#didn't think that's how these tags would turn out

[moondirti]

simon sees a familiar face. (AO3 mirror) tags: darkfic. ghost x nude model! reader. (given a stage name but no discerning characteristics.) violent intrusive thoughts. objectification. rough sex. marking. dacryphilia. possessiveness. dubcon photo sharing.

It's the slip of her skin in his periphery. Moisturised, gold shimmer body glaze. Tucked up against the bar and nursing a negroni in both hands, her dress riding high up on her thigh. Sticks out like a sore thumb in a pub like this, where seedy men come to drink their woes away. Just a little too clean, prim and perfect polish. Pretty enough to make his teeth hurt.

He has to do a double take before he can be sure. Where he would know her calves, those hands and varnished nails, anywhere, he can hardly believe it until she turns a quarter angle and her face comes into full view. Lips he's seen perked up and glossed into erotic O's. Eyes so often half-cast and sultry, lined in kohl, that it's odd to see them wide like this; looking around, searching for something.

Yeah. Simon knows her. Knows her like the grip of a gun, the rip release of a hand grenade, the flat lining of barrack cot mattresses. Knows her so well that his cock chubs up in an almost pavlovian response, fat and heavy and leaking already, like a bloody sixth former seeing a pair of tits for the first time. In all honesty, this might just be the equivalent for a man like himself. Aching jowls, frothy lips. Ageing, dirty beast – thrown the most delectable fucking bone.

Because it's her. Cut straight from the centrefold of his favourite magazine and pasted a mere four feet away. Just as alluring, as provocative as she is in the poster he'd gifted Johnny on a deployment birthday. The object gracing every page not adhered together with dry cum. The one thing that gets him – and frankly, every other mutt on the task force – through long missions.

He throws back the last of his bourbon and slips his mask back over his chin. The haunt is emptier than usual. He assumes the big guy by the doorway is responsible, no doubt hired to follow her around and scare the creeps away. Simon must count as one – if his intentions, latched like filthy claws in his stomach, are anything to go by – but he's also bigger. Bolder. Probably has tattoos that outlast her bodyguard's experience in the field. So he takes his chances as he stretches up and prowls up to where she's sitting.

"Selene Harlow." It's a stage name, of that he's certain. But he has nothing else to call her by, not having fallen short of searching for her true identity. She's good at keeping herself safe from perverts like him. A good fucking girl, if not a little minx.

"Only on the clock." She smiles softly, dipping the orange peel in and out of her drink. It looks untouched, glass sweating onto the bar top. He thinks of holding her head back by her hair and knocking the concoction down her throat. "You don't look like my date."

Simon makes a sound. "No' your usual type, then?"

"I didn't say that." Her dress is low cut, bandage tight. When she breathes in, he devours the way her chest heaves out of the material. Begging to pop free, or else be ripped open right here. He can't imagine she would be opposed to being stripped in public. Not with her breasts plastered on a million different publications, issues displayed in the illicit material case behind every gas station counter.

"Well, he must be soft in th'head."

She shrugs. "Don't sound so surprised." Simon wonders, if he were to press his thumbs down onto each collarbone, how much pressure it would take to snap them in place. He's always liked the delicate arch of her shoulders, the swan-like column of her neck. With how he fixated he is on them now, he can hardly place the dejection in her voice. "Not a lot of people wanna go out with a girl who does what I do. It was only a matter of time before he found out."

"Can' be too pissed at him, a'suppose."

"Hm?"

"His loss is my gain."

"Aha." A flash of teeth. She turns on the bar stool to fully face him, and her knees knock his. Soft fucking legs, plush like a chew toy and he knows– he knows what they look like completely nude and spread open. But nothing could've quite prepared him for how different it is to see them in real life. To see her – real, fleshly, blood full – and not be able to take. Have to hold himself back despite the way he's pumped himself raw to her arse almost a hundred times now. He lost the plot some time ago. His mind must think of her as his. "Is that what this is?"

And what is this? Simon doesn't have a name for it. All he knows is the way his head itches, the tantalisation crawling in his skin. The sheer self-restraint it takes not to pocket her home and chain her to his bed. He wants to dig his teeth into her cheek.

Instead–

"Could be."

"I think that's up to me." She crinkles in a wily little smile and he chuckles because it's funny. Funny because she takes him to be a good man. But with the way her bodyguard is eyeing him from across the room (fucking muppet), he knows that's not the quality he's projecting. There's the urge to crack a sick joke, something about clipping a bird's wings, just to see her pick up on the rot he carries with him. "You military?"

"Tha' obvious?"

"Hm, no. Wild guess." She straightens her back and the vague gesture she makes with her wrist is enough to drive him up a wall. It sets a timer, ticking time bomb, in his brain that'll detonate if he doesn't get his nasty old hands on her waist. Thirty seconds on the clock. He can never be patient when it comes to sweet things. "Your... stature. And I tend to be popular with servicemen, anyway. What's your name?"

"And why do you wan' to know my name, bird?"

She flutters her lashes, pointedly looking down to where he's bulging in his jeans. Bird is right. She shines like one with pretty feathers, begs to be plucked, because why else would mother nature create things like her if not to appease men like him?

"Figure you'd want me to moan it later."

And it's like watching one fly into a cage on its own accord. His blood boils hot and thin, flooding his head until his eyes strain with something ferocious. "Why wait." Simon says. He can't wrap an arm around her waist fast enough, scooping her from her seat and wrapping her tight against his side. Tight enough that, if she changed her mind, she wouldn't be able to flap her way out of it. "Name's Simon, and there's a bathroom 'round back."

It's nasty. Depraved. Graffiti lines all four walls and it's no coincidence that the one he pins her up against looks the filthiest. Something in him craves to see her degraded (the same part that marked a picture of her in black ink, chicken-scratch body writing proclaiming her as his), brought down to the same peg that he occupies. Beasts with too much baggage stored in their marrow. Humans, men, with moral compasses that skew a tad too far left. Animals. Animalistic.

"I don– Don't usually do this..." She breathes, excuse stuttered through little whimpers as he mouths at her jaw. Maybe she's afraid of living up to her name, or whatever image Selene Harlow projects. Not a prostitute, he can almost hear her say. Tastes the fear of misconception, sour on otherwise tart skin. He hums and tugs her breasts free with one, scarred paw.

"Doesn' really matter, bird. Were fuckin' made for it." He squeezes the two mounds, pinches knotted nipples and rolls them between his fingers until she cries. Her voice breaks in little bubbled sobs – starts crying so fast that, christ, it must be some sort of record – and he aches in his trousers. Ready to burst if he doesn't bully his cock into a hole soon, just like she's been ready to be unravelled all night. "Made to be mine, yeah? Bloody 'ell, jus' look at you."

Frayed little tapestry. If he weren't so mad with lust, he'd obsess what drove her to this point. What brought her to some shitty pub in Manchester to meet a good for nothing lemon. Why she mewls and completely melts into him when he slaps her tits, just to see the way they jiggle. He's an ugly bastard, definitely punching just by breathing the same air as her, and yet she's so perfectly willing. Flaying herself open, skinned alive. Gasping selfish gulps of air when he finally pulls off his mask to sink his canines into her shoulder.

He's so used to seeing her posed, perfectly still. To have her like this, a trapped worm underneath him, feels like concentrated lightning on every artery. Overstimulating. Paralysing. He never thought he'd see the day where she exposes herself in motion: folding her dress up over her wide hips, slipping soaked panties down to her ankles.

(In fact, he vividly remembers brooding over an interview her magazine had added to the corner of a cover page, once. Selene Harlow tells all! Answers inquiries on video pornography and more!

I don't think I'm the right person for that sort of scene. Not much of an actress, I'm afraid.)

Not that her feigning was ever a concern. Simon knows the giddy gossamer over her eyes can't be artificially replicated. She's too clumsy, too amateur in the way she readies herself for him. Used to doing all this prep in a frilly dressing room with apathetic staff members directing her. Sways a bit on her heels and holds onto his thick forearms as she widens her stance. He stands until she's steady, then drops to his knees in search of the star of this show.

And the sight is as much a bludgeon to his self control as seeing her for the first time was, trigger for the feral mongrel that barks and chomps on his ribcage. Her cunt is just as perfect up close in this grimy bathroom as it is well lit, professionally oiled, and printed on coated paper. A little fuzzy, swollen enough that it flowers open for him on its own. Shyly inviting him to dig his nose right under her clit and inhale, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the scent of her, undiluted. Salivate blooms around his teeth.

When he flattens his tongue against it, she tries to find purchase in the roots of his shorn hair. Nails scrambling along the buzzcut until she forfeits and clamps her hand behind his ears, head thrown back to knock against the wall. If he were a nice man, he would spend hours buried between her legs. Sated by licking her slick from its source, like a kitten given a bowl of cream. Would make her cum until she forgets how to keep quiet, until she screams his name loud enough for the world knows their muse is off the market now.

But if he were a nice man, he wouldn't be defiling her here. He would've taken her out to the Greek place that never seems to have room for him alone, and then back to her apartment, where he'd drop her off with a chaste kiss and a promise to call her tomorrow.

So Simon combs through her lips once, twice, three times. Coats her in enough spit to be able to shove two fingers with little fuss, and scissors them apart. The little thing stretches to accommodate his ministrations immediately, clutch swallowing him up to the second knuckle and sucking around him when he spreads her hole for his leering eye. It's cute – so fucking cute how she clenches and keens and cries. Neck arched up above him. Apple of eden, blank canvas. His fingers leave her cunt as he rises to bite into it.

(Truthfully, she could've done with more prep. She wasn't lying when she said she doesn't do this often, whatever this is. But the way silver pebbles brim on her lash-line makes his chest twist, the dog rearing on its haunches, ready to pounce – and he thinks he'd like to see her babble in pain as he splits her open on his cock.)

"Gonna take you home after this, y'hear? Fuck you well 'n' good, all proper like. Fold ya over a mattress and print my cock on your guts, birdie. Never let you forget it. "

"S-Si! Simon, please. I n-need..."

Ichor beads in the shape of his teeth, streaking oxygenated red down her throat. He makes a mess of it, smearing it across the marred patch of skin, and brings the fluid up to her face to rub it into her cheek. The type of marking he'd reserve for his third or fourth going with someone – if anyone ever lasts that long – but is absolutely necessary right now. Here, with her. Technically their hundredth something time together, if he were deranged enough to count the various times he'd spent himself over her spreads.

But nothing can supersede the truth of the matter. He streaks blood along her face and licks it off in a show of merciless possession. Pretty things like her get plucked off streets and ruined everyday, despite her cynicism on her value, and he can point to at least three other men by name who would slaughter to be in his place. Best to stake his claim now, clamp a collar on the exotic fowl he pulled down from the sky.

"Need wha', hm?" His tongue laps at her cheek, laving over the contour of her nose and swiping right under her eye to catch the tears that freely fall. She winces when he gets too close, hands faltering along his waistband.

"Your... d-dick. Please, please. Just wanna be fucked, Simon."

He plants a rough kiss onto her mouth, all teeth and tongue, and finally ladles himself free of his jeans.

Just wanna be fucked.

Daft, silly girl.

She should've chosen anyone else.

It takes a bit of pressure to feed himself into her cunt, pinning either leg to the sides of his hips as he guides his cock toward the opening. If she was putty before, she's positively liquid now, boneless rag doll slumped onto him. Dead weight. Letting him take control of this fight. Content to do nothing, slack-jawed and empty eyed as her hot walls come to embrace him completely. Her breath halts, the air recalibrating to just the sound of his ragged grunts, and he considers it an invitation to wrap a fist around her neck.

"I'll do more than jus' fuck you, pretty thing. Won' ever let you out of my sight."

And he means it.

