#it's been long time since a bigger artwork like this!

[murdrdocs]

venus fly

description. the pollen that sprayed in LUKE CASTELLAN's face earlier this morning has some really weird effects. not that he's complaining.

a continuation of this drabble

includes. sex pollen SUGGESTIVE CONTENT 18+, accidental drugging, loser!luke, best friend!reader, demeter!reader, implied oral (f and m receiving), slightly perv!luke, aftercare almost nonexistent

wc: 4.5k+

a/n: the long awaited sex pollen fic. title from venus fly by grimes. no explicit smut ahead. artwork credit unknown.

Your shirt is fitting you really well. 

Your lips are moving, you’re saying something to Luke, he assumes it’s likely at least a little bit important, but he can only focus on how well your shirt is fitting. 

Tight enough over your bust—Luke figures you’re wearing a sports bra for capture the flag today since he sees no bra lines, but the bra creates a nice shape for your tits, so he doesn’t need the lines to entertain him. 

“Did you get a new shirt?”

You stop whatever you were saying to look down at your chest. You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest as you fix Luke with a look of disappointment. 

“Wha–? It’s an older one. All of my others were dirty.” Your bosom is covered, but Luke is still staring. It’s like he cannot peel his eyes away. Though, he hasn’t tried. At least, not until you scold him. 

“Will you stop ogling me while I’m trying to talk to you?” 

His reply is earnest. “Wait, shit, yeah. ‘m sorry I don't know what's going on…” 

You stare at him, your eyebrows furrowed and your lips parted. Luke can’t help but fix his eyes there next. You’re wearing chapstick, or maybe lip gloss. Something that’s spreaded over your lips and creates a nice sheen that makes him want to lick it off like icing on a treat. 

“It’s okay …” Your words aren’t that convincing but you drop your arms and start speaking again. This time, Luke takes in at least a dozen words. 

Really, he should have known what was wrong with him. The same way he should have known that eventually, his insistent nosiness would come back to bite him in the rear. 

You’d always warned him of such, telling him that “it’s charming until it’s not”, when you would boot him out of the greenhouse. (Truthfully, Luke had codependency issues but if he never really admitted it to himself, then he wouldn’t have to admit it to you, either.)

You were spending more time in the greenhouse lately. Which has never been a problem for Luke. But your newest project, something completely unknown to Luke as it was apparently a Demeter kid only project, was taking away his time with you. You could barely spare a half hour to go by the lake. You traded chores with one of your siblings for more time in the greenhouse, leaving Luke to work with someone not nearly as entertaining as you. 

The only time he got to really see you was early in the morning and late at night. And if he was losing his time to something else—or, gods forbid, someone else—he wanted to know what it was. 

So right when you were leaving the greenhouse early that morning, Luke snuck in after you. He searched around, trying to find evidence of you anywhere, and when he did find it, he found his demise there, too.

Sitting next to your favorite pen was a potted plant. It resembled a venus fly trap, but immensely bigger. There were a cluster of them, some with large flowers growing out of the opened mouths. Luke stupidly had the urge to provoke the plant, driven by the desire to see them in action. 

He took your favorite pen, and gently stuck it inside of the mouth. 

When a puff of yellow smoke hit him square in the face, he hadn’t thought much of it. 

When he stumbled out of the greenhouse with a fog in his head and dizziness, he thought it to be a single side effect. 

When he started to feel warmer than usual, he thought it to be an effect of the insistent summer heat. 

It’s not until he’s waking up on the ground that he really begins to worry. 

His eyes open and he is immediately greeted with the sun attempting to blind him. He squints and raises a hand over his face, shielding both the sun and whoever stands over him. 

When they speak, he doesn’t need his eyes to tell who he is joined by. 

“Jesus, Castellan, if you didn’t scare the shit outta me just now I would be bragging about beating you.” 

Luke groans and rolls onto his side. He’s still wearing his battle armor over his clothes and he suddenly feels uncomfortable, like everything has been made wrong or maybe like he has outgrown them. His camp shirt is too tight against his body, pressing the sweat back into his skin and not allowing for any breathing room. His shorts feel awkward in the crotch, as do his briefs. And his shoes are suffocating his feet. 

There is nothing he wants more in this moment than to peel the armor and clothes off of his body and run down to the water. But he doesn’t know if the game has ended yet, nor does he know how long he has been out. 

There are many unanswered questions he has, but the first one he starts with is, “Why are you here?” 

He hears you scoff and knows you have rolled your eyes. 

“We were sparring and you just passed out. I wasn’t just going to leave you here.” 

He finally looks at you. His eyesight has readjusted to the light from the star above, so it stings just a bit less when he peers one eye open. 

You add on, “I didn’t know if you had spontaneously died or something! And now that I know you’re fine…” You bend down and grab your helmet, situating it back on your head and standing at attention over Luke. 

He needs to stand. The last thing he remembers is fighting you and he's never lost a fight to you. In his mind, he hasn’t surrendered, and you haven’t defeated him, so he needs to stand. 

He tries to, he really does, but his knees get weak and as soon as he’s up, his head spins and he’s right back down. 

You swear just before your knees are hitting the earth and you’re kneeling beside him. 

Luke can feel you pressing the back of your hand against his forehead, he can hear you asking him a few questions, he can see your wide eyes staring into his heavy ones, but he can’t respond. He can’t do anything but worry about the bile rising in his throat, or focus on the shining water just behind you. 

He doesn’t realize that he has begun moving until the bottom of his pants feel heavy with the weight of water. 

When he’s in to his thighs, he collapses and lets the ripples wash over his body. 

You don’t follow him until after him for a few moments, and when you do, you stand still at the shoreline. You let Luke soak the heat and sweat off of his skin as best as the circumstances allow, and you only speak to him once he’s standing right in front of you in soaked clothes and wet armor. 

“What’d you take?” 

At first, he’s not playing dumb. It just takes a moment for your words to plant in his mind. Then he plays dumb. 

“Take? I don’t know what you mean.”

You don’t entertain his ditziness and instead begin making your case. 

“You’re clearly on something, Luke. You’re sweating even though it’s as cool as it usually is. Your pupils are wide and your eyes go from restless to barely open. You keep fidgeting and every few minutes you twitch. And you’re standing here, talking to me, instead of helping the red team secure another win.” 

Luke hadn’t noticed most of his symptoms. It’s not like he can notice anything other than the thoughts in his mind, especially when they give him images of your tits bouncing in his face and audible hallucinations of what you would sound like moaning his name. 

He decides then and there that capture the flag doesn’t matter. Not when he has what he wants, the true glory, right in front of him. 

He heard you, he processed your words, but the sight of your lips distracts him once more and prevents him from instantly responding. He stares instead, watching your mouth through lazy blinks. 

He doesn’t even consider responding until you tut. 

“If you don’t want to tell me, then that’s fine. I’ll go get Maria L to take care of you then.” 

Luke's eyes widen. Maria L is an excellent healer but she also has a pestering crush on Luke, one that encourages her to touch Luke with grazes that border on harassment and lack any professionalism. 

“No! Not her.” Luke would feel bad about his reaction to the girls name if he didn’t have such a one track mind. 

Your eyebrows raise to tell him to continue. He does so begrudgingly. 

He picks at his fingernails and his cuticles until dead skin peels back to reveal blood. But the sting on his thumb doesn’t compare to the dull pain residing in his groin. 

He knows that admitting the truth to you would open the possibility of criticism. His current … illness aside, you would never let him live down the day his nosiness actually reaped consequences. He briefly considers accepting defeat, walking away with his tail tucked between his legs, and taking control of the growing boner on his own. 

He might be generally inexperienced in these situations, but even he knows that his own fist wouldn’t compare to even the slightest bit of attention from you. 

He opens his mouth. “I went in the greenhouse.” 

Your eyes widen as if Luke had confessed to committing a cardinal sin, and it’s then that Luke begins to really worry about himself.

“Did you …?” You don’t even have to finish your sentence before he nods. “Luke! You fucking-“

Not really in the mood for your chastising, Luke holds one hand up.  He is able to silence you for only a second before you’re slapping his hand away. You’re yelling at him, both for trying to rudely shut you up, and for doing the one thing you told him not to do. 

He sits and listens, waiting not-so-patiently for you to tire yourself out. He thought that point would come sooner than it does, but he’s sure that at least two minutes have passed and you’re showing no signs of stopping. 

He rolls his eyes, he furrows his eyebrows, and he tries to discreetly adjust the boner in his cargos, but according to you, Luke has never been discreet a day in his life. He has never believed in your so-called ability to see right through him until your eyes pointedly drift to his crotch with his hand still attached to it. 

Your insistent rambling ends unfinished. You blink, you don’t say anything. And then:

“Oh.”

At this point, he doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. You fill the silence for him. 

“Oh, Luke. I told you not to go in there because …”

His eyebrows lift. “Because what?” 

You take a breath. “The plant, the Venus Fly, the pollen is an aphrodisiac.”

Luke knows what an aphrodisiac is, he isn’t dumb, but he still asks for clarification. And when you explain, he asks you to dumb it down. Even then, he blinks at you. Because you were right. His nosiness caused this. 

He’s considering pitying himself whenever you suggest the one proposed solution, the only solution the Demeter and Apollo kids have been workshopping together ever since acquiring the plant from another kid's quest. 

And when your solution comes, Luke determines that there is no way he could pity himself whenever he is in the position he’s been dreaming of for literal years.

He might not have envisioned this particular scenario, as his fantasies usually entailed the two of you alone in a bed not at Camp Half-Blood. But something about this makes him enjoy it more. Out in nature, in the open with many possibilities of being caught surrounding you both. His lips on yours, his lips surrounding yours, as he kisses you messily. 

There is something perverse about the idea of getting to fuck you out in the open, gods willing. He didn’t think it was something he would be into, but it’s all he can think about when he’s rutting against you. 

He breathes you in. “I’ve …” he takes a moment, rubbing his stiff cock against your crotch once more. He groans as he speaks. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long.” 

You hum, your hands fisting the part of the back of Luke’s shirt that isn’t covered by his armor. 

“Luke,” you start and your voice is already full of hesitance. Luke isn’t sure he wants to hear what you have to say, but he knows it would be wrong not to. He busies himself with kissing your neck and under your jaw. 

“It’s the pollen talking,” you tell him. “You’re not yourself. You’re basica-“ He bites down onto where he can feel your pulse thrumming under your skin. You gasp, loud and broken, before continuing. “You’re basically drugged.” 

Somewhere deep down Luke knows that there’s logic in your statement, there usually is logic in your statements, besides during those times where you would say whatever came to your mind in the late hours of the night. But he doesn’t care, logic be damned. 

He knows that he’s felt this way—or at least in the range of this way—for a while now. The pollen has just given him the confidence to act on his desires. 

While the pollen has given him confidence, it hasn’t given him experience. 

He sloppily kisses along your neck and jaw, not necessarily knowing what he’s doing but he knows he’s expected to suck at one point, so he does. He just wants to please. 

You don’t react much to his lips on your skin, so he lifts a hand and slides it under your shirt and armor. The chest piece doesn’t allow for much maneuvering and Luke frowns against your skin before he separates completely to pull the armor off himself. 

He knows the clasps on the metal as well as he knows clasps on his favorite pair of pants. Yet his hands fumble. Excitement and the effects of the pollen, he reasons. But his face becomes warm from something other than the two, something he would rather not fully acknowledge. Especially not when he’s about to get his dick wet in the warmth of the one person he’s wanted since he was old enough to actually understand sex. 

You ask Luke if he wants your help with your usual teasing tone, but Luke doesn’t take kindly to it. As soon as he has the chest piece off, he has your shirt following it, and then his lips are back on yours. 

If even possible, this kiss is heavier. Firmer. Meaner. 

He still doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he calls onto the one other time he’d made out with someone. He remembers how he had been instructed to use his tongue and lick into his partner's mouth (a boy from the Ares cabin who stopped coming to camp a year ago). He had been kind to Luke when he didn’t know what he was doing, but now Luke feels like he needs to prove himself. He wants to prove himself. He wants to impress you. 

What results is a clash of teeth and tongue. It’s messy, sloppy, and slobbery. 

Luke likes it that way. 

You pull away first. 

Not much has been done, but you look a mess. Your lips are coated in saliva, probably yours and Luke’s, and pride floods his chest. You look flushed, too, and Luke sincerely hopes he’ll be able to amplify the emotion on your face soon thereafter. 

“Slow down. Luke.” Your words are soft, gentle, and kind. Just like you. Just like your hands that card through his still-wet hair. 

He winces, and not from the way your fingers snag on a cluster of curls. Wrongly assuming the cause of his sound, you apologize and smooth the patch of hair down. Your hands instead slide down Luke’s shoulders and he tries not to frown at the change. 

