, and his Makers were still trailing after him, failing miserably to fix the mess they made.

Joel liked the mainland plenty, but there were too many people, too much noise, too much talking- god, if one more person tried to speak to him unprompted when he couldn’t retaliate- urghgrhgghggggrhghghrhh (<- the noise he would make instead until left alone). But other than that, he liked walking on ground that didn’t sink below his feet, he liked studying the parts of the city, committing them to memory, then rebuilding them below his island, terraforming the inside into a massive upside down hellscape. He liked to eat new food; anything he didn’t have to make for himself was quite the treat. Though, when he had said all these things, answering the question, that didn’t seem to be what his Makers were looking for.

“I don’t like you.” Joel had said afterwards, pushing the envelope on just how much push-back they would allow for excursions like this before sending him back to his prison. There was no point at which Joel wasn’t skating on thin ice with them, which was quite frankly unfair, since as far as they knew he hadn’t even done anything in years. Regardless. The answer was swift and cold, all five of them speaking at once.

“We know.”

They didn’t like Joel much either. Honestly, Joel wasn’t even sure why they kept him around. Well. They didn’t keep him around technically; Joel didn’t know exactly where he was from, but it certainly wasn’t some fuckass island in the middle of nowhere. Maybe it wasn’t even from Earth. Whoever his Makers were, they certainly weren’t human, and no uncanny valley disguises could hide that. Whatever. When he was first created, he caused way too many problems in the space he was allowed, and when they’d dropped him into human civilization.. Well. Given they often cited those four hours of Joel’s unfiltered access to humanity as their Greatest Mistake, you can take a guess on the kinds of things Joel got up to in his brief stint of freedom.

Still, they did not kill him. Joel didn’t understand why, especially when every time they spoke he was told he’s more trouble than he’s worth, but apparently he was worth something, or it wouldn’t make any sense to keep him.

So instead, he was bound to an island. A large piece of land with as little human interference as possible, with enough stimulation to keep Joel at least marginally enriched. Enough so that he wouldn’t be trying to kill anything and everything that crossed his path, including but not limited to his Makers. Little did they know, at least 75% of that enrichment came from scheming on how to escape. Well actually, they very much knew in the beginning, but that’s besides the point. Layers upon layers of spells and magic were dedicated to keep Joel bound to this place, to keeping his power, his control over the earth, strictly locked up. That way, Joel could do whatever he wanted within the confines of the area, and if he wrecked it, he would be the only person affected. And he had wrecked it. Multiple times in fits of great anger he had leveled the entire place, destroying everything he had built, everything he owned, centering all of his power on destroying his prison, sinking his island, but, ah..

It didn’t work. No matter how thoroughly he ripped this place to pieces, the ties keeping him bound did not come undone. Not that Joel had any reason to think they would. But in the early days, delusion was his biggest predator. And he’d pay for it too, laying in the watery wastes of a leveled home, freezing and miserable. His Makers took pity on him a few times, restoring the island to its natural state, only for Joel to wreck it the next day. Their patience with him quickly ran dry. If Joel wanted to ruin this place, then he would have to be the one to build it back up. And he did. Many times he did, and many more he destroyed it all again. Digging, clawing for anything he’d missed, for any physical traces of spellwork he could snap under his fingers.

He almost drowned several times looking for it. For sigils, boundary lines, cores- anything, until coming to the conclusion all fragile spellwork was buried deep underwater, places he would never be able to reach.

The ocean was an area of deep frustration from Joel. His brain was a catalog of ancient magic, recipes and enchantments written on the walls of his mind. But there was nothing for water. He couldn’t breathe it, couldn’t live in it- it didn’t make sense.

“You are made from earth,” his Makers had said to him when his frustrations were bared and red-hot, angry ripping like lacerations through his skin. “You have no dominion in the sea.”

His Makers didn’t smile, but Joel could feel the sneer in the words regardless, the triumphant finality of the phrase searing like the snaps of a whip at his back. You are stuck. Trapped. There’s nothing you can do.

Joel would say it had taken a while for him to accept that, but he never actually had, planning, scheming, waiting for the right series of events in which he could tear this whole place down. However, it had taken a while for him to mellow out. To come to terms with the fact that force was not the answer, not yet, and if he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life sleeping in the mud, then he had to grow up and put himself in a position where he wasn’t being supervised so closely.

Honestly, it hadn’t been difficult. His Makers were just as sick of him as he was of them, and it wasn’t like Joel could do much damage in this isolated state. Most of the time they spent supervising was just to make sure Joel didn’t accidentally kill himself, but Joel didn’t want to die, he only wanted to leave, so when he stopped wrecking the island every few days, his Makers were relieved to leave him to his own devices. And from then on, from an outsider’s point of view at least, Joel did very little. He cultivated the land into something beautiful, though it was often quite waterlogged, more swampy than anything. He built murals on cliffsides, carved figures from the rock, told stories in the landscape with painstaking detail. Sometimes he’d make miniature towns referencing the little of the world he’d gotten to see, then destroy it all to spite his Makers, who seemed to love his work. They had firm schedules with him; what days of the month they were visiting and what they would all be doing and for how much time. Always prompt, always rigid. In other words, deadlines to finish his latest projects, so they could blow up in the faces of his Makers’ praise.

“This is what you were meant to do,” they would say to him, bright eyed even as the dust of destroyed artwork still billowed into the sky. Nonsense. He would do whatever he pleased.

It had been a long time actually, since he’d last destroyed his art. Years, even, to the point where he was running out of space to create (though, he had plenty underground, underwater, but as far as his Makers knew, that was a place he could not reach). But it wasn’t for them. Never for them.

He just.. had someone else now. Someone who enjoyed his work, who liked to critique and contribute, who would be sad to see it all go. Not that he cared how Etho felt, it was Joel’s damn island, and he could do whatever he wanted with it, but Etho was lucky, because Joel just so happened to like his ideas.

Etho. Yes. His loophole.

Years and years and years spent studying the spells that bound him to this place, chipping away at their weaknesses, finally paid off when Etho washed up at his rocky shores, practically skewered on the sharp rocks that had taken so many ships in years before. That’s why Joel was out in the storm in the first place; waiting, longing for a stray ship blown away by violent winds and currents, smashing against the treacherous rocks, doomed by an island that did not show on their maps. The survivors would crawl upon his beaches, trapped, and Joel would leave them to panic over the sick and injured, before one by one, he’d hunt them for sport. Pick apart their bodies, string them up by open rib cages for his Makers to see on their next visit. He’d serve his Makers human flesh and blood, he’d spit it all in their faces, and then they would leave him, firmly reminded of the monster they’d created.

But he hadn’t killed Etho. No, mermaids were even rarer than ships; in fact, Joel had only ever seen one before Etho, washing up on his shores long dead. Etho was still alive, just barely, but Joel had saved him, stitched him up with dirt and vine until he could drag the barely breathing body home. Maim the both of their souls, bind them, rip his own freedom right out of Etho’s chest.

Joel made a pendant, something he could manipulate with little force, the inherent power of their combined souls enough of a catalyst to funnel his control. To switch places. To switch species.

If Joel was a mermaid, there would be nothing stopping him from digging, searching, discovering the physical sources of his entrapment and crushing it under webbed fingers. ‘No dominion over the sea-‘ please. Joel could take whatever the hell he wanted.

And he did find it. Deep under the water, then buried further, the massive lines drawn under the surface. Leaving the designated area would not kill him, no, and he could even stray briefly, but soon enough, his insides would come to a boil, his skin beginning to melt from his bones, just as gruesome and agonizing as it sounded. Joel wasn’t actually sure if any of the horror he experienced was actually real- it didn’t kill him after all, and he had tested those limits thoroughly, but that didn’t really matter. It felt real. It scared him enough to stay put. And now, beneath his hands, he had the power to destroy it.

He didn’t though. Breaking the sigil would only alert his Makers to his attempt at freedom, and he wasn’t ready. There were still so many spells, so many layers- escaping in body was a massive piece of the puzzle, but there was still the catalyst of his power, torn out of him just like a soul. It could not be destroyed, or even separated from Joel for too long; it was his life as well as his magic, the great power that had made it possible to create him in the first place. He would wither without it, almost certainly, and regardless, he was hardly more than human in its absence. Truly, he’d rather be stuck here for the rest of his life with magic then live freely without.

So in short, he needed it. And he wasn’t dumb enough to make a move without it either.

Returning to the surface in his new body, lost in his own scheme, Joel was reminded of the newly made human he’d left, healed and conscious and very afraid. That would be a problem, wouldn’t it. He couldn’t keep this form without a living Other. His Other. In Joel’s rush of adrenaline, he hadn’t thought about that; what he’d do with the leftover body. He hadn’t thought about it before then either, his sole focus on taking the water into his own hands, swimming deep and breathing salt. But this was his responsibility now, wasn’t it? Any mistreatment of the mermaid (now human) would be reflected back on his own skin.

Alright. Joel could do that. (In the beginning weeks, Joel was very much doubting he could do it.)

The transition was.. rough. Joel named him Etho, and this Etho was not the least bit cooperative or even grateful to Joel for saving his life. Communication was a certified nightmare, even with the spells Joel spun to help them understand each other. Etho nearly starved to death when Joel refused to let him eat raw fish, and when his Makers came to visit on one of their scheduled days, Etho attempted to run (swim?) away the second he regained his fins, Joel just barely able to catch him in a fist of earth before Etho went beyond his reach. That was a bad day. Struggling to focus on keeping Etho trapped while humoring his Makers, tasting dirt and starting to suffocate whenever he lost his focus for too long.

Joel didn’t.. he wasn’t the kind of person that had regrets, alright? Not pertaining to other people, certainly not. But he was not proud of what he did that night after his Makers had left him, dragging Etho back by the tail and shedding his blood at the cost of Joel’s own until he hardly had the strength to heal them both. If given the choice, he would not do it again.

Etho did not try to escape a second time.

But after that hiccup, things started to improve. Joel did a lot of experimenting, a lot of limit pushing, his greatest discovery coming when he ventured outside of his sigil with fins and gills, hoping for a short foraging trip that turned much longer when he realized there was no burn. No melting skin. No pain. Joel didn’t come home for days. He didn’t even remember what he did besides swim and catch fish and swim and swim really far away, but he wasn’t even thinking about why, because none of it mattered! He was free. And he didn’t even need to break the sigil to leave.

Now, he knew at this point in theory that he needed his catalyst, his magic, to survive, but he only knew in practice when his existence began to wither away, first just particles no bigger than dry skin floating off into the water, then his scales growing brittle and cracked, his fins splitting until he trailed blood wherever he went. Getting back to the island was a stressful couple of hours. But he made it, of course. Basking in those waters had never felt so beautiful.

From there, the whole ‘soulbound’ thing got a lot more exciting. Joel wanted to know every limit he could push and why; how this bond he’d tied worked in its completion and the holes he’d poked in his Makers’ spells because of it. Excitement pushed him to do the same thing as before, but in his human form, and the result was the same- he was free. That is, until he started melting a couple hours later. Apparently, species had everything to do with this, somehow. Odd loophole? Regardless, that was a bad trip home; mistaken in his freedom, Joel had traveled much further than he probably should have. Must have been a crazy hour for Etho too, whew. Joel may have failed to warn him of that possibility.. whatever, he was fine.

Speaking of Etho, the following weeks saw a vast improvement to their communication! Once he stopped being a total Debby Downer about his new life, Etho was a curious kind of guy, eager to know and learn. He was interested in the limit testing as well, anxious to know if he could leave the island for long periods of time, and it turned out he could in both his human and mermaid form. Joel was genuinely shocked by that, quite confused about how this spell worked now, but Etho didn’t question anything, simply relieved for whatever reason, as if he’d ever need to leave. Etho wanted to learn English as well, he really wanted to learn English, and while Joel didn’t particularly see a point when translation between them worked well enough with the aid of magic, he had time to kill. That is, until he discovered teaching was frustrating and Etho sucked, so all in all, they did not make much headway in that department, though, Etho was clever, and picked up quite a bit through insisting Joel speak to him in English most of the time. He asked questions like a motherfucker, but it wasn’t that big of a deal in the end. It was honestly a miracle they kind of got along in the first place, and Joel was sure whatever grievances Etho had with him were quite a bit worse than ‘talks too much.’

Actually, during this exercise in Having Company For The First Time In His Life That Wasn’t His Makers Who He Hated, Joel discovered he quite liked talking. In fact, he liked talking a lot more than Etho did, telling Etho of his escapades, his art, his past crimes against humanity, his plans for future crimes against humanity- everything. Joel had so much to speak about, so much he never even realized he’d longed to share. And Etho listened, he asked questions (mostly stuff like ‘what does murder mean’ and ‘do humans not cannibalize each other sometimes,’ but still), he was so engaged! He didn’t want to participate in the games when the next ship crashed at Joel’s shores two months later, but that wasn’t much of a bother. Hunting as a mermaid was very exciting, and Joel took quite a bit of joy in feeling truly like a swamp monster. Etho thought hanging the bodies up like that was distasteful, but when Joel had told him it was only for his Makers to see, Etho hadn’t pushed. Etho never wanted to ask about his Makers, which was good, because Joel didn’t want to speak about them.

And his art. Etho loved his art. Now, Etho did not use words like ‘love’ or any other words of praise, but sometimes Joel would catch him staring at a mural or a carving, or even the statuettes Joel made from time to time. On month six, nearly the anniversary of their meeting (not that Joel was keeping track), Etho had been particularly entranced with a mural Joel was working on, the flats of rocks sticking out of the cliffside like tiles, painting a picture of the sea. When Joel had approached him down the channel, still preferring to traverse the world in his mermaid form whenever possible, Etho had spoken about it for the first time.

“Do you like color?” he had said in his limited English. The mural had no color; they typically never did. Joel had access to naturally colored rock, but those were typically harder to get his hands on, and he often found he could tell the stories he wanted perfectly fine in shades of gray.

“It is hard to have,” Joel had responded simply, “Bad to get.”

“I found [some]. At [the] beach. I think..” Etho didn’t seem to have the words, so he walked confidently toward the piece, and Joel noticed a small bag at his side for the first time. Without a thought and entirely without asking, Etho started to mess with a school of fish in one of the corners, plucking out the fish tiles and systematically replacing them with the red rock he had found at the beach. Joel had only been able to watch in utter bafflement as Etho messed with his work- seriously! The nerve on that guy! But when Etho had turned around, he hadn’t looked the slightest bit deterred by Joel’s expression.

“Need [a] word,” he said, running his fingers over the tile, then over his own rocks, “This versus this. Adjective.” Etho did the motion again, expectant.

“Smooth versus rough,” Joel told him in time with the movement.

“Repeat.”

“Smooth versus rough.”

“Make [mine] smooth.”

At this point, Joel gave up on trying to tell Etho with his face that he was not happy, because clearly Etho didn’t care. Whatever. Sure. I’ll make your dumb rocks smooth. Joel brought his hands to the dirt, easier for channeling precise work, and cut Etho’s red rocks cleanly through the middle so he could use the other pieces as well. A little flashy, not how Joel typically operated, but the thrilled look on Etho’s face was entirely what he was aiming to see.

It seemed a fire had been lit in Etho, and he began replacing the other sea creature with colored pieces, Joel making sure the other knew how entirely exasperated he was by sighing loudly and flicking his fins, none of which Etho paid any attention to. But he still cut the rock to match in texture, locking the stones in place so they wouldn’t fall as Etho fiddled with them, and after about an hour, all Etho’s color had been meticulously placed, not nearly enough to get to every animal, but enough for the proof of concept.

“It’s better,” Etho had said when he took a step away. Joel would have loved to snap back, to criticize it, to call him too blind to actually know, but, well.. it was better. It was pretty damn cool, actually. Etho had a good eye for contrast.

“It’s fine. I’ll mess with it. But you’d better be prepared to gather all this yourself, because if you can’t keep up, it’s getting scrapped. Good luck with the green, god damn. You’re never going to finish that turtle with those little pebbles.”