It's impossible to withdraw completely from her – vacuum sealed too tight, too good, around him. So he fucks in short thrusts instead, snapping his pelvis back, only to shove forward once her legs begin to flail about. It's brutal even by his standards, rough in a way that supplants pleasure with pain. A small pity surfaces when her lip trembles, discomfort wringing her darling face up like a dish towel. Wet and pathetic, but he sneaks his free hand down to knead at her swollen clit anyway.

Like oil, it slips and hardens, tense enough that he knows she won't last long if he keeps it up.

Simon feels his own release encroaching. Unfurling at the base of his spine to form something cruel and primal. His vision tunnels to fixate on her – not the filthy bathroom or the lewd squelch of her pussy taking him in. Not the banging on the door by a customer desperately needing to piss, or otherwise, her bodyguard concerned at the choked screams carved from her lungs. Just her. Little bird.

The howling in his head doesn't stop, but it sure as hell quiets down when she soaks the coarse hairs at the base of his cock. Squirts, off-white fluid gushing from her and trickling onto the tiled floor. His movements grow stilted, off-rhythm, at the sight. His want grows claws and scales, grows wants that have wants. Beastly. He sees red.

"N-noghonbirfcontraahl." She gasps, suffocated still by the fingers pressing crescent-shaped scars beneath her jaw.

"Don' give a shit." He growls, then cums.

(Really, he doesn't. To see her swell up with his child is just one more added temptation, carrot on a stick. He bucks like a rabid animal and bookmarks that thought away for later.)

His seed doesn't stay put when he pumps her full of it. It gathers and drips out of her, undeterred by the barrage of his softening cock. When he pulls out, it draws milky treks down her legs. There's the instinct to shovel it back into her, tape her lips shut until the spend takes; but as he pockets her panties and helps her readjust her dress (after polishing himself clean on the expensive fabric), he finds he quite likes the thought of parading her around like this.

"C'mon," He nips her earlobe. "let's walk you home."

Simon does end up making good on his promise. They hardly get any sleep that night, sweating on every available surface her flat affords. By the end of it, she's so tuckered out that he has to lift her to bed. Hardly cognisant as he strips to his boxers and sidles up right next to her.

What doesn't escape her notice, however, is when he pulls his phone out to snap a picture of her like this. Fucked to oblivion, puffy pussy oozing about three loads worth of cum.

"W-what are you–" Stuttered. Panicked, like a pet that has at last realised it's been caged.

"Shhhh, birdie. You're my model, ain't you? Let me show you off, yeah? Won' let it get into the wrong hands."

"Promise?" She whimpers, tucking into his broad chest. She isn't in the condition to give her proper assent, but he takes it anyway, kissing both eyes and carding his fingers across her scalp.

"Promise." He mutters, then sends the portrait off. "Jus' to men like me."

Sgt. Garrick: ?! Is that Capt. Price: Christ, Simon. Someone ought to muzzle you. Johnny: I don't believe you. Johnny: Pick up my calls. Johnny: SIMON.

#should've made this a proper fic #it's longer than i expected it to be #anyway. #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon 'ghost' riley #simon riley #ghost #x female reader #call of duty #fanfiction

[sanguineterrain]

hi sanne!!! my mind has been rotting with assistant!reader x dick, and i literally can’t get it out 😭. i'm in love with your writing and reblog everything! thank you so much, have a great day!!

cute idea! I gave it a little twist ;) hope u enjoy!

dick grayson x gn!assistant!reader. flirting, secret identities, sparring.

****

Bruce Wayne is evasive on a good day and downright invisible on a bad one.

So when you see him down the hallway from his office, attempting to escape without being caught, you nearly trip on your feet trying to catch him.

"Mr. Wayne!"

His shoulders rise with tension. You pity the guy, you really do. Being a gazillionaire is tough.

"Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne, Sharon has been hounding me about the charity dinner. Please, if you could just go to this one dinner... you haven't been to an event all month."

And you're getting the brunt of it from all of WE's clients.

Bruce turns, his smile looking more like a grimace. "Hn. Hello. A dinner? I was sure I had a shareholder meeting that day—"

"All month? B, what happened to the two event minimum? That's your rule."

The new voice comes from behind you. Dick Grayson walks down the hallway, wearing jeans that probably cost as much as your monthly rent.

"Mr. Grayson," you say, nodding primly. "How are you?"

You shift the files in your hands as they start to slip. Dick is quick to catch them, balancing the stack.

"We've been through this," he says with a smile. "You know you can call me Dick."

Yes, you've been through this. Every time Dick shows up to Wayne Enterprises, he tells you to call him by his first name. And every time after that, you call him Mr. Grayson.

"Right..." you say, taking back the files. You turn to Bruce. "Mr. Wayne, if you would just consider the dinner..."

Dick gives Bruce a severe look. "B, this is ridiculous. You're such a stickler for rules and yet—"

"Oh, look at the time." Bruce scoots past you and Dick. "I've got that meeting with Lucius. Where does the day go? Please tell Sharon I'll get back to her."

You can't understand how a guy whose biggest exertion is made by playing tennis at the country club can slip through your fingers so fast. He's around the corner before you can blink. You sigh.

"Don't worry," Dick says. "I'll get him to go. And I'll get one of my siblings to tag along to make sure he doesn't duck out early."

You smile briefly. "I'd appreciate that, Mr. Grayson."

"Dick. So!" He trails behind you as you make your way back to your office. "Do you have any plans for tonight?"

"Working."

"O-kay..." Dick jogs ahead to hold the door open for you. You push through, trying not to frown. "What about tomorrow night?"

You toss your scarf on the hook. It ends up on the floor. You ignore it.

"Still working."

"How 'bout I ask B to give you the day off then?"

Now it's your turn to give a severe look. "If you're implying that I'd be obligated to go out with you in return for a day off, you've completely misjudged my character, Mr. Grayson."

"Whoa, okay." He holds up his hands. "You're right, that didn't come out right. How about I get him to give you a day off, no strings attached?"

You dump your files and sit at your desk. "That's at your discretion."

"Hey." Dick leans on your desk, puppy eyes at full power. "Maybe we've gotten off on the wrong foot. Did I do something that put you off? I'd like you to tell me if I have. I hope the fact that I'm Bruce's son isn't stopping you from being honest."

You put down your pen and look at him. "Look. You seem like a nice guy, and you're handsome with a rich dad to boot. But I'm just not available, okay? You're looking for someone to go to Tahiti with. I respect that. But I'm not that person. I'm just not interested in that."

"You think I'm handsome?"

You sigh and open your laptop.

"Right! Sorry. Not the point." Dick sinks into a crouch next to you. He pulls the oddest poses sometimes, like he's made of rubber bands. "Okay. You're not looking for a trip to Tahiti. Got it. I don't take many vacations anyway. So how about having a friend?"

"And why would you want to be my friend? I'm just some assistant."

"Well, I..." Dick scratches his neck. "I like you. Is that so hard to believe?"

Very. But okay. You can throw him a bone.

"I guess not," you say.

Dick frowns. "You don't believe me."

How does he do that?

"Can I please get back to work?" you ask, only a little worried about being rude. "I'm sorry, I'm just very busy."

His face falls briefly before he stands and nods.

"Of course. No problem. I'll see you around? And I'll get B to go to that dinner."

"Thank you."

You don't notice his lingering looks, or the fact that he picks up your scarf and places it on the hook on his way out.

****

3...17...64.

The safe clicks. You smirk. Easy peasy. The hotshots always use their own birthdays for combinations. Predictable. You bet Bruce Wayne does the same.

It's a blessing that you were able to duck out early today. Bruce gave you the rest of the afternoon off. You suspect that was due to some outside meddling.

You take out the files from D.A. Colson's safe. You always say that if crooked district attorneys don't want their documents stolen, they shouldn't put them where anybody can find them.

...Maybe you were too harsh with Dick. He's sweet, no doubt. It was nice of him to get you off early. But you kind of feel like he'd take issue with the fact that you spend your weeknights breaking and entering.

"You know, cracking safes is already Catwoman's shtick," a voice says behind you. "You might wanna find a new gimmick."

A thrill shoots through you. You toss your head as you turn, leaning against the open safe.

"Catwoman steals diamonds." You hold up the documents. "I just steal files."

"Files from the district attorney," Nightwing says, crossing his arms.

"The dirty district attorney," you correct.

"I'm supposed to let you off on a technicality?" He sounds amused.

Your shrug one shoulder, a little coy. "You could. I hear you're the nice one."

He laughs. Nightwing has a pretty smile. It's the first thing you'd noticed about him.

"Oh, yeah? Anything else you've heard?"

"Plenty. But I'm in a bit of a hurry tonight, Wing. As much as I enjoy our little chats..."

You dart to the window. Nightwing easily blocks your exit.

You're not quite sure what overtakes you when you run into Nightwing. Ignoring the fact that he manages to be the one to chase you almost every time (and what a chase it is), there's a tension between you. Or maybe it's just one-sided on your part. It certainly doesn't help that he's got a nice smile and bouncy hair.

"You know I can't let you go," he says, hands on his hips. "Put it down."

And he's extremely good at what he does.

"Make me," you say.

He never uses his escrima sticks, which you know is a courtesy to you. But that doesn't mean you can't hold your own.

"Alright," Nightwing says, smirking slightly.

He takes three steps, blocks your immediate kick, and takes the documents.

Something swoops in your belly. You kind of get why Catwoman exclusively fights Batman. Once you go bat, you never go back.

"Got them," he says cheerily. "Now what?"

You throw a glass bird tchotchke at him from Colson's desk. He catches it with his free hand, but it's enough of a distraction for you to slide into his legs. Nightwing stumbles less than you would like, but you push him down against the desk.

He grunts as he hits the wood, then rolls you over in the next breath, hands catching your wrists.

"Stealing... makes you no better... than Colson," he says, hair falling over his mask. All of him is pretty, really. It's too bad he's so firmly on the blind side of justice.

"If these documents are released, Colson will win his case and bury his own crimes in the process. Is that what you want? Another crook in court?" you ask.

Nightwing frowns. "You know that's not fair. We can't toss a case for the sake of putting Colson behind bars. And if we pick and choose whose lives to play with, what gives us the right to carry out justice?"

"I dunno, Wing," you say, a little breathless. Nightwing's hips are politely shifted off of yours, chest to yours. "Seeing you go rogue would be kind of exciting."

You can tell he's glaring at you. "Not in your dreams."

"Been in my dreams, have you?"

You gain enough leverage to push Nightwing off of you. He's back on you immediately, trapping you against the wall.

"How is doing something like this not crooked?" he asks.

You scoff. "It's for charity. I'm donating residents to the county jail."

You twist in Nightwing's hold and land a kick. In the three seconds he's distracted, you grab the documents. No sooner do you do that does Nightwing tackle you. The documents slip out of your hand.

"I can do this all night," he says, knee wedged between your legs. "Might as well yield."

"Yield? You're not even playing at your full strength, hotshot."

He smiles. "No, I'm playing nice."

You roll your eyes. "Well, play fair."

And then you jump out of the window.

Your tuck and roll isn't the worst but it's not the best. Especially when Nightwing neatly lands a few feet away without a wince.

"Showoff," you say.

"Give me the documents," he says. "I want to put Colson away, too. But this isn't how to do it. He's still a civilian, and his client's life matters."

You get up and wobble on a loose brick on the edge. Stupid historical buildings.

You're desperate. If he keeps this up, you're bound to land yourself a night in the police station and lose the documents.

So you dust yourself off. And you stop. Right at the edge of the roof.

"Okay," you say.

Nightwing takes a careful step forward. "Okay?"

You toss the documents to him. He catches them in surprise.

"You're surrendering?" he asks.