“Sorry,” he admits. He gnaws on his bottom lip, already missing the feeling of yours, and finds himself continuing. “I haven’t really made out with anyone since …”

You nod, lips pulling up in the corners. “Theo?” Luke nods. “I know. We tell each other everything, remember?”

Not everything. 

No one else is privy to the dreams Luke has about you. He has never told you, or anyone else, about all of the times he would fist his cock and chant your name in the showers late at night. In fact, when you would ask what took him so long, he would make up a lie about taking advantage of the hot water and solitude. While it was only a white lie, it was a lie nonetheless. 

The innocent and naive look on your face as you accepted his lie by omission only made Luke’s cock harder. 

You’re staring up at him now with a look different enough, but his reaction is the same.  Your eyes hold interest, intrigue, a little bit of mischief, perhaps. You look sure of yourself, like you’ve done this and in this capacity multiple times before. But Luke knows about your experience, nearly the exact same as his save for a few details he wishes to erase. 

When you had dished on your sexual history, Luke felt jealousy stirring deep in his stomach. He had been with other people, a guy and a girl, but that was in hopes of getting his mind off of you. Meanwhile, you had been with other people out of personal interest and not self-deluded necessity. 

Either way, your experience is almost the same as Luke’s, and knowing so makes it easier for him to take the lead. 

He kisses you again but he tries to go slower. Everything in him screams for him to speed up, to take you how he pleased, but he breathes and pushes the thoughts aside. 

Taking it slow pays off when you work the armor off of Luke’s torso (without much difficulty at all), and then slide your hands under his orange shirt to rest your palms against his abs. The feeling of your skin against his is striking, even though the touch isn’t much at all. Pathetically, Luke is affected by the meaning more than the physicality. 

“What do you feel now?” You ask him after pulling away from his lips. 

Luke’s immediate reflex is to say “horny”. 

You roll your eyes and absentmindedly scratch your nails against his abs. When he keens, he figures he’s hornier than even he thought. 

“I mean other than that. Your skin is warm so I’m assuming you’re still nearing a fever, at least. Are you lightheaded? Nauseous? Anything?”

Luke feels like he’s been slapped in the face. You were asking about his symptoms like a healer. Like an Apollo kid. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were only touching him to gauge his temperature. Were you only doing this—kissing him—to keep his fever warded off? Did you even want this? 

Rationally, he knows that you would do anything to help him. You’re his best friend, after all. But he wants you to want this, otherwise it would mean nothing.  Otherwise, he wouldn’t even begin to hold a torch to your previous partners. He would be the one you laid with out of moral obligation and not interest. 

He hadn’t been feeling nauseous before, but his throat starts to construct as if preparing to trigger his gag reflex. 

He hasn’t responded and you’re looking at him inquisitively. 

“Nauseous,” he starts. “Hot. Horny. Are you only doing this to keep me from dying?” The question messily tumbles out without him noticing. 

You run your tongue over your teeth. “Yes. But there’s also personal benefits involved.” 

Usually, Luke could decipher your maze-like answers. But he’s so hot and worked up and lacking an immense amount of patience. 

“So you want to fuck me?” 

Luke doesn’t continue his work until you respond. 

“Yes, Luke. I want to fuck you.” 

He has your shirt over your head in less than a minute. The button on your shorts is undone 30 seconds after that. He has completely forgotten about your plea to go slower, but even if he did remember he wouldn’t be able to comply. 

He needs to feel you. All of you. Or else he might collapse then and there. 

His hands run over your shoulders and torso gratefully, only appearing as the opposite whenever he runs into your bra (a sports bra, as he had assumed). As soon as he has the straps pulled down, he latches his lips onto the newly revealed skin. 

Distantly, Luke thinks he would have liked to have been able to lay you back. He wants to see you laid out before him while you’re completely at his mercy. Luckily, he has learned to adapt. He has been dealt unfavorable cards in his life, and turned them into something worthy. He plans to do the same here and now. 

As he sinks to his knees, he pulls your shorts down with him. You don’t have to be told to step out of them, but as soon as you do, you’re looking down at Luke with your eyebrows raised. 

“Are you sure? I haven’t showered since yesterday and I’m really sweaty.” 

Luke doesn’t pay any mind to your words. As you’re speaking, he already has his fingers forced under the elastic fabric of your panties. 

“I’m sure.” 

He pulls the fabric down. 

“You don’t have to.” 

“I want to.” 

He pulls your leg over his shoulder, bringing your cunt straight to his face. 

He has never gotten this far with someone before, he has never even seen examples of what to do in this position. He could back out. He could set your leg back down and only get his dick wet. But you smell so good, and you’re practically glistening in the sun, and you’re staring down at him expectantly so Luke slowly leans forward, sticks his tongue out, and gets to work. 

‎

‎

By the time Luke feels even a bit satiated, the sun has started to descend to its destination below the horizon, creating a soft blue hue over the sky. 

You’re panting under him, your back and arms painted with dirt, just a bit smudged on your cheek and a few flecks of it strewn throughout your hair. Your stomach rises and falls with your breaths, drawing Luke’s attention to the fresh cum laying there. There’s some dried cum on your back, and just the smallest smudge at the corner of your lips. Luke doesn’t think much before he licks his thumb and wipes away the white crust from your mouth. 

He sits back on his haunches and sighs with his head tilted to the sky. His hands rest on his thighs with an exorbitant amount of self control, as he desperately wishes to wrap his fingers around his semi-erect cock and jerk himself to another orgasm. 

He thinks that most of the pollen has left his system by now, and at this point the desire he feels is natural. It’s the same desire he has felt for you for a while now, only amplified by the memory of what the real thing was like with you. It’s addicting. Luke truly cannot get enough, even though he has been out here with you for hours. Somewhere along the way, one of the teams won capture the flag. Luke wasn’t sure which one, but the triumphant yells in the distance alerted him of a victory. Somewhere between his third orgasm and your fourth, the conch for lunch blew off into the distance, but Luke had absolutely no concern for satisfying his physical hunger. He was too focused on the sight in front of him. 

When he brings his vision back down, you’re sitting with your legs pulled in your chest and your arms wrapped around your calves. 

“We should clean up and go have dinner,” you tell him, your voice weak and hoarse. 

Fear strikes Luke still. You’re avoiding his eyes, staring down at the dirt, and speaking in a soft voice. 

He shuffles closer to you, reaches out to touch you, and then he reconsiders. You take a deep breath, and Luke rests his hand on your elbow. 

“Okay. Are you okay? I know that was a lot.”

You look at him and Luke feels a bit better, because while your eyes are a bit distant, you don’t look upset. 

“I’ll be okay. ‘m just tired. But what about you, are you fine?” 

There is still that nagging in the back of his head, telling him to take you one more time, but his logical part knows that you wouldn’t be able to handle it. He knows that you’ve had enough. Which means he, too, has had enough. 

“I’m good.” He leans forward and presses a kiss into your hairline. He stands, pulls his boxers onto his lower half, and offers you his hand. “C’mon.” 

You let Luke help you redress and hold his hand as he leads you back to camp the back way. You two come out of the forest right by the showers, where Luke tells you to wait while he does his best to sneakily run back to the cabins. He grabs himself a change of clothes, then sneaks into the Demeter cabin where he does the same for you. 

He knows that he has just seen all of your intimate parts for hours on end, but holding your panties in his hand makes his ears redden. Blood threatens to rush down to his crotch but he fills his head with the most undesirable images until he reaches you. 

Two showers are started, you and Luke stand back to back, and Luke enters his shower. 

When the bathroom is covered in steam and you’ve both used the remnants of the hot water, you and Luke redress and reach the dining pavilion just in time for dinner. 

He falls into the routine of a caring counselor easily. He answers insistent questions about his previous whereabouts with a passing “I was sick” that earns just enough sympathy and stops the questions all together. A few times he looks across the way to see you already looking at him. Instead of dropping his eyes or teasing you with the slyest middle finger he could muster, he smiles at you just slyly enough to not raise suspicion. 

When offerings have been given, and Luke feels full in multiple ways, he finds you at the bonfire and sits with his leg flushed to yours. 

He had just begun to think that all of the pollen was out until you rested your hand on his knee and he felt a jump in his stomach. 

Goddamn it. 

#lukesworld! #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut #celeste writes pjo #loser!luke

[redskull199987]

Plzz write fnaf Michael x femreader! It starts like a fluff and then smut👀

Lucky

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader Request Word Count:2.4k Warnings:Angst to Fluff to Smut, this got way angstier than i thought SOWWWY- but I promise, fluff ensues, Smut ensues, so MDNI/18+, Movie Spoilers Summary:After you finally return from work, a few surprises await you at home…

Masterlist

Your day had been slow. Agonizingly slow. Time seemed to go by extra slow today and by the time you finally left your office, it had felt like you had spent a week there, instead of a day. But as you slowly made your way towards your car, your mood lightened, as you remembered what would await you at home.

Your loving Boyfriend and his even sweeter little sister. 

The little family you had built over the years always managed to put a smile on your face and especially after the whole drama at that Pizza Plex, you were even more grateful for what you had.

You slightly shook your head, trying to avoid thinking of those memories. The things you had seen, while Mike and You tried to save his sister from the dead children. You hoped that they got what they wanted…and that the Monster who created them had gotten what he deserved.

Your mind was about to wander back to the memory of the springlocks violently stabbing into his chest, as a knock on your car window quite literally pulled you out of your thoughts.

A quiet gasp left your lips, as you looked outside to see who had knocked. Much to your relief, it was only your coworker, who wanted to wish you a good night. You quickly uttered your goodbyes, before finally starting the car and making your way back home.

By the time you arrived, the sun had long since disappeared behind the horizon. You quickly parked your car next to Mike´s before moving towards the entrance. 

You didn't bother turning on the lights in the hallway, as you dropped your bag to the floor and kicked off your shoes.

Before you could call out for Mike and Abby, you heard someone running towards you and as you realized what was happening, you quickly duck away, stumbling backwards.

Just in time to avoid being hit by the bat that was swung into your direction.

“Mike!! It's me!! It's just me!!”, You quickly yelled and reached for the lightswitch.

As the hallway was suddenly illuminated by the dim gleam of the ceiling light, you could make out the figure of Mike in front of you. He was breathing heavily. With the bat still in his hand, he was towering over you. He just looked at you for one more second, before finally realizing what was happening. He quickly dropped the bat, a hand flying to his face, covering his mouth in disbelief of what he had just done.

“I´m sorry…”, he mumbled, dropping to his knees,”I'm so sorry. I thought…I thought it was..that it was o-one of t-them..”

Your heart broke at the sight in front of you. You quickly pulled Mike into your arms:”It's okay, Mike. I´m alright. They're gone now. They're gone.”

You gently kissed his temple, as you saw that he tried to suppress his tears. You knew that he was having a hard time dealing with the gruesome events. It had left scars on him. Both physically and mentally.

“I´m sorry..”, he muttered once more, pulling you closer to him. You only kissed his forehead again and mumbled sweet nothings into his ear until he had calmed down again.

You gently cupped your boyfriend´s face and gave him a soft smile. To your delight, he returned the smile and leaned forward to quickly peck your lips.

The sweet moment was interrupted as the voice of Abby grabbed your attention. The young girl came running into the hallway, calling out both of your names. Your smile got even bigger as she quickly came over to you, giving you a short hug, before starting to ramble about what she had drawn today and that she wanted to show you all her artworks. You happily nodded at everything that she said. 

“Alright Abbs.”, Mike suddenly said, interrupting his sister and affectionately patting her head,”You can show her tomorrow. It's time for bed now.”

The little girl pouted for a moment and turned back to you:”But I wanna stay up and play with you.”

You gave her a mischievous smile:”I tell you something. If you promise me to go to bed now, I will play and draw with you tomorrow the entire day. And I'll make your favorite Dinner, hm?”

Abby´s face lit up in anticipation. She quickly nodded and said good Night to you and Mike, before disappearing into her room.

Mike only looked at you with admiration,”How do you alway do that?”, he asked, as the two of you also made your way to your shared bedroom.

“It´s a secret”, You grinned and let yourself fall down on the bed. A satisfied groan left your lips, as you finally felt the stress from work dissolve into nothing but hot air.

You watched how Mike pulled his Hoodie over his head and throwing it to the side. Now only left in his T-Shirt, he flopped down beside you, propping his head up on his arm and looking down at you. He didn't say anything for a few seconds, just looking you up and down, before he slowly lifted his hand and gently grasped your cheek. You gasped quietly, as he suddenly leaned forward and connected your lips in a sweet and tender kiss. It only lasted for a few seconds before he pulled back again. You looked up at him and saw that his eyes were closed, as he leaned his forehead against yours.