“Translate.” Joel did so, and Etho looked deeply pleased. “I will.”

After that, things were nearly always well. Etho liked to contribute to Joel’s projects, and Joel liked to work with him. Months passed like this, a quieter peace. Joel thought less and less about escape as months turned to a full year, his secret mermaid giving so much of the freedom he longed for, as well as.. a friend. How silly of a thing that was. If you had told Joel years ago that he would value the company of another person, Joel would have laughed in your face, and then probably smashed you to bits under a rock or something.

But he.. he loved- no. He really. Really liked Etho. He really liked Etho. And Etho liked him too! They liked working together, drawing out concepts for future projects, and when Joel began his foray into the underwater spaces of the island, mapping them for future plans, the two of them would take turns diving inside, and Etho was an excellent second opinion. The things they created together.. Joel valued them more than anything he’d ever made before.

That is, until Joel found out that Etho didn’t like him very much at all, actually.

One year, four and a quarter months. It was a sudden revelation, spoken like it was nothing at all. Etho had mentioned offhandedly that he wanted to see what life on the mainland was like, that he thought he might be ready for an excursion of that caliber. He’d spent quite a bit of time at the surface before the soulbind, he was intrigued by humanity, and he wanted to see it for himself. He knew enough English to get by, and wanted to know what was out there.

“Why?” Joel had asked, and he remembered the edge to the question. It was an annoying idea, one Joel hadn’t ever considered Etho asking.

“I said why.” Etho told him bluntly, not even looking up.

“You have everything you need here. It’s dangerous out there, just as much for people as it is for mermaids. There isn’t much on the mainland anyway, nothing you’d like.”

“You talk about it fondly. I’d like to see it.” Etho frowned momentarily, snapping his fingers to warm them up, a silent indication that Joel needed to ready himself to translate. ‘Seems like the main danger to humans are people like you, and after all this time, I’d say I’m an alright judge of character. I want to know what humans are really like. You tell me all sorts of stories, but I don’t believe you actually know.’

“Of course I know.”

Etho narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, an expression Joel hated, an expression that made him feel too vulnerable, too seen. Etho lifted his chin, “You want me to stay.”

“I- yes, I’d like that,” annoyance prickled the edges of Joel’s tone, a defensive anger locked and loaded.

“You like me.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I thought so,” Etho said simply, his expression unchanging. Even after all this time, he still hadn’t picked up that human mannerism, every twitch and change in his face entirely biological, entirely unconscious. Etho met Joel’s eyes evenly before whistling again, snapping in time, ‘Then we’re on the same page.’

Joel hadn’t been ready for that. “What?” he said stupidly, and Etho might have smiled. Barely there, completely without thought. That was worse.

“You like me,” Etho said.

“I don’t,” Joel replied, just as curtly. Etho was not convinced.

“You do.”

“I might. What of it?”

“You want me to like you.”

“You do like me.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t like you, Joel. I never have. I never will.” Etho closed his eyes, breathing agonizingly deeply, “Wow.”

“You can not just ‘wow’ me, Etho, use your damn words.”

“I don’t think you want that.”

“I do.”

“Fine,” Etho snapped his fingers a few times, and Joel braced himself, ‘You are foul. Selfish. Cruel. You treat me with less respect than the dirt under your fingers, but maybe that’s an unfair comparison, because you actually like the earth. I’m not a person to you. I’m a tool, and you wouldn’t dream of letting me think otherwise. The worst part is, I don’t even think you know. I don’t think you have any idea. That’s how little I mean to you; your behavior is so second-nature that I bet if I asked, you wouldn’t be able to name a single way in which you’ve slighted me in the past week. So yes. Wow,’ Etho raised his hands in a lazy gesture of sarcastic awe, ‘Wow, because I never thought you’d be bold enough to ask me to stay. Wow, because it never occurred to me you didn’t know how I felt, or that you could form attachments to people in the first place. Wow, because I never thought I’d get the chance to hurt you. So there we have it. I hope it cuts deep.’

Joel burned under his skin, thoughts racing too fast to pick one out and spit the words at Etho’s feet. “So that’s it?” he found himself saying instead, voice far more even than the shrieking in his head, “You just want to hurt me.”

“More than anything.” Etho’s glare was like daggers, a challenge, never wavering, “So, Joel. Can I go?”

Joel flipped his pendant, initiating the change without another word, “Better hurry. Mainland is west.” And Etho nodded, making his way toward the little cottage where they both lived. Together. Not anymore.

Not an hour passed before Joel had leveled the entire island. All of it, above and below, stomping the land into dust until he was up to his neck in the water, until there was nowhere left to stand, until his arms and legs refused to swim any longer. He didn’t remember being lifted from the sea. He wasn’t even sure how his Makers knew he was in trouble- could they sense the state of the island? His distress? Maybe it was simply intuition that had saved him from a miserable drowning death, so focused on ripping his world apart, he hadn’t even realized the water was over his head.

He remembered being limp in five sets of hands, refusing to open his eyes. Refusing to stand, to speak. Maybe it felt like companionship to be held. He didn’t remember much else; they must have set him to sleep, their miserable creation that they did not love.

His Makers must have known something was wrong. It had been many years, six maybe, since Joel had destroyed the island so completely, so violently, to the point of nearly killing himself in the process. He woke up the next day in a bed, to a restored world, to a gentle breeze through the open window. He did not move. He did not speak. His Makers did not know what to do with that; this had never been a problem before. Their creation was brash and violent and angry, it was never sad. And yet. And yet. He sensed excitement from the voices out his window, his Makers, delighting in the newness of the feeling. The evolution of his character.

‘He’s changing.’

‘He’s developing new ranges of emotion.’

‘What do you think happened?’

‘How can we recreate this?’

‘How can we ensure this continues?’

He heard it. All of it. Not that his Makers tried to hide their curiosity. They frenzied like sharks at his bed, asking questions he refused to answer, offering food and drink he refused to eat. They offered to take him to the mainland, cheer him up, and Joel had screamed at them to get out. They did. Then returned the next day. Their speculation circled around Joel keeping some sort of secret pet, finding attachment to one of the animals in the swamp, and that it had died recently, sending him into this state of mourning. They speculated his depression was so intense because he’d simply never felt it before. Maybe they were right. On both counts. His Makers offered him new ‘pets’ from frogs to alligators, all of which he promptly killed if not stopped, and for the most part, he was not. From this, they came to the conclusion he was simply too sensitive to accept a new creature into his life.

But the worst. The worst.

A storm, one night. The type of wind and pelting rain that drove mist off the ocean, that would typically get Joel so excited. Standing out by the shore, listening for the telltale crack of a wayward ship against the rocks..

He hadn’t gone. He hadn’t left the house in days. But a cheeky nudge and a grin too wide told him exactly what his Makers had staged that night, either manipulating an actual ship to crash, or just zapping a couple of unfortunate souls right from the mainland to this cursed place.

They wanted to know what he’d do. They wanted to know if he’d grown morals, if he’d spare them. An experiment. Once again, as clear as day, he was reminded exactly what he was to his Makers. Fine then. He’d show them just how much he’d grown.

So Joel made tea. He let his Makers watch him, paying them no mind. He sat as if he was alone, ate a small breakfast, and closed his eyes. He took his time.

Joel was not the kind of person who played with his food. He did not draw out pain when it wasn’t needed, more interested in the adrenaline of a chase than a scream. But today wasn’t about him, was it? Today, he had an audience. He dressed in his best clothes. He walked to the beach. And methodically, he ate each one of them alive. No need for gratuitous detail. But each of the three felt his teeth before they passed, not by his hand of course, but once his Makers had seen enough. They got their answer. They left him for the day when he began to dance with the corpses, singing, screaming his loathing for the entire world to hear. And then his Makers were gone, the act was dropped, and Joel returned to his room. He did not change out of his clothes.

The same night, he woke up with a gasp, something distinctly sharp set with ripe intention at the base of his thigh. For a moment, Joel thought he’d done something- pulled a muscle or maybe cut himself, but just as he was removing his pants to check, a real line was cut, the knife piercing harshly, as if it had been met by resistance and rubberbanded past it. It didn’t hurt at first, at least not as much as his shoulders, fuck, his arms, something was seriously wrong with his arms, like if they bent any further, they’d snap entirely-

And then his skin started to peel. The pain he felt seemed deeper than what was happening to his own body; the cut was so sharp, so precise, only the knicks where his scales connected were bleeding- ah.

Sleep did not leave him stupid for long.

He grabbed only a robe as he ran out the door, thinking immediately to change, to make Etho human and make whatever they were doing stop, but Etho would need water, which he almost certainly didn’t have. Etho would also need time, and neither of them had that either- How in the hell was Joel supposed to reach him? He couldn’t just teleport off the island like his Makers, he couldn’t teleport at all! ‘No dominion over time and space,’ WHATEVER.

He did have a boat. It was for fishing close to the island, it even had a motor, but that wouldn’t be fast enough, not nearly. However, he didn’t ever use a boat to traverse the water, did he? He simply brought land with him to walk on top of it, far less of a hassle than a boat, but his magic didn’t extend nearly far enough from the island to just walk there. But maybe, maybe, with a combination of magic and his boat for the rest of the journey..

If Joel had the luxury of more time to consider what he was about to do, then he may have tried a different plan, but he didn’t have time, did he, so rocketing himself across the ocean in a tiny fishing dinghy was his best option. At the very least he wasn’t thinking about his skin being methodically peeled off when he was launching himself as fast as his magic would carry him toward the mainland, fearing for his life for a second reason tonight and nearly passing out from the intensity of the acceleration (and therefore being flung into the ocean and subsequently drowning), but as his magic grew weaker, so did the speed of his vessel. The deceleration was just as terrifying as it was a relief, however, Joel wasted no time starting his motor.

It wasn’t fast enough. Thirty minutes passed before Joel even saw land, and even by then his legs were a horribly bloody mess, though Joel was unable to tell how much skin had been stripped away. He just had to hope whoever had done this wouldn’t end it before he arrived, but if they had kept Etho alive this long, it must be on purpose. Maybe it was the English.. Maybe Etho had convinced them, or maybe they were too intrigued to let him die. Even with all of Joel’s magic gone, the pendant at his chest, the tiny catalyst was still enough to draw that line between him and his soulbound, to tell Joel exactly where Etho was being kept.

He closed in on a small dock housing several boats with an attached market, no longer open for business at this time of night. Not a worry. Charged by his island catalyst, strength was among many of his born talents. Joel’s dinghy crashed into an empty spot on the dock, surely damaging the boat and definitely damaging the security of the deck, but Joel cared very little, stepping out from where his boat was lodged between posts.

He kicked the long glass window in with bare feet, uncaring as alarms blared, lighting his face in a harsh red. He did not speak to the man who ran up from what must have been basement stairs with a pistol, but Joel must have been a sight, long dark hair, bloodied shirt, open robe doing nothing to hide his raw, bleeding legs. The stranger hesitated for far too long, missing his shot when Joel lunged for his throat. Joel only took the pistol, leaving the damn bastard to choke on his own blood. The other he caught in the face as she ran up the stairs, emptying the pistol into her chest and stomach, then stepping over her on his way down.

Joel did not have to call Etho’s name. He was right around the corner, laid out on a tarp and sobbing without sound; Joel knew the hitched heaving of a chest well enough. His arms were tied at the wrist, bent horribly behind his back, so Joel undid those binds first, the relief in his own aching arms immediate. Etho’s face was covered in some sort of cage, probably to protect from biting. It looked like it was locked by a key.. well, Joel didn’t have time to look for that. There was.. nothing he could do about Etho’s tail for now. At the very least, the scum that did this cut around the fins, keeping them mostly intact. Suddenly, the fronts of Joel’s legs bleeding harder made sense as mirrored by Etho’s injuries. No matter.

“I’m going to have to hold you by the base of your tail. I won’t be able to get you up by just your chest.”

“No- Joel, no. Don’t touch it. Don’t touch me.”

“Trust me, I don’t want to,” Joel huffed, eying the tarp intently now. That would be better, surely. Still, Etho resisted as Joel wrapped him completely, snapping in what Joel was pretty sure was a blind attempt at biting, and suddenly he was a bit more grateful for the cage across Etho’s face. It fucking hurt as Joel lifted him, both of them making some sort of strangled gasp, but this had to have been better than skin against raw skin, so Joel made his way up the stairs, hoping to get out of here before any law enforcement arrived.

“Wait,” Etho hissed, apparently not sharing the same sentiment, “Go back. Go back.”

“What? No!”

“Go back. My scales. You need to get them. Please. Please get them.”

“I’m not getting your bloody scales! What are you, insane? We need to go.” Joel snarled, but Etho was insistent, breaking his arms free from their loose cage to snatch at Joel’s shirt.

“They can’t have them.”

“The humans that did this are dead.”

“Another will find them. Take them. Sell them. Joel. They’re mine.”

“For goodness fuckin’ sakes Etho, I’ll get you damn scales, just stop yapping about it,” Joel turned, unsure even as he moved why. This was a waste of time. In fact, the more time they spent here, the more both of their lives were endangered. But there was something about the way Etho relaxed in his arms, even despite the pain. The way his breathing slowed, just slightly. Joel did not care to linger. It didn’t take long to find the scales, cut in one piece and drying in a back room, and Joel was back up the stairs in record time, hopping out the same window he’d busted through to get inside. It couldn’t have been more than five or ten minutes that had passed, but that was already too much time. There was no way they’d get far enough away, not in Joel’s dinky little boat.

Thankfully, Etho seemed to be a little more time cognisant now, eying the dinghy just as unhappily as Joel felt as he struggled to pull it from where it was stuck with his foot (to little success).

“Put me in the water. I’ll push far enough.”

Joel was happy to obey the first part of that request, struggling enough as it was with his arms so full, but by the time he was saying, “Wait, Etho, you can’t swim,” Etho’s raw skin already hit the cold water, pushing a barely restrained yell from Joel’s throat, while bubbles rose from the water where Etho was let go. Joel grit his teeth as Etho dislodged the dinghy, throwing the rest of his things into the bowl, then stepping inside himself. But before Joel could argue again, sirens blared in the distance, and Etho kicked off, taking the both of them as fast as he could manage to swim. Which is to say, quite fast.

Even injured, exhausted, and likely a little bit traumatized, Etho kept up the pace for a long while. He stayed submerged for the most part, which was probably for the best; Joel didn’t particularly want to speak with him and he was sure the feeling was mutual. But the cold water on Etho’s tail made everything feel a little better, his own legs stinging less than before, though everything was still so raw, and sitting without adrenaline to distract him from the pain was a certified nightmare.

Once land was out of sight, Etho did slow down, the boat now drifting as he took a chance to rest. That was fine. He deserved it.

Joel sighed, long and deep with his whole chest. “Let’s switch. You can sleep in the boat, and I’ll take us the rest of the way back. It’s a calm night, so might be forty-five minutes until I’m close enough to use my magic. It’ll be easier after that. Can’t heal us ‘til I get back home though, I need more supplies.”

Etho whistled something from under the water, but Joel didn’t catch the meaning. Too fast, too much to process, and he cared very little to learn much of the mermaid language (though after tonight, Joel could certainly see that changing). Given the lower pitches of the notes though, Joel got a reasonable enough idea the words aired on the more negative side of things.

“I can’t translate now. Surface if you want to speak to me.” Part of Joel tried to correct for the edge in his tone, but the more overwhelming part of him did not care to be civil.

Etho did so, releasing the dinghy to swim alongside it. “Stupid idea.”

Joel huffed, crossing his arms (both of them wincing at the soreness), “Is it, then? Tell me more.”

“How do you think I’m supposed to get inside without..” Etho trailed off, lacking the words, so instead he resubmerged, shaking the boat violently back and forth and nearly throwing Joel from his seat.

“Okay! Okay! I get it, cut it out!”