You shrug. "Like you said: you can do this all night. And I guess there are better ways to catch Colson. More permanent ways."

He tilts his head. "You're not gonna kill him, are you?"

"No! Jesus, man. Ye of little faith."

"I'm just trying to understand why you surrendered."

You sigh. "Because you always win anyway. You're a better fighter than me. And I'm cornered. I just feel like cutting my losses early. You're a lot more convincing than Batman."

"Is that so?"

"Oh, yeah. I much prefer you chasing me."

"Uh-huh." He nods towards the building. "Come on, then."

"Okay, sure."

You take a step. And you fall.

The brick is loose under your foot. It doesn't take much for you to keep going.

Panic surges through you, but that only solidifies your acting.

"Wing!" you cry, toppling over the edge.

"Shit!"

Nightwing lunges and grabs you by your waist, then uses momentum to haul you both to safety. His cheek against yours for a moment, body pressed to yours. It really is a damn shame he's such a Boy Scout.

You knock him in the stomach and snatch the documents, then separate from his grip. You watch his face contort in realization as you land and bolt.

"That wasn't playing nice or fair!" he yells, landing on the opposite side.

You're already gone, laughter echoing.

#dick Grayson x reader #dick Grayson x you #Nightwing x reader #Nightwing x you #Nightwing fanfiction #nightwing x y/n #dick Grayson fanfiction #dick Grayson imagine #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #inbox #blurb

[cute-sucker]

three mistakes

words: 880 tags: kook!pope x reader note: thank you @princessbrunette for reading the draft !! love u <3

when pope first met you he didn't think much.

after all he was the smartest kid in the grade, so of course you were insignificant. you may have been a scholarship kid, a nice one at that. that was your number one mistake, and there were three that you committed that first week you arrived at kook academy.

two. you were a little too sweet on him, he thought because you always smiled brightly at him, and wore those cute little skirts. last week you had given him a brownie that you said you, "made." but then you dropped the napkin and leaned down to get it for him it was the school uniform, but you sure knew how to lay it sweet.

so what? you were pretty, but pope didn't fall for that sort of thing. nah, he had seen enough pretty bimbos, and after you were new. you couldn't change anything.

three. that was until science class. it was one of his easier subject but then again what subject was hard for him? and then he was laughing to his friends, the desk pushed back, and a smirk on his face. you were sitting in front of him, head bowed down and deep in thought. you were still thinking even after the teacher had left for a few minutes.

he had a sudden thought, just a small comment might tip you off. he'd experienced this with other girls. they liked it to argue, or teasingly fight, and you were there in front of him, just waiting to be messed with.

but what to say to you? pope had to be sly with these comments, just something to make your cheeks go red without causing your smile to wilt. it was art what pope could do with his sweet mouth, and pretty soft eyes. some said that his dick was the size of his ego, and some put it a little nicer — that he was charming. but that didn't matter because when he looked at you he knew he had to say something sweet but scandalous enough to cause you to giggle. he would never admit this—but he wanted to hear your laugh.

suddenly he remembered the butterfly necklace you always had on. it was silver, and so shiny on you. he swore that there was some sort of school regulation about jelewy, but you had managed to pass by with that cute necklace. it was little dangly thing that lay before your chest. it had dainty wings, and glittery in the sun. it reminded him of you.

"y'know i always thought butterflies were like cockroaches with wings. ugly you know?" pope muttered to his friend. but he couldn't help but gesture at you in a sly moment, and his friends got it. they sniggered, and pope knew in another life he would ditch the bastards for how stupid they were. antoni was the smartest of the bunch.

it was almost as if that piqued your interest. you turned around, doe eyes wide almost as if you were shocked and taken aback.

"i think butterflies are beautiful," you whispered outraged, tightly holding onto your necklace. pope could barely keep in his laughter at your dumbstruck expression. he leaned in to take a full look at your face before looking back at his friends with a mock surprised face.

"yea' you think?" he whispered crudely. "can a dumb little bunny like you think?"

suddenly, you seemed to coil in, biting your lip, hot tears welting up in your eyes. he could see the way your hands shook beneath the desk as you furiously turned around to face him. "butterflies can see ultraviolet colors that are invisible to the human eye," you cried out.

pope found him stopping in his tracks because he swore there were tears in your eyes when you whispered out the fact. yet, he couldn't find himself to care, somehow he found himself enjoying the look on your face. almost wonderstruck, he found himself taking in your pretty face.

what he wanted to say to you was, "so what?" but he found grinning at you like you were a child.

his friends were laughing behind his back, and but he could feel the stinging sensation that what you had said had mattered a lot more than the stupid conversations that he had.

and somewhere in the middle of this, you were glaring at him, and then sniffed before turning away from him.

but he shrugged it off. what could you do anyways? huh? cry to your parents about how pope heyward couldn't take you seriously. for all you knew, if your parents did complain, the dean of kook academy probably shrug you off because pope heyward was an asset to their school. but there was something inside of him, something soft and nice said that knew he should say sorry, yet when the bell rung he watched you leave the room in a rush only leaving him with a dirty glare.

so he forgot about it. you were just another dirt poor scholorship kid? the last one had to leave because they couldn't take the academics. funny. maybe the same would happen to you.

⊹˚. ♡

you ran home crying, mascara running down your face, as you pulled your tiny skirt down. you had tried to be nice, you had tried to kind and most of all you had tried your best to be friends with everyone. goddamn it you had even given heyward a brownie! he clearly didn't like you.

what was it? what was so wrong with you that he felt the need to be mean to you? all you had done was tried. you had always tried, as your head felt empty and studied till your hands were sore from highlighting and your eyes felt bleary from scanning pages. until it all paid off and you were off to kook academy.

your cousin kiara had told you to wear your butterfly charm, and the two of you made brownies. she had yelled bye to you that first day, and now you sat next to her crying your eyes out.

"what went wrong?" she asked you quietly, as you burrowed your head into your pillow. you groaned, and shook your head furiously.

"don't wanna talk about it," you whispered looking up at her. she looked at you sternly, and you finally let out a soft sigh, "it's pope heyward," at this she rolled her eyes, tilting her head as she thought of a plan. you hoped that somehow she would find an answer - a solution to your problem

"i think you should get back at heyward. be smarter than him. that's how assholes like him work. they have crazy big egos but that's all he has. he looks wimpy to me," she scoffed looking at the previous yearbook where you had furiously crossed out pope's face.

"yeah right," you huffed at her, crossing your arms as your eyebrows were knit together. "he's ten times smarter than me."

"no, i think your underestimating yourself. just wait and see, and don't you dare lose the butterfly charm."

so you listened to her, and the next day you had little pink bows with butterfly imprints. in fact you strutted up to pope and gave him a dirty look, and you saw the way his eyes got wide before he opted for his all-knowing smirk.

"looking like a really pretty bunny. did you wear those bows for me?" he snickered, nudging his friends when he said that. you gritted your teeth and just walked the other way.

you were going to beat him. you knew you were going to. today the class was getting their results back for the major english assignments. you were hoping to get something high enough to throw in his face, and you knew you would relish the look on his face.

"class, we'll be handing out test scores now for the written passage. ," your teacher droned before stopping before your test and handing you yours with a smile. you felt happiness bloom in your heart-it had to be good right?

quickly you turned it around, and looked at the circled number. 100, a pristine number that was circled along with a "distinct voice." you felt yourself beaming, until you felt a tap on your back. it was heyward, yet he looked uneasy. he was glancing at your hidden paper.

"what did you get?"

of course he'd want to know. he'd want to know what you got so he could average it himself. after all this was your first test of the year, and he was checking if you really were the scholarship kid that could get the best grades. you found yourself smiling secretly, biting your lip.

finally he gave you a pointed look, "do i need to clarify? what did you get on your test?" he asked exasperated.

you bit your lip from beaming too hard, and shrugged in a nonchalant manner. "full marks, i guess."

"what does that mean?" he grinned, "is that a 60% for you? would make sense, bunny," he muttered, his brown eyes glinting with humour. now you would have been sadder, but instead there was a venomous bite to your speech.

"do i need to clarify? it's a hundred percent."

he shut up, glaring at you, "you're lying."

"yeah, what did you get?" you bit back.

he shook his head, "none of your business."

so that was it. you let it go and turned away looking pleased. the last went by easier, and the golden hundred was still shining in the paper. it was a triumph. a win that pope heyward understood.

it was here that pope realised that he had made one mistake.

he had underestimated you.

#pope heyward #pope heyward prompt #kook!pope #academic rivals #academic weapon #scholarshipbunny!reader #shy!reader #angst #fluff #drabble #obx fic #pope heyward x reader #pope heyward fanfiction

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 27, Unhinged - Pt. 8

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, violence, voyerism, coercive sex, manipulation, Pocket reaching her Ultimate Bitch Form.

Word Count: 1.5k

Previously On...: Carthage has been spying on you and manipulating both you and Bucky from Day One.

A/N: THE FIRST TIME DIDN'T COUNT, GUYS!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

“She was just toying with you, Jamie, because she could. She doesn’t respect you. Do you honestly think she would pick you over Steve Rogers? Captain Fucking America? Especially with all the pain you’ve caused? The lives you’ve ended? Come on, Jamie, don’t be dumb.” Video Jade caressed Bucky’s shoulders.

Bucky’s face fell, and you knew she’d hit him where it hurt him the most.

Jade sat back on her haunches on the mattress. “Don’t be stupid, Jamie,” she reiterated. “Do you really think she’d want someone like you, who can’t even control their cock in a fight, when she could have America’s Golden Dick? I bet they laugh at you, how easy it is for them to get away with it, right under your nose. You think it’s just a coincidence that, as soon as you're out of the country, she’s seen by all of New York’s elite getting cozy with your best friend? The one person you asked her to stay away from? She was just waiting for you to get out of the picture so she can show her real boyfriend off to the public.”

You watched as Bucky’s entire body clenched, his face tightening in anger. “You said you wanted to get back at her,” Jade urged, putting her hands back on Bucky’s body. “To punish her for what she did. So punish her, Jamie. Use me. Use me to make her hurt the way she made you hurt. Don’t let her play you for a fool.” You saw Bucky struggle, at war with himself, but you could see the anger pulse through him, and you knew that, with this snake whispering in his ear, there was no way he could have come to any other conclusion than that you had betrayed him. You almost felt sorry for him– he didn’t have a chance.

“Come on,” she said, leaning Bucky back so he was lying propped up on the pillows. “You won’t even need to do anything. Let me take care of you, okay? Let Vixen make you feel good.” Bucky scrunched his eyes closed, putting his hands over his face. It was painfully clear he wasn’t an enthusiastic participant, but it still hurt knowing that he had been so angry at you for something you hadn’t done that he was willing to do this.

“We just have to get Little Jamie to come out to play,” Jade teased as she straddled him. Your view was obstructed by her body, but you had no doubt that she was jerking him off in an attempt to get him hard. 

It just… seemed to be taking a really long time. 

“Come on Jamie,” Jade said after a few minutes. “You gotta help me out here. Give me a little something to work with.”

It seemed to finally work after a while, and Jade re-positioned herself as she lined Bucky up with her entrance. You couldn’t watch anymore, so you shut your eyes. It didn’t stop you from hearing the horrible sounds of her moaning as she bounced up and down on his cock, though.

You thought you were going to be sick, but then you heard it, so soft that if you had your eyes open, your senses diluted, you would have missed it. “Pocket,” Bucky moaned. “Fuck, Pocket. Keep going, baby. I’m so sorry, doll. I’m so sorry. I love you so fucking much.”

His moans grew louder. “Pocket,” he cried, “God, baby, I miss you so fucking much!”

You started laughing. It was the fucking weirdest, most uncomfortable position you’d ever found yourself in in your entire life, but you couldn’t help yourself. 