Finally, Mike opened his mouth to say something, but after a few seconds of silence, he closed it again and he opened his eyes. You looked at his dark orbs and almost lost yourself in all the emotions, he was trying to convey only with his gaze.

“It's okay.”, you affirmed, “I know. You don't have to say anything, Mike.”

The boy only smiled at you and it was a genuine smile. One, that you rarely got to see.

Without another word, Mike suddenly sat up, pulling you with him and into his lap. You gasped loudly at the sudden change of position, which gave Mike the chance to put his mouth back onto yours.

This kiss was different. It was passionate, hungry even. He groaned lowly as he pulled your body tighter against his. Your hands pressing up against his chest, while he explored your Body with his.

“Mike..”, you warned him, as he started to kiss your jaw, your skin burning like fire everytime his lips touched you.

“Your sister…”, You mumbled again, but you and him both knew that it was already too late, that you were already at his mercy, the gaze of yours just as hungry as his.

“We'll be quiet.”, he finally answered, as he pushed you off his lap and onto the mattress. You watched how he now also pulled his Shirt over his head, before leaning down to kiss you again. You moaned against his lips, as you felt his cold hands wander under your sweater. He squeezed your hips tenderly, while making it his mission to let you drown in his kisses. As he finally parted to help you out of your clothes, you immediately missed the feeling of his lips pressing against yours.

Quickly you pulled your sweater over your head, discarding it on the floor. Mike only admired you for a few seconds, his gaze wandering all over your Body and you felt heat rising to your cheeks.

“Don't look at me like that.”, you mumbled and gently put your hand over his eyes.

Mike only chuckled at your antics,”Like what?”, he asked, acting all innocent and letting your hand remain on top of his eyes.

After a few seconds of Silence, you slowly pulled your hand back and his eyes went back to look at you.

“Like that.”, You croaked, looking away from him.

“But why?”, Mike teased, pulling you closer to his body by your hips,”I love what I am seeing.”

Upon hearing his words, you looked back up at him. his eyes held no ounce of doubt. He was a hundred percent sure.

“I love you too, Mike”, You smiled and quickly pecked his lips. Mike only returned the smile,”May I?”, he asked, mentioning towards your bra.

You quickly nodded and mere seconds later, your bra joined the heap of clothing that was already on the floor.

Mike´s lips quickly latched onto your breast, as his hand gave the same attention to the other. With a moan, your head lolled back in pleasure.

“You like that, hm?”, Mike mumbled, as he pushed you back down on the bed. You weren't able to form a coherent sentence anymore, so you just nodded.

“Please, let me have you.”, he urged, his hands wandering to the hem of your pants,”Let me make you feel good.”

“Mike please..”, You finally pressed out,”I need you..Need you inside of me.”

That was all the confirmation he needed, before finally pulling your pants down, alongside your panties.

He slowly pushed your thighs apart and started to kiss up the inside of your calves, but never quite touching you where you desperately needed him.

“Mike please.”, You whined again, while trying to keep your voice down. But your eyes widened in surprise and you tried to suppress the loud moan that made it´s way up your throat, as Mike suddenly pushed two fingers inside you without a warning. His tongue joined mere seconds after, as he ate you out like a man starved.

Your hand wandered to Mike´s hair and you gently pulled and pushed at his head as he was working you closer to your release. You could already feel that coil form inside you and after only a few more seconds, it snapped and with a suppressed moan, you came against his mouth.

As your heavy breathing started to slow down again, Mike finally looked back up at you, the desire in his eyes bigger than ever. He quickly latched his lips on yours again and you could taste yourself on him as he kissed you hungrily.

Your hands now wandered towards his sweats and as you grabbed his already hard member through his pants. He groaned lowly, closing his eyes in pleasure.

Quickly, you pulled down his pants, leaving him now also bare in front of you. Without a second thought, you grabbed his length and gave him a few experimental pumps. That seemed to do the trick on him and you watched how Mike´s brows furrowed, as he melted against your touch.

“Wanna be inside you..”,he mumbled against the skin of your shoulder. With anticipation, you lined him up with your entrance and looked back up at him. Mike was looking at you questioningly. And as soon as you gave him a small nod, he finally pushed inside of you.

You grabbed onto his biceps, as the pain slowly dissolved into pleasure. Mike slowly started moving in and out of you, grabbing your hips tightly. You suppressed a moan by sinking your teeth into his shoulder. Not to pierce the skin, but hard enough to leave a mark.

You could hear Mike mumbling incoherent words into your ear, as he picked up his pace, desperately trying to push you over the edge again.

“Mike..”, You moaned, feeling yourself coming closer and closer to the sweet sweet relief and as you looked back into his eyes and saw the adoration that he had for you, you were done for it. You clenched around him and came all over his cock. Mike followed soon after, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm.His thrusts got slower and sloppier and he finally pulled out of you, his breath still heavy against your skin. He quickly kissed your temple, before getting up. After a minute, he returned with a damp cloth and a water bottle. With a smile still on his face, he gently cleaned you both up, before slipping back into bed with you.

You chuckled, as he nuzzled his head into your neck, his stubble tickling your skin. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled his body closer to yours. His warmth engulfing you fully.

“Good Night, Mike.”, you smiled and gently kissed his cheek.

“Night.”, he replied with a yawn.

It didn't go unnoticed by you, that he didn't use his pills to fall asleep today. Or the recording of nature sounds. He didn't even look up at the Poster of Nebraska, that was now hanging over his bed again.

Looking at your beloved one last time, you smiled once more before finally closing your eyes and letting sweet sleep engulf you.

Bonus:

“Mike!?”

“Miiiike!?”

“Miiiiiike!?!?”

Your eyes snapped open and within a second, you were sitting up on the bed. Your gaze wandered to the door, where loud knocks and shouts were being heard. After a few seconds of trying to understand in which century you had woken up in, you realized where you were and the events of last night returned to you.

“Mike?”, You mumbled quietly and tapped your boyfriend's shoulder, who was laying next to you,”Mike??”

With a groan, he finally looked up at you and before you had the chance to say something, he tumbled off the bed due to leaving too much over the edge.

You couldn't suppress the chuckle that left your lips as you leaned down to check on Mike.

“Morning.”, You smiled, as you realized that he was fine. You quickly leaned down to peck his lips, which immediately seemed to wake him up more.

“Miiiiike!?!”

Your sweet moment was interrupted, as you heard Abby banging against the door again.

Mike let out an annoyed groan before getting up and putting his pants back on.

“In a minute, Abbs!”, he yelled back and the banging on the door finally stopped.

“We have a lot to do today.”, you said as you finally got up too and started to get dressed.

Mike only looked at you in confusion:”What do you mean?”

“Remember how I made Abby go to sleep yesterday?”, you chuckled and softly kissed his cheek before walking to the door. Pushing the handle down, you were immediately greeted by the sight of Abby who grabbed your hand and pulled you towards her room to show you her drawings.

Mike could only look after you with a tender smile on his face. How had he gotten so lucky?

#fnaf #fnaf edit #fnaf edits #fnaf ff #fnaf fanfic #fnaf os #fnaf oneshot #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy #five nights at freddy's os #five nights at freddy's oneshot #Five nights at freddy's ff #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x fem!reader #mike schmidt os #mike schmidt oneshot #mike schmidt ff #josh hutcherson #ff #os #oneshot #x reader #female reader #female!reader #fem!reader #edit edits #request #writing

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

I don’t want you like a best friend | Xavier Thorpe x Reader

Summary: You and Xavier have been best friends for a while, but you don’t want to be just friends anymore. Come the Rave’n dance, you decide to tell him

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: suggestive themes

"Say my name and everything just stops I don't want you like a best friend Only bought this dress so you could take it off"

—

‘’Are you coming the the Rave’n dance?’’

‘’I don’t have a date.’’

‘’You could go with Xavier?’’ Enid suggested with a knowing grin.

You and Xavier have been best friends since your first year at Nevermore Academy. Being away from home for this long and adjusting to a new environment had been difficult. You missed your family and the comfort of home. Making friends wasn’t your strongest, so you ended up very lonely.

Until you met Xavier. Although he was part of the popular crowd, he preferred solitude. He could spend hours on his own, drawing or painting.

One day, his sketchbook fell out of his bag in botanical class and you were amazed by the close to perfection sketch of your mutual classmate, Ajax. You hadn’t been able to stop the compliment that spilled from your lips. Xavier had smiled, a little shy, and thanked you. The next day, he had made a drawing of you sitting in the courtyard, reading a book.

You never talked to him outside of class…until parents’s weekend. You had been anticipating that day for so long — you missed your parents very dearly —, only to hear from Principal Weems that morning that they would not be coming. Sadness had filled your heart and you ended up crying silently between two shelves at the library.

You weren’t the only student whose parents didn’t come. Some parents, like Xavier’s father, were so busy with their work life that they cared very little about their son’s school event. Unlike you, Xavier didn’t come to cry. He was looking for a book. Except he found you instead.

You spent the whole day together, getting to know each other and talking about anything but your parents and, for the first time in weeks, a smile curled on your lips. Especially when he shared with you his little ability of making his artwork move.

Your friendship tightened over the years, friends turning into best friends. You called each other during summer break, and sometimes visited because September was just too far away. The Thorpe manor was massive and Xavier had his own art studio — which was even bigger than his shed on school grounds.

It was nice to have a friend like him.

But since your last visit, some things changed. Your friendship had developed into deeper feelings — non-platonic feelings. You held back from acting on them because Xavier was freshly broken up with Bianca and hurting. You also didn’t want to be someone’s rebound.

‘’I heard he’s going with Bianca,’’ Wednesday butted in, making Enid narrow her eyes at her.

‘’Only because she asked him,’’ the blonde quickly clarified. ‘’It doesn’t look like they’re getting back together though. Like ever. Xavier’s been very indifferent toward Bianca lately.’’

Enid wasn’t wrong. You hadn’t heard Xavier say Bianca's name in the past two months and you were the second person he spent the most time with — after Ajax. He came to you when he had doubts about the genuineness of their relationships, so he would tell you if he was still into her. Right?

That’s how the plans were made.

‘’That means we’re going dress shopping!’’ Enid grabbed her pink fuzzy backpack, looking at you excitedly. ‘’You need a dress that screams ‘stand back bitches, he’s mine’.’’

*

There weren't many shops in Jericho, so everyone ended up in the same one. It’s gonna be a miracle if two girls don’t show up in the same dress.

The bell above Hawte Kewture dinged as you and Enid stepped in. ‘’The dance committee is suggesting all white to match with the team, but that’s not gonna fly with us. If you want to catch Xavier’s attention and make him see you as something else than a best friend, you need to stand out.’’

‘’I’m not gonna wear bright pink, if that’s what you’re suggesting.’’

You weren’t afraid of colors like Wednesday, but brighter tones and pastels were Enid’s palette. Not yours.

‘’That’s not what I had in mind. Come.’’

None of the dresses you tried were to your liking. Too much tule, too itchy, too plain. You needed something that would make the whole place shimmer, to quote Enid.

Time passed and, around you, your classmates were all finding their dresses. All except you. Even Enid had found hers — a white number with a fluffy collar and cuffs. You were starting to feel defeated.

A sigh left your lips. I'll never find anythi—’’ You cut yourself, catching a velvet fabric smushed between the tule and sequins. You plucked it from the rack and held it before you.

‘’What about this one?’’

Enid stopped flicking through the dresses and turned to you, approval flashing in her eyes. ‘’Yes! This is the dress,’’ she confirmed, squealing excitedly.

*

You and Enid were getting ready for the dance in her dorm, both of your makeup bags spilled and mixed up on her bed. It was a complete mess — and will probably be staining her comforter in some places because of a missing cap on a lipstick and a broken highlighter. Sorry, Enid.

‘’If Xavier doesn't kiss you tonight, he is the dumbest guy ever. I mean, look at you. If this doesn’t push him to make a move, someone else will.’’

But I don’t want someone else, you thought to yourself as you applied a light wash of color to your cheeks.

You didn’t want to be that girl, but to your eyes there was only Xavier.

His sweet smile that never fails to make your heart swoon, those pretty green eyes you want to stare into all day, those lips you were dying to kiss and taste. The way only he knows how to make you laugh when you're sad and the warm hugs you never want to break from. He is always real and honest with you, even if his thoughts are sometimes dark. The speckles of paint on his shirts and sometimes on his school uniform — which he always needed your help to clean —, the late nights sneaking in his dorm to talk about everything and nothing.

‘’Y/N! Are you listening?’’