Etho resurfaced, probably looking smug if Joel had to guess, even despite the fresh sting in both of their lower halves, “Do you know? It would hurt like..” Etho stopped, whistling a long string of words that Joel did not understand, but the meaning came through all the same.

“Bad idea then! Sorry.” Joel scoffed, drawing into himself, but Etho jolted, hitting his head on the rim of the boat.

“Sorry? Sorry?”

“What?” Joel snapped, losing his patience, but there was something teasing in Etho’s eyes, the fins at the side of his head waving in what was probably amusement.

“Never heard you [say that] before. Not after you taught the word.”

“Well don’t get used to it. That was sarcasm anyway, I don’t do remorse. Can’t believe you even remember what that means, ugh. You weren’t waiting for an apology, were you? You’re not getting one. I’m not sorry. Stop looking at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you. I know you.”

Joel jumped his seat, hissing at the sharp pain that followed the movement, but more alarmed by the words. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re not sorry.”

“I know that!”

“I know it [too].”

“You don’t know me.”

“I know.”

“You don’t!”

Etho made some sort of face, like he was attempting to copy one of Joel’s many expressions of exasperation, but it didn’t quite look right, especially not on a mermaid’s face with no visible pupils and no eyebrows. Joel got a better idea when Etho dove back under the water, splashing pointedly (which fucking hurt), then whistling a string of words which Joel could very easily imagine being some sort of long winded complaint or insult. Whatever. Etho could think whatever he wanted (as long as it wasn’t thinking Joel felt any sort of remorse for any of his actions).

Things were.. Things were different between them after that. The entire next week Etho needed to be hidden away out of Joel’s great fear his Makers would somehow find him (they’d brought humans here, what would they do if they found a mermaid? What if they got the wrong message when Joel wouldn’t hurt him?) Even after it was safe for them to switch again, in his human form, Etho would never leave his room, locking himself inside nearly the entire day, any of his good humor suddenly vanished. Despite the night of The Incident being unpleasant, Etho hadn’t seemed particularly upset on the swim back, so after they were both healed and everything was back to normal, Joel had kind of just expected him to be.. fine? The contrast between Etho’s behavior was confusing, and honestly, quite frustrating at times. Etho did not want to talk. He did not want to be seen. He hardly even wanted to eat together.

And even to this day, years and years later, Joel had never asked how it happened. How Etho had gotten caught, how he’d been overpowered. Etho wasn’t stupid, far from it, and Joel knew him to be the careful sort, overly cautious. But Etho never seemed to want to speak about it, and Joel was too intimidated to ask.

Etho had only ever brought it up once, a month after the event occurred, when Joel was pretty sure Etho was never leaving their little cottage again.

Etho had approached him at one of the inland banks where Joel was working on carving a grand replica city into the side of a mountainous hill. It was certainly one of his bigger projects, each skyscraper getting special detail and attention while hardly taking up much more space than the length of his arm, but that was part of the fun. Joel liked imagining cities, he liked building them.

“Can you make fire.” The words weren’t phrased like a question.

Joel had jumped at the sound, surprise replaced by alarm when he turned around to see Etho holding the long mermaid scale skin, folded neatly in his arms. Joel had been flustered, tripping over his words like a complete idiot as he parroted the words he’d been told many times before, “I have no dominion in the sky.”

“What.”

“It’s- The sky makes fire. Lightning, heat, stars. That’s not me. I mean, there’s fire in the earth, but that’s deep, though, I guess there is a volcano nearby, but it’s been dormant for a while. Doesn’t mean I can’t pull magma from its depths, but I’d have to get pretty deep, and honestly, I don’t know if it wouldn’t cool before I made it to the surface.”

“You can rub sticks.”

“I can- what?”

“Everything [is] wet, but you can rub sticks. I can’t rub them good enough.”

“Stop saying that, it sounds weird.”

“You can rub sticks.”

“Sure! Yes! How does that make fire?”

“I’ve watched humans do it. They make-“ Etho frowned “-Pre-fire. You can do it faster.”

“Sparks? Smoke?”

“I don’t know. Pre-fire. Doesn’t matter. I want to kill my skin.” Etho held out his scales, gently pearlescent in the sun.

“Ah. I see. Kill with fire is ‘burn.’ You want to burn your scales.”

“Yes. Make a fire.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. I need it.”

There was a bit more back and forth between them before Joel allowed himself to be pulled away from his sculpting, but the annoyance was quickly replaced with a deeper excitement; Etho! Etho was here, and they were going to hang out, and it was going to be great!

Fire making turned out to be a horrible activity.

It was slow and frustrating and Joel had no idea what he was supposed to be doing. Etho had quite a bit to say, said in that carelessly blunt Etho way that drove Joel crazy sometimes, today being no exception. ‘Smaller sticks, Joel.’ ‘Might work better if the sticks aren’t alive, Joel.’ Joel couldn’t stop snapping the flimsy things Etho picked out for him, and both of them were getting pissy about it, Etho demonstrating how he ought to be rubbing the sticks together while Joel snatched them away with hands of earth, snapping them over his knee out of spite.

They did not end up making fire that day. Or the next. The third, Etho spent the day sulking in his room, but Joel was still thinking about it, about fire, and he tried by himself a couple times, imagining how impressed Etho would be with him once he succeeded, but alas.. that did not happen. They had to be missing something- surely humans didn’t just stand around rubbing sticks together for hours, there had to be a better way.

The fourth day, his Makers visited, so Etho had to leave. But Joel hadn’t stopped thinking about fire. He tried to ask them about it, how he could make it without magic, but this seemed to be an alarming question coming from him, which, maybe that was fair. But despite their hesitation, Joel still pushed, making up excuses for the night, wanting warmth, wanting light. His Makers did not believe him, not even a little bit, but regardless, with extensive Joel-proofing his request was granted; a small fire that could not spread, lighting itself when the sun set and extinguishing in the morning. Perfect. Well. He would have preferred if his Makers would have just told him how to do it himself, but this was well enough.

Etho knew when Joel’s Makers arrived and when they left, often returning sometime in the night or at least before dawn, so Joel committed himself to sitting by his new fire, hoping he’d be able to see Etho’s reaction when he came home. It was an enchanting thing, the fire. Joel had never realized how beautiful it was, how good the heat felt against his cool skin. He felt like he could sit here for hours, just watching, listening to the gentle crackle of the flames and enjoying the warmth. But he didn’t get too much time to enjoy it, distant splashing entering his periphery soon after he closed his eyes. Joel smiled absently.

“Joel?” Etho said, surprise evident, and why wouldn’t he be? Valiantly, Joel had delivered Etho his fire. Of course he was surprised, thrilled even. “What are you doing? Why are you here?”

“Waiting for you, obviously,” he grumbled, only a normal amount disappointed that Etho wasn’t celebrating the achievement of his flame.

“All night??” The alarm was enough to get Joel to open his eyes, and ah, the sky was starting to lighten, wasn’t it. Perhaps he had fallen asleep.. Hm. Couldn’t let Etho know that.

“No.” The two of them stared at each other for a moment, Etho’s bafflement just uncomfortable enough for Joel to break the silence quickly, “Well- Hurry! This goes out at dawn, so get your damn scales already.”

That seemed to snap Etho out of his stupor, the mermaid giving himself a bit of a startled look before apparently deciding not to waste anymore time. He could get in and out of the house just fine. Joel didn’t move from his place at the fire, not even looking back when the floorboards of their small porch creaked under Etho’s weight. To his credit, Etho was quick, out of the house in a flash and perching himself up beside Joel, cut scales held close to his chest. He sat there like that for a while, Joel’s anticipation beginning to make him irritable in the quiet.

“What are you waiting for? This won’t be lit for much longer,” he snapped, but Etho didn’t look very bothered.

“You’re right.” Without another word, Etho threw the scales into the flames. Joel had expected some sort of sizzle, maybe even a couple cracks, but the scales withered silently, browning at the edges and then blackening into dust, eerie in their quiet. Etho watched the fire intently, more intense of a look than Joel had ever seen from him before. And both of them stayed that way, sitting by the fire until it went out just as suddenly as it had been lit. All that was left in the pit was ashes.

Etho straightened up. “I have something. For you.” Etho bent over to pluck a small pouch off the ground that Joel hadn't noticed before, passing it by the drawstring into Joel’s hands. It was light, mostly empty, and Joel nearly dropped it when he saw what was inside. “Take one. Do with it what you will.”

“Your- Why did you keep these?”

Etho snapped his fingers, and Joel readied himself to translate. ‘Mermaid custom. We call it Tail Twining, usually reserved for when a mer takes a mate, but I will not have the opportunity to engage in this practice, nor do I particularly want to. Typically, mers will trade scales, decorate them with physical decals to make them stand out, then use a special glue to replace their lost scale with a new one from their partner. I like this practice, and while I don’t particularly like you, I appreciate how you’ve gone out of your way for me these past weeks. I do not respect you, but I don’t hate you either.’ Etho stopped for a moment, fins flicking, ‘You may not wear my scale on your tail when you have one. Otherwise, do whatever you’d like.’

“Oh.” Joel didn't know what else to say. What else was there to say? He did not particularly believe that he had gone out of his way to do anything, nor did he like the idea of that at all, but.. “My pendant. I’d like to wear it like that, stick it on there somehow.”

“Alright.”

There was a brief silence, Etho looking a little uncomfortable or maybe just bored, and Joel kinda feeling like his head was exploding. Mermaid scales weren’t fragile by any means, but Joel still sifted through the bag gently, looking for the shape that would fit best over his catalyst of twin souls.. Hm.. Joel didn’t want his Makers to see it, and he’d made this piece of jewelry from the earth anyway..

Joel started to fiddle with it, first enveloping his chosen scale entirely, encasing it in the middle of the iron, but he quickly scrapped the idea, wanting to see the scale at least a little bit. So he experimented, taking care not to warp the precious items beyond repair (and given how intently Etho was watching him, Joel was pretty sure he might be ripped to pieces if he accidentally cracked the scale). Eventually, Joel found a way he liked it, the scale indented securely in the back, safe from most eyes, but if Joel liked, he could bring his fingers to the pedant and the pad of his thumb would slot perfectly into the indentation.

“Is this okay?” Joel felt stupid the moment the question left his lips- of course it was fine, Etho had already told him it was fine, but Etho’s features only softened at the words, the strain behind his face easing.

“You understand.”

Joel didn’t get to respond, Etho turning around and swimming right away without another word, pouch of scales in hand. Joel wanted to bite back. Snap. But he didn’t really understand at all.

And another five months passed.. pleasantly. They weren’t ever really close anymore, not like Joel had thought of them in the first year. Maybe he just knew better now? Still, Joel wondered from time to time if Etho’s opinion of him ever changed or improved, but.. Joel never asked and Etho never said a word.

And then just around two total years of togetherness, of the both of them living here on Joel’s island, Etho told him once again that he was leaving.

Guess that was answer enough, wasn’t it.

Joel went with him to the mainland. He hadn’t insisted or anything, but he hadn’t needed to, because Etho had accepted him without a word.

Joel didn’t know entirely what happened the rest of that day, watching from the shore close to a main road, nor did he know for the rest of the week. He stayed as close as he dared, but Etho did not come back. He did not need help. He did not need Joel.

He wasn’t exactly how Etho managed it, but he found some of the good humans. Made friends, found a roommate of all things- it was good. From what Joel heard, it was good.

Better.

Five years that way, better. And it wasn’t that they weren’t in contact anymore; they texted all the time, communication having improved drastically when the two of them discovered phones. Hardly a week passed where Etho didn’t visit, and he’d spend a weekend some months. Joel treasured those days. But Etho didn’t really belong here, no matter how desperately Joel longed for his company some nights, sitting by the fire, staring, wishing he’d come home. Whoever made Etho did so gently, kindly. Whoever made him must have loved him very much.

Joel knew very little about how he was made. But he knew the fingers that molded him were cold and calloused, their excitement for their result overshadowing the gravity of what they were doing. Sharp fingers carved sharp edges, then reeled backwards when their creation bit back, when their creation, made in their image, was just as foul. Just as selfish. Just as cruel

‘A mistake’

‘We made a mistake with you’

‘We’re trying to figure it out’

‘We’ll make you better’

‘We’ll fix it’

No. It was too late. They couldn’t just take it back. Joel was already here. Already bad. He was made bad and he would spend the rest of his life making sure they knew it.

So.

What do you like? (Not Evil)

The question Joel hadn’t been able to answer, the question he was still thinking about tonight, sitting at his desk, pen in one hand and paper below the other. His Makers would be coming tomorrow to collect his answer.

Well. He quite liked the ocean.

#hermitcraft #hermitfic #ethoslab #etho #smallishbeans #joel smallishbeans #boat boys #mumbomaid au

[silverysnake]

button tutorial (bc some people on this post said they also want a button like the one i made)

there‘s two options:

option 1: you already have a button lying around that you don‘t use anymore and are willing to sacrifice for this

option 2: you don‘t have a button. in that case you can use a bottle cap (like from a soda or beer bottle) and a safety pin. you can follow the same steps and then glue the safety pin to the back. i used the same fabric glue as i used for the button itself but if you want to speed everything up i would recommend hot glue bc the fabric glue needs a few hours to dry.

*i added a picture of how i placed the safety pin at the end

1. the first thing i do is putting a layer of acrylic paint on it. acrylic paint bc it ‚sticks’ well on even materials and usually covers very well (maybe not white or yellow but you probably get what i mean). i would also recommend using a big brush to get the layer as smooth as possible bc it makes drawing things on top easier. the coat of paint needs to dry completely before you can do the next step, i usually wait a few hours to make sure it‘s fully dry but it doesn‘t actually take THAT long for acrylic paint to dry

2. when the paint is dry i sketch on the design with a soft pencil that is not too sharp, i used a 4b but honestly the softer the better. also don’t put too much pressure even if you use a very soft pencil bc if you press too hard you will just scratch the paint off again (happened to me, it‘s not fun) (you can also skip this step but i like putting a rough sketch on first)

3. i use acrylic marker to properly draw on the design but you can also use regular acrylic paint and a very thin brush or other thin markers, they just need to draw on the paint and cover it properly, whatever you have. also let this dry properly, i usually let it lie for a few hours to make sure i don‘t mess anything up bc it‘s not properly dry yet.