“Oh my god,” you panted, trying to catch your breath as Jade looked down on you in confusion. “That’s the most pathetic thing I have ever seen!”

Jade wrapped a hand roughly around your throat and squeezed threateningly, cutting off your laughter. “What did you say?” she seethed.

You coughed when she’d released your neck and you could breathe again. A few drops of your blood had fallen from your nose to rest on Jade’s wrist. “I said, that’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever fucking seen.” You jutted your chin toward the phone she still held. “You think that’s proof that he wants you? Oh, honey. You truly are a stupid cunt, aren’t you? He couldn’t even get hard for you without thinking about me. You were a convenient fleshlight– just a hole when I wasn’t available.”

You would have felt monstrous speaking to any other woman like that, truly, but you had to do everything in your power to keep her distracted, to keep her from moving forward with her plan to auction you off to the highest bidder, so that you could buy some time for the calvary to arrive. And besides, Carthage wasn’t just another woman– she was your fucking nemesis, and she deserved every foul word you could throw at her. 

God, you hoped Tony showed up first. The image of him sending Jade through the wall with a repulsor blast was enough to send you into fits of giddy laughter. Then maybe Bruce could toss her around like a ragdoll, the way he had with Loki. You’d pay to see that. You wondered if Carthage had headbutted you hard enough to cause a concussion– you certainly weren’t feeling fully in your right mind.

Jade backhanded you, the force of the blow so hard that your head snapped to the side, leaving you seeing stars. “You’re LYING!” she shouted. Grabbing you by the hair, she hoisted you up, metal chair and all, and slammed your face into the nearest wall. Perhaps she’d rattled a screw loose, because you couldn’t seem to get your laughter under control. “Don’t damage the merchandise, Vixey,” you coughed, spitting out even more blood. “Wouldn’t want to hurt my chances at auction, would you? Bad for business.”

“You fucking bitch!” Jade shouted. She ripped your bindings free from the chair and lifted you up by the throat. “Fuck–” she punched you in the stomach– “the auction!” In the face. “I’m gonna–” In the solar plexus– “fucking kill you–” back to the face– “myself!” Each blow was excruciating, and you were sure you’d heard a rib or two crack under the force of her fist, but still, you kept laughing at her. 

“Poor little fox,” you wheezed through the blood that was pouring down the back of your throat. “All those years wasted, thinking you could ever have a chance with him.” Your head lolled to the side as you tried to look up at her through your rapidly swelling eyelids. “Thinking you were special, that you were made for him, and you can’t even get his dick up. He’s so repulsed by you, he has to imagine being with someone else!”

“Shut up!” Jade screeched. “Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!” She grabbed your left arm in her hands and snapped it. The pain was blinding, sending your vision into a white hot pulses. You screamed, holding the broken appendage to your body, as though that would protect you. You didn’t dare look down at it; knowing you’d be sick at the sight if you did, of your arm dangling uselessly at an unnatural angle. Instead, you curled yourself up into the fetal position, cradling your arm close to your core. 

Jade began pacing the room, tugging at her hair and mumbling to herself. You couldn’t quite make out what she was saying– you only caught snippets of words, like “fucking whore,” and “mine.” The girl had completely lost it, had completely gone off the deep end. Meanwhile, you suspected you were going into shock as you listened to the rat-a-tat-tat of your rapid heartbeat. 

No. You cocked your head, listening. That wasn’t the sound of your heart, beating out of your chest– that was the sound of gunfire echoing through the bowels of the base. You strained your ears. Mixed within the gunshots, you could hear screaming, voices crying out in agony and then cut short, as if their owners suddenly lost access to their breath. 

Through the distant din, you could make out a familiar voice, roaring with rage, and the sound filled your heart up like a balloon. “POCKET!”

You started laughing again.

Jade turned to look at you, her expression furious. 

“I feel sorry for you, Vixen,” you said, grinning like a madwoman. “Me?” she asked you incredulously. “I just snapped your arm like a fucking twig and am going to enjoy the shit out of killing you nice and slowly, and you feel sorry for me?”

You nodded vigorously, gleefully noting that the sound of battle was growing closer. Bucky called for you again, his voice contorted with rage and worry. Jade turned her head toward the sound, noticing it for the first time. “Yup,” you agreed, forcing yourself to stand and face her. You could feel the blood dripping from the corners of your mouth as you smiled from ear to ear. “Seems like my boyfriend’s looking for me, and when he sees what you’ve done, he’s going to kick your fucking ass.”

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

[bluishfrog]

HAPPY 1-YEAR OF DRAWING ANNIVERSARY TO ME!

(Warning: slightly longer post incoming cause sometimes I gotta be a sentimental bitch ok? So let's go on a little trip down memory lane.)

This day, a year ago, I made my very first fanart. It was dnf (if that surprises you, then welcome to being on my blog for the very first time). I drew a little frog face too so I could use it as a watermark (fun fact: I still use that very same first one).

I immediately put my drawing up on twt because I told myself that I wasn't gonna be afraid of having people see that I was at the very beginning of this journey and had no clue what I was doing. That instead of being bad at art, I was gonna be awesome at being a beginner who doesn't know shit.

I started with little doodles and silly comics and then I laughed way too long when the first drawing of mine that gained some attention was a dnf butt joke. At the time I was trying to balance shipping and non-shipping art so I didn't even draw dnf that much but in hindsight it's probably the only possible way this could have gone.

At the very end of August I woke up to @honelle56 caps-locking at me in my messages - I was very confused and tired (I am no morning person and I will never be, fuck off with your mornings) because Dranart liked my drawing of singing Dream. Dranart was my 17th follower on twt which is a useless yet extremely funny fact about my time on that hellsite.

I also drew human!patches because a) patches was and will always be my favorite dteam member and b) it was a really cute trend and while I do love drawing dream, george and sapnap, I was also quite happy to try drawing anything but a white man for once. And I really liked how the drawing turned out.

Much, much later, I tried to draw my first slightly more realistic looking drawing. I was extremely confused on how to draw anything like this. Especially their hair gave me tons of trouble but given my experience, I think it's not a bad attempt.

When hijacked smp started I obviously wanted to participate, and I drew c!blu who doesn't associate with any side in particular but instead serves soup to everyone who visits her tavern 'The Soup House'. She also wants to be paid in stories from all around the map.

One of the events I was most excited about was dnf week. I even collaborated with two talented writers and I drew the corresponding art for two fics.

(Fun or not so fun fact: when twt had like three hundred collaborative aneurysms about the situation at that moment, that was when I created this tumblr account. I didn't use it super actively (I guess I needed another situation to fully make the switch) but I at least started the account that now developed quite a bit since then.)

I didn't really draw at all through January and February and I actually kinda thought I would move on from that hobby and fandom (not because of negative feelings, just because I didn't really have the urge to create anything within this fandom) and then situations happened and now I am here; and for some reason that is beyond any logic and my understanding I am now even more insane about dteam.

Wild to me but we are rolling with it now, I guess.

Since I got here, I drew more than ever (I actually think I might have made more drawings in the month since I got here than I made the whole rest of the year). There's just such an active and funny community here that cares about fan works for the sake of creating and not just because a CC might see it.

Unfortunately, Tumblr won't let me add more than 10 images in one post (maybe fortunately for everyone who has this monstrosity of a post on their dash). So if you want to see all the progress I made since I got here, you can look at everything in my art tag. For now, I will close this post with one of the art works from the past month that I like the most:

Can't wait to see what the next year might bring :)

Love, blu

#blu rambles #like a LOT #but if you made it to the end of this post you get a hug <3 #bluishfrog art

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: Don't get excited. This is short, yes. But will the rest of the shit I write continue to be short? Idk. Don't hold your breath. I don't need your death on my conscience.

C/W ::: Photographer!Hanma (again) x F.reader, 18+ beyond the SFW stuff.

MDNI UNDER THE CUT PLEASE AND THANKS

📷 Hanma HC's 🎥

SFW

🎬 Hanma loves to sneak around and take candid photos/videos of you. He likes to catch the moments when you think no one else is looking. 

🎬 Although, the amount of times you've caught the little shit tailing you has exceeded the number of fingers and toes you have. But you low-key love that he thinks you're interesting enough to study.

🎬 He has a special room that NO ONE knows about where he develops his pictures.

🎬 They're not ALL of you, either. He will photograph anything that catches his eye.

🎬 He takes pictures of cats, too, sometimes. And he'll punch anyone that makes fun of him for doing it.

🎬 He loves to film you doing normal day-to-day things, like cooking or reading or cleaning. (Showering, too.)

🎬 He has a photo of the two of you kissing on his wall of his developing studio. It's his favorite, and he never tires of looking at it.

NSFW

🎬 He has a picture of the first time his dick slid into your cunt in his wallet.

🎬 No ... You didn't know he took it. But you found it one day when he told you you could get some money for lunch. (Initially you freaked out but then you recognized it as yours and you never told him you found it. Though the cheeky grin on your face kind of gave it away that you saw it.)

🎬 You've caught him taking pictures of your boobs while you're sleeping sometimes.

🎬 He once hid a camera in your closet so he could see what you were like when you thought he wasn't around. But he didn't hide it very well.

🎬 He's tried filming the two of you having sex. It didn't work out the first few times because he was so excited to be doing it that he forgot to actually do it. But he eventually got the hang of it and now he's got a whole collection of porn with you two.

🎬 He loves to take pictures of your ass. And he loves it when you pose for him.

🎬 You caught him filming your vagina while he ate you out. And you were so nervous at first that you couldn’t relax. So you told him to turn it off. Did he? Of course not. He saw it aside and continued to eat you out until you came. When he showed you the video later, it turned on so much that you begged him to do it again sometime (soon).

🎬 He loves to film you masturbating.

🎬 He has a picture of your boobs on his phone that he looks at when he's jacking off.

🎬 He once bought you a sexy outfit that he would only let you have if you modeled it for him – and he got to take pictures of you in it.

🎬 He's even taken pictures of you asleep. He said he just liked the way you looked, but you were suspicious that he had other motives.

🎬 He's filmed you using toys. His favorite (and yours) are the clit sucker's. He loves how puffy your cute clit gets when you use it.

🎬 He's also filmed you using dildos, and he loves to tease you about how small they are compared to his dick.

🎬 Which makes him beam with pride, knowing you can take his (and only his) cock.

🎬 He's also tried recording you using your vibrator but he starts to feel a little jealous when he sees you deriving pleasure from something other than him.

 🎬 Why? Because. He's Hanma.

@katkusuo @trevengersprincess @kazutora-kurokawa @viburnt @darkstarlight82 @arlerts-angel @southside-otaku @bakubunny (hey, bunny, I tried tagging your other account and it wouldn't come up - in the future I will try that one first, if you prefer. lmk!)

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut #tokrev #tokrev smut #tokyo rev #tokyo rev smut #hanma shuji #shuji hanma #hanma smut #shuji hanma smut #tokyo revengers hanma #tokyo revengers shuji #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #hanma x you #hanma x y/n #hanma x reader #tokrev x reader #tokrev x you

[love-islike-abomb]

Mr roboto

Cyborg!Roman Reigns x Esme (OC)

"I am the modern man, who hides behind a mask, so no one else can see my true Identity!"

Warnings: sci Fi, smut, angst, errors I may have missed.

Word count: 2,737

Tag list: @reignsangel444 @acknowledge-reigns @mzv11 @marchm-langdon @mandeelemons @pittieprincess22 @romanreignshairdresser @weirdgirl16355 @wrestlingprincess80

_______

To say I hated cyborgs would be an understatement! My parents were murdered by one many planet rotations ago. I was only 5 years old and was sent to live with my aunt and uncle. When my uncle was alive, things were somewhat better. I was put in therapy to help me deal with my parents death. Then, just before my 18th birthday my uncle passed away. After his funeral his wife completely changed. It was as if his death was what she had been waiting for. I was sent to the starship, a place people go just before their drafted into the space academy.