You pulled yourself out of your thoughts, thankful for the color on your cheeks covering your natural flush. ‘’Sorry. What did you say?’’

‘’You were thinking about him, were you?’’ Enid teased, grinning like a teenage girl in a rom-com.

‘’I was not thinking about Xavier,’’ you denied.

She scoffed. ‘’Liar.’’ Enid held up two lipsticks, asking for your input. ‘’Should I do red or pink?’’

‘’Pink.’’

*

When you entered the room of flashing lights and buzzing music, all eyes turned to you.

All except Xavier’s.

His were too busy staring at the layered white tablecloths while Bianca was talking about god knows what. Before him was an empty glass, telling you enough about the fun he was not having.

You bit back a smile, secretly happy to see he was not having fun with his date.

‘’Ohh, look, Xavier’s there,’’ Enid pointed out in the least subtle way, grabbing your arm and looking right in his direction. ‘’He polished up nice.’’

He was wearing an all white suit with a thin black bowtie and his hair was pulled back, showing off his features. You sucked in a breath, feeling butterflies in your stomach. He looked so handsome — gorgeous.

‘’I’m gonna get us some drinks.’’ You tore your eyes from Xavier and went to the table where the punch was. With luck, someone will have spiked it and it’ll give you some liquid courage for later.

As you were filling the second glass with blue smoking punch, someone came up to your side. By the whiff of their cologne, you knew immediately who it was.

‘’I thought you weren’t coming.’’

His eyes raked up and down your body and you held back a smirk. Your plan was working, the dress was working. It was nothing too revealing. You wanted to get Xavier’s attention, not get sent to your room by Principal Weems.

‘’I changed my mind.’’ You grabbed your other drink and handed Xavier the second one. ‘’Yeti-tini?’’

It was for Enid, but oh well.

Xavier accepted it with a soft dimpled smile and brought the glass to his lips. ‘’You look…’’ He swallowed hard and lowered his eyes while searching for his words. ‘’Beautiful.’’ A light flush covered his cheeks, quickly correcting himself. ‘’I mean, you look great.’’

‘’Thanks.’’ You brought your drink to your lips to hide your smile. ‘’Shouldn’t you be with your date? Bianca seems a little lonely.’’

He glanced at Bianca who was sitting alone at a table, swishing her drink in its glass out of boredom, then drew his gaze back to you. ‘’I’m not allowed to come and say ‘hi’ to my best friend?’’

Best friend. You tried not to wince.

Xavier Thorpe was the king of mixed signals. A minute ago, he was complimenting you and looking at you the way a platonic friend wouldn’t, and now he was calling you his best friend. The words hurt like a knife in your chest.

You shifted your eyes to the dancefloor and faked a gasp. ‘’I gotta go. There’s a girl code emergency. Someone is flirting with Enid and she’s giving me the help signal.’’

‘’Oh. Okay. I…I’ll see you later, then.’’

You walked away with your drink and searched for Enid. The night was off to a bad start.

*

Eventually, you got dragged to the dancefloor. Most songs the DJ was playing were normie modern pop, but you tried to not cringe too much. One would think a school like Nevermore would be into more unorthodox music, but they can’t escape the radio hits.

You were dancing with Enid and Yoko, letting go and having fun between girls when you caught sight of an upset Bianca leaving the dance and Xavier sulking in a chair. Abandoning the girls, you snaked through the crowd of students and made your way to him.

‘’I know you are Nevermore’s tortured artist, but you’re allowed to have fun once in a while. Come dance.’’ You extended your hand, waiting for him to take it.

Xavier raised an eyebrow. ‘’With you?’’

‘’Yes. I promise I won’t step on your feet.’’

He accepted your hand with a sigh and you pulled him to the dancefloor as a better song came up. A sliver of a smile curled on his lips as your back was turned to him, hidden from you.

You swayed close to him, moving your arms, hips and shoulders to the music. Xavier chuckled and followed automatically, dancing as he pleased and fully letting go. He pulled silly moves and even made you twirl, making you both laugh. A perpetual smile etched itself on your face and pieces of hair were coming loose from Xavier's hair tie, forgetting about the people around you.

The music switched to a slow song and you both stood there, not knowing what to do. His eyes flicked down to you, looking at you in a way he never had before. You've never been nervous around Xavier before. He was your comfort person, the only one who you could be unapologetically yourself with. But the way he was looking at you sent nervous butterflies in your stomach.

Your hands shaking from holding back from him. You didn't want him like a best friend anymore. You didn’t want him to touch you like a best friend anymore.

As if he had heard your thoughts, Xavier stepped closer, so close not even a sheet of paper could pass between you. So close you could smell his cologne, a mix of pine notes with a softer undernote. His hands found the courage to rest on your waist, his gentle touch sending electricity through your body. ‘’Is this okay?’’ he asked, gulping as his eyes bore into you, the close proximity making his hands sweaty and causing his heart to pick up.

You nodded. It was more than okay.

‘’Xavier?’’

He hummed, his green eyes shimmering from the mirrorballs hung to the ceiling, reflecting the party lights. You curled your fingers around one of the tails of Xavier’s bowtie, wishing you could undo it and attach your lips to his neck and fastening yourself to him like a stitch.

‘’There's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while.’’ He motioned for you to go ahead as you swayed to the slow music. You took a last breath and allowed the words to leave your lips. ‘’I...I don't want us to be friends anymore. I can't keep pretending I'm okay with us being just friends when all I think about when we're together is closing the space between us and kissing you.’’

‘’Like this?’’

Xavier leaned down and when his lips touched yours, all pieces fell into place. You melted into him and slid your hands around his neck, as if you were afraid he would break the kiss and run.

You were both out of breath when you pulled away, eyes filled with desire.

‘’I take back what I said earlier, you look fucking beautiful tonight,’’ Xavier said, his mouth overing over yours. ‘’And that dress— It's killing me.’’ His hands moved up and down your sides while his eyes stalled on the swell over your breasts. He was trying to be respectful with all the chaperon professors around, but his pants were getting a little tight.

There was absolutely no subtlety in the way you and Xavier snuck out of the room to go to his dorm. Your red dress stood out like a sore thumb among all the white.

Your dress hit the floor the moment you made it to Xavier’s dorm and remained there all night. After all, it was the reason you had bought it.

—

Xavier Thorpe taglist: @sofiaadler @partyfly @hoodforcalum @thelilacmourning @ellessecretobsession @su-alteza-emia @achoo---uu @not-leaprvt @xaviersgf @peterparkerdilf @roadworkaheadisurehopeitdoes @dragon-chica @coldtacozinepanda @wrldofsage @eddiemunsonsluvrrr @capriaura @officialsaturn @babyfiva @maevaomizzolo @kelloggs-world @whosljt @ajpanda181 @belovedrey @emerycrt @elizabitchsshit @heaven-hiding @lilithlikestoread @est-liber @moonisu @dessxoxsworld @parker-nite @bellblake121890 @vesperazhier @kaldurahms-lover @beeebo234 @nephilimsss @mayuphoenix @sweetheartlizzie07 @watermelon-18 @snixx2088 @555stargirl555 @robinscardigan @chumchum19 @lilttblog @aphex2winn @heizenka @mystargirl-interlude @hwrtsiren @babygirljay20 @wildflowerlyss @strangersomeone @openfandoms @charlottelaffin @iheartmaddyperez @starless-starkov @ali-r3n

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe x you #wednesday #wednesday netflix #percy hynes white #wednesday imagine

[iuciferic]

I usually don’t make text posts on tumblr because I use this site as an archive for the artwork I post online and I think keeping boundaries online is good. But it’s way too long for Twitter and I’m thanking people who use tumblr in it. But I’ve been self reflecting. Well actually, I’ve been reading the work of Nagata Kabi so it inspired me to write this. This is NOT a negative post btw.

TLDR: if I don’t believe in myself, I gotta believe in the people who believe in me

So. I’m my biggest critic, constantly annoyed at how slow my skills progress, unable to see the good or a single quality in it, basically just posting it the same way you’d hand over a test you clearly failed but at least you tried. Well, today I was scrolling my own blog and scrutinizing my own work. But in between all the work there were all those asks from people who made the step forward to come and express what they think about it. Usually when this happens I brush it off as “oh well, they’re just trying to be nice. I will thank them because I appreciate their kindness in trying to make me feel better”. But if it was the case, they’d probably just leave a like or, they don’t know me so they’d probably just ignore it. I kept reading everyone’s asks inbetween criticizing myself and it made me realize, while criticizing myself is GOOD (it means I see my past mistakes and I’m one step closer to improving), I focus too much on the negative. Some asks were pointing things I never notice about my own work. I think it’s like our own appearance. Many of us will think it’s nothing special but other people will like it. Actually this might be a bad analogy.

I wanted to thank each person (who was off anon so I could directly message them) individually but I’m actually a very shy person and I felt embarrassed like “hey, uhh, yeah that asks you probably don’t remember you sent? I read it 2 months later again and I’d like to thank you again”. I assume replying to old stuff is universally seen as weird by other people. The people might be weirded out. But in case any of you read it (anon or not, know that I am really thankful for everything and it’s thanks to you that I’m having this surge of happiness right now).

This triggered a lot of memories. Back in October, when I was drawing a lot of armored core stuff, I got an email in Japanese. At first I thought it was some google translated bot but, it was actually proper Japanese (if easy to make the difference, even if your level is low). The person was complimenting my armored core stuff and later they actually revealed themselves on twitter. It made my week to know that someone would write such a long email just because they saw what was to me a picture online I just felt “meh” about, saying that they wanted to learn to draw now. (The email was very long, I can’t just dismiss someone writing all that)

Also since I was laid off from my studio job last year, I still received freelance work doing concepts and IU for smaller games (and was even requested to do more work for the previously mentioned studio) and was able to live comfortably thanks to that. But to me it was nothing, like I refused to acknowledge my own achievements. I mean everyone has a job. Why would I congratulate myself? Because you’re doing the job you’ve always dreamed of. Yeah, it’s not a in-house permanent contract, sure I’m not working on AAA, but freelance work is still work and small indie games are often the ones doing unique and interesting things. Plus it’s not the 90’s anymore where you could have a part time job on something that would become a cult classic. The joy I felt the first time I’ve seen my name in the credits roll of a game felt like a victory after a long battle. So yeah.

I still DO need to improve drastically if I want to grow as an artist and get hired on bigger projects and have the career I dream of. (I also need to keep studying for my N2 haha). But I’m happy of what I’ve achieved so far and I’m thankful from the bottom of my heart for the people who voiced themselves to remind me to stop looking at a small detail instead of the bigger picture. We’re all works-In-progress so even if we’ve been shitters so far, doesn’t meant it’s over and we can’t get better. Also I’m conscious I’m lucky enough to have people voicing their feedback, while smaller artists don’t. If anyone has ever complimented your artwork, I would advise to read what they said again.

Also I’ve been contracted to do creature/monster design on a console game starting next week so I’m going to go and beat FF7 Rebirth in 4 days before I’m unable to play it for the rest of the month. 🫡

#this felt therapeutic to write #Kyou.txt #humans are hard to draw - machine and monsters better

[akosijayjay]

January and February dump

This is my most recent work of Lloyd, and my most recent work in general. I made this in the computer room at school with a painful high-sensitive mouse. We have these special course thing in our junior high, so every tuesday after class, I get to be in the computer room. For six hours... (My course is Visual Graphics Design. I'm kinda regretting it now since I've been thinking of becoming an architect... I can't change my course now since it's too late. Which is stupid.)

I'll try to draw more there! I really like drawing with a mouse cause I like the challenge. And since I'm not accustomed to a high-sensitive mouse, it'll be a bigger challenge for me!

I made these two in traditional then polished them digitally since I straight up just used a pen. I rarely use a pencil nowadays so I can learn to fix mistakes without erasing it. Usually it ends up looking like chicken scratch but I'm getting better.

My Harumi one is so bad lol.. When I was making it, my classmates around me were messing around and moving the chairs in the process, making me have to draw strokes with shaky lines. It's not that noticeable though since I made the lines thicker.

I was planning to make something for Rebooted's anniversary but I got busy... (And lazy) The PIXAL one was inspired by an animatic I saw.

If you compare the previous Arin portrait, yes, they don't look the same. I'm trying to find a look for Arin, as I do with every character, that I'll be satisfied with.

By the way, I'm kind of basing Arin's hair with my classmate's hair. Which is funny because my other classmates compared this artwork to my classmate, who looked nothing like Arin but have similar hair, commenting they're the same. (I'm not mad because I actually find this a bit humorous)

I was trying to make an animatic and this was going to be the sketch. But then again, I got busy and lazy. (Mostly lazy)

I accidentally changed their facial features a bit by accident on the second page because I forgot to reference the first page. It was tiring flipping pages every 5 seconds, ok! Also, I drew it after 2 days when I drew the first page, and I didn't have a design I liked for them yet. (...I just noticed Jay has different eye colors in both pages...)