4. to seal it off against rain and scratches and stuff i put waterproof glue on it. i personally use fabric glue but i think any glue that‘s transparent (at least once it‘s dry) and not dissolvable by water should work. i just put a bit on it and spread it out with a tissue, then let it dry. you can also use the glue to get some texture on the buttons, but it shouldn’t be too thick bc then the light might reflect on it too much making the design harder to see (i‘m gonna put another button as an example for that at the bottom). you can also skip this step but i would recommend it so the paint can‘t be damaged, especially when the paint isn‘t waterproof itself

* for option 2: i left the safety pin open bc it made it easier to position and to make sure that no glue gets into the moving parts (that‘s important bc otherwise you won‘t be able to open and close it). just put enough in so the bottom of the safety pin is covered completely and then let it sit till it‘s dry.

here‘s some other buttons i made :) the left has some texture on it like i mentioned above

that‘s all, the concept is pretty easy overall and i hope i explained it in an understandable way. if you have any questions feel free to just ask me and i‘ll try to help :)

#dead boy detectives #art #buttons #diy #good omens #bc the other buttons are good omens i guess #i hope this is helpful #i love making buttons and i‘m glad to share my knowledge with anyone else who wants to make their own buttons on a low budget too

[pansyfemme]

ppl ask a lot abt my traditional coloring process but its rlly not that complex u just rlly water down inks and layer thin layers until you realize you’ve been working for 9 hours straight and pass out with all ur supplies still in bed w/ u LOL

#i clean my paint water like. twice a week and i paint everyday 😔 #i use a variety of translucent mediums dependin what im going for #if i want somethin a little more pigmented. high flow acrylics + matte pouring medium. esp for neons since neon acrylic inks and watercolors #r pretty weak. flourescent paints tend to be transparent so gouche or acrylic is ur best bet bc neon watercolors are hard to come by and #basically only show up on white paper. and flourescent inks are ok. but a little gloopy usually #also golden has a rlly good color range of neons so. #i also like holbien acryla gouache neons bc the luminous red is prob my most used paint color i use it watered down in about all of my #paintings its just. that fucking beautiful #I also use concentrated watercolors bc they are hypersaturated and transparent and only semi-liftable which is a lot of fun #some ppl dont like them bc despite the name they are not watercolors or liquid watercolors. #they are first and foremost. inks. they are dye based and heavily staining so if you put them down you can lift a little bit but the stain #isnt going anywhere. which is fun bc i like playing with lifting. i also like them being dye based bc if you mix them. when you apply them #they sometimes settle color wise and there are slight blooms and inconsistancies in color which i adore #kiiinda like granulation? but not rlly #ofc for areas where i feel i need something less saturated i use tube watercolors #and acrylic inks for areas that i dont want to lift. #u gotta be careful tho bc a lot of inks r hyperpigmented #i dont like thick opaque paints i find them rlly dull and boring to work with #so everything has to be thin and layerable #bc thats where u get those nice color interactions

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

man. nothing hits like a good sammie

#SANDWICH NATION RISE UP!!! #no but Seriously #theyre everything... #i dont usually make them bc i rarely have the spoons #but i made one tonight and mannn #i have a new favorite Sammie Recipe #it helps that the brand of bread is plush as Fuck #so. two slices #one half has a thin layer of mayo the other has stone ground mustard #one slice of cheddar on each side #a nice drizzle of hot sauce on one side #a nice layer of turkey #a nice layer of crisp cold lettuce #a layer of sliced boiled egg #a layer of freshly cut apple #BOOM babey!!! Delicious Perfection! #once squished all together so that it compresses and nothing falls out... #the Flavors!!! the Textures!!! #absolutely unprompted #oughhhh now i kinda want another #im a sammie fiend i must admit #and i Highly encourage yall to put fresh apple in your sammies and salads If It Complements The Flavors!! #it really elevates the experience!!!

[fratboykate]

Hi, So since you're a writer, how do you feel about the whole Jenna Ortega situation? I've seen a lot of writers taking a dig at and I don't necessarily agree especially in such important moment like now , but Idk, thought?

She deserves every bit of it. You'd be hard pressed to find a writer who isn't rightfully fucking pissed at her horrible attitude and straight up disrespectful comments so unless she's planning on writing every script for the rest of her career I can guarantee you she's going to have a tough time, at least behind the scenes. And I know her stans love to say "Oh but the showrunners haven't said anything bad about her!" Yeah, because unlike her they're professionals 🤷🏽‍♀️

#truly no writer is having it and I'm so happy they're putting her on blast #she evidently has no respect for us or the work we do so why shouldn't we be allowed to make a few jokes??? #if she doesn't like them then she can rewrite them 😊 she wrote the entire show anyway basically #at least according to her lol #you have NO idea the amount of extra work she made for the already underpaid overwork and abused writers in that room by refusing to do job #you guys think scripts are pulled out of thin air #TV is a medium that takes MONTHS #every script takes MONTHS and dozens of layers of approval form different people #from the showrunner to studio execs to the network to legal to...everything #sometimes one line of dialogue may seem insignificant but it is the thing that later triggers an entire storyline. #and we spend months crafting that in rooms #painstakingly going through rounds of notes from every department and level until you FINALLYYYY get a script approved #after 5 or 50 drafts. #and after all that work from literally dozens upon dozens of people for the actor to not only blatantly refuse to read what was written #but turn flippantly change it and BRAG ABOUT IT IN THE MOST DISRESPECTFUL WAY?! #it's immaturity and entitlement at its finest #the idea that the people who spent years and hours on end developing this show knew less about the character than her is...PHEWWWW #anyway...I hope we see MORE signs #if I wasn't immunocompromised and could safely be at the picket lines one of my signs would probably be a joke about her now lol #at least a dozen people have already tested covid positive so I can't go until people start wearing masks and being safe #but I'm sure she's been talked about plenty at one point or another at every line that there's a sign about this #the idea that we should brush off this level of disrespect or consider it unimportant when we're in this position #exactly because so many people seem to think what we do is unimportant and either AI or actors who 'know better' could replace us #or do a better job is...something #anyway...your faves are nothing with writers #give us the credit we deserve #jortega #anonymous #answers #rants

[ickadori]

i dunnooo i feel like whenever you’re mean to yuji it turns him on, you’d be cursing him out nd he’d already be like half hard

I also feel like Yuji would beg to put it in😊

idk I just want him to throw me around

[cws] fem reader

[an] you get it!! i know it in my heart that yuji likes his partner to be a little mean :( a little spoiled, a little bratty! it makes it that much better when he finally gets you to be his sweet mushy baby that’s only that way with him !!

yuji knows that you have a bit of an attitude problem, and he knows that he probably enables it, never once chiding you for the way you speak and act with him.

you drag him shopping with you whenever the urge strikes, which is worryingly frequent, and shove bag after bag into his arms, not even so much as uttering a thank you, just fully expecting him to be your human pack-mule.

whenever he gives another woman his attention, even if for something as simple as giving out directions, you’re shooting daggers his way and refusing to speak to him, answering him with huffs and hmphs until you deem him worthy enough for actual words.

it’s mean, you’re mean, and he should really say something about it and get it under control… but he can’t deny that the spoiled, bratty act gets his cock hard and his brain fuzzy.

“god, yuji! it’s like you have a bunch of rocks up there or something!” your finger taps against his forehead twice as you bend at the waist, and he silently looks up at you, eyes lidded and cheeks flushed as his cock chubs up against his thigh. “it’s as if everything i say just goes in one ear and out the other, you never listen.”

you’ve got one hand on your hip, the other animatedly moving around as you talk a mile a minute, eyebrows scrunched together and eyes narrowed on him.

yuji has no idea what you’re saying, but he knows he’s heard this spiel a thousand times before and isn’t missing out on anything too important - at least, nothing more important than how badly he wants to stuff you full of his cock until you’re sputtering out apologies and drowning him in kisses.

you always get so sweet and pliant when he’s fucked you full—cunt full of his seed and hole left gaping. you make sure to cradle him close and kiss all over his face, hands running through his hair as you whisper i’m sorry’s into his skin.

“—doing it again! yuji, you’re not listening to me!” he zones back in just in time to see your hand coming towards him. “you’re so annoying. just go home—!” he snags ahold of your wrist, and with a gentle tug you’re falling forward into his lap, your hands shooting out to brace yourself against his chest, while his move to encircle around your waist, arms flexing and tensing as they pull you close, his aching cock pushing up into your cunt, thin layers of fabric keeping him from sinking inside.

“i’m sorry,” he rasps, your lashes fluttering as you give him a bewildered look. “let me make it up to you, yeah?” realization dawns after a moment, and you shake your head, hands weakly pushing at his shoulders.

“huh? no, yuji, i was—oh.” he rocks his hips into you, hands moving down to palm your ass, a cheek in each hand.

“please?” he croaks, cock aching and leaking and throbbing and begging to go where it belongs. “can i put it in? can i fuck you? can i make you come, baby? can i?” he rocks against you with every question, his forehead resting against yours as he holds your gaze. “let me show you how sorry i am, baby. let me make it right.”

and you give in, you always do, his sweet pliant girl. he just has to get his hands on you first, tell you what you need to hear, sit you on his cock and make you come a few times, maybe even get you to squirt depending on if he wants you to be nicer for a couple days.

it won’t last but so long, that little honeymoon phase you two go through every time yuji gets between your legs, but he’s already looking forward to the next time.

#yuji x reader #jjk smut #++ yuji #++ yuji/brat

[cosmicschmidt]

UNTIL I FOUND YOU (2)

PART 1, PART 3

Coriolanus Snow x fem!Reader

Synopsis: When the 18 year old Coriolanus Snow recieves the news that he has to mentor a tribute in order to claim the Plinth Prize, he expected everything but not a shy girl from district 12 to claim his heart.

Word count: 2,1K

Warnings: Reader pretty much just replaces Lucy Gray, Lucy Gray does not exsist in this (I´m sorry), some things might not fully add up to the movie plot ´cause I only saw it once and that was three days ago, use of Y/N, it´s implied that the reader is shorter than Coryo, small swearing, simple inhumane Hunger Games topics, mention of blood

Reblogs and requests are always welcomed <3 (just like pointing out grammatical mistakes :))

Previously…

A few screams erupt from the group of tributes, and everyone starts to slide out like bags of flour. Y/N yelps again and tries to hold onto Coriolanus, he manages to hold both of their weights, but Y/N´s grip on him loosens when she wiggles in his tight hold.

"Wait- Y/N hold on!" he hisses out, but Y/N moves in his grasp trying to get a hold of Wovey´s hand who´s close to sliding down as well.

"Grab my hand!" she yells, but Wovey slips away, and Y/N watches the little girl and Jessup moves out of her view into the unknown.

Y/N removes herself from his grasp, just as Coriolanus can´t hold them up anymore due to the shaking wagon, and they all slide into whatever the Capitol planned for them.

Gasps and yelps ring through the air as all tributes including Coriolanus are forced to leave the wagon, the feeling of falling long gone before Y/N can take in the situation, and with a thump, she makes contact with something cold and uneven. The warmth of her ´mentor´s´ hands leave her body, and the red of his clothes fall out of her reach.

A slight hiss escapes her dry and parted lips as a sting shoots through her head, a thin layer of sweat on her forehead that suddenly doesn´t feel so thin anymore, as a small trail of warm liquid slides down her temple.

Her brows furrow at the feeling, before she can stop herself she pushes her upper body up from the filthy ground and leans onto her forearms in order to sit up. The right side of her face still feels warmer than it should, so she moves onto her shaky knees.

While all her attention is on the side of her obviously wounded face, curses and groans echo through the air, most of the tributes stand up and brush their clothes off the dirt that still clung to them.

In the meantime, blurred-out voices slice through the silence, Y/N winces at the feeling of the small gash on her temple, the second her fingers touched the side of her head, she removed them again. Her hands wrap around the fabric of her shirt and she lowers her head to connect it to the wound, gently drying it of the red fluid.

"…well, give them a chance to stand up and catch their breath. I´m jealous of that entrance!" a voice speaks up, although it´s quiet to Y/N´s ears as the source of the words is plenty of feet away from her. She drops her shirt back down and leaves the wound by itself, although the slight sting practically yarns for better treatment.

"Y/N?" Jessup speaks up to her right, her head and upper body move in his direction, her body rotating to the right.

"Yeah, yeah.. wait," she speaks, lowers her hands onto the cold stone texture beneath her and uses her strength to push herself off the ground. Big and warm hands wrap around her waist unexpectedly and easily pull her up from the ground, setting her back on her feet.

A small surprised gasp leaves her lips, and she turns at the feeling of hands on her middle.

"Thanks, Jess-" she stops the words from spilling past her lips, the hands that still rest on her body don´t belong to the boy from District 12, instead, Coriolanus Snow shoots her a small smile. Y/N can´t stop her face from flushing at their close proximity before their short moment is interrupted.

"But guess where I am today!" the same voice from before again reaches their ears, and just now the girl realizes that she´s in fact surrounded by bars out of metal, their height makes it unable to climb them, locking the tributes inside like animals in a cage.

"Here´s a hint, that´s right! The Capitol´s Zoo, where this year´s tributes will be held behind these bars for your viewing pleasure."

"That´s right. All twenty-four of them-" Y/N peeks past a few taller tributes surrounding her, and her eyes fall onto a man who holds onto a small microphone, his body turned to another man who seems to record the scene unfolding in front of him. The speaking man himself is dressed in a plain gray suit, his black shoes underlining his obvious wealth.

At least a dozen pairs of eyes watch the tributes through the bars, expensive-looking clothes rest on their bodies, as a crowd including all ages from 4 to 40 don´t remove their stares. Some of their faces show awe and excitement, as if extinct animals have been reborn and are presented for the world to see.

Coriolanus´ eyes harden at the ogling eyes that skim over the players of this year´s game, although he does catch a guy around their age watching Y/N intensely. The sudden need to shield her from the praying eyes raises in his chest, and his hands - that still rest around her middle - tighten.

The guy in the gray suit stops in his tracks the moment he faces the cage, the unexpected color red catching his attention.

"What in the gem of Panem…?"

"You see that´s an Academy rouge, no?" he turns back to the camera with a questioning look on his face, seemingly addressing whoever is watching.

"Excuse me!" he yells over at Coriolanus, his eyes widen, probably in realization or maybe out of fear.

"Hello, Sir."

"Yes, you. In the red."

"Who are you, and why are you in there with them? We´re live!" Coriolanus gulps at the words, he opens his mouth but nothing comes out, he just continues to stare at the man at a loss for words.

"Uhm, I-…"

"Are you alright?!" the guy yells again.

Coriolanus removes his hands from Y/N`s waist and takes a small step away from her. Y/N quickly stops him and catches his arm in her grasp causing him to stop and turn his eyes back to hers.

"What are you gonna do?" she asks quietly, shielding her face from the camera.

"Y/N Y/L, may I introduce you to my neighbors?" he asks with a tint of amusement, yet his face is filled with dread.

"A reaction would be appreciated, anything would be nice!" the voice speaks again.

Coriolanus´ gaze falls to her right, the white of the rose he gifted to her gleaming in the sunlight, he takes a step and picks it up from the ground, before he snaps the longest part of the stem off throwing it to the side.

Although the rose did take a little damage due to the fall, its sparkle is still evident as the blonde tucks it behind Y/N`s ear, his blue eyes never leaving hers in the progress.

With a nod, he offers her his hand.

She gently nods back in understanding and her hand lands in his bigger palm again, although his fingers are a little rough his hand engulfs hers in a soft manner.

"Well that´s something you don´t see every day, they´re holding hands."

Almost every tribute found someplace to sit, watching the little show that unfolded in front of their eyes.

"Yes, yes, yes," he speaks again as Coriolanus leads her over to the bars, taking one step after the other, carefully stepping over smaller stones to prevent a fall.

"Who are you, sir? What are you doing in the cage here?"

Y/N´s hands start to sweat a little, the smaller the distance becomes the áudience´s´ eyes don´t prey away.

Y/N plasters a fake smile onto her lips, false enthusiasm spreading over her features, as two children, not a day older than 10 and 4 step closer.

"Hi," Coriolanus speaks.

"How do you do?" he asks, now directly addressing the young boy with shoulder-length black hair.

"My name is Coriolanus Snow, and this is my tribute. Y/N Y/LN from district 12," he says with a fake yet kind voice, as his gaze is fixated on the two children.

"Hi," Y/N adds and awkwardly waves her hand at them.

"What´s your name?"

"My name is Pontius." the small boy answers, the suit he´s wearing markless and clean.

"Nice to meet you, Pontius, is that your sister?" Y/N asks politely, Coriolanus squeezing her hand proudly at her quick improvising.

"That´s Venus, she´s only four," he says with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Well luckily four is my favourite number, it´s a great age to be."

"I remember you." the little girl in pink replies.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, you´re the one that volunteered for her sister," she says proudly, her face beaming with happiness.

Y/N`s face falls at the mention of her beloved sister, who´s most likely watching this conversation right now. Yet she shakes the thought off and the fake smile returns to her face.

"You´re right that´s her!" the reporter says.

"So, as already mentioned this is my mentor, Coriolanus Snow, it seems like I got the cake with the cream since no one else bothered to show up." Y/N say as she rests her elbow on his shoulder.

The reporter turns back to the camera in confusion, takes a small breath and then starts to ask "So, the game makers did tell you to jump in the cage with them?"

"They didn´t tell me not to." the boy beside Y/N answers, his expression showing no regret.