The space academy was where we went to train to be engineers. I thought we'd be working on space equipment but I would soon find out that the reason my aunt sent me here was to rub in my face that cyborgs killed my parents. I was being forced to keep the very beings who killed my parents well maintained because we had gone to another planet and started a war with a species 3x as advanced as ours. Great another fuck up I have to fix!

When we arrived to the space academy I'd be assigned to my cyborg and that would be who I'd be with throughout the mission. We'd be sharing quarters together as well. "His ass better be sleeping on the couch!" I mumbled to myself.

"what was that cadet?" My superior officer asked, daring me to repeat myself.

I sighed heavily "nothing, sir!"

He gave me a stern look "go to the main hall. You'll be meeting your cyborg there!"

"yes sir!" I said walking away "please don't let this be a total disaster!"

When I reached the main hall, it was filled with all the other cadets and people I didn't recognize. We're these the cyborgs? Some of them we're quite attractive.

"Esme! I've been waiting for you!" Danny said. Danny was one of the few friends I'd made in the academy. Her mom had sent her here since she loved robotics but I don't think she understood what exactly this was. These weren't just robots, they were cyborgs! Half human, half machine!

"hey Danny!" I smiled, leaning in to give him a hug "I recognize a lot of these people but a lot of them I also don't! Who are they?"

"the cyborgs!" Danny smiled "its so cool! They don't even look it!" Danny's blissful ignorance was at times my light in a room of darkness but this was different. She didn't know just how dangerous they coupe be. I had to control my temper and not go off because Danny was one of the few who knew I hated cyborgs but with good reason.

My superior walked away Into the main and everyone immediately stood at attention, I took my sweet time but eventually did to.

He walked to the intercom, taking it from it's holster "it's time for all of you to meet your cyborgs!" He said. I sighed heavily. I'm probably gonna get paired with some prison looking motherfucker named bubba!

"Danny!" As her name was called Danny smiled and ran up to the front of the main hall. A tall brunette woman was standing next to our superior "this is your cyborg, C00987!" Danny walked with her cyborg to where everyone else was sitting. A few had already met there's and it was finally my turn "Esme!"

I walked to my superior. Who was that next to him? Was that my cyborg? I hadn't seen him in here the whole time! He was gorgeous! "Esme, this is your cyborg C980012!" He reached his hand out to shake mine. Hesitantly, I shook his hand and despite what I expected it wasn't a overly firm handshake. He was quite gentle.

No Esme! Dont fall for it! His kind killed your parents! "Well!" My superior said clapping his hands together "it's getting late and we should all head to our quarters for the night!" I sighed heavily and rolled my eyes. I wasn't looking forward to this! "Come on! Let go!" I said to my cyborg, leading him to where I slept.

I put my hand on the panel next to my room, opening the door "this is where I sleep!" I said pointing to my bed "you can sleep wherever you wish just not next to me!"

"I may be a machine but I sense that you have some hostility towards me and I'm not entirely sure i understand why!" He said.

"I don't like anyone!" I said, trying to play it off.

He looked at me puzzled "I saw you talking to that one ginger girl, Danny was her name if I remember right!"

I sighed "look the less you know about me the better. I'm only here because I was forced to be, not because I want to be. I just wanna get this don and over with!" I said sitting on my bed.

"my processors tell me your stressed and I can smell anger In your pheromones. What's making you so angry?" He said putting his hand on my back. Instinctively I flinched away "don't touch me!" I yelled.

He threw his hands up in surrender "alright! I'm sorry!"

I laid down on my bed "there's a couch over there!" I said pointing at the window "get off my bed and leave me alone!"

His face looked genuinely hurt by what I said. A cyborg who feels emotion? Was he different from the others? I pushed the thought out of my mind and closed my eyes and soon drifted off to sleep.

The next morning

When I woke up and realized what had happened the night before, I looked around the room for him. He was still sitting on the couch, fully dressed and staring at me.

"you know it's not nice to stare at people!" I said. He didn't respond, he didn't move. What the fuck? Did he shut down during the night? I suddenly heard what sounded like a computer firing up. His eyes lost their glossy look "hello!" He smiled.

"is that how you cyborgs sleep?" I asked.

"if you wish to call it that then yes!" He said.

I rolled my eyes and walked to my closet. His footsteps gave away that he was walking towards me "I really don't know what I've done to make you be so rude to me!" He said.

I sighed "I really don't wanna talk about it! Like I said, I'm only doing this because I have to!"

"perhaps if you did talk about it it might make you feel better. I'm not here to hurt you!" He smiled.

"you may not be but your kind did!" I said.

"what do you mean?" He asked, confusion on his face.

Realizing what I said I knew I was gonna have to tell him now. I sighed heavily "a cyborg killed my parents!"

He hung his head "I'm sorry!"

"yeah, well I told you I didn't wanna talk about it but you kept pushing! Thanks for opening up my old wounds!" I said slamming the closet door shut, walking away.

"Esme!!" He yelled, his voice deepened.

I stopped "what?" I said looking over my shoulder at him.

"I'm not here to hurt you!" He said, putting a hand on my shoulder "I'm not the cyborg who killed your parents and I'm sorry that happened to you. I can't make up for what happened but please dont act like I'm not half human!"

I hung my head. He was right. For the first time I was the one who was apologizing, even though he didnt have to in the first place "I'm sorry!" I said. He'd been so nice to me even though I was incredibly rude to him.

"shall we start this over?" He asked with a smile.

"I don't see why not!" I smiled back.

He extended his hand out to me "I'm C980012 but all the other cyborgs call me Roman!"

I reached my hand out to his, his handshake still as gentle as the first time "I'm Esme!" I smiled.

He smiled back "let's head down to the main hall, I'm sure they have a whole marage of things for us to do!"

Later that night.....

Finally leaving the main hall, Esme was exhausted. The snide comments from the other cadets about how she was forced to work with the very beings who killed her parents made her blood boil and having to hide that she was upset took its toll on her, but for the first time she wasn't angry at Roman. She realized he had nothing to do with her parents death. She still didn't trust him but her anger towards him had settled. As they headed back to her quarters Esme's words started to become slurred causing Concern to grow on his face.

"Esme, you look exhausted! Do you want me to carry you back to your room?" He asked her.

"I'm fine, I just need some sleep!" She half smiled, her eyes heavy. A few more steps and her body gave out and he caught her before she fell to the floor. His reflexes far quicker and sharper then hers. He carried her to her quarters, laying her on the bed before sitting on the couch.

A cyborg wasn't supposed to fall for a human. It was forbidden and he knew he still had a lot to prove to gain her trust but he was willing to try.

The next morning

Esme's POV

I woke up and saw Roman in the same position he was a few nights ago. Looking lik he was staring at me. I remembered that's how cyborgs slept and walked over to him, waving my hand in front of his face. The glossiness In his eyes faded and I could hear his hard drive firing up "hello Esme!" He smiled.

I'm still not use to that!" I smiled "I need to get dressed and then we'll head to the training room!"

I headed to my changing room and changed into my flight suit. I had been so rude to him and the fact that he still treated me with kindness made me regret ever treating badly. I still didn't trust him but he was growing on me. I wondered why he put up with me for so long. A lot of things were going through my head but I had to push them aside for now. I headed out to where he was "let's head out!" I smiled, putting my hand on the panel to my room. As the door opened, I saw my superior officer and other trainees standing there.

"Esme come with us!" He said grabbing my arm. His grip was tight and instinctively I tried to pull away. It only made his grip tighter.

"What the fuck is going on? Let me go!!" I yelled. Roman must've heard my yelling because moments later I saw my superior slammed against the wall and his hands wrapped around 2 of the trainees necks. The 3rd one came up behind him with a knife in hand "Roman look out!" I yelled. The trainee swing the knife, slicing Romans chest, revealing the metal underneath his skin. The trainees face was covered in fear and he dropped the knife and tried to flee. Roman was to quick and in only a few strides caught up to him.

"Esme, run to your quarters! You don't need to see this!" He said, his eyes never leaving the trainee.

But what about-" I tried to say before he cut me off.

"Esme! Run!!" He yelled. The tone of his voice sending chills down my spine. I knew what was coming and though I knew this time a cyborg was killing to protect me, it didn't stop the memories running through my head. I ran to my quarters as fast I could, not once looking back. I heard screams of terror and covered my ears. My heart pounding in my chest. Moments later it stopped and all was quiet. I didn't dare move. What if something happened to Roman? A knock soon sounded on my door "Esme?" I recognized his voice and braced myself for what I might see on the other side.

I put my hand on the panel and the door opened. The cut on his body had healed, no trace of them anywhere. No blood, no wounds.

"are you ok?" I asked "I saw him cut you with a knife and the shine of metal under your skin! What happened to the cut?"

"my nanocytes!" He said "I naturally heal far faster then you humans do!"

"nanocytes?" I asked.

"cyborg immune system more or less!" He said "are you alright? You're trembling!" He said running his hand along my arm, goosebumps forming as he moved.

A lot of bad memories wer brought back" I said trying to fight back tears "I know you were protecting me but it doesnt stop the memories of my parents being murdered from flashing in my head!"

"I'm sorry Esme!" He smiled, putting his hand on my face. "I-" what needed to be said was no longer said with words but with his lips, connecting with mine. Every bit of anger I ever felt towards him in that moment had vanished and was replaced with desire.

His hands, recently used to destroy were so gentle on my skin. Lifting me up by my waist was effortless for him. I wrapped my legs around his waist, was I really about to do this? What kind of hold does he have on me? Why was in the only one he was gentle with? So many things going through my head but lust clouded it all. I would away from his beautiful lips, his eyes clouded with lust and want. In that moment I knew he was who I wanted. I didn't care.

"I need you!" I groaned.

"What do you need? My cyborg cock in your human pussy?" He growled. The tone of his voice made my whole body shiver. I bit my lip "yes, sir!"

When he got to my bed, the gentleness he laid me down with only heightened my need for him "these need to come off!" He growled, pulling at my clothes, yanking them off my body in one tung. I kept forgetting at times with how gentle he was that he was half machine and moments like that reminded me that out of all the people here, I was the one he chose to be gentle with. I was completely naked In front of him, underneath him, at his mercy. With what seemed like a gentle tung he yanked his sweatpants off, throwing them to the side "are you ready baby girl?" He growled as he kissed along my jawline, down my neck. He had already ruined me for any other man, no one would ever compare to the pleasure he had given me, no one, human or cyborg would be able to duplicate.

I nodded my head, ready for him to complete me. Sliding himself through my folds, teasing me, getting me ready for him, he slowly slid inside me, giving my body a chance to adjust. I groaned in pain for just a moment, his size bigger then any human man I'd ever had. "Shh, it's alright! Let the pleasure take over!" He cooed. My body relaxed at his words, allowing him to fully enter me.

"So fucking tight!" He growled, kissing down my neck, his kisses forming goosebumps on my skin as he went. Slowly he pulled all the way out, before slamming back into me, loud moans escaping my lips involuntary "that's it baby! Let go!" He growled in my ear "milk my cyborg cock with your pussy! Let me fill you!"

Fuck! I dug my nails into his back, my body releasing all the tension that had built over the last few weeks.

"Uhn! Fuck! You milk my cock so good baby!" He growled, releasing his seed Inside me, riding out our orgasms together. Slowly he stilled inside me, not wanting to let me go. He looked at me, a smile on his beautiful face "I love you, Esme!"

I smiled back "I love you to, Roman!"

I once hated cyborgs because of the heartache and violence one brought into my life, I never thought I would fall in love with one.