I think I'm sticking to these looks for Lloyd. I'll try to make it accurate to this. (I think I did great with the first image of this post. Though, I made him too round for my liking.)

Discard the growing beard post redesign Lloyd has. That beard thing was supposed to be where his chin was until I realized it was too small. And it's still too small.

Child Lloyd is so cute! The eyeshadow wasn't intentional at first, but then it got me thinking, what if Lloyd had an emo phase? And now emo child Lloyd is my headcanon.

Pre redesign Lloyd kind of reminds me of TommyInnit, and I find it quite funny. Maybe it's the facial gesture, I know a lot of TommyInnit fanarts with that silly face.

For Dragons Rising Lloyd however, I want him to have long hair with his post redesign face. I'll try to make full body designs of the 4 Lloyds.

You guys probably don't care, and this is the first time you've seen me because I don't have an exact artstyle and I dont post as much, but I'm going to put descriptions now since this blog is going to be a silly little art dump! And blog posts are supposed to be descriptive. Which I should've done in the beginning and explained my works..

Anyhow

If you liked my art, thank you!

If you saw me before and told me I did well, thank you and I'm sorry!! I know my previous posts have gotten comments and I'm sorry I didn't respond.. I'm not trying to be ungrateful, I just don't know how to express my appreciation for your positive feedback! Or just reply in general... I get nervous even when I'm wearing my mask..

Please don't hate me, I'm just really anxious to show my work to people I don't know to the point where I might think people disliked my artwork when it's the opposite..

(I'll probably copy paste this in future posts now lol. But I AM thankful that some of you guys think my works are great!)

#everytime i draw idk #traditional art #digital art #2024 #2024 art #ninjago #ninjago dragons rising #ninjago lloyd #ninjago lloyd garmadon #lloyd garmadon #ninjago harumi #ninjago arin #ninjago pixal #pixal borg #ninjago zane #ninjago zane julien #zane julien #ninjago jay #ninjago jay walker #jay walker #ninjago cole #tag

[batshaped]

twitter stop fucking up for one second challenge (impossible)

well,

here’s the thing. it feels like social media is changing lately. every social media site seems to be fucking up or getting worse in its own special little way. i recently read and thought a lot about this article which coins the term “enshittification” and describes the process by which every social media platform eventually becomes so greedy as to become unusable. it makes me wonder if the social internet is due for a big shift in the near future. 

for a long time, twitter was the best place for me. for all its issues, it had the audience that i could reach the easiest, that was the most invested in my art. i got (still get) a lot of awesome replies and really great analysis of my work on twitter, which i didn’t receive on any other platform. i was able to encourage those readers by retweeting their comments and theories to show that i liked hearing their thoughts. i could use the Moments feature to organize my art and make my comic easily readable in order. and anyone could look at my twitter, account or no.

ever since the site was bought out, twitter is getting worse. i can’t use the app on mobile anymore because every reply section is drowned out by blue checks and choked with ads. the Moments feature was disabled and people couldn’t easily read my comics in order anymore. and this is without even touching on the bigger/more serious issues the buyout has brought to the app. these are just the ways it has made my personal experience of being an artist on there worse. and now, apparently, you can’t even look at my work unless you have an account.

it’s been pretty common in the past year for the new management to implement a bad feature and then undo it after backlash, and maybe this too will be reversed. but even if it is unimplemented, the platform will continue to get worse. all platforms are getting worse right now. all of them are becoming untenable to use without 7 bespoke browser extensions to block ads, hide specific unwanted content, force chronological order, and so on. on mobile i don’t even bother. apps are unusable. 

on top of that, i have the personal issue of not being the type of creator who is particularly good at staying on top of more than one or two platforms daily. twitter has been my main for years now, so i’m pretty good about updating it very regularly. instagram is trailing behind, i usually remember to post there daily (especially as i’m remaking mine right now and posting my entire backlog) but sometimes i forget. and that’s kind of my limit. every other site falls by the wayside because i just don’t want to spend my whole day or life updating platforms. i know there are tools that can do it automatically for you but i don’t want to do it that way and then i’d have to figure out a new tool and get yet another account on yet another app and install yet another extension to use it.

i just want to draw. i don’t know how we arrived at this place where we need to be 700 other things when we are just artists. i draw and write, isn’t that enough? if i wanted a presence on tiktok i’d also have to be a video editor who pays close attention to trends and makes sure to transform my artwork into something people on that app are interested in. even if i just wanted to have a strong presence on say, twitter/instagram/tumblr/tapas/webtoon i’d have to take on another (unpaid) job as my own social media manager, meticulously managing my uploads across 5+ apps and making sure everything is up to date and tailored to what “works” on each particular platform. i already have a day job—i’m a storyboard artist. the art i post online is supposed to be made and given freely for my own enrichment first and foremost, and for the joy of sharing with others as a close second.

i wonder if we’re due for a mass rejection of this increasingly draining cable-wars-style model of spreading ourselves thin across multiple platforms just to reach the exclusive audience each one provides. i’m starting to feel done with that concept, but i still want to share my art. i want to hear my readers’ thoughts. i want to create things that connect with others. i want to do it without these ever-mounting obstacles.

what i’m doing about it is creating my own website at my own domain that belongs to me. i doubt i’ll be quitting social media when it’s done. social media is still where the audience i cherish lives. but you can bet that when that website is ready to be shared, i’ll be talking about it on every social media account i own. i’ll be telling everyone there’s a place to look at my art where you don’t need an account, you don’t have to struggle through a morass of ads, and you don’t have to line the pockets of a billionaire who bought a social media app on a whim. it’ll just be you and my art. alone together.

by the way, to @whatthehelljake​ i apologize for writing a fucking SAT essay on a screenshot of your reply. any exasperated tone here is not directed at you at all. it’s directed at this sea of obstacles that disrupt the simple concept of “i made art and i want to share it with you.” your reply is how i found out today that twitter made this change. i cherish the fact that you want to connect with my art so much that you alerted me to this. i wish that wasn’t necessary. i want to make my work on my own terms—and want you to be able to experience it on YOUR own terms.

all that to say, i think the website is going to be the main answer to this issue. i don’t see myself having the energy to update tumblr that much more often than i already do, though maybe i’ll try to pick up the pace a little now. we’ll see. holy shit if you read all this go drink a glass of water or something get up and stretch. ok thank you bye <3

#not art #fucking essay length thing under the cut #i don't know what else to say just read it if you want to know LOL

[strawbbella]

Helloo~ I was bored in class one day so I thought "why not do an art study of the artists I like" except it incredibly scuffed and I really just looked at a bunch of art on their page and i tried my best to replicate one of em

So these are the 2 'studies' i did that day

1st:

My ver:

(Art by @izuke-the-zombie )

ref pic:

What I noticed first while sketching is ofc the super gorgeous cute style. Though not long into the sketching phase noticed her lines are quite sharp and pronouced, for most of her works she keeps her sketch lines making it seem more mmm hazy is the right word? Or effortless, but with every sharp line a rounded(?) line contrasts it, giving it that signature fluffiness. I absolutely adore how well this all mixes together, i dunno just sonethin bout her lines bro

I love the expression, really gives off absolutely love sick, I didn't capture the eyes quite well (I blame my chonk pen because all good artists blames their materials/j) Macaque looks more scared than breath taken and I put the eyes too far apart. I basically deprived the eyes of its soul lmao note for next time I do a study.

Ok this part has not much to do with the ref pic but her art in general and that includes her writing. I adore the cute HCs and little stories/AUs she would post, just so much creativity and its always so comforting to read as theyre so wholesome and cute. Im so sure one of my first posts here were a drawing of one of her HCs LIKE SRSLY SO CREATIVE. I was also surprised as I saw in some artworks she's able to draw structures and environments that draws your into the scene, its fits the universe so well, just adding to that little wonderment of awe. Shes amazing at coloring too, real soft, but still makes the characters pop, i'd say more but my brain is short-circuiting from all this analyzing. Shes just all round incredibly talented and creative honestly. Her style is exactly what i wanted to have as a kid and what im striving to have now. So cuteee

So far 11/10 art style, love the chibiness, cuteness, expressions, the pure and pastel feel and colors, and details. Just love her in general<3 check out her page lol

2nd:

My ver:

(Art by @clatteringbats )

ref pic:

Ok so immediately off the bat I knew I was gonna have some trouble here since I've been drawing chibis from the very start.

Just from observing her art I alr saw it has a lot of movement in em, lots of dynamic poses, and LOTS of embraces, really just pouring with that fluff/angst energy. At first I tried the anime body guidelines and boom instant error. Though not all that noticable the heads have sum chonk in em, especially the cheeks, giving that cute factor despite not being a chibi style. Im all for it. The lines are very soft, not a lot of sharp edges and if there are theyre placed in a very subtle way. The expressions are wonderful: from a subtle hopeless smile from an overwhelming roar of grief and anger, she's mastered the the art of slight details that give these effects their magic. Her lines are sketchy but not messy (does that make sense) they clump together neatly, giving the illustration clarity.

AND OMG HAVE YOU SEEN HER ANIMATICS? THE MOVEMENT, THE PACING, THE SMOOTHNESS, THE INTERACTIONS, THE EMOTIONS, THE EVERYTHING. THEYRE SO AAAA ITS LIKE A PROFESSIONAL STORYBOARD FOR A TV SHOW.

The way she uses color too— just o h m y g o d .

Her colors are so bright and clear, so nicely blended together, so bold, but not in the way that burns your eyes, she keeps them neutral in a way, that envokes that sense of harmony; like a sunset. (I legit have one of her colored artworks as my wallpaper) I have lots more to observe, but so far this is all I have to say. The skill of overflowing

Anways, back to the task at hand. I made the heads bigger than i shoulda , cause well chibi artist ehe. Again, I blame my chonk pencil. I didn't get the embrace quite right, but Ion think I could level with the queen of LITERALLY DRAWING TEARJERKING HUGS LIKE? I tried with the hands, I swear. I knew they were a little small but only now am I realizing its that way cause I made the heads too big. I wanna try drawing more in her style as its really just full of movement and flowiness, I wanna try mastering the way she draws perspectives too. I noticed for perspective shots theres this grid for the sky and ground (which is genius) will try that out when I actually pick up digital art again.

Check out her page, theres lots to see shes amazing 11/10 artstyle<3

#lego monkie kid #lmk #monkie kid #macaque #six eared macaque #lego monkie king #liu er mihou #shadowpeach #sun wukong #lmk swk #sketch #art study #art analysis #lmk fanart #fanart #SUPPORT THESE ARTISTS #shadowpeach fluff #monkey king #wukong #doodle #ink

[obsidiangravity]

Nikto Gets A Cat

I saw this lovely artwork by @quimera-cami and it possessed me to drop all other WIP to write this.

Summary - Spetsnaz are tasked with guarding a remote location. Can’t ask for a simpler operation really. The only downside for Nikto is having to endure the stifling presence of his teammates. Maintaining what’s left of his sanity in such a tiny house is an exhausting challenge, but at least they all get their own sleeping quarters.

Until Rodion returns from a weekly grocery run with a companion.

Word count - 3.9k

Tags - Fluff, Alcohol, Nikto being nice.

It’s no secret to the closest people in Nikto’s life that he despises cats.

The incessant calls for attention. The hair that seems to overrun everything one owns. Their need to mark and ruin upholstery. His disdain for those common house pets are seen as irrational. Perhaps it's a childhood trauma long forgotten, the unsavoury memories regarding these animals locked away in the dark corners of his mind.

But he disagrees. The extreme hatred is warranted. How could it not? What do they provide other than misery and annoyance. He’s grateful to have been spared the torment of living around one since he joined the military over a decade ago.

So the man is rendered temporarily speechless and imobile when Rodion calls out from behind him on the armchair, “Look at what I found outside the supermarket!” and five kilograms of hissing fluff and fury is dumped on his thighs. 

The feline snarls and bares its teeth at the person that dropped it. Long razor-sharp claws dig into Nikto’s flight suit, poking his skin.

He winces, gaze narrowing at the youngest Russian. “What the fuck is this?”

“Mm, it’s a cat,” Rodion mumbles over a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie as he searches for the TV remote and brushes stray crumbs onto the ground. It makes Nikto’s fingers twitch. “Siberian I think?”

Dmitry looks up from his task of chopping potatoes in the scantily sized kitchen, amusement ghosting the corner of his eyes. “Oh, it could be, but they are usually a little bigger, no?”