"They just said it´s the mentor´s job to introduce our Tribute to the citizens of Panem. And I thought if Y/N is brave enough to be here, why shouldn´t I be too?"

"Well that is a nice thing to do-"

"What´s that on your forehead?" Venus asks genuinely interested, seemingly uninterested in the fact that she just cut off the reporter, the camera moves to the small girl.

"Oh. that, well-" the District 12 girl´s hand moves back to the wound that still remained on her temple, her fingertips coated in red after touching the skin.

"That happened when we were…. delivered…." she adds, her voice holding fake amusement.

"You´re hurt?" Coriolanus asks from beside her, and before the girl can tell him that it´s fine and that it´ll heal on its own Coriolanus´ pointerfinger and thumb gently pull her face closer to his by her chin.

His blue orbs are looking down at her while her own hold his gaze, in order to see him she has to lift her head.

"Oh that looks like quite a gash doesn´t it?" the reporter slips in, while he gestures for the camera to move closer to the both of you, the sparkle in the reporter's eyes showing his excitement, that he´s the one to catch this simple yet intimate moment between Mentor and Tribute.

"Yeah well in the next 48 hours, the little gash might just be at the bottom of my list of problems," Y/N states in a cold tone, her face moving out of his grasp.

The reporter seems to lose interest in the sudden change of topic, and gestures for the cameraman to film the other Tributes, ranting on about whatever topic comes to mind.

Y/N scoffs at them and how easily they lose interest in something the moment someone´s actions don´t fit into their perfect picture.

"Here, let me." soft, white fabric presses against the side of her head, as Coriolanus cleans the wound of the remaining still air-drying blood that paints her skin, the cotton taking away the thin layer of sweat as well.

Even though her gaze is on her feet, she can feel his eyes boring into the side of her face.

"Does it hurt?"

"No."

He nods his head, yet he keeps his hands on her face, gently treating the wound, at the feeling of his warm hands, Y/N can´t help but blush. Her cheek grows warm where his skin meets her own, as her eyes stay on the ground.

"Are you sure-" Coriolanus is cut off again.

"I hate to interrupt, but I think you´re about to be whisked away, young man."

Someone harshly slaps Coriolanus´ hand that rests on Y/N´s face off, he gasps at the action, but neither of them can say anything before a Peacekeeper grabs his biceps and starts to pull him to the exit of the cage.

"Let´s go."

"Wait-" Y/N grabs a hold of his free wrist.

"Can you get us some food? Please? We´re practically starving."

Coriolanus just nodded at her quietly, the space between the both of them growing as he´s pulled away from her. The girl suddenly feels empty without him standing next to her, like a shield that´s been protecting her has been taken away.

The reporter - whose name seems to be Lucky Flickermann - now turned back to the cage ends his live report,

"The 10th annual Hunger Games are soon approaching, so come down to the Zoo and see the Tributes before it´s too late." he does a dramatic pause.

"And I mean, too late," he adds with a small smirk.

"Capitol news."

"I´m Lucretius.", he looks up to the sky before stretching out his hand and catching a coin.

"Lucky Flickermann." with that the live report ends.

For those who asked for a second part :) (I can’t tag everyone!)

@zucchinimalfoy

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games #hunger games x reader #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #until i found you #finnick odair x reader #peeta mellark x reader #lucy gray baird #x reader

[worldsover]

In Motion

~3.4k words, massage, gym sex, your personal training client!Jisoo

(for @sooyadelicacies, a quick bfh)

Jisoo flows through various yoga poses with grace and strength, her toned body clad in form-fitting pants. Despite the late hour, you made an exception for Jisoo tonight; she's worth it. As she holds a challenging lunge, her thighs quivering from the effort, you admire her determination—one of the reasons why you cleared your schedule for this session. Besides, it's technically Saturday now, so staying up to watch her is justifiable since you'd be working at home anyway. It definitely has nothing to do with wanting to appreciate the curve of her hips, or the arch of her back, or the way her ponytail sways as she moves into different positions, revealing the elegant line of her neck. Definitely not. Who would stay up this late just to watch someone sweat? Or to admire the sight of them in a sports bra, revealing their cleavage? Certainly not you.

"I saw that you landed that yoga sponsorship. It suits you perfectly," you comment, catching a whiff of her jasmine-scented shampoo as she walks by for weighted squats. Your eyes linger on her backside before you correct her form.

A thin layer of sweat glistens on Jisoo's forehead after finishing a set. "Thank you!" she pants, her chest rising and falling with exertion. "I never thought I'd be working out this late." Her laughter fills the room and warms your heart.

The distant rumble of a sports car breaks your focus. Living just steps away from Elysium Fitness, these interruptions are common in such an expensive neighborhood. "Don't worry about him. Just showing off," you reassure Jisoo with a smile, and she chuckles in response.

As the night wears on, the bright white lights are replaced with warmer, softer lamps that are easier on the eyes. But the harsh lights of the city at night still seep through, casting a neon glow over everything. Your breathing matches the thuds of feet and weights hitting the floor as you both lie on mats for core work. You guide Jisoo through planks and leg raises until you're both exhausted. With each movement, her top rides up and exposes more of her toned abs, testing your self-control. You've worked with plenty of beautiful actresses and models with stunning bodies, but there's something about Jisoo that sets her apart.

During a break to sip water, Jisoo offers you a taste of her strawberry-flavored drink. The sweetness catches you off guard and elicits another giggle from her. Her laughter quickens your pulse in a way no workout ever could.

"Rough day on set?" you ask.

She lets out a sigh. Sitting on the floor, she leans back and supports herself with her arms behind her. Her chest rises and falls, covered in sweat. "Not just work," she responds. "I broke up with him."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "Really? Isn't he still your co-star?"

"Yep." She pops her lips, and you nod sympathetically at the awkwardness of the situation.

As you help her up after a strenuous set, your hands brush against her stomach and back. At that moment, your eyes meet hers in an intense gaze as she leans into you for support. Company policy strictly forbids personal involvement with clients, but denying Jisoo is impossible. The city lights seem to dance across her glistening skin, mixing with the scent of her perfume.

"I'm here whenever you want to talk," you offer, gently massaging the tension from her shoulders as she relaxes into your touch. "You know I'm ready to help with whatever I can."

She takes a deep breath before responding. "I know. That's why I like you." Your heart skips a beat at her words, and time seems to stand still as the sounds of your exertion fade away.

You try not to gulp. "You know, I actually have my massage license. So if you need me to work out anything else... promise I won't charge extra."

Jisoo stays still for a moment, then nods. "I think I like the sound of that."

Together, the two of you walk towards the massage rooms. The gym is quiet and empty at this late hour, a stark contrast to its usual bustling energy during peak hours. As you enter, the sounds of grunting and heavy breathing are replaced by soft jazz music playing from the speakers. You close and lock the door behind you for privacy, even though it's unlikely that anyone will disturb you in this peaceful haven.

But then you remember and go back to lock the door. "Hey, if you want to change in the locker room—"

"Keep it locked."

The air is thick with tension as you wait for her to undress, every part of your body buzzing with anticipation. She begins by removing her shoes, then slowly pulls down her pants, revealing long and toned legs. It feels like she's putting on a show for you, yet she still blushes and you look away out of respect. Her sports bra is the last thing to come off; you bite your cheek to avoid staring as she hands it over without meeting your gaze. Now wearing only a pair of panties, Jisoo lays face down on the table with a heavy sigh.

You start massaging her shoulders, feeling the gentle give of the springs beneath her weight. Your hands continue to move lower until they reach the small of her back where you pause for a moment, taking in a deep breath. You catch a whiff of sweat mixed with jasmine from her shampoo and a hint of strawberries from her flavored water. Her skin glistens with perspiration and you quickly grab some massage oil from the cupboard, generously pouring it onto your hands before returning to her. The shine of her fair skin, now glimmering with oil and muscle definition, has your breath catching in your throat. You continue kneading, now using oil to glide your hands all over her back, shoulders, neck—and you think you can hear her moaning softly, like a contented purr.

She turns over onto her back, exposing even more of herself to you. At first, she covers her breasts with one arm and avoids your gaze. But then she relaxes and lets her arms rest by her sides. Her breasts are small but perky and enticing. Her nipples are firm. You squirt out some more oil, slowly gliding it up and down her arms and legs until they shine in the warm dim light.

Jisoo lets out a soft moan as your skilled hands work their way deeper, releasing any tension or stress she may have had. It's almost like a mockery to her, the way you only touch her limbs. Your gaze wanders over her body, tracing curves that you've only ever imagined caressing before. She tilts her back slightly, seemingly inviting you to explore her chest. But you resist, choosing instead to focus on her shoulders, collarbones, and sides—purposely teasing her with your careful touches. You maintain the facade of a professional masseur, suppressing your desires for now.

She turns back onto her stomach and you can't help but notice how her beautiful butt jiggles slightly as she settles in again.

Once more, you start from her shoulders and work your way down her back. This time, she shudders as you continue massaging downwards, stopping just above the top of her thighs. You lean forward to whisper in her ear, "Would it be okay if I moved a little lower?" Your voice is husky with nervousness and desire as your fingertips brush against the smooth skin above where her panties sit.

She nods slowly, biting her lip nervously as she exhales heavily through clenched teeth. As your hands knead at her thighs, she moans louder this time. "C-can you take off my panties? They're...starting to feel uncomfortable," she whispers. Like she's too embarrassed to admit it aloud.

"Of course," you say, and your finger hooks into the waistband. Lowering, carefully, you peel her panties down her legs, and watch in awe: her pussy is soaked. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Mhm," she moans, whiny. "Just help me relax, please."

Without fabric in the way, you can really sink your digits into her backside properly. You can feel every ridge of her spine, every indent of muscle. You start to massage her glutes, circling and kneading them until you find that perfect spot. Her hips buck up involuntarily into your hands, begging for more as you bring relief to her tense body. You can't deny yourself anymore; your hands slowly creep towards her butt cheeks and then lower still. As you work on her legs, your fingers somehow find their way between them, teasing her inner thighs, earning another moan. The scent of her arousal fills the room, and it's almost too much for you. But you keep going, kneading, caressing, rubbing away all that pent-up tension. Your heart pounds in your chest as your thumb brushes against her clit, earning a tiny gasp from her lips. She's wet and hot to the touch.

"How's that?" you ask quietly.

"Good," she breathes out between ragged breaths. "So good... keep going."

That single brush becomes more purposeful, strokes of your fingers along her folds. She grips the edge of the table tightly, trembling under your touch like it's somewhere between pain and pleasure, but listen to her whimpering—it's all pleasure, and any pain is at your restraint.

"Please. More."

You nod, feeling your heart race in your chest. Your fingers find their way to her core and gently part her folds as Jisoo sighs heavily. Her labia is swollen and wet, begging for attention, but you take your time, teasing them with the tip of your index finger before plunging inside her. She cries out softly, arching her back into the table. Your middle finger joins the first one inside her, stretching her tightness with a gentle pressure that she welcomes eagerly. Her mouth falls open in a silent 'O' shape and she grinds against your hand, seeking more. You smile against her back as you watch your fingers disappear into her hot, tight heat and begin to move them in and out in slow, steady strokes. Her pussy clenches around them, milking your fingers as you continue massaging her thighs and glutes. You can't help but taste a droplet of sweat on her skin and lick it clean, savoring the mix of saltiness and jasmine on your tongue.

Jisoo's moans grow louder now as you work your fingers deeper inside her while still massaging her outer thighs; she trembles under your touch as you apply just enough pressure to hit all the right spots at once. Your other hand reaches up to cup one of her breasts through the oil-covered skin, squeezing and rolling the nipple between your fingers while you pleasure her from below. She gasps at the mix of sensations before coming apart underneath you; warmth seeps through your fingertips as she climaxes hard behind you. Every muscle in her body tenses before relaxing with deep sighs that fill the room. Even then, you don't stop; instead of slowing down, you continue to stimulate her, not wanting this moment to end. Minutes pass before she starts to calm down, and when she does, she pants heavily with an afterglow that fills the room. Finally, you sit back on the table, looking down at your sexy client as she lies there completely naked before you. She catches her breath raggedly, her chest rising and falling rapidly. You wipe away the remaining oil with a towel, then grab some fresh ones for both of you.

"Thank you, oh, fuck, that was incredible." She makes eye contact with you. "Can you pass my clothes?"

You hand them over, your hands shaking a little as you watch her dress herself.

Suddenly, Jisoo grabs your hand. "I need to reward you for that."

"What? No, it's fine, that was plenty reward—"

But then she pulls you away, and you find yourself whisked through the empty gym once again—as an employee, you know this place like the back of your hand, but you have no idea where she's taking you.

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't Jisoo on your lap while you were sitting on a gym bench in a squat rack. This position isn't in any of your training programs.

"Wh-why here? If there's anywhere someone could show up... I mean, there's always crazy busy bodybuilders..."

"Shh." Jisoo has a wicked grin. "Just relax."

If you had to wager a guess, it would be the mirrors—no room has more mirrors than the weight room. And you're thankful because you get to watch Jisoo work in her tight leggings and her sports bra. Though you're certain that watching is only secondary to the sensation of it all. Of Jisoo clawing at your sweatpants, rubbing over your bulge. It is a close second, however, seeing the sweat on her tits again, or the curves of her back or her butt.

Jisoo's kisses are gentle yet demanding, exploring every inch of your neck and chest as she leads the way. Her sweet panting against your skin adds to the forbidden feeling of being in a deserted gym at this hour. You slip your hands into her hair, running your fingers through the soft strands as she takes you deeper into her world with each slow, desperate lick along your muscles. You feel like you're being worshiped by her tongue, and you wonder how a goddess can worship. Her body presses against yours, grinding against your hardness through the fabric of your sweatpants while she teases you mercilessly. The warmth between her legs beckons you closer as she moans into your neck, inviting you to take what she so clearly wants to give.

Finally, she pulls back and looks up at you with a mix of desire and vulnerability in her eyes. "Please," she whispers, her voice raw with need. And before you can question it further, she pulls down your sweats and underwear together, freeing your erection from its confines. Her hands wrap around you, stroking slowly to test the waters as they glide up and down your length. You gasp at the sensation of her soft palms on your skin, feeling the calluses from hours of training mixed with her tender touch. Then she kneels down between your legs, pulling you to the edge of the bench with little effort. "You know how long I've been wanting to taste this?" Her rhetorical question has you imagining all the times in the past you've wanted to fuck her, all the times you've wanted to keep her bent over in her yoga pose and slid your cock inside.

You close your eyes as she takes you into her mouth, feeling a rush of pleasure as her warm breath tickles your skin. You grip the bar above her head tightly as she starts to move, her lips sliding up and down your length. You can't resist leaning back into her touch, enjoying the sensation of her tongue swirling around your head before taking more of you in.

Her hand gently squeezes your balls while the other plays with your perineum, sending waves of pleasure through you. The sounds of her sucking and slurping fill the room, making it difficult to keep quiet. As she gazes up at you with a smirk on her lips every few moments, you feel like the luckiest man alive.

You watch as she admires herself in the mirror while bobbing on your cock. Her eyes never leave yours as she starts to stroke herself through her leggings, the leather creaking beneath you both. "Fuck," she whispers before looking back up at you with determination. "I want you inside me."

She stands up and quickly removes her shoes, pants, and underwear. There's no teasing this time, just raw need and desire in her eyes. You wonder if this gym bench can handle the intensity she's about to bring. Gripping onto the bars of the squat rack next to you, Jisoo positions herself above you with ease. She spreads saliva over your erection with her small hands, but there is already ample wetness from her own arousal. Slowly inch by inch, she takes all of you inside until she's completely impaled on your cock. Her arms wrap around your neck and her eyes never leave yours as she moves her hips back and forth in a slow rhythm. The sound of the leather bench creaking only adds to the taboo excitement of the moment.