Domo arigato, Mr roboto!

#Spotify #roman reigns #big daddy uce #roman reigns smut #wwe smut #roman reigns au #wwe au #wwe #roman reigns fanfiction #wwe fanfiction #roman reigns angst #romantic #roman reigns x oc #wwe x oc #wwe fic #wwe smackdown

[wonderlandwalker]

Adventure Unlocked | Eddie Munson x Reader

Stranger Things Masterlist / Inbox

Summary: You unexpectedly figure out a new kink Eddie has and plan the perfect moment to test it out

Content Warnings / Tags: Smut, 18+, porn with very little plot, PnV

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Once again not proofread but I haven't had much time to write recently so still wanted to post this. Got the idea from a request @urhoneycombwitch read and couldn't get it out of my head so here's my take on it.

It was supposed to be just another day at Eddie's trailer, a study date like the two of you regularly had, where you would try and catch up on reading and Eddie would do anything but. Except dates with Eddie were rarely like they were supposed to be, and today wasnt an exception. He was sitting at his desk, working on a new campaign while you sat at the bed with your books spread out, trying to concentrate but inevitably reading the same paragraph over and over again.

“Can you hand me the folder from the nightstand please?” You weren’t listening, not really anyway, only humming in respone, causing him to call out once more.

“Sweetheart, hand me the notes.” He was more assertive now, his tone of voice deeper in order to capture your attention, and it worked. 

“Yes sir.” It was meant as a quip, as banter the two of you were so used to, but Eddie’s head shot up the moment you said it. You noticed the blush creeping up on his neck as his mouth was slightly opened, eyes staring into yours. And just as quickly as it had happened, it was gone. A small cough to recover his composure and his focus back on his writing, but you still caught his glance everytime he looked in your direction, still noticed the manner in which he fidgeting wirh his pen. You had noticed, and there was no turning back now.

"Eddie" he only hummed in response to your inquiry, not daring to make eye contact just yet

"Eddie, look at me" he was slow to comply, nervous about your response, because Eddie wasn't stupid, the cat was out of the bag now.

"Does that turn you on?" Still hesitant, he moved his head up once more, not realising how much closer You had gotten to him by now, but the moment he looked at you, all his worries disappeared, because your expression was soft, there was a twinkle in your eyes that he could only describe as exited, and the way your pupils were dilated told him he wasn't the only one into this.

"Yeah" it was barely a whisper, a confession he didn't think he'd be making, so delicately given because he knew you would never crush it. 

Just as you were leaning in to connect his lips with yours, the front door opened, and Wayne shouted to inform you he had gotten home from work, having picked up dinner for the three of you on his way, so you decided to put a pin in your new discovery. 

The next days came and went as the both of you were busy trying to keep up with life, and Eddie didnt push the subject, perhaps worried it was not something you were comfortable with, but little did he know he only needed to wait a little bit longer, because you had been planning. Planning the perfect moment to continue where the two of you had left off, and right now while you were at the hellfire club is where it all came together, 

He looked at the clock above the door and back to you, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

“Where is everyone else?” They were never late, always so eager to get started they wouldn’t dare miss anything.

“I told them we’re starting a bit later today” Your tone was nonchalant, and it threw him off further.

“Why would you tell them that?” He looked so cute while thinking so hard, trying to trace back the day to figure out what had warrented this.

“Because I have some other plans first.” You had pushed your chair back, walking over to where he was sitting.

“What are you talking about” He was still very much in the dark, not quite catching on to pitch in your voice dropping ever so slightly.

“Don’t you have a quest for me?” You were standing in front of him now, supporting yourself on the arm rests of his throne, he was getting flustered with how close you were, fidgeting from his clueless nature. 

“I didn’t prepare any new adventures.” He looked up into your eyes as you leaned down closer to whisper in his ear.

“I’m sure you can think of one, dungeon master.” You could feel his body shudder from how close you were, and as you leaned back you saw his pupils dilate. 

“Do you mean-”

“Yeah” That’s all it took for him to understand, because he immediately took the opportunity to capture your face in his hands and kiss you with all the might he had. You’re sure he could have simply kept doing that all night, but you had other plans. So you started to trail kisses down his neck, paying extra attention to the pulse point right underneath his ear that you knew made him grow weak every single time, he was putty in your hands, and that’s exactly how you liked it. 

After a little while you lowered yourself to your knees in front of him, looking up at him through your lashes. You could see him struggling to keep his eyes open as you palmed him through his trousers, already hard from the idea alone. He wasted no time in shimmying out of them as you tugged at the fabric, letting it pool around his ankles. 

You didnt waste any more time taking his dick into your hands, stroking him slowly as you watched his head fall back and hit the back of the chair, but that was the last thing on his mind right now.

“Baby please” it was closer to a whine then it was to a question, and it turned you on just the same. You looked up at him once more, the tension causing him to catch your gaze before you spoke.

“Why don’t you make me?” It was a challenge, one he wasnt about to turn down. It only took one more look into your eyes, seeing the calmth behind them, before he complied. He raked his hand through your hair, twisting it in order to get a grip as he pushed your head down towards where he needed you the most. You were more than happy to comply, using your tongue in a sloppy attempt to keep up with the rhythm in which he was pushing down your throat. Eddie’s size had always been hard to take, but with practise and patience you had gotten better at it, breathing through your nose now as he hit the back of your throat, causing a slight gag from you which in turn made him realised a loud moan of your name as he leaned back into his throne. 

“Have I ever told you how amazing you are?” It was sweet, how he could be so out of his mind and still remind you, still praising you.

His grip faltered and you took it as a sign to double your effort, taking him deeper until your nose nestled against his pelvic bone, making you gag against him. A borderline sinful moan left him at the feeling, and as you were about to prepare yourself for the feeling of his cum sliding down your throat, he pulled you off him. For a split second you wondered if something was wrong, but the moment you met his eyes and saw the raw lust radiating in them, you knew what was about to happen.

“I need to be inside of you sweetheart, sit on my lap” This was the Eddie you had been trying to lure out, and you wouldnt dare let him ask twice. 

So you got off your knees and as you stood up his hands found the backs of your thighs, pulling you into his lap. His mouth attached itself feverishly to your neck, sucking bruises you’re sure would be visible for days, not that you’d mind. His hands were everywhere now, roaming over your ass and finding their way underneath your shirt as he took your nipples between his fingers and tugged at them, causing you to arch your back, leaning further into him.

“Does that feel good baby” His tongue was still hot on your skin, and the question was muffled by your own body, not daring to lean away from him. All you could do was moan out his name, desperate for him to continue. But right after you did you felt a sting on your ass as one of Eddie’s hands was now massasiging the flesh and his other found its way under your chin, tilting your head to look at him.

“That’s not what you call me now is it.” His tone had dropped an octave, and it was driving you insanel. “I’m sorry.. sir” Immediatly a grin appeared on his face.

“Much better sweetheart.” he moved his head in order to be able to attach his lips to the upper part of your breasts, every once in a while using his teeth to nip at the flesh there. In the meantime his hands made their way back under your skirt, kneading your inner thighs as he inched closer and closer to where you needed him the most. 

“Tell me what you want.” 

“I want you to touch me.” He looked up from where his mouth had made its home, a gleam in his eye that you werent sure you should feel worried or excited, but it sent a thrill down your spine nonetheless.

“I’m already touching you.” 

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean, hm” His fingers trailed closer to your core as they slipped your underwear to the side, sliding over your folds, teasing you.

“You’re so wet for me already, is this where you need me honey” 

“Please-” He kissed you as one of his fingers entered you, his thumb tracing slow circles on your clit as he swallowed your moans.

“That’s it princess, think you can handle another?” You wanted to answer him, but all you could do was nod as he looked at you expextingly, reconnecting your lips in a searing kiss the moment he added another finger, crooking them and causing you to cling onto him, your nails leaving faint scratch marks on his shoulders.

But as the feeling started to build he removed his fingers from inside of you, not leaving you empty for long as you could feel his hard dick at your entrance, pushing all the way inside with one thrust. It always made you feel so full to have him inside of you, and this time was no exception, the way he was stretching you feeling so good.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well, perfect for me.” His breathing had become laboured, and the way he was already ruthlessly thrusting up in you you figured he wouldn’t be lasting long either. 

“Need you to cum for me sweetheart, think you can do that?” Once again all you could do was whine as your head rested on his shoulder, hoping he knew you well enough to know what you needed.

“Fucking you so good you can’t even talk anymore. Don’t you worry, I’ll take good care of you.” He found your mouth in a slow kiss, much different than the ones before, now he took his time, exploring with his tongue and silencing all the pleas that left you. The moment his long fingers found your clit you were a goner, all that built up tension and pleasure toppeling over as you came undone around him, your walls spasming and gripping him even tighter, etching Eddie towards his orgasm as well.

“Shit baby, where do you want me-”

“Inside, need you to cum inside of me” That’s what did him in, he didnt waste another second as he pushed his hips into you, his cum painting your walls as he let out more profanities. 

For a minute the two of you sat there, with him still inside of you as he traced gentle patterns onto your back with his fingertips, his face nestling into your hair as he basked in your presence.

“We’re definitely doing that again.” His matter of fact tone made you giggling, causing him to squeeze his arms around you in a tight hug

“Whatever you say, dungeon master” His eyes immediately grew dark again at the title, looking down at you with that glimmer you loved to see.

“Careful what you say sweetheart, I can go another round right now” Just as he was about to prove it to you, a series of loud knocks came from the door. “Why is the door locked, are you guys in there?” Dustins voice rang from the hallway, and Eddie started to get up in order to let them in.

You got up in order to move to the chair next to him, but just as you were about to sit down Eddie grabbed you by the hips as he sat down in his throne, positioning you to sit on his lap as you got started on today's session. As you were playing his cum started to drip out of you and onto his leg underneath your skirt, and from the way he started squirming you knew he noticed as well, telling you this definitely wasn’t over yet.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson drabble #stranger things fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie x y/n #eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #stranger things fanart #eddie #eddie munson fluff #eddie fluff #fluff #smut #stranger things smut #stranger things fandom #stranger things fluff #eddie smut

[masterjedilenawrites]

For the cuddles and snuggles prompts, I offer you number 19, hugging/holding them from behind, for either Rexy Boy, Fives, or Howzer (whichever one strikes the inspo!)? I think any of them being hugged from behind would be adorable and/or dorky <3

@eternal-transcience

Snuggle Drabbles #2

Howzer x reader | 550 words

Content: fluff, hugs, reader has a family

Prompt: Hugging them from behind

Howzer was perfect.

Standing so naturally, so confidently amongst your family. Easily laughing along to your dad's corny jokes. Flawlessly timing his compliments of your mom's home. Fitting in with the quirky and sometimes chaotic dynamic your family had as if he'd been here the whole time. You couldn't help but stop in your tracks, holding the salad bowl you were supposed to be preparing, and instead watching him with so much adoration you worried you'd collapse from the weight of it.

He'd been so nervous, too, meeting your family. It wasn't common for clones to be in a relationship, let alone one so serious as to warrant bringing a whole family into it. He'd had no idea that was even a thing you were interested in until you'd asked if he was ready. And then he'd spent the whole week asking questions. How was he supposed to act? What was he supposed to say?

So to see him like this now, so much more at ease, no trace of apprehension left on his relaxed features, also made you burst with pride. Your man was up for any challenge.

Eventually your dad left the conversation to check on the grill, and your mom decided to run to bathroom before dinner. You quickly snatched the opportunity. You sat down the salad bowl on the closest nearby surface and made your way up behind him. Howzer was distracted, gazing across the yard, and so he made a startled grunt once he felt your arms snaking around his middle from behind.

"What are you doing there?" he asked through the chuckle that followed.