The cat, in a blur of unruly fur, launches itself off Nikto's lap, nails screeching and scraping the wooden floorboards as it skitters across like one of those rats caught out in the light in this shithole of a house. In a second, the creature vanishes behind a doorway to a bedroom. The one belonging to Maxim.

Rodion clucks his tongue. “Well, someone tell Maxim he has a new roommate when he’s back from patrol.”

An acidic scowl is hidden behind his balaclava when Nikto notices the strands of hair and filth left on his uniform. “Are you soft in the head? Why did you bring it here?”

“Saw her scavenging in the garbage as I was about to return. I couldn’t just leave her there.”

“Get rid of it, or I will shoot it.” His voice low and coarse. It is the only response Nikto gives before he stands up, readying to leave for a shift change with Maxim.

Nikto returns twelve hours later after a quiet night, slips out of his worn leather boots to find his single bed occupied.

The feline saw fit to curl up on it and rub dirt on his clean white blankets and pillows. Of course it would be in here, his room is the only empty one.

He’s able to get a better look at it as it sleeps. Dust clings to its matted and tangled cream-coloured fur. Its scrawny figure and ribs are barely concealed by its thick coat. Thin, elegant, almost silver whiskers a contrast to the extremely bushy unkempt tail.

Three small lines of scar run from its right cheek to its velvet-like ear. This is no pampered house pet, it may have been once, however those times were long gone.

He lightly shoos the cat away. It startles from peaceful sleep and hisses, tries to gouge his hand with the tiny daggers on its fingertips, but ultimately scampers off and hides under the bed.

Nikto sighs, long and drawn out. Questioning if he should bother using the back of his rifle like a stick to force it out of his room. He reaches for it, then decides it’s not worth potentially hurting himself from an accidental discharge.

He flips the switch off and collapses on the mattress.

~~~

He wakes up before everyone else again, the sun heating his face through the dusty window. Nikto blinks against the early morning rays and stretches his stiff muscles with a content groan. His toes collide with something furry and soft, and that brief moment of peaceful serenity is disrupted by a sharp scratch to his bare calf.

The half asleep man jerks away from the sting — accidently rolling off the bed. A shoulder and knee takes the full brunt of the fall and the greater pain jolts him fully awake, a “Blyat,” escaping his scarred lips.

The feral animal dashes around the small room, emerald eyes wide, fangs showing and claws unsheath. It howls and arches its back as it realises its trapped between the closed door and him.

Nikto scrambles to his feet, swearing a string of colourful curses that echo against the concrete walls. His jaw tightens. He wonders if he can turn the doorknob to kick it outside without being inflicted with any more injuries.

Goosebumps form on his arms when a deep rumble emits from it, as if it’s charging up an attack. He eyes the AK-47 propped against the wall on the other side of the room. Of course the one time he leaves a firearm out of reach is when he needs it most.

Tentatively, he takes a step forward and in a whirlwind, the infernal creature resumes its frantic scrambling.

It throws itself up onto the bed, rumpling the messy sheets further and jumps on his nightstand. In its rampage of destruction, it knocks the full bottle of vodka over.

It shatters loudly on the oak floor. Large and tiny shards of glass scatter in all directions as the liquid seeps through the planks.

Nikto, who is usually able to repress his anger and known for his stoic composure, lets his vision go red and a roar of unrestrained rage erupts.

He will gut this mangy stray then dump its entrails on Rodion for putting him through this. He has done far worse for less.

The bedroom door creaks open and Devil Incarnate finally dashes out.

A dishevelled Maxim peeks his head and a broad shoulder in, sleep clouding his eyes. “Can you not make so much fucking noise this early?” Then his gaze shifts to the spilled alcohol and groans. “You’re not wasting anymore of the vodka again,” he says and slams the door shut with a resounding thud before Nikto could redirect his fury at him.

He is left to simmer in the aftermath and he swears to drag Rodion’s face across the broken glass if that imbecile doesn’t clean this up.

~~~

It seems an illness has overtaken his comrades.

With its fur clean and brushed, they dote on the cat at every chance it decides to show itself. Regal grace that laid beneath the grime is now allowed to shine. It moves with the arrogance that all cats possess as it struts around the house.

“Oh, what a cute kitten.”

“Look at its shiny gemstone eyes! What a pretty girl.”

Running their fingers through the fur as they coo and play with it. All three of them mull over what to name it. As if it’s a newborn baby and they’re first time parents.

“How about Mishka?” Dmitry asks as he strokes its back. “Look at its silky coat! Nikto, you have to feel this.”

Maxim scratches his stubble. “I prefer Nina.”

“Satan,” Nikto offers, gaze not leaving his book.

“It’s a girl,” Rodion’s faraway voice interjects from the bedroom.

“Baba Yaga.”

“Doesn’t really suit her… Princess?” Maxim suggests.

Nikto flicks to the next page. “Gluttony.”

“I think Anastasia fits this beauty.”

“Garbage Eater.”

That night, he pulls the covers over him with the feline nowhere in sight.

But dawn finds that yet again the whiskered intruder found its way onto the bed near his feet.

Less scratching and hissing this time. He’s able to expel it with only an attempted swat at his arm and minimal destruction. No caterwauls of wildness, or pointed teeth and claws tearing at his blankets thankfully.

~~~

They take pictures and record videos of the nuisance doing the most inane drivel and send them to each other, including Nikto. As if he can’t see the damned cat himself. At this rate, they would probably snap an image of its excrements and praise it for defecating outside by the end of the week.

The cat takes the greatest liking to Dmitry. It’s no mystery why. Twirling about his legs for food at all hours of the day that it’s not sleeping.

And the meowing.

It doesn’t shut up. Always whining, always mewling. Like an alarm siren demanding more and more meals.

The short period where it is not doing that, usually when one of the Bale brothers has the little gremlin on their lap, massaging the soft fur around its ears  — it purrs loudly. Impeccably imitating a broken lawnmower.

Nikto has no trouble tolerating most discomforts — the filthiness of a barracks, the lack of sleep during a long operation, numbness from the biting cold of Russian winters. He would endure all of it again over this.

Nobody else seems to be agitated by it. Madness has infected everyone but him. No longer can Nikto read a book or relax with a good bottle of vodka in peace. He enjoyed his lone shifts a little more than the rest of the team before. Solitude is always freeing. 

Now, it’s his only solace for true rest.

His equipment, his bed, the whole house, is filled with stray strands of fur. Irritating his nostrils and ruining his clothes. He briefly considers murdering the cat and the idiot that brought it home when he finds a nonhuman hair in his half eaten soup.

The last straw that solidifies their insanity to him is when the living embodiment of chaos vomits a wet furball on the sofa.

They will throw the cat out now for sure. Nikto has no doubts about it.

Except, that does not happen.

They did not throw the cat out.

They mutter words of comfort and pat it on the back, cleans up the mess and offers it a treat.

Nikto occasionally catches the feline watching him from some dimly lit corner. A spark of intelligence in its big round eyes. As if it secretly taunts him, before prowling away.

The following night, he scours his room, getting on all fours to check under his creaking bed frame. His bloodshot eyes strains against the darkness and finds only dust bunnies. No furry form with a demonic glint in its jade irises. Satisfied, he switches off the light and crawls in, the chill of the night seeps through the small crack in the window.

Yet, come morning, the relentless animal inhabits his sheets, purring with satisfaction.

It amazes him that it is able to burrow up so close as he slept again — with him being none the wiser, considering how much of a light sleeper he is. Nikto makes a mental note to seal the window. Clearly the sliver of opening for fresh air is too much to ask for.

He lets out a bone weary sigh, running a hand over his scarred face and rubs his temple. It can stay for now.

It’s not being overtly infuriating. It barely takes up any space. The man observes its sleek fur shining almost golden in the sunlight. Is it as soft as they all say it is?

He reaches for it, his fingers lightly brushes its tail and it lets out a groan of discontent, hopping off the bed, onto the windowsill. It slinks away, landing on the bushes outside.

Nikto watches the raised fluffy tail disappear past the treeline and he pushes the pane fully shut with a resounding snap for tonight.

“She’s nearly done with her moult,” Dmitry comments as he sweeps the tumbleweeds of fur out the front door. There are clumps of it stuck on foliage, mixing with the twigs and leaves.

It’s visually revolting.

When asked why he doesn't simply throw it in the trash, Dmitry says it makes the birds happy to use it for their nests. 

Birds don’t nest this close to winter, you moron. Nikto would have loved to retort, only, he realises he doesn’t have the energy for it anymore.

The one upside to the neverending mountain of inconveniences is there seems to be a decrease of rat sightings inside. Perhaps, it’s not as lazy as Nikto originally thought.

He scowls at the empty packet of potato chips left by Rodion on the coffee table. The cat is now far from being the most useless individual in the house.

He lies awake in his bed, watching the shadows of the tree branch right outside his window dance on the wall as the wind jostles it. Sleep has trouble taking him like most days.

As he is about to drift into unconsciousness, an ear grating yowl echoes in the living room through the walls, loud enough to wake the dead.

Nikto huffs and rolls onto his stomach.

It continues. The sounds of the kitchen’s trash can being rummaged and the occasional meow of discontent prevents him from dozing off.

He’s determined to ignore it, maybe yell at someone else to feed it but realises it’s probably useless. Dmitry can sleep through a bombing. Maxim is likely comatose from drinking and nothing less than a gunshot will wake him.

He sits up, fingers reaching for his balaclava, fully intending to throw some biscuits in its food bowl so it can leave him alone.

The moment he pries open the door, the feline sprints in and beelines underneath his mattress.

Nikto narrows his eyes, tired brain is slow to process what exactly occurred. A defeated exhale leaves his lips and pushes his door shut, returning to bed.

He has grown to expect the cat to claim the territory beside his left foot and is careful not to nudge it come morning.

~~~

Frantic scratching on worn oak is like fingernails on a chalkboard, agitating Nikto's taut nerves. It wasn't just the sound, but the urgency behind it.

He’s not the only person home, someone else can let it out.

He tries to ignore it and focus on his task. Cleaning firearms is a silent and soothing experience. It helps to clear his mind when he needs it most.

The scraping intensifies.

Nikto unclenches his jaw — gently places down the bolt carrier and oil stained cloth, and stands up.

Boots thudding on the floor as he marches to the source of the noise. 

The cat paws at the front door and wails. Wanting to be let out. It looks at Nikto as he turns the corner. Its face saying, please I need to leave.

I need to leave right now.

He unlatches the steel lock and pulls the door open. The feline hesitates, its miniature nose twitching, testing the cool air and the scents wafting in.

Frosty blue irises flash in anger. “You wanted to leave? Then go!” His free hand gestures to the open space outside.

Seconds stretch into a minute.

It stands there. Peering outside. Then, with a flick of its tail, turns and walks away, returning to its favourite spot on the kitchen counter by the window.

Nikto watches it, a mixture of confusion and realisation settling in his chest. It gives him a side eye that speaks volumes before it lays down and gazes out the glass.

He had served this creature. Catered to her whims. Ungratefulness aside, he feels used.

~~~

Nikto leaves for his shift just like any other night. Familiar weight of his rifle in one hand. Vodka in the other. Stars glittering in the sky.

He settles down at his usual spot in the outpost overlooking the area he’s meant to guard. As he’s about to peel back the fabric of his mask to take a sip, a crunch of dry leaves alerts him to a presence not too far from his left.

Drink forgotten, muscle memory and instincts take over, he raises his gun in the direction of the intruder. Two glowing orbs look back at him, and then an inquisitive meow.

Low and behold, it’s Garbage Eater.

Exasperation washes over him. He lowers his firearm and stares at it.

The cat saunters up to his feet, rubbing its face on his boots.

Nikto silently grieves his allotted hours of privacy robbed away and sits back down. How did it even follow him? He was not as alert as he usually is compared during a mission, but for it to have not been detected since he left the house is a feat.

Surprisingly, it keeps a respectable distance. Choosing to lick its hand an arms length away.

He finally gives in. The Russian reaches out to run a hand over its back. A throaty groan of protest erupts.

Nikto stops. Fair enough. He doesn’t like being touched either.

As the night deepens, he offers little bits of chicken from his food container while they sit in tranquil company together. He will never admit to it if asked, but the presence of decent companionship is something he craves. Dmitry is pleasant and respectful, however he can be a little too worried more often than not. That man is not subtle. Nikto catches every glance of concern, every time his lips pull into a hard line.

Animals don’t do that. They don’t have any questions of his mental state barely held back on the tips of their tongues.

Sometimes when it gets too quiet, his thoughts can be overwhelming. Fragmented memories from his past come slithering back. Lately, he has been unable to keep them at bay.

Every now and then, a new door opens, and he often doesn’t like what comes out of it.

Maybe it senses his mood, or maybe it’s just cold, it inches closer to sit beside him for the remainder of the shift. Its green eyes full of concern.

When they return to the house together, the cat doesn’t have to sneak into his bedroom.