Her breasts sway with each thrust, brushing against your chest with each movement. You grab one firmly, feeling her nipple harden under your touch as she grinds down on you. Her breath hitches as she looks into your eyes again, both of you consumed by desire. It's exhilarating to see her like this: uninhibited and craving more.

A glance in the mirror confirms how wild this situation is—the two of you making love in an empty gym late at night—but it only adds to the intensity for both of you. You watch her body move above you with a mix of arousal and pride as her trainer. You know just how much effort she's put into maintaining her incredible figure, all the hard work and dedication despite her busy schedule and strict diet. And now, that same body is moving around your cock, her labia gripping onto you tightly. You thrust upwards to meet her movements, feeling her tight walls clenching and releasing around your length. Her eyes close as she leans forward, and you and Jisoo kiss passionately.

As you break the kiss, you say, "Show me how well you've learned your squats."

Jisoo smiles. "Of course." She slides up your cock, which slaps against your abs with a wet noise, covered in her slick. She turns around and gives you a full view of her backside. While you got a decent glimpse of it in the reflections, seeing it in full is like seeing a painting in person. Her neck, her shoulders, the muscles in her back. The hourglass shape along her waist and hips to her toned thighs. They're enough to end a man with sight alone—and then she lowers herself on your cock once again, riding you reverse cowgirl as you lean back, your hands behind your head, in the sexiest core workout of your life.

She grinds down on you, making you beg for release as her act of worship continues.

Your fingers find their way to her hips, guiding her rhythm as you watch the most beautiful woman you've ever seen grind on your lap. The sight of her ass cheeks bouncing, the sounds of wet flesh slapping against your cock, it's all too much. Her eyes flutter shut in pleasure and she tosses her head back, moaning your name loudly in the empty gym. Her movements become faster, and harder against your grasp as she slides up and down your length with ease.

"Fuck," she gasps between breaths, "you feel so good." You bite down on your bottom lip hard enough to stifle a groan of approval as she rides you like a champion athlete. "I'm gonna... Fuck!" she shouts, as her legs tremble.

You sit up and wrap your arms around her torso as her body begins to shake, and here, you fuck her through her orgasm. You can see her eyes rolling in the mirror, and by the time your lips are on her neck, you only see the whites. You fondle her breasts, thrust upward into her, and feel her melt into you. "That's it, cum on my cock."

Jisoo's moans get louder and louder. Slick warmth surrounds you as she cums, tightening around your cock. She feels so good that you can't help but lose control too, though you manage to pull out before you start to pulsate. Regaining some of her awareness, she clasps her thighs together around your shaft, and you pump into the delectable pressure and friction. Fucking her thighs, you spurting and spraying all over her legs, her midriff, and her tits. You can feel her soft pussy lips still throbbing in sympathy, and the two of you ride out your climaxes together for what feels like forever.

#kpop smut #blackpink smut #reader insert #male reader

[gimmeurtmi]

Thinking about putting on red lipstick and littering kisses all over Jisung’s tummy while he giggles with a cute little blush on his cheeks 🤭

oh you know i do love marking pretty boys up 🥹

(warnings; swearing, marking, reader wears makeup, kissies, jaist!!🔞)

“what about this one?” jisung asks cutely, holding up one of your lipsticks for you to inspect.

you’ve been trying to get your makeup look finished before going out to see your friends and jisung, your perfectly clingy boyfriend, insisted on helping. his idea of helping was asking “and what’s that for?” every five minutes and occasionally telling you which colour he thought would look nice.

now, he’s insistent you pick the lipstick he selected for you.

“no, that’s no good,” you shake your head, looking around your drawer for your favourite nude one.

“why not?” jisung frowns, uncapping the lipstick and twisting it out. he makes a loud woah sound as he takes in the bright red of it.

“it gets everywhere, that’s no good for going out to a restaurant!” you try and explain.

“what does that mean, gets everywhere?” his lips form into a small and curious circle and you roll your eyes at him. jisung isn’t clueless, you know he isn’t, so he’s either playing dumb or he’s not actually paying any attention.

you snatch the lipstick out of his hand, quickly applying a thin layer to your lips. you don’t pay too much thought to the precision or technique of the application, simply smack your lips together when you’re done and turn to your boyfriend.

“i love this colour on you,” he smiles, words soft and gentle.

you smile at him, thanking him softly before grabbing his chin and pulling him towards you. you plant a noisy kiss on his cheek, an audible mwwahh! leaving your lips before you turn his head towards the mirror.

“see? it gets everywhere!” you explained.

jisung smiles brightly at you. “that’s just the excess layer or something, i’m sure now it’ll stay put.”

now you know he’s doing it on purpose but you indulge him either way. you lowly tell him to stand up, and he quickly does, and you’re pushing his hoodie up while you rub your fingers all over his stomach.

you want to squeeze his tiny waist until he can’t even breathe but you stop yourself, instead just grazing your nails up and down his stomach again and again and again while jisung does everything in his power to stay standing on both feet.

you move closer to his tan skin, softly pressing your lips above his belly button. a beautiful red stain is left behind once you pull away.

jisung giggles, actually giggles, and you start planting more kisses around his skin. his neck is redder than it was before and his eyes are tightly shut and his smile is so wide and his puffy cheek has a perfect pair of lips on it in bright red. you dare suck on the skin next, pulling it between your teeth as you mark him with something more permanent than your lipstick.

“do you see what i meant now?” you ask, running your nails over your masterpiece, careful to not smudge any of your work.

“need you to prove it more,” jisung rushes, discarding his hoodie and quickly undoing his belt.

“ji,” it’s your turn to giggle as he quickly grabs the lipstick and asks you to put on another layer.

“wanna see how long it takes for my dick to be covered in it,” he mumbles, already pushing his boxers to the floor.

“i’ll be late—“

“—trust me, it won’t take long.”

#ask #anon #hard thoughts #jisung thoughts #han x reader #han x you #han x y/n #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #jisung x reader #jisung x you #jisung x y/n #han jisung x reader #all.works #skz.blurbs

[yawnderu]

you can't just give us the image of Simon holding hands during sex, now I need something to sleep on

Simon doesn't fuck— Simon makes love. Passionate kisses are exchanged as the clothes come off at an almost painfully slow pace, taking his time to savor every single second with you, to truly take in just what he's about to do with the woman he knows he'll spend the rest of his life with.

His kisses only stop when he has to take a few seconds to truly admire what's in front of him, to take in the sheer beauty, to look down at you like you're his savior. In many ways, you are. His rough, calloused hands go up to cup your cheeks, gently forcing your face up to keep eye contact as his forehead rests against yours. He swears he can see God every single time he looks into your eyes, ignoring his own reflection and focusing simply on everything they hold; your love, desire, yearning, lust.

You look at him like he's worth something— like he's not a mutt with matted hair who'll end up getting shot in an alleyway out of pure mercy. You look at him like a stray you took in, showing him love and compassion, appreciating the way his fangs are bared at the world but never at you.

He plants the gentlest kiss on your lips before he begins descending, leaving open-mouthed kisses that light fire on their way down. His rough hands are gentle only with you, pushing your body down on the mattress with so much tenderness you swear he thinks you're a rich fine china. He plants kisses down your stomach, eyes closing as he focuses on the sensation of your warmth against his lips, swallowing thickly before he opens your legs.

Teasing kisses and soft bites are given to your inner thighs before his lips finally find what he has been craving like a starved man. One last kiss is pressed to your mound, his tongue coming out of his lips to lick a flat stripe over your already wet cunt, his saliva and your fluids mixing together, giving him the chance to eat you out even better. It doesn't take long before he's latching onto your erect nub, alternating between rolling his tongue over the bundle of nerves and suckinf on it, your moaning only encouraging him to keep going.

Your back arches, hand coming down to gently pull on his cropped hair, pushing him even closer to your core, wanting to feel more of the intense sensation. He lets go of your clit for a second, his tongue now more focusing on gathering the wetness all over your entrance before pushing in, his thumb coming up under his face to rub on your clit, doing circular motions as his tongue goes in and out of your cunt.

"Si— need you." Your breathy whisper earns a deep chuckle out of him, planting a kiss on top of your wet cunt before finally breaking away, standing up to his full weight and pulling down his boxers. The sheer sight of his naked body never fails to amaze you no matter how many times you've seen it, his strong, tattooed body bare only for you to see. His vulnerability is and will always be reserved for a single woman; you.

He plants a soft kiss for your lips as he lines himself up, his cock big and heavy, veins visible on the length of his shaft, but he has trained you well enough to be able to take him. He sinks into you slowly, allowing you to get used to the stretch as he bottoms out, the small gasp that comes out of your lips is enough to make his eyes drift up to your face, taking in your expression. He sees nothing but pleasure, but he doesn't keep going until you nod your head and pull him closer.

His thrusts are deep and slow, hips rolling to make sure every single inch of his cock is buried all the way inside you, a thin layer of cream forming on the base of his shaft. He supports his weight with one of his elbows, not dropping his full weight on you yet in fears of hurting you, hips rolling over yours slightly faster to hear more of your whiny moans, his thin lips planting loving kisses all over your neck while his hand blindly seeks for yours, slight desperation in his actions, needing to hold onto you like a lifeline as he feels himself get closer and closer to the edge.

His hand finally finds yours, fingers intertwining, squeezing softly to display love and reassurance; to bring both of you even closer while your bodies are connected, skin slapping against skin and combined moans forming a melody he thinks about often while he's away. His tongue licks a flat stripe over your pulse before his face seeks shelter on the crook of your neck, muffled moans and deep grunts playing right into your ear. Your legs wrap around his waist, fitting oh so perfectly like a missing puzzle piece, bringing him even closer to your throbbing cunt.

"Fuck, love—" The pressure of your thighs grows, both of you not even managing to form sentences between moans yet the squeezes you deliver to each other's hands are enough to communicate. Your walls tighten up around him, velvety tissue shortly being painted white with his thick cum, feeling him go all the way inside to make sure not a single drop is wasted.

He pulls out slowly after a few seconds of regaining your breath, planting a soft kiss to your forehead before rolling over next to you, his burly arms wrapping around your tired frame, keeping you safe. Not a single word is spoken between the lovers, only gentle kisses and loving gazes being exchanged while you recover. His hand seeks for yours again, this time examining it carefully; already picturing how good the ring he bought will look on you once you say yes.

#cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #call of duty #cod smut #ghost x f!reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost x female reader #ghost simon riley #ghost smut #stray answers

[imwetforyourmom]

eyes on mine

summary: you’ve always been scared of eye contact.. it makes you nervous, and since chris has noticed this, he likes to use it to his advantage during times.

warnings: smut (legit no plot, js straight into the smut), no plot, hair pulling, throat grabbing (not choking), dom!chris sub!reader, unprotected sex (dont be silly, be on the pill), slight aftercare

a/n: as someone who’s not afraid of eye contact, I truly hope I did this fic justice 😭

a/n 2: thank you all sm for 900 followersss!! also, I posted this one to keep y’all fed till I can get ‘not her pt2’ out 😓😓

not proofread

~

chris grabbed the back of y/ns neck, craning her neck to look at chris through the mirror, making eye contact with her as he plowed deep into her from behind. “look at you baby, you look so pretty getting fucked dumb by my cock, yeah?” he spoke in a breathy voice, with each thrust of his hips he knocked the air out of his lungs.

chris returned his hands to her hips, stabilizing her as he pounded his cock into her tight walls. his eyes trained on the way her ass bounced and recoiled each time his pelvis hit it, it was fucking amazing and he couldnt get enough of it.

one of his hands moved off her hips and carressed her ass cheek, before groping it not lightly at all. he was groping, manhandling and slapping it. “god, you’re so fucking pretty.” chris whispered, his eyes moving off y/ns ass to glance at her fucked out face in the mirror, making eye contact.

“you like this?” chris asked, his tone seductive. he kept his eyes trained on hers, knowing that there was a bubbling sense of she-doesnt-know-what in her stomach, he could tell by the way her eyes faltered when they made eye contact.

y/n didnt answer, it was already hard enough to keep her eyes on his but having to use her voice, knowing it was going to be raspy and breaking with each word, purely due to the way chris was making her feel—not his cock, but the way his eyes looked into hers.

“cmon, baby, answer me.” chris’ fingertip trailed all the way up her spine, lightly and carefully, knowing it’d send goosebumps scattering all over her body.

y/n swallowed, “y- yes, fuck, I do, I love it!” she moaned loudly, dropping her head to give her neck a rest, unaware of the soon consequences.

chris grabbed her hair, making a make-shift ponytail and pulled her head back up. he leant down some, his head next to hers. he stared right into her eyes through the mirror. his eye contact not once faltering.

“eyes on mine, pretty girl.” he whispered into her ear, tightening his grip around her hair, slightly pulling it.

y/n bit her lip as she looked into chris’ eyes, her stomach twisting and churning. “fu- fuck, chris, I cant, please.” she whined, tears brimming at her eyes—not from the eye contact, instead from the brutal snap of his hips into hers. it felt so fucking good, but it felt too good.

“no.” he spoke, his eyes boring into hers. strands of his hair sticking to his forehead, each slightly curled due to the thin layer of sweat on his body. “you can take it. take it like a good girl f’me.” he grunted, leaning back again and fixing his pace, as when he was leant over it was sloppy.

chris continued his thrusting, his eyes not once leaving hers. he stared into her eyes, admiring them, admiring the color of them and the details they withheld.

he took his time analyzing and admiring them, as this is probably the closest he’ll get to willing eye contact. normally, y/n immediately looks away and or hides her face. its cute, but sometimes chris just wants to admire his girlfriends eyes.

“fuck! chris, i’m- i’m close!” y/n moaned, her words drawing out, it took everything in her not to roll her eyes back. her palm gripped the bedsheets beneath her, suppressing a scream.

“yeah? you gonna cum on my cock?” his hips began sputtering, signaling his high as well. chris’ hand snaked around her hip, finding her clit and rubbing tight and sensual circles.

y/n lets out a moan at this, the knot in her stomach snapping not too long later, a pornographic moan slipping past her lips as she climaxed all over his cock. her walls squeezing around him, almost immediately making chris cum with a moan. his cum painting her walls white, his hips stopping deep inside her, ensuring not a single drop of his cum left her.

he slowly pulled out, he kept his grip on y/ns hips, before slowly turning her around so she was on her back.

she closed her eyes and attempted to catch her breath, that was until she felt a cold sensation between her thighs, in which, she looked up to see chris in boxers and him cleaning y/n up. he finished, he threw the cloth at the bathroom door, too lazy to actually go into the bathroom and put it with the dirty laundry bin.

he sat next to y/n, sitting her up gently and putting a shirt over her body, before pulling her into him then laying down.

he rubbed her back while whispering praises to her, such as “you did so good, baby” and “your eyes are so pretty” all while lulling her to sleep.

962 words.

@luverboychris @chrissturniolosfavoritesexdoll @meg-sturniolo @junnniiieee07 @mels22lunchbox @ssilentzom @dollyspsychoxo @sturnib-tch @b2cute @livvy4realll @graysturns @wh0resstuff @jnkvivi @mattsmad @sturn-bugz @batoolareadss @mattybslover @mattsturnxoxo @littlebookworm803 @imtalkinnonsense

#sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris #christopher owen sturniolo #christopher sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets smut #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine

[perlelune]

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | v.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Grandma’am’s dissonant notes fill your room as you lie on the bed. The old woman’s wobbly soprano has been the background noise to your awakening this early morning.

At least it diverted you from your dire thoughts.

You rose with low spirits, defeated. You didn’t dare leave the cover of the warm blankets.

You’ve stared at the ceiling for so long, the flower patterns have morphed into smudges of pale color swirling in your vision. It’s all you did the entire morning. Stare at the ceiling while awful thoughts collide in your head. Perhaps for hours. You’re not sure. Time has been a foggy concept as of late.

You can’t even remember when everything started spinning out of control. The beginning of your unraveling.

The day before Coryo held you as you wept in his arms. For a while, in the warmth of his embrace, the uproar in your head fell silent.