You pressed your face into his back and smiled, knowing he'd feel it. "I just missed you, s'all."

"Missed me?" His hands encircled your arms, rubbing them gently. "You weren't gone that long."

"Felt like it," you mumbled.

He hummed. "Didn't realize dumping a bag of lettuce into a bowl was so taxing."

You had to release him briefly in order to swat at him for that. "Shh! Don't tell my mom it came out of a bag! She thinks I still have a garden."

His body started to shake with amusement in your hold. "Oh, is that what those weeds on your patio were supposed to be?"

You swatted again, only for him to capture your wrist and use it to pull you around to face him. You kept your body and one arm snuggly pressed against him as you moved.

"Hi," he smiled down at you.

"Hi," you whispered sweetly back. It was like you were sharing a secret. Just the two of you. It didn't even matter that your dad was likely sneaking looks over his shoulder or that your siblings would probably start teasing as soon as they made their way outside.

"You're perfect, you know," you said.

Howzer chuckled nervously. "I don't know about that..."

"You are," you repeated. It was fact.

Before he could protest further, you leaned back into him and hugged him fully. You turned your head to rest against his chest and for a moment caught your dad awkwardly trying to appear as if he hadn't been eavesdropping the whole time. You simply smiled and let yourself enjoy the moment for however much longer it would last.

Every Character Tag: @dangerousstrawberrypie, @justanothersadperson93, @arctrooper69, @sleepycreativewriter, @techie-bear,

@theroguesully, @cw80831, @cdblake1565

Other Clones Tag: @kaijusplotch, @lucyysthings, @marvel-starwars-nerd, @severalseashellsbytheseashore, @lackofhonor,

@flowered-bicycles, @foodmoneyandcats, @lulalovez, @aconstructofamind, @the-mom-friend-dot-com

Requester: @eternal-transcience

✨Join A Tag List Here!✨

🤗 Request a snuggle drabble here!

🍾 One Shots Master List | 🌙 Master List of Master Lists

#star wars #the clone wars #howzer x reader #snuggle prompts #cuddle prompts #snuggle drabbles

[chamoemileclown]

StarBobby!

#im incredibly happy with how the sign turned out!! look at it!! #i didn't think bobbys overall straps would translate that well but he looks so cute #idk what ill make lego next but it took me like an hour to render this so hopefully nothing too big #qsmp bobby #qsmp tag #qsmp #bobby the egg #bobby chingon #richarlyson fanart #qsmp richarlyson #qsmp fanart #starbobby

[tradingjack]

having fun with colors for once :P

thanks @creepycoffins for the awesome dtiys :D

#creepycoffinsdtiys #trigun #millions knives #vash the stampede #i haven't drawn nearly enough knives. posted him even less #him and vash are so fun to draw :P ik they have the same face but it's like. fun to experiment with how different i can make them look yk #also admittedly. did most of this at work during downtime so if it looks funky..... my bad #the lighting isn't the greatest aight?? it's night shift and there's no windows but they do dim the lights #i did do the limited coloring i did at home lol. wasnt gon bring more art supplies to work #trying to get back into the swing of things with my drawing. i got myself a huion display for my birthday this year! #on top of my traditional i wanna do more animated stuff #primarily animated bc honestly i don't really wanna learn digital painting or whatever. im not interested in that and i like my harsh style #i'd also like to do more original work. i think last year was literally just trigun fanart lmfaoo #we'll see how things turn out ig #i'm not really holding myself to doing anything bc i don't see that turning out well. i am applying myself to more fan projects at the leas #tho those i'm applying more as a writer lmfao #well anyway. enough about me. i actually really like the drawing this was based off of! i didn't include the full body designs #and tbh vash's design is almost entirely cut out just cuz how the pose worked out :( #so i would highly suggest checking out the original art by the person i tagged! #and their other art's pretty banging as well :D

[mintjeru]

it probably wasn't the smartest decision to start an ongoing 1000+ chapter webnovel when i know it'll consume my every waking thought but here we are

open for better quality | no reposts

#turning novel #터닝 #kishiar la orr #yuder aile #when i tell you i read the manhwa in one go last night and then started reading the novel today bc commenters said it was good #and my god were they right #i'm 40+ chapters in so i've just passed where the manhwa is at rn and wow #first of all thank god there are high quality and easily accessible translations #second of all kuyu-nim has a way of making all the lines carry weight. the dialogue and body language cues especially #like i'm definitely not that far in but there are already a few lines i can point out that made my heart clench #and the tension between the two leads is so so palpable #kishiar is very enigmatic i'm very interested in finding out what he's really thinking and what his abilities are #and i really appreciate the way yuder's development is focused on him caring about others and relying on them #ok and third the fact that it's a slow burn romance but focuses heavily on the plot and politics and relationships is so good #based on the tags this could have been very tropey but they didn't go that route and i'm glad for it #in other news i'm upset about how yuder came out but i have to post him bc i will not separate them ;;; #thought kishiar would be harder to draw bc he's pretty:tm: and i struggle drawing pretty boys but yuder put me through the wringer fr #anyway!! i love them very much!! going a little insane over them as you can see!!

[lgbtlunaverse]

My baby sister has heard of bnha and apparently watched some clips but only some tidbits from the 6th season (mainly the fight with Nagant, who is her favorite) And she very confidently told me that she knows all about keigo, who is hawks. I asked if he knew who dabi has, and she rolled her eyes and told me that yes, she knows he's touya, and that he used to be friends with keigo as kids!

She was very confused when I told her that... no, they weren't. They didn't know each other until adulthood. She insisted that she'd seen a video of them as kids together. I told her it was probably a fan animation, because a lot of people thought Dabi and Hawks knew each other as kids, since Dabi was the only one who knew hawks' real name. But it turned out he just tracked his mom down in secret. She insists that this is stupid, once again confirming that the "dabihawks secret childhood friends/rivals" theory is the only time fanon has ever been better than canon.

#sorry but objectively the 'touya was secretly in the HPSC at one point' theory was SO much better than what we got #not even from a shipper standpoint but a story one #all that buildup with the name and the black fucking speech bubble and NO PAYOFF. BOO! #they didn't even need to like each other! if it turned out they fucking hated each other as kids I would've laughed my ass off #give keigo a complex about how he would have TOALLY done a better job at being endeavor's kid than this nutjob. how dare he #bnha #dabihawks #not necesarily shippy but i think it warrants the tag #dabi #todoroki touya #hawks #takami keigo #also i had some theoretical idea that bnha was popuar with like. children. #but was completely unperpared for the revelation that it's like. a mainstay in 12 year olds' classroom discussions #absolutely terrifying no thank you! #Nagant being her favorite tho TASTE!! I CAN ALWAYS TRUST MY FAMILY

[welcometoteyvat]

@apologems asked for wanderer & furina (among others) for the random characters prompt. I was gonna post all the pairs in your ask together but I love instant validation so they're getting split up lol. here, have too many words. feedback deeply appreciated!! <3

———

Furina opens her eyes to blank, vast emptiness. The cream tiled floor of the Palais Mermonia stretches on and on beneath her, the white-veined marble mirror smooth. It reflects the dismal cloudiness outside—if there even is an “outside” in this strange space. She wonders idly whether she could ask Neuvillette to cheer up a bit, to make the dreary grayness go away, or whether he would even listen to her requests like he used to. Rain seems likely.

She supposes she should walk around and find a way out of this place, even though it doesn’t seem very urgent. Nobody needs her to take care of anything now—they won’t be waiting for her return. Her footsteps echo against the marble—one, two, three—one, two, three. Is it possible to dance a waltz with just herself and the empty silence? Oh, but there’s someone a ways away, over there. Maybe they could dance with her, and it won’t be as lonely.

The figure in the distance is dressed all in blue, wearing a wide brimmed hat with strips of fabric dangling from the edge. They turn when she comes close, and their eyes meet; it’s a young man, with red eyeshadow, a bored glare, and puffy cheeks on a pretty face. It’s rather striking how he looks so sharp yet soft, swooping curves and hard angles, all at once.

“So, whose funeral is this?”

“What? Where?” A funeral? But she didn’t see a coffin…

“The dead body’s right there. Are you walking around with your eyes closed?” He sneers, and gestures carelessly to the bare floor in front of her.

“There’s… nothing there.” That catches the hat-guy off-kilter. He narrows his eyes, and his gaze is like a quick knife.

“Don’t play dumb, idiot. It’s quite obviously you, isn’t it? Look at that white vest and suit.”

“I—what?” There’s really nothing there. She’s definitely alive, too—no dead double in sight. But—what is he saying about a white vest? Unless… this is one of those fantasy children’s novels where everything is just a rabbit-hole dream? Just in case, Furina blinks a couple times. She opens her eyes, and—huh?!

“Same stupid rooster-frill tailcoat, small blue top hat, frivolous accessories, mascara eyelashes; the only thing different is the long jellyfish h—”

“Wait! I can see someone, but it’s not me. It’s a child, wearing all white with a purple veil.”

And she expects him to scoff again, because maybe she really is seeing things, maybe her acting has gone a little too far, but instead, Hat-guy blanches. He throws her another sharp, piercing glance, seems to find nothing—and then—and then, a terribly familiar smile creeps onto his face. The sight of it makes her bones ache and her eyes fill with inexplicable tears.

“Well, if that’s what you see, I suppose this is a funeral for both of us. Hah, how curious.” His voice has turned into sandpaper and tea's bitter dregs, scratchy with loathing and cynicism and absurdity. Now he's turning towards her, and in his fierce gaze she sees... her old self, lying there on the cold not-Palais floor. Her eyes stare unseeingly at nothing, and that horrible, wretched smile is frozen on her lips. Furina flinches. She wants to throw up, to pluck out her eyes, to claw at her face until it bleeds. She looks away instead. She knows that Hat-guy is watching her and is grateful he doesn't comment, and when she finally meets his eyes again, she is grateful too that his face is carefully blank. He simply offers Furina his hand and says, “Shall I do the honors?”

She nods, and takes his hand.

A fire blazes up immediately, engulfing the dead child and his purple veil. Furina watches as its clothes disappear in licks of flame, as its doll joints are exposed, then stripped away, until nothing remains besides a pile of ash, and a small, blackened kernel that might have once been a heart. She wonders what Hat-guy saw—a little Oceanid, evaporating into nothingness at the final curtain call? Perhaps it doesn’t matter. It’s past now, regardless.

Furina doesn’t know when it starts to rain. The last embers have long since blackened when she realizes that the downpour is soaking her clothes, running down her cheeks. Water drips from the edge of Hat-guy’s hat, dampening his knee-high socks. Yet he makes no move to leave, so neither does she.

They continue to stand there, long after their clothes are soaked all the way through. Two false gods, drenched, alone.

———

a/n: idk whether I handled their emotional states correctly please give feedback if ooc. this entire thing is just "it's about THE NARRATIVE PARALLELS" and i dont even know whether it's the interp I wanted. extra ending thoughts include this wouldn't happen in canon bc i think wanderer is already at a place where he's partly fixed. maybe emotional closure. idk idk. people who think more about furina and scara should give me your theses on them. and of course, if you're wondering What Even Happened In This Fic, don't worry, so am I. didn't stick the ending but that's ok

also on ao3 ig

#TIL it's palais mermonia not palais memoria #i am illiterate #apologems #anyways thanks for the ask! im probably giving u a rain check for thma + kuki and shen.he + bz #just because i dont have many thoughts rn JSKDFJKDSHGKDSLJ i can more clearly see how sh and bz would interact #but am still thinking about specifics. like i see the vision etc its just not condensed in my mind's eye #not much for thma and kuki though the thought soup is still stewing #the others will hopefully come slowly but steadily :-) #wanderer #furina #scaramouche #playing gods #new r/ship tag :) #teyvat thoughts #genshin impact #genshin wanderer #asks #extra secret authors notes here: #i was gonna make this a lot more surreal bc i really enjoyed one fic i wrote that was surrealismmaxxing and chock full of descs #but it just didn't turn out that way #this was also gonna be short but i decided to add descriptions to it and it got longer. then it got longer and longer. idk #also ignore teyvat lore idk this isn't happening in canon or in modern au it's just there. surrealism etc make up whatever logic you want #genshin fic

[kretsketch]

burnt bridges.