~~~

Tiny gifts in the form of dead rats are deposited in his quarters every so often. He could dispose of it normally, but he throws them into Rodion’s room. It grants Nikto a small bit of satisfaction whenever a screech of disgust sounds throughout the house, usually after that man returns from his shift.

A week passes and Nikto wakes up with a feather duster-like object in his face.

It seems that the cat, perhaps emboldened in the darkness, gained some courage and moved upwards long past midnight. She sneaked up close beside his chest as he was sleeping. Her padded foot, soft and warm, rests against his bicep with an easy pressure, tail tickling his cheeks.

She had stuck to the end of his mattress every day before this.

Her forehead nudges his hand, seeking contact, and she rubs her long whiskers against his open palm.

Sundown arrives sooner, the days grow colder and Nikto quickly discovers she likes to be squashed by his arm.

The cat blinks and carefully leaps over him to situate herself in the small space between him and the wall. She sniffs Nikto’s hand curiously and rubs her cheeks against it before rolling into a ball. He buries his fingers into her soft fur and closes his eyelids.

He knows she only pursues his company for his warmth. He doesn’t mind it. His nail traces patterns in her coat and she stretches languidly. Maybe it's not just her seeking him. Maybe he craves the physical touch too.

It has been too long, he realises, since he has hugged another living thing. To feel the pulsing of a heartbeat against his fingertips. It is not so bad afterall.

The even vibration of her purrs lulls him to a dreamless slumber.

He hears the rhythmic clacking of claws on the hardwood floor before the cat jumps onto the armrest. She puts a gentle paw on Nikto’s forearm and meows.

Nikto hums, the words of his fantasy novel momentarily blurring. “What do you need this time?” he grumbles.

Everyone else left ten minutes ago, a rarity. He has plans to finish this book today.

Unfazed by his hollow annoyance, she steps onto his lap and does a few circles before settling down.

He shifts in his chair, trying to find a position that’s more comfortable for them both. “I’m reading a story, do you want to hear it?”

She looks at him knowingly and yawns. Nikto clears his throat, he begins reading with a soft voice that feels unfamiliar, it has been a long time since he last used this tone.

At some point, her eyes drift close and her breathing deepens, yet he continues.