Now it’s all noise again. Chaos. You have no desire to climb out of bed, face the day. Perhaps it makes you a bad guest. But hiding is easier. So it’s exactly what you elect to do.

Hiding until it becomes an impossibility.

Or until the door knocks in that case. 

The sound startles you. 

You don’t answer. Instead, you burrow yourself further beneath the sheets. 

The knock starts again. Stubbornly, you ignore it.

“I’m coming in,” a familiar, airy voice announces.

The creaking of the door reaches you and your brows crumple. A slight weight plops on the mattress, making it dip under you. You freeze, willing yourself to remain still. 

A delicate perfume hangs in the air. Guilt seeps through you. It’s not like she’s done anything to you. If anything, she’s been kind. It’s about the hot layer of shame that has grown thick roots into your being.

Her gentle lilt flutters above you.

“I won’t move until you talk to me; I’m worried.”

You gnaw on your lip. The seconds stretch to minutes, arduously long, seemingly endless as she remains on your bed. It dawns on you how deadly serious the older of the Snow cousins is. She will not go away until you speak to her.

Besides, your mother’s voice echoes somewhere in your head. Your behavior is ill-fitted for a lady. Here you are, a guest in someone else’s house, acting like a petulant child.

Though you balk at the prospect, it’s time to face the world.

You huff out a quiet sigh under your breath before peeking above the blanket. 

“Tigris,” you mumble. 

Her thin blonde brows are pinched. 

“You missed breakfast,” she notes. She tilts her head, scrutinizing you as her frown deepens. “First dinner, now breakfast. It’s becoming a habit.”

Concern glimmers in her honey orbs. Your chest squeezes. The last thing you want is for someone else to feel terrible. You push the blanket further away from you, sitting up as a contrite smile tugs your lips. 

“Sorry.”

Tigris’ slender fingers latch onto your forearm. 

“Don’t apologize. Just keep me company today.”

You attempt to deflect, “What about Coryo?”

The blonde releases a deep exhale, crossing her arms in frustration. You’ve gazed upon a similar crease on Coriolanus’ face before.

“He barely has time for me these days. Between his work with Dr Gaul, the University and…” A small smile plays on her lips as her voice trails off. “You of course.” Your cheeks heat at her implication. Of course, you’re aware of Coriolanus’ dedication to showing up for you as of late. But it never occurred to you that it could impede on Tigris’ time with him. It saddens you.

From what you recall of the glimpses of them you caught growing up, there was a time the two Snow cousins were inseparable. After all, ever since they were young, Tigris has been everything to him. A mother, a sister, a best friend. It was clear on Coriolanus’ face too. Fondness was etched on his face whenever he looked at his cousin. 

She leans over you, her tone pleading.

“Come on, I really need a friend, and something tells me you do too.”

Shoulders sagging in surrender, you concede, “I’ll get dressed.”

She leaps to her feet, a victorious smile breaking onto her face.

“I’ll have the maid bring you some food before we go,” she sings. “When’s the last time you ate anyways?”

You purse your lips, shocked at the realization of how long it’s been since your last meal, eating having toppled to the bottom of your list of priorities the last two days.

You give an honest reply.

“I…can’t remember.”

Concern scrunches Tigris’ angular features once more. She then takes her leave and you glumly get ready for the day.

Food is brought up to your room. You nibble down every bite of cheese, bread and eggs until you’re full.

You find the massive trunk Coriolanus had the staff carry up to your room. You marvel as you peer inside, rummaging in search of an outfit for the day. His thoughtfulness astounds you. You don’t deserve a friend like Coryo.

Once you’ve removed your night robe, it pools at your feet. Your stomach sinks at the sight of your bare form. Bruises still speckle your skin. They are starting to fade but the ones on your hips and thighs are still quite prominent. The thought of Coryo touching you this way crosses your mind and you shudder. 

You know you shouldn’t feel this way.

It’s like your friend said. It’s better that it was him than some stranger with nefarious intentions. After all, you were both drunk. You both didn’t mean for it to happen. It’s obvious Coriolanus is as inconvenienced by this as you are. 

You should move on, let the incident scatter amidst the unfortunate mistakes of youth. It’s what common sense dictates. Otherwise guilt will chew you to the bone.

But you can’t. 

Every time you think of that night, you’re unsettled, an inkling of wrong humming through you.

It haunts you. Though you wished it didn’t.

The remainder of the morning is spent with Tigris. The two of you scour the city in search of various fabrics and items her boss, Fabricia Whatnot, asks her to collect. 

It’s a nice change of scenery and you welcome it.

You even get to see Tigris work on a dress, a magnificent wedding gown whose sight stirs a bittersweet feeling within you. It reminds you that your own dress was ruined, a matter you’ve yet to solve. 

…If there’ll even still be a wedding. 

As the afternoon sun crests to a scorching peak in the bright blue sky, she offers to stop by a café which you readily accept. You both sit beneath a wide umbrella on the outdoor terrace. 

You take small bites of your petit fours, the sugar melting on your tongue providing much needed comfort.

“Does your grandmother do this every morning?” 

Tigris’ lips pause above the rim of her porcelain cup, her honey gaze widening at your question. Realization then lights up her face.

“Oh, the singing? Yes, almost.” A fond smile spreads onto her thin lips. “Grandma’am likes to reminisce about the glory days of our family, you know…before the war.”

Your brows furrow.

The glory days...

Could the days before the war truly be referred to as that? The people of the Districts were forced to serve the ever-growing needs of the Capitol citizens, reaping no benefits from their hard work and being kept docile by the perpetual threat of execution.

Exactly like now.

You hardly see the glory in that. Maybe for the victors, the ones who get to stand atop the mountain while others try to claw their way up from the bottom until their hands bleed.

But, as usual, you don’t voice your treasonous thoughts, simply nodding in response.

Tigris and you both relish the comfortable silence for a while. She doesn’t urge you to talk and you’re grateful for that. Idle talk is an arduous task when constant worries gnaw at your mind.

While she may not know the depth of your predicament, you appreciate that Tigris picks up enough not to prod.

“It’s nice here, isn’t it?” she says. “Quiet. I like to come here when I need a moment to myself.”

Your gaze roams across the luxurious garden near the café. You get lost in admiring the pretty flowers and the swan fountain. It reminds you of your own garden, your beloved roses, probably withering from neglect. You’ll need to tend to them soon.

“It’s beautiful,” you admit. You nibble on your bottom lip before your eyes find hers. “I’m sorry for being…difficult this morning.”

Tigris’ shoulders heave as she replies nonchalantly, “It’s quite alright.” Mirth sparkles in her amber orbs. “I’m sorry for dragging you all over Panem to run those errands.”

You give a small smile. “It’s fine. I enjoyed the distraction.”

You look down and fiddle with your napkin, arranging it in different positions several times in your lap.

“Is something the matter?”

Tigris’ abrupt inquiry makes your head snap up.

You hesitate beneath her compassionate stare. After a long, quiet minute, your shoulders slump.

“I just loathe that I am such a burden to you and Coryo,” you mumble.

Tigris tilts her head, genuine confusion scrunching her features. “A burden? Don’t be ridiculous. You could never be that to me...” Her slender hand reaches across the table to drape over yours. “And even less to Coryo.”

A wry chuckle leaves your lips. “Well, he’s got better things to do than taking care of me.”

She shakes her head.

“Taking care of you is a pleasure to my cousin.”

You wince. “I very much doubt that.”

Tigris’ head lowers, her hand rising to her mouth to dampen her chortle.

“What’s so funny?” you ask, frowning.

“It’s just…you really don’t see how much you’re changing him?” She studies you momentarily before heaving out a long exhale. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course,” you reply immediately. She smiles.

“I haven’t seen him focus on something other than his ambitions in so long…not the way he focuses on you.”

Your jaw hangs slack at her admission.

She pauses, seeming to mull over her next words. “Coryo…when he returned from his service in District 12, he was so different. I thought all the warmth in him was gone, that he was becoming like my uncle.” A distant, sad look dims her eyes. “A cold, calculated man. But when he’s around you…" Fondness illuminates her face while she gauges you. "I don’t know, it's almost like he’s back to his old self. The little boy I knew, sweet and caring. My little Coryo.”

Her fingers tighten around yours as she beams. “You’re good for him, so don’t worry about being a burden. It couldn’t be further from the truth.”

Tears of relief almost spill from your eyes at that but you swallow them.

Instead, you return her smile. It may have been at the behest of your dead brother but you couldn’t deny how comforting Coriolanus’ presence has been, his friendship the silver lining above somber clouds. Coryo is the only one who gladly listens when you talk about Sejanus and how much it aches that he’s not there anymore, his passing having left a void that can never be filled. It’s too painful for your mother and your dad’s in plain denial. If it weren’t for Coryo, grief would have eaten you alive, you’re certain of it. 

It’s hard to picture your life without him in it now, in some form or another. In fact, you don’t think you even want to. You may have lost a brother but the gods were merciful and granted you another.

After you leave the café, you and Tigris take a leisurely stroll through the Capitol’s streets. The talk you had with her rejuvenated you. For the first time since that awful night at Clemensia’s, you feel a bit more like yourself. 

All is well until someone strides out of a bakery, someone you know too well. The sight of the familiar face freezes you in your spot. 

Your eyes then lock from across the street. You watch the recognition dawn on his face. 

He starts making his way towards you. 

A surge of panic bleeds inside you. You briskly grab Tigris’ hand.

“Let’s go,” you urge, already pulling her in the other direction. 

“Wait…what?” Befuddled, Tigris lets you drag her along as you start racing through the streets.

You don’t dare look behind you, your heart thundering inside your chest. 

You dive into a busy street. The crowd cloaks you as you zigzag between bodies. Strangers give you dirty looks but you don’t care, focused on running as far away from who you saw as you can. 

You and Tigris end up in a narrow alleyway, catching your breaths behind a dumpster. 

You shoot worried glances at the other end of the alleyway. You lost him, you realize. A strange blend of emotions fills you, every single one carving a larger hole inside your chest.

“Who was that?” Tigris asks between uneven breaths.

Shame swells within you as your gaze lands on the cobblestoned floor.

“My fiancé,” you reply.

“Hey.” Your head lifts from your knees, your eyes traveling to the blond head peeking through the slight opening of the door.

Concerned cobalt orbs study you. You avoid his scrutiny by focusing on a random spot on the bed sheets. He enters the room. As he sits at the edge of the bed, you bring your legs closer to your chest.

His soft tone breaks through your hazy train of thoughts. “Tigris told me what happened.”

You unleash a shaky breath before finally meeting his gaze.

“I’m a coward,” you say.

His hand rises to cradle your jaw, his thumb collecting an errant tear you didn’t even realize had spilled over. “You’re not a coward,” he assures.

Your lip wobbles. Of course you are. You saw William, your own fiancé, and ran away from him. Who does that? An idiot and a coward. But you didn’t know what else to do. You panicked. When his beautiful green eyes locked with yours, all you could think about was those same eyes filled with hate and betrayal if he ever learnt what you did.

“I am,” you affirm.

Coriolanus strokes the side of your face, his tone growing firmer, “It’s a tough situation…”

His sentence is halted by a loud banging downstairs. 

Your eyes go wide.

“What’s that?”

The faint echo of your name being yelled from outside reaches you. Your heart leaps as Coryo’s features go taut, his jaw clenching.

His lips stretch in a tense smile.

“I'll go check. Stay here.”

“I’ll come.”

You jump from bed and make a beeline for the door. He tries to placate you by holding your shoulders, blocking the exit with his towering frame.

“Princess, I don’t think-”

You glower at him. You can’t run forever.

“You can’t stop me, Coryo.”

Tension hangs in the air for some minutes, thick and electric, before he relents with a deep sigh, “Alright.”

Heart in your throat, you take slow steps down the stairs. Coryo trails behind you in silence.

Your name’s uttered again, the door rattling as he bangs against it. You flinch.

Trembling feet drag to the front door. Your hand spreads over the wooden carving. You take a deep breath before hesitant words stumble out of you.

“William, you can’t be here.”

“I love you. Of course I should be here.” 

Unwavering determination vibrates in his tone. Guilt flares within you. You swallow the impending rush of tears. You don’t deserve him. He’s good, kind, honest…and you’re a liar.

“I saw you with that girl, Snow’s cousin. Talk to me, baby, please.”

“I just need a little time...alone.”

“What? Is this about the wedding preparations? Is it your parents?” He sounds confused and hurt. Your heart wrenches. You’re hurting him. It’s exactly what you meant to avoid. “Whatever it is, we can fix it. We can face anything as long as we’re together.”

The desperation thickens in his voice.

“Come out. I just want to see your face, please.”

“I…”

Your fingers hover above the gold door knob. But your hand is snatched by long, stern digits before it can fully wrap around the handle. Coryo tugs you away from the door. You gasp as his deep voice resonates in the lobby. 

“You need to leave her be. She told you she needs space, William,” he says.

“Snow!” A mirthless chuckle ripples from the other side. “I knew it had to be you somehow.” You leap as the hinges of the door shake as William’s fists slam against it once more. “What did you do to her?”

Tears well up in your eyes. 

“Right now, it’s you that’s hurting her,” Coriolanus says, his fingers curling around yours. “What kind of husband-to-be doesn’t respect his future wife’s wishes?”

Your brows collide. You wish he didn’t speak like that. After all, you’re the one at fault. But fear keeps the words chained to your throat.

“I just need to see her, please,” William insists.

Your stomach lurches. This is insane. Your fiancé is on the other side of the door and you won’t let him see you.

Maybe William’s right. Maybe talking to him will fix everything.

You sniffle and wipe your tears. You take a solid stride towards the door again, fingers ready to open it. 

“I think I should, just for a few minutes.”

Your decision is made but Coryo’s hand cinches around your wrist. This time his hold is much firmer, on the cusp of painful in fact. 

You grimace as he draws you away from the door, near the stairs.

He bends over you to whisper hotly, “To tell him what, princess?” Angling your chin upward, he sighs. “That you gave me something you denied him all this time? After just a few drinks?” Heat nestles in your cheeks. It is true. Both you and him got near that point so often, but you were adamant about waiting for your wedding night. It was your excuse every time. You doubt he’d take it well if you told him what occurred. While you want to believe your relationship will survive it, Coriolanus’ words are tossing fuel on every insecurity within you. Your confidence wavers, your hand sagging in his hold.

Coriolanus’ intense blue gaze is hard on you as he continues, his raspy tone low and foreboding, “Or perhaps, you’ll make up a lie? You really think he won't see it on your face?” A contrite expression settles on his handsome features. “You wear your emotions on your sleeves. He’ll know right away.” His thumb sweeps over your cheek to wipe a lone, stray tear. “William seems like a good man, but such a betrayal…it’d break the two of you before you even began.” He leans closer, his lips ghosting over your earshell. “He will never forgive you.”

All hope shrivels inside you, the last remnants you still held onto crumbling to dust.

You almost made a mistake. Of course Coryo’s right. 

“Do you trust me?” 

You give a frantic nod, releasing a shuddering sob.

He smiles at your response.

“Then go upstairs,” he instructs. “I’ll talk to him, fix everything.”

Seeing you linger at the bottom of the stairs, longing gaze darting to the door, Coriolanus squeezes your hand in reassurance.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’m going to make sure you still get to have a wedding at the end of this.” His smile grows wide. “I promise you.”

You search his face. Confidence radiates from his expression, planting the belief that he’s right deep within you. You shouldn’t have doubted him. Coriolanus has gone to great lengths to help you. Even now, he’s protecting your future. It’s more than one should ask of a friend, yet he’s doing it for your sake.

“Thank you,” you say. His hand slackens around yours, a satisfied glint dancing in his cobalt gaze. You rush up the stairs, not daring to look back in fear you falter once more.