#wha spoilers #witch hat atelier #wha #Δ帽子 #olfrey #olruggio #qifrey #the reason im tagging as spoilers is due to this being a metaphorical piece representing to what I THINK would happen in the event of um uh #olruggio finding out what qifrey did in THAAAAAAT one scene #yall know the one #getqifreyed.gif #also i am very mehhhh about this piece as it didn't turn out how I wanted but this ain't a professional art account #i can post bad art if i wanna!

[godsfavoritescientist]

Building off of what I wrote in my fic "Sparks," I'm really compelled by the idea of Ford genuinely no longer being interested in sailing around in a boat with Stan by the time they were seniors in high school.

I like the idea of it not being just a symptom of the resentment that had been building between them, nor it being a dream of Ford's that only paled in comparison to west coast tech, but it being a genuine loss of interest on Ford's end. I think it complicates things even further in some really juicy ways.

Like, imagine going through high school slowly losing more and more interest in the dream you've shared with your twin and only friend ever since you were little kids. How do you break it to him? How do you explain it to him without making it sound like a rejection of him? Without it making him hate you?

How do you explain it without it feeling like a spit in the face to all the hard work he's put into a plan that started out as a way of him comforting you by telling you "it doesn't matter what people say about you, you're going to be an adventurer who sails away into the sunset and never has to hear their mockery ever again, and there will be babes and treasure and heroism, and then they'll all see how cool you really are!"

And all through high school you think to yourself, "he's going to move on to more realistic dreams any day now, and then I won't have to say anything about it!" But no matter how many times you mention something else he could do with his life that he seems interested in, or bring up the challenging logistics of traveling around long-term in a boat, he sounds just as committed to the childhood dream as ever, and completely oblivious to how apprehensive you sound.

So resentment grows, little by little. Because that's easier than confronting the soul-crushing levels of guilt that are building up inside of you, every time you don't take an opportunity to tell him you don't want to do the plan anymore. You don't have a single person in your life who modeled how to have difficult conversations for you. As far as you know, having this conversation with Stan would crush him into tiny little pieces and then he would hate you forever, and you can't stand the idea of losing the only friend you've ever had.

So tensions grow. A lack of interest turns into a bitter resentment that, if you were really being honest with yourself, is directed more at yourself than it is at Stan.

And then the falling-out happens, and it seems like you were proven right. Stan hates you now, and he's never going to forgive you for giving up on his dream. But two can play that game, so you try to hate him too. Because if you hate him too, then maybe it won't hurt as much that he never came back. That he never even turned up at school, or by the boat, or in through your bedroom window in the middle of the night. He knows what dad's like, and how he says impulsive exaggerated things when he's angry, and haven't you both dealt with his harsh words countless times before and been able to dust yourselves off and joke about it later? So why isn't he back at home, joking with you about how absurd your dad acted that night, being impossible and belligerent about ruining your dream, but at least now you're even, because you've ruined his dream too.

-

And now imagine you find out he risked the lives of everyone in existence to bring you back, right after you had accepted your fate was to die killing Bill. It would be terrifying and confusing and infuriating. If he cared so much, why didn't he do something to reconnect with you sooner? Why did he ignore you in favor of trying to make it big without you? Why didn't he take the infinitely safer and simpler action of reaching out to you without you having to track down his address and send a desperate plea for help? You were convinced that he didn't care enough to bother with you unless you had an important enough reason for him to come. But even then, he thought your plans were stupid. He didn't want anything to do with you, not even with the world at stake.

Did he save your life out of guilt? Does he pity you that much? It doesn't add up with what he did in the decade leading up to shoving you into the portal. And the dissonance between the version of him in your head that hates you, and the man who held out his arms to welcome you back to your home dimension, is so strong that you feel like you're being lied to again, like you're back in the depths of gaslighting and manipulation that Bill put you through, even though there's no way that's what Stan is trying to do... right? You can't figure it out, so you run away from it. You don't want to know the answer to whether or not Stan hates you, because you don't know which answer would hurt more, so you try to make him hate you more than ever, because at least then you would know for sure how he feels.

And in the end, after he sacrifices his memories for you, and for the world, things seem clearer. The layers upon layers of confusion and anger and hurt seem to have washed away like drawings in the sand, leaving behind the simple truth: that you two had an argument, and didn't move past it for forty years, and despite everything you put each other through, you both still want to re-connect.

So you sail away in a boat together.

And at first, it's wonderful. It's exactly what you want. It feels like an apology to Stan, and a thank-you for saving the world, and a once-in-a-lifetime chance to heal the rift between you two, and it's good to be back on earth, and you wonder why you ever doubted the dream you two once had.

But then, after the first long journey you spend on the sea together, when you get back home to dry land, Stan is already talking about planning your next adventure out on the open sea. He recaps every adventure you had on the first trip, over and over again, and he wants to chat with you all through the morning and long into the night, and you don't have the words to explain to yourself that you don't have enough social battery for this, and suddenly you're slipping back into the horrifyingly familiar feeling of Stan being overbearing and needing space from him and how could you think that? How could you think that about him after everything he's done for you and everything he's forgiven you for? But the longer this goes on, the more you realize that you still don't want to spend the rest of your life sailing around with Stan. It's great fun in moderation, but the idea of your whole life revolving around Stan and going on adventures with Stan and being in a boat with Stan with no time to be by yourself thinking about your own things and figuring out your own dreams makes your skin crawl with a claustrophobic kind of panic that you still don't know how to put into words forty years after the first time this feeling grabbed you by the throat and ruined your friendship with Stanley.

But the first time this happened, it nearly ruined his life forever. You can't let yourself feel this. You don't feel this. You're happy to spend the rest of your life fulfilling Stan's lifelong dream, and making up for the time you crushed his dream, and sure, maybe he crushed your dream once too, and maybe it would be nice for him to support your dreams like you're now doing for him, but you can't say that. He saved the universe, and it would be horrible and ungrateful and cruel for you to try to voice these feelings, especially when you don't know how to voice your feelings without it making other people feel like you twisted a knife into their gut. So you try to pretend the feeling isn't there.

You go out on a boat with Stan again. You planned out another incredible journey together, and this should be fun, and you should be happy about this, but the unspoken feeling you shoved as far down in yourself as it could possibly go is eating you alive. The worst part? Stan is starting to notice. You have never been good at hiding your emotions. The trick to it has always been to convince yourself you don't feel it at all, and not think about it, and that has always worked like a charm. But whenever the emotion claws its way back up to the forefront of your mind, you can tell Stan knows something is wrong. So you can't even give him the happy ending he deserves. You can't even convince him that you want to be here on the open seas forever with him, like he deserves. And you keep trying and trying to hide it, but Stan keeps asking in roundabout ways, like "You're being awfully quiet, sixer," and "whats that look on your face?" and eventually it comes exploding out of you like a shaken-up soda bottle dropped on its cap.

And then it's like you're back at home in New Jersey again, standing in the living room while dad grabs Stanley by the shirt. It all comes pouring out of you, in the worst possible way, with the worst possible phrasing, like a pandora's box of monstrousness, and Stan tries to fight back against the sting of your words, but you're made out of acid and you're burning through him and you can see it on his face, and there's never any coming back from this, not this time, you'll just have to either jump into the ocean or become a monster forever, so Stan can hate you more easily again, and-

-and at the end of the outburst, you're still on a boat in the middle of nowhere in the ocean with your brother, in dangerous waters, and you have things to do to keep the boat running smoothly.

You can't run away from him. He can't run away from you. You're stuck here for at least a couple more weeks, even if you turned around and sailed back towards shore right away.

-

And the thing that compels me so much here, despite how unbelievably angsty it all is, is that it sets up a situation wherein the Stans might end up forced to actually address the decades of resentment and confusion and wanting-to-reconnect-throughout-it-all that they thought they could gloss over and heal with enough time spent adventuring together on a boat. They might end up forced to actually address the crux of the issue that drove them apart in the first place: Ford wanting a little more space to feel like his own person, and to feel like he's able to have his own dreams, too.

It wouldn't happen easily, nor right away, but if they were stuck together on a little boat in the middle of nowhere surrounded by magical creatures they have to protect each other from in order to make it back home alive, then after they had one fight where they brought up all the things they silently agreed to never bring up again, it would probably happen many more times, and each time it would leave them both angrier at each other than ever, until eventually something honest slipped through amidst all the saying-anything-except-what-they-mean bickering. And once enough of these honest moments slipped through, then they would have a thread to tug on to start to unravel the gargantuan knot of their decades of unresolved conflicts.

And then, eventually, maybe Stan could learn that he can have a good friendship with his brother without needing to be glued to him at the hip, and Ford needing a certain amount of alone time doesn't mean he dislikes him or wants to abandon him, and Ford could learn that he can be honest and have a meaningful connection with someone without it driving them away and making them hate him.

#succumbed to the stan twins angst visions and wrote 2000 words about this #ford pines #ford meta #this turned into a character analysis that almost reads like a fic #godswriting #<- i need to change my writing tag to this #something bothers me a little bit about the solution to their conflict being 'ford appreciates stan more now so he is now fine with- #-boat adventures with stan'. to me it leaves the initial conflict of 'he doesnt want to do that anymore' unresolved #obviously you could easily argue that ford never stopped wanting to go on boat adventures with stan and he just couldnt justify it to- #-himself when compared to the opportunity at west coast tech. but that has one less layer of conflict #compared to the possibility that he truly was not interested in boat adventures anymore. ESPECIALLY if its a manifestation of him #feeling suffocated by the whole dynamic-twins-duo thing #its normal to start wanting a little bit more space especially at that age. to want to have space to figure out who you are #the healthy thing would have been them talking about it and figuring out a compromise. like 'when ford needs space he can spend a few hours #-alone without stan being worried the whole time that it means ford hates him' and 'we still spend x amount of time working on the boat and #-we still chat on the way to and from school every day and hang out at the beach on weekends' #like of fucking course it was never about hating stan or about wanting to get away from him because of who he is as a person! #he literally just wanted to have a little bit of breathing room to be his own separate person. he just didn't know how to put it into words #I really think the crux of it all was them not knowing how to navigate that balance between independence and identity while staying close #so ford misattributing/reducing that feeling to 'I dont have the exact same dream as stan anymore. why does he still have that dream. oh no #feels like a good way of giving that conflict a tangible aspect to it thats easy for the stans to point at and talk about as a way of- #-alluding to the REAL core of the conflict between them. #and of course the show never says 'they sail around the world for the rest of their lives 24/7' so it's not like it Actually Conflicts with #-my interpretation of the conflict and how it should be resolved. but since its the last thing we see happen between them when theyre given #their happy ending. I feel compelled to say 'hey I know them living in the shack together and traveling in a boat every single year sounds- #-really fun and like a satisfying ending but I think they should have a Little Bit more space from eachother than that. Hanging out almost- #-daily but not literally being in the same house and same boat for the rest of their lives. bc if stan was ok with ford asking for that- #-little bit of space and if ford didnt panic and isolate himself from everyone whenever he needs like one hour of alone time? that would- #-feel like a big piece of the puzzle fitting into place for their conflict resolution and growth as characters. to me #and I think they deserve to have all the tied-up-loose-ends and resolved-conflicts and character-growth in the world.