Nikto couldn't help but see the similarities they share. They both exude an independence born out of necessity. He runs a calloused thumb over her old scars. They’re both survivors. No other person he met has understood it truly. Though with the way she regards him, the reserved man thinks she might.

~~~

Nikto takes the last bottle of Five Lakes on a hunt with him before Maxim could — he can have whatever slop is left.

It’s been years since he had hunted, nevertheless, he still remembers how to track deer and rabbits.

Gloved hand securely clutching the cool glass, he ventures further east.

People argue that vodka isn't for taste. Nikto disagrees. 

He values the smooth, barely detectable flavour, a welcomed change to the generic liquor he usually endured on duty. To him, the subtle burn is appreciated. He doesn’t think his alcoholic comrade can tell the difference.

It’s not that he can’t handle the harsh taste, he would simply rather get drunk with a minimal amount of hangover.

He’s not surprised when he hears the rustle of grass and the well-accustomed to call of his four legged companion behind him after he crouches down to inspect the gnawed on vegetation.

She trots up, her sleek form brushing against his thighs and investigates the leaves, sniffing it with a delicate nose.

“Can you hunt rabbits as well as rats?”

She flicks a ear and chirps in response.

Nikto takes that as a yes.

Undeterred by the distant rumble of thunder above, they proceed further, the sparse canopy offers little protection as tiny droplets soon begin to rain down upon them.

Eventually, the soil grows too damp for her liking and she tries scaling up his leg, tips of her claws latching on to his thigh muscle through the thick fabric.

She advances quickly, her pointed nails has no trouble finding purchase on the straps and gear tied to him. Nikto hisses and grips her to his chest with his forearm before she can make it any higher.

She calms instantly, feeling secured in his solid hold.

The mild drizzle subsides quickly, leaving the forest dripping and smelling of fresh earth. However the once stray Siberian forest cat has no desire to return to the damp ground.

He purses his lips and takes a deep breath. “Fine.”

He can’t use his hunting rifle with one hand and he refuses to let her on his shoulders. Daylight is about to leave anyway. Won’t be a terrible decision to return.

As the sun dips below the horizon, dousing the hills with the warm colour of fire, Nikto observes the sky and settles on the grass, Garbage Eater curling up on his lap in content silence — he thinks that having a pet cat isn’t the worst thing in the world.

#nikto #cod nikto #call of duty #cod mw #call of duty mw #call of duty fanfic #call of duty fic #call of duty MW19 #call of duty MWII #call of duty mw2 #Dmitry Bale #Maxim Minotaur Bale #Nikodim Rodion Egorov #MW19 Spetsnaz

[gococogo]

Day One: Voyeurism

2023 Kinktober Masterlist after October

Synopsis: Shay is back in Boston after finding that bloody box. But Haytham has to attend a high party on the first night the Irishman is back. And out of curiosity, Shay wants to go.

One thing he forgets though is that, Shay can be quite jealous at time.

Word Count: 4.5K

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Notes: Artwork is not mine! It is done by the amazing @pandaaaaaaaaxd and this great artwork inspired me to create this master piece of a fic! So, please enjoy the first day of Kinktober.

Warnings: Voyeurism/Nsfw/Smut/Blowjob/Anal/Jealously/Possessiveness/Biting/Hand job/Man handling/Top!Shay/Bottom!Haytham

Seeing Shay again after so long was almost like seeing a completely different person in his place. Yes, don’t get Haytham wrong, Shay still has his wits and commentary, but his charm has become something more dangerous that his aged features now hold. The grey that now streaks his dark hair is a subtle reminder that none of them will stay young forever. The image that Haytham has had in his head of Shay for nearly two decades now is of this young man who had to grow up too fast. 

But now, the man that joins Haytham to a high party holds himself squared and tall. He wears a blue and brown formal attire, something different to what he arrived in Boston in but similar. Fancier if Haytham has to put it.

But he had forgotten just how the man allured him in the first place. Sitting across from him in the horse carriage is something of a familiarity but also a strange coming. Conversation has been hard to strike up. Only because Haytham isn’t sure where they stand right now. 

Yes, Haytham could just simply ask. But he won’t. It’s not in his nature to do so. 

“So, you escaped France unharmed?” Haytham asks, continuing on with what Shay has just told him. 

The other nods his head softly. “Nobody knew I was there. Since I didn’t come in contact with the French Templars while I was visiting, they wouldn’t be able to give anything up to the Assassins there to track me here.”

Haytham turns his head downwards to try and hide his smile and says, “You’ve done well, Shay.”

Shay sees the smile all the same though. Even years apart, Haytham still has the same mannerisms as when they first met.

“Thank you, sir,” he replies back. 

-

The horse carriage finally comes to a stop outside the manor on the other side of Boston. The both of them could have well walked from where Haytham lives, but the Grandmaster didn’t want to arrive so, mundanely. 

Shay opens the door for Haytham, holding a hand for him once outside. Haytham takes it gingerly as he steps out of the carriage, looking up at the manor ahead. He has only been here once before but that was so long ago. But that was after Shay had left, so the other has not set foot here nor met the host of this party. 

“Why is the party being held?” Shay asks as he clasps his hands behind his back. 

He looks up at the manor, but it isn’t with awe. Somewhere along his journey, he has seen bigger and better. Maybe Haytham will ask where that is later on. 

“I do not know exactly. But Mr Shaw wanted me here,” Haytham replies. 

As if coming out of a daze, Shay returns his attention back to Haytham with a smile. He bows slightly with an outstretched hand. 

“After you then,” he inquires. 

Haytham softly rolls his eyes as he walks forward. The both of them travel side by side up to the front door where the sound of chatter inside becomes louder and louder. Two men stand outside, security by Haytham’s guess. They know Haytham by first glance but they look Shay over with uncertainty. 

The younger one places a hand on Shay’s chest, stopping him. The taller man looks down at the hand that is quickly retracted before flicking his eyes up to the younger. Something almost predator. 

“He’s with me,” Haytham simply says. 

The older steps forward, pushing the younger away with a frown. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kenway. Please head inside and enjoy tonight,” he apologizes. 

The door is opened for them by the idiotic younger man and Haytham steps inside without a thank you or another word. Shay doesn’t even offer a word of acknowledgement either. Yet, as soon as the door closes behind the hunter he can’t help but chuckle to himself. 

“Looked like he was ‘bout to soil himself?” Shay smiles toothily. 

The butler comes up to them and holds out his hands for their coats. Shay shimmies his off, leaving him in just a pale blue vest and a frilled white dress shirt that Haytham has to not stare at. 

“It was amusing,” Haytham agrees as he declines with his own coat. 

He doesn’t want to spend too long here. In all honesty, he wanted to spend tonight at home talking to Shay about his time away and catch up in other manners. He had forgotten about the event until Mr. Shaw’s personal butler had come around and asked if he was still coming. Shay had insisted, wanting to see what Haytham had been up to in these years. 

So, one could say they’re here because the curiosity got to Shay. And he doesn’t seem to hide it these days. Everything that grabs his interest or is new, he wants to know more. Maybe that’s just him realizing in his young age that he’s getting too old to let things pass these days. Or maybe he’s been hunting for that damn box for too long. 

That thought brings a pit of something into Haytham’s gut as the butler directs them to where everyone is. The gathering is out the back of the mansion where the garden is. It’s busy and there are more people here than he expected. He stops mid walk on the back porch, before the stairs that lead down to the garden and grazes the area. He can’t spot the host and that alone bugs him. 

There’s a big patio in the middle of the garden where a band plays some soft music that try and lighten the mood. The garden goes further out down a path way to the right and Haytham does not want to start a search to look for the host. The last thing he wants to be doing tonight. 

“Sir?” Shay asks suddenly. 

Haytham realizes he’s been spacing out and looks down to Shay at the bottom of the stairs. He holds out a hand to him with a slightly cocked brow. Haytham, is very charmed by this. But Shay is forgetting himself here. He’s being a little too comfortable. 

He walks right past Shay, ignoring the hand. 

Haytham does notice it takes a while for Shay to come by his side again. The frown on his features doesn’t go unnoticed from the corner of Haytham’s eye. 

“I forgot to ask who’s the host,” Shay picks up conversation. 

“Mr Leviticus Shaw. He’s not one of us but he does help our course and knows who we are,” Haytham explains. 

“Interesting fellow?” 

“Not the slightest. A proper British man. Cocky and egotistical” Haytham scowls as he stops in the middle of a path way. 

They haven’t even left the main part of the garden and he’s still not seeing anyone he knows. There’s butler’s moving out with trays of food and drinks and none of them have come over to see him. He needs a drink or something, or anything to get through tonight. 

“Sir, it sounds like you’re calling the kettle black there?” Shay asks but with a little too much grunt in it for Haytham’s liking. 

He looks to the Irishman out of the corner of his eye with furrowed brows. Shay looks away as if he didn’t make the comment. A butler comes around with champagne and Shay takes two glasses off smoothly. He offers one to Haytham with a sly smile, trying to win him back a little too quickly.  

Haytham takes it though, sniffing it before downing it in one go. He returns the glass to Shay all while the other gently sips out of his own. 

Finally, Leviticus Shaw comes into view and Haytham rushes forward. Maybe he can say his hellos and be on his way. He’s with two other men he doesn’t know but Haytham doesn’t care. Shaw is in sight. 

Shaw sees him first and his expression widens. “Mr Kenway! It is good to know you have come!” He exclaims as he shakes the others hand. 

Leviticus Shaw is a tall stocky man with an ego to match. He isn’t much to look that but it’s his wealth and contacts that has him in best interest with the Templars. And Shaw knows that and likes to twirl Haytham around his fingers. Which Haytham does not like. 

“I thought I’d come to say hello and be on my way,” Haytham starts and goes to continue his sentence but Shaw cuts him off. 

“Oh! Do you have somewhere else to be?” Shaw asks with a frown. “Tonight is meant to be something for my son. Have you met, William?”

Haytham shakes his head as he says, “No, I haven’t had the pleasure too.”

“Oh you best meet him!” 

Shaw excuses himself from the other two men he’s with and begins walking with Haytham with a hand on his shoulder. 

“He’s celebrating buying the horse track down in Boston. We should go there sometime,” Shaw says with a smile on his face. 

But it’s not something that meets his eyes. The pride he shows for his son isn’t real. All to do with the family name that follows him that he has to be proud of. 

“I might not be able to go. I have other matters on my hand, Shaw,” Haytham objects kindly. 

Shaw stops dead, the hand on his shoulder travelling down to Haytham’s waist. The touch doesn’t go unnoticed and Haytham takes a small step back out of Shaw’s touch. 

“That Templar business getting in the way?” Shaw asks in a hushed tone. 

“No,” Haytham simply says. “As I said, I’m only staying here for a simple hello, Shaw.”

Haytham takes a quick look behind him at Shay, who in return is staring right back at him. Two dark eyes over the top of his champagne glass that feel like ice on his shoulders. He turns his attention back to Shaw who is looking over Haytham’s shoulder. 

“I need to be off,” he inquires. 

“My son will be disappointed if you don’t meet him,” Shaw argues back with a smile. 

Unfortunately, Haytham can’t decline in worries of breaking their current alliance with the man. He follows Shaw to meet his son, William and it’s quick and simple.

 But shortly, other woman and men come up to Haytham that he has never met before but they seem to know a lot about him. They touch and laugh with Haytham and touch. May it be hand on the shoulder or arm, or a hand on his back that will move down to just above his hip before it starts to be too noticeable. 

Flirting isn’t something that Haytham is good at. Never has been and doesn’t seem to want to learn any time soon. He wishes he listened closely to his teachers when he was young at being a gentlemen. Allowing one to be charming and endearing at the same time. Haytham would say he is charming, but others would say he’s just stoic and looking for his next meal. 

But for some reason Shaw’s mother-in-law has taken an interest in Haytham tonight. She hugs his arm closely and she has a grip that says she isn’t letting go any time soon. He has forgotten her name even though she introduced herself twice just before. 

“I have a young daughter I would like you to meet, Mr Kenway,” she begins again as Haytham tries to escape. 

For the first time tonight, true fear settles in. 

Just as Haytham thinks he’s going to die here and now, Shay appears before him. The mother-in-law looks him up and down and loosens her grip on the Grandmaster. Obviously, she has seen something more worth while than himself. At this given moment, Shay’s charm is a blessing. 

“Hellooo, and who may you be?” She asks with a wrinkled smile. 

Shay returns with a charismatic grin. “Mr. Cormac, ma’am.”

The mother-in-law lets go of Haytham finally and holds out her hand, in which Shay takes and kisses the back of. 

“What a sweetheart, you know this one Mr. Kenway?” She asks, not taking her eyes off of her new piece of meat. 

“Yes, I do,” Haytham answers as he keeps his distance from her. 

He doesn’t want to be in her grasp for a second longer. 

“And you didn’t introduce me to him? What a crime, Mr Kenway!” She exclaims. 

Shay cuts in though, saving the night, “I do apologize for our short meeting, ma’am, but I have to take Mr. Kenway here off your hands,” he queries. “I need to speak to him in private.”

There must be something about the way Shay talks, or the way he looks at her that has her immediately handing over Haytham.  

“Oh, I’ll let you two men talk then. I’ll come back for you, Mr. Cormac,” she says before wandering off for her next victim. 

“Good night,” Haytham says his goodbyes before turning his attention to Shay. 

And the charm that Shay had, well, Haytham quickly realizes what is it with the slight sway as he stands. Shay steps forward and hooks his arm in Haytham’s. He smells of wine, but he isn’t drunk. Maybe tipsy, but Haytham knows that he isn’t easy to get drunk.

Shay suddenly leans in Haytham’s ear and mumbles, “The drinks are cheap here and I want my coat.”

“Why I beg ask?” 

“It’s getting chilly.” He mopes. 

That is something of a lie because the man is radiating heat like a fire beside Haytham. Shay leads them back across the garden to the manor with a tight grip on his arm, almost worse than that mother-in-law. 

Once inside the manor, Shay doesn’t head to the front door. There are no visitors inside, only a couple of butlers. Shay stops in his tracks and looks around, thoughts running a mile behind those eyes. 

“What are you up to, Shay?” Haytham finally asks. 

He doesn’t pull from the man’s grip but waits for an answer. Shay looks down his nose at him in return. 

“I’ve been watching you the entire night, Haytham,” he answers lowly. 

“Oh?” 

Shay suddenly moves, walking Haytham down a hallway with no butlers. Then, with no warning Haytham is being pushed up against the wall closest to him with no escape. He goes along with it though, his eyes never leaving Shay once as he towers over him. 

“You leave me alone all night so I have to watch from a far as people put their hands all over you,” Shay mumbles deeply in Haytham’s ear. 

“You’re the one that insisted we come,” he points out. 

One of Shay’s hands swivels around the small of Haytham’s waist while the other comes up and cups his face. This sort of touch is so much more welcome to all the other people tonight. The people that may well get their hands on him tonight did it because they could, not because they wanted to. This, this is a want on the verge of desperation. 

“I have realized that I don’t fancy these types of parties,” Shay answers a little sadly that has Haytham grinning. 

Oh, what a jealous man Shay can be.  

With a hand loosening salt and pepper hair, Haytham brings Shay down for a kiss. The kiss is meant to be soft and passionate but it quickly becomes desperate from both sides. Slender fingers slowly undo Haytham’s coat buttons one by one. All so that Shay can hold his waist steady against the wall. 

Almost as the thought comes through Haytham’s mind, footsteps come into ear shot. Haytham’s blood runs cold, his heart jumping into his throat, and he pushes Shay off all together. Even if the butler’s don’t see them doing ungodly things, people aren’t dumb when they see dishevelled hair and half undone clothes. 

Haytham tries to make himself presentable again, not wanting any sort of rumour to get out about him. Because one thing he knows is that butlers and maids talk. 

But Shay has other plans. He grabs Haytham’s little red ribbon that stays around his neck and pulls him forward into the nearest room. Literally the closest door across the hallway that luckily wasn’t locked. 

A hand on Haytham’s chest keeps him against the wall next to the door all while Shay peeps out of it. Watching as the two employee’s of Shaw walk past, their voices fading away. 

“You’re lucky,” Haytham hushes. 

The shit eating grin that Shay sends his way is enough to make Haytham want to hit him. Shay leaves the door open a crack before returning to Haytham. They haven’t even gone any further into this office room, still standing right next to the door. A small dresser digs into the left side of Haytham’s hip. 

“Close the door, Shay,” Haytham snaps firmly. 

The other shakes his head as he comes face to face with his Grandmaster again. “Someone needs to keep an eye out,” is all he says before capturing Haytham in another kiss. 

When Shay had arrived back, there had only been time to talk and report and speak about their lives away. There had been no time for this. Haytham was hoping to allure Shay when they were home again. As much as this has Haytham’s heart beating loudly in his chest and throat and a thrill rushing over his skin, the anticipation of waiting for someone to open that door fully for someone to walk in on them is deafening. Which, only has him wanting to continue on. See how far they can get before someone notices something is up.  

The hand on his chest travels down to Haytham’s crotch, cupping and kneading. Haytham’s hands come to the small of Shay’s waist, a small gasp leaving his mouth as he pulls away slightly from their kiss. Shay’s mouth comes to his neck and a buzz runs down Haytham’s spine that goes straight to his dick. 

Shay’s hand leaves his crotch, for the moment all so that he can relieve Haytham of his coat. It drops heavily at his feet and for a second Haytham thinks someone would have heard. But Shay continues mouthing at his neck and palming his dick through his pants that the worry is quickly forgotten. 

The sound that escapes Haytham as teeth sink down into the soft part of his neck is choked off at the sudden realization that someone can hear him. Haytham waits for someone to come barging in, shouting and gasping at the sight of the Grandmaster Templar of the Colonial Rite. He tries to control his breathing but it is very hard when Shay is all over his body and knows what makes Haytham groan. Even after being years part, Shay hasn’t forgotten. 

But when no one comes, Haytham can’t help but release a short chortle. In return, Shay chuckles deeply against his skin. 

“Worried, Haytham?” Shay asks as he meets his gaze. 

Haytham scoffs. “You play a dangerous game,” he answers lowly. 

Shay grins again as he moves down his body, trailing kisses over his chest and stomach. All until Shay is on his knees in front of Haytham with his hands wrapped around his hips. A breathy exhale comes from Haytham’s parted mouth at such a sight. 

It makes him wonder how he got probably one of the most dangerous Templars in America to be so loyal to him. To devote himself to Haytham. To be allured by Haytham that he is deprived when he is not around. How did Shay last so many years away when right now it seems he can’t go a second without touching him. 

Shay begins to undo his belt and pants with nimble fingers. At this point Haytham can’t get his breathing under control or quiet enough to his liking. A choked groan escapes his throat as his cock is exposed to Shay’s hot breath, his pants pulled down just enough so free himself. His touch has Haytham’s legs shaking and by God has he missed the other. He holds onto the wall for support as he watches the head of his dick disappear around Shay’s already rosy lips. 

He tries to buck his hips forward but Haytham quickly realizes that Shay’s mission is to keep him pinned to the wall. His thumbs dig into his hips, holding him in place as he works his mouth around Haytham. Sucking and swallowing down more and more into his hot mouth until his nose is buried into greying pubes. Then he pops off the end of Haytham’s dick all to come back and mouth the head while making eye contact with him before repeating the process. The look alone has Haytham’s knees shaking, and if Shay wasn’t holding onto his so tightly, then he knows for a fact he would be on falling to the ground. His body his buzzing and Haytham can’t help the small pants that escape his mouth. 

A hand comes to Shay’s hair, gripping tightly but Haytham doesn’t dare push him down onto his cock. Even though the tightness in his gut is getting unforgiveable and his knees feel like buckling under him, he controls himself. 

But as much as Haytham wants to continue he pulls Shay off of him quickly by his hair at the sound of more footsteps. Shay looks up at him past hooded eyes, his mouth agape with saliva dribbling down his chin. He’s such a pretty sight but all Haytham can think about is the person outside. Haytham watches the light coming through the gap in the door flicker as someone passes by. They’re in a hurry and they pass by quickly without a concern for any noises going on his the mansion. 

Shay stands to his feet while wiping his mouth and pulls Haytham forward by his collar for a kiss. The muskiness that Haytham can taste is himself but it’s almost intoxicating. Haytham gets lost in the kiss, forgetting where he is until Shay pulls away. 

“I have missed you dearly, Haytham,” Shay breathes out. 

Haytham licks his lips and swallows. He honestly doesn’t know what to say to that. But Shay doesn’t want an answer, he doesn’t need one to know what Haytham is thinking. That Haytham has yearned for him over these passing years. And he couldn’t answer if he wanted to because Shay presses his fingers to Haytham’s mouth before pushing two digits in. 

“Make them nice and wet for me,” Shay whispers lowly. 

As much as Haytham wants to bite down on the fingers in his mouth purely out of spite, he’s too caught up in the moment. He licks and sucks at the fingers in his mouth, making sure to lather them up as much as he can with his own spit. Shay pushes in a little further, watching Haytham with dark eyes as if waiting for a reaction. And he gets one, going a little too far and triggering his gag reflex. Haytham chokes lightly and grabs Shay’s wrist with a deadly grip. 

Shay pulls his fingers out with a trail of saliva connecting them to Haytham’s lips. “Apologies,” he smirks. 

But he should be apologizing again as he flips Haytham around so that his face is against the wall. Shay shuffles his pants down a little further so that is ass is on display. 

“Can’t we further this when we get home?” Haytham asks as he moves so his forehead is resting against the wall. 

He doesn’t move though, or push Shay away as the man leans into his ear as he whispers, “I can’t wait the long ride back. Not with what you’ve done to me tonight.” His slicked fingers press against Haytham’s hole, hesitating. “I also have plans when we get home, but these aren’t it. You just had to go and be the charming man you are with everyone around you. Making me jealous and bothered.”

Haytham’s reply gets caught in his throat as a finger is pushed into him. He gasps out but a hand is quickly slapped over his mouth with his face angled upwards. He tries to look at Shay but all he can see is the fucking gap in the door and a sliver of the hallway. He breathes heavily through his nose as Shay works him open, entering another finger with the first. 

“Have you let anyone here touch you like I have?” Shay asks another question in his ear, his voice like gravel. 

Haytham gives a small shake of his head as all he can do is grip the wall in front of him. His dick rubs against the wall and is the only sense of friction he’s going to give himself. Otherwise he’s going to be done before Shay gets started. And he doesn’t want to ruin that for the man. But the dark chuckle that comes from Shay might be enough. 

When Shay is content with his work, Haytham feels a little empty, a little