#dark!coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #tbosas fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dark!coriolanus snow

[tofupixel]

learning to paint

some of you may remember me asking for painting tips and i have been reading up and ive done a few paintings now!

left is my very first painting (lol), i just did it on paper which buckled cos i didnt have anything to tape it to either. u can see i could barely control the brush at all it was just going all over the place

also i realized i was quite impatient waiting for layers to dry and having too much paint on the brush so everything was smearing around on the canvas

overall very messy but learned a lot

2nd one i did was this pumkin (ive just been copying fruits off pinterest) and its a bit better but i still got impatient and smeared everything into muddiness again

also i didnt sketch my thing first whcih was a big mistake

i just finished this pommer this morning and u can see i already learned a lot of stuff. ive been way more patient and just having a little dance to some music instead of sitting there staring and watching paint dry

learning wet brush vs dry brush and amount of paint changing the way it interacts on the canvas. overall starting to get it

i also got these thin canvas boards which are so much nicer than the paper and just look way less shiny. just so much better overall

thanks for reading my blog anyway and if anyone has acrylic tips im all ears. im having a good time cos i dont care about being bad i am the worlds most dedicated process truster

#not pixel art #acrylic painting #why am i talking

[youaintnothinbuta]

This might be a little out there… but can I humbly request feyd rautha x reader where reader is a ward of the Harkonnens and has grown up with Feyd but his feelings have changed since they have gotten older and she catches him watching her while she’s naked in the bath 👀 and smut ensues 👀 kinda step sibling vibes if that makes sense

You most certainly can!! I love this idea, thank you for letting me run it up in my imagination 😋 sorry if it’s a bit short !!!

“Nothing I haven’t seen before.” — feyd rautha x reader

Summary: see request

Pairing: feyd rautha x fem!reader

Word count: 1K

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, mature language, unprotected sex, sex in a bathtub (is that even a warning idk), probably typos you know meee

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You’d be lying if you said your days were filled with excitement, but being a ward for the Harkonnen’s, they were still rather exhausting. All day, from the moment you wake, you must be paying absolute attention to everything and everyone.

Finally, it was your time to unwind and get yourself ready for bed. The weight of your obligations lifted as you retreated to the sanctuary of your quarters. With a heavy exhale, you shed the layers of clothing that draped your frame.

Standing before the bath, you hesitated momentarily, savoring the anticipation of the forthcoming release. With deliberate movements, you lowered yourself into the welcoming embrace of the warm water. Instantly, you felt your muscles relax. You laid your head back gently against the tub, shutting your eyes, a small sigh escaping your lips again, however this one a sigh of content.

You reached for the washcloth that was draped over the edge of the tub. You dipped it into the warm water, allowing the fabric to soak up the soothing liquid before bringing it to your skin. Starting with gentle strokes, you traced the contours of your body. The sound of water dripping from the cloth, meeting the water you were sitting in echoed against the walls of the bathroom.

Once you were satisfied with your cleanliness, you allowed yourself to relax once again.

“I know you’re there, Feyd Rautha.” You said, your voice breaking the silence of the room. There was a pause, before his low chuckle shattered the stillness. He emerged from the shadows with the elegance of a predator stalking its prey. He approached you, wearing nothing but the thin black cloth that covered his groin.

“How’d you know it was me?” He asked, his voice, even huskier than usual, cut through the steam-filled air, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Leave, I’m bathing.” You insisted, your tone firm despite the flutter of nerves that danced in your belly. But Feyd was not deterred. He approached, his eyes alight with a hunger that could not be sated.

He hummed in response. “Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he remarked, reminding you that when you were children it wasn’t uncommon for you all to bathe together.

“Yes it is, I’m not a little girl anymore,” you countered.

“Believe me,” he growled, “I know.”

You looked up at him. At his body. Your eyes traced each outline of every defined muscle he had to offer. Your gaze lingered on him, drinking in every detail, until finally, it fell lower, drawn inexorably to the undeniable evidence of his erection straining against the thin fabric that barely concealed it. He let you gape at his body, enjoying it profusely.

Your entire body felt a chill, goosebumps covering your skin. He stepped into the bath, settling himself at the opposite end. He leaned towards you, and you could feel his breath against your damp skin as he spoke.

“I will be gentle with you. You will be so wet when I slide inside you.”

His words, the way they slipped past his lips, were meant to entice you. And they worked.

“Feyd,” you spoke his name quietly, breathily.

He took your arms in either of his hands, pulling your body over his. You settled yourself gently over him. He inhaled sharply at the feeling of the soft flesh of your pussy lips lightly touching the sensitive skin of his cock. His large hands found their way to your tits, squeezing them. Your nipples hardened under the caress of his thumbs. He kissed you, hungrily. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, seeking yours out. Your kiss became desperate, hurried, passionate. He bit down on your lip, causing you to moan into his mouth. You lifted yourself off him, letting his cock stand straight, then you slid down, impaling yourself on his thick shaft. He moved slowly, teasing you, until you were seated all the way to the hilt.

You felt so tight around him. He moved with incredible slowness, waiting for the feeling of your muscles to stop clenching around him, the sign that you were adjusted to him. He reached between your legs, finding your clit, rubbing it with firm strokes, making you moan. Finally feeling you relax around him, he began to thrust in and out of you, harder and faster, making you moan louder, squeeze your eyes shut. You dug your nails into the skin of his shoulders, drawing blood as you gripped him. He lifted your leg, letting your foot rest in his left hand as he was able to reach an ever deeper angle, his right hand still using his thumb on your clit. Cries fell from your lips as the water sloshed around you, smacking his chest and splashing your face.

“Look at me,” he commanded. When you opened your eyes, they landed on his, piercing you, holding you. That was all it took. With one final cry of his name, you came with such force, it caught him by surprise, making him lose placement on your clit, just long enough for his fingers to find it again, drawing every last drop of pleasure out of you as your orgasm wracked your body. He came inside of you, a primal grunt coming from his lips with every spurt of his hot cum shooting deep inside of you. He kissed your lips once more, shutting his eyes as he panted. You collapsed onto his chest, his strong arms wrapping around your back, providing you with some warmth. The water in the tub was cold now, but neither of you moved to get out, too content, exhausted and sated like this.

“We are not children anymore,” he snarled, “I have wanted you for some time now.”

“Na-Baron may have whatever he desires.” You whispered in his ear. He rested his hand on the back of your head, gently pressing your face to lie against the skin on his shoulder.

“Correct.” He whispered in reply.

#feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x reader #feydbaron #feyd fanfiction #feyd oneshot #feyd x you #feyd imagine #feyd x reader #feyd smut #feyd rautha #feyd rautha x oc #feyd rautha x y/n #you x feyd rautha #feyd-rautha #feydrautha #austin butler #austinbutler #austin butler feyd rautha #dune part two #dune part 2 #feyd rautha harkonnen #house harkonnen #baron harkonnen #nabaron #dune 2024 #austin butler smut #austin butler feyd #reader x feyd rautha #reader x feyd #yn x feyd rautha

[bloodlust-1]

•·.·'I’m Right Here'·.·•

Gale x fem Tav — Fluff

Summary: Healing deep wounds isn’t so easy. Especially when it’s from the one he loves most. Tav already lost so much blood, and Gale has only one option left to comfort her.

Notes: Soft Gale <3 lots of cuddles and confessions. I’ve been craving some fluff. Short and sweet ♡

Gale murmured foreign words, his hands glowing with a deep, purplish hue. The magical energy pulsed through Tav's body, flowing directly to her wounds, soothing and healing them as they went. Tav lay in her tent, eyes squeezed shut and teeth gritted against the pain. Tav winced harshly to the magic.

“Hey, hey…shhh, you’re okay.” His voice trembled.

Gale’s eyes narrowed with a heavy somberness that tugged at the deepest parts of his heart as he watched Tav, the woman who had so kindly welcomed him with all of his burdens, in such pain. Despite Shadowheart's best efforts to heal her, she had lost too much blood to just magically feel better. And now, he tried too.

Gale felt terrible. How could he have not protected her better in battle? Her screams echoed in his head as he recalled the memory of her falling down. It haunted him.

"Gale...enough, it's no use." Tav weakly lifted her hand, touching his and sinking it to the floor. "I just need rest, everything will be okay."

Gale shook his head firmly, "No." He wanted to keep at it until the pain in her eyes disappeared. Especially when her hands were so cold to the touch.

Before he could utter another spell, Tav sighed and looked at him tiredly, "Please don't fight me on this."

Gale saw Tav shudder in a chill. Oh- of course. She had lost so much blood and she was cold. She brought the thin blanket of her bedroll closer to her face, shivering as she did.

Gale placed his hand over her forehead, causing Tav to sigh in relief at the warmth his palm brought her. Her face seemed to change into a blissful one just from his small touch.

"You're so warm," Tav hummed softly.

"And you're freezing."

Gale peeked at the entrance of her tent. It was closed and he realized that someone had already put out the fire for the night. He couldn't leave her like this.

The only warmth he could provide was that of his own body. Gale hastily pulled the shirt off his back, tossing it to the side. Before Tav could realize what he was doing; Gale had already snuggled himself beside her cold body.

Tav's eyes widened at the sight of his chest. Her and Gale's relationship was practically new, and even then they'd only kissed. But this- seeing Gale's chiseled chest, and the thin layer of hair that trailed down into his crotch. Her mind was going crazy already.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her closer to his chest. Tav melted into his embrace, feeling his warmth radiating off him. She snuggled her face into the nape of his neck and tightened her arms around him. She felt safe.

"I hope this isn’t unwelcomed…”

She took in a deep breath, filling her lungs with the sweet bergamot of his skin. A bliss of goosebumps littered her skin and a sigh of relief left her lips, “What? Of course not. You feel so nice-“

Gale could feel his heart thumping in his chest. He worried that Tav would feel just how nervous he was. Gods, is this what it felt to even be nervous? How ironic it was, He had never been this nervous around a goddess, yet here he was, trembling with nervousness at the thought of being around a mere mortal.

Gale fell silent for a moment, as he tried to calm himself down. He cared what Tav thought of him, and he didn’t want to seemed like he couldn’t control himself. He could feel the goosebumps rise on her skin, “I couldn’t leave you like this. I feel like this is partially my fault.”

“Oh— Gale, it was never your fault.” She spoke softly into his neck.

He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of regret settle on his shoulders. His head shook gently, a croak forming in his throat as he remembered the image of her lying on the ground, her body covered in so much blood that she was barely recognizable. "I should have been there," he murmured, his voice heavy with guilt. "I feel like I let you down, and I almost lost you. That's the hardest thing for me to accept." He exhaled slowly, trying to keep his emotions in check. He knew that no matter how hard he tried, he could never undo what had been done.

She squeezed his warm body gently. Tav couldn’t blame him for feeling so guilty, because she would have felt the same if it was him. She could offer nothing but comfort. “We’re here now, safe.”

Tav raised her pinky finger and hooked it around his. Gales eyes crinkled with amusement and a warm chuckle escaped from his lips as Tav spoke, "For now on, I’ll have your back and you’ll have mine.”

“Deal, my love.” Gale held the small grip and gazed down at her. Even unwell, her eyes still sparkled. He was so impressed with her being.

Gale leaned in, softly pressing his lips against Tav’s forehead. His strong arms held her tight, cradling her body close to his. Gale really did love her. He'd been in love with her for so long now, and it was past time he finally told her how he felt.

He looked into her eyes with sincerity. Feeling a wave of relief as he expressed his deepest feelings.

"I'm so thankful that fate brought us together," his voice filled with emotion. "I've come to realize just how precious you are to me, and how fleeting life can be."

Gale took a deep breath, then let out a gentle sigh. "My love for you surpasses anything I've ever felt before - for myself, and even for my goddess." He held her gaze, his eyes filled with a tenderness that spoke volumes.

“I love you.”

Tav's mouth parted, but no words came out. Her heart started to beat rapidly. What little blood she had race to her cheeks, as she reached to cup his face, "I love you too."

She timidly looked up at his soft brown eyes, faintly whispering when she finally spoke. Tav slowly brought her lips to his, a small and gentle kiss that was full of passion.

Tav and Gale were stuck in that moment for what felt like an eternity. Tav's eyes were slightly glossy, and Gale was alamared by the tears forming in her eyes, "My love! Why are you crying?" His voice laced with concern.

Tav chuckled and wiped the small tears, "Not sad tears, I'm just happy." She sniffled a couple times before flashing a reassuring smile. “You make me so happy.”

Gale held Tav tightly in his embrace. She was the first person to accept him for who he was, not for the magical powers he possessed. In that moment, Gale finally understood what it meant to be in love, and he never wanted the feeling to end.

He brushed his thumb tenderly over the contour of Tav’s cheek, his touch soft and gentle. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear before pressing his forehead against hers. His eyes stared at her with so much love,

“I never want to lose you.”

Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

#bg3 headcanons #gale bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 tav #bg3 fic #bg3 fluff #tav x gale #gale fic #gale fanfic #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale smut #baldurs gate gale #gale x reader #gale dekarios #gale x tav #gale romance

[anantaru]

what kinks do you think dan heng has?? <3 ily yoru

cw. kink analysis, fem! reader

a/n. i love you too, love

marking

bending out of shape of your own very soul when dan heng targets your swelling cunt and fondle with your bodies in the midst of a sweat-stricken bed, with a large hand planted on your hips now, the exhaled scents of his body cling down on you as you squirm sweetly with equal parts of both pleasure and need mess up his cock.

despite it all and how you're so warm, so inviting when you take his cock until he's fully slotted in you, dan heng will still place his steadfast focus on your alluring chest only, sensually cascading his eyes over your fingers playing with yourself, where your puffy, pretty tits were bouncing at his deep ruts, and following by being utterly, most perfectly stimulated by his warm mouth.

he likes, no, fucking craves suckling on the thin skin, until your heels are desperately digging into his back so he could fuck you stronger and make you cum already, and then he'll add a layer of hickeys on your flesh too, enjoying watching how you're wincing when he grazes his teeth over the pounding spots.

your thudding skin beneath his touch, soft and hot, wet of his saliva when he continued to sensually roll his hips against yours. it's when his thumb finds the slickness of his spit to messily spread it around your erected nipples, when you heave out breathlessly, his cock twitches within your silken walls, placing new heights of awareness on your sore body that you didn’t even know existed in the first place.

his hips slap languidly against yours, cock easily slipping into you with a filthy, wet noise that made you wince and cry out his name, his dick creamy and wet with your arousal, with the sounds he made both embarrassing and hot at the same time, yet the tasteful expression you wore was one of utter fondness.

praise kink

dan heng can’t quite place a finger on what made this in particular so special to him— and it's not necessarily only you showering him with praise, because he can't help himself and be utterly vocal in bed too;

a little secret— come closer, but he's mostly louder than you whilst he's forgetting everything around himself, only focusing into every deep, slow stroke of his fat tip into your mushy insides fucking you, using you and he doesn't want to stop feeling it, he could honestly go for it for hours on end and roll his eyes back when you're viciously clamping down on each rill and vein on his dick, bouncing your hips up and down as you ride him.

if he had to compare it to something, hm, it's difficult, yes, but perhaps excitement and some sort of assurance were the words he was searching for in the end.

he heaves out through a clenched jaw, "you feel so—" while sharing sloppy kisses with you, "feel so fucking' good and—" as your wet cunt swallows him whole, rutting into his creamed up cock so fucking mesmerizingly that his eyes drop into the back of his head, his large palms branding the cheeks of your ass and fisting the skin, weakly jerking his hips up to meet your wet warmth.

"so good.. so good.. so good.." as your boyfriend babbles in half broken sentences, each of his moans breaking through his words, slowly but surely losing his mind as you slant your body down, chest on chest, your hips never giving up on tempo.

"i love you," you whisper back, lips puckered up into a smirk, sensitive and with your eyes brilliantly shining, the scent of filthy sex tangling in the air while both perspiration and sweat covers either of your moving bodies, "and you're doing so well for me."

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

#hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #dan heng x reader #dan heng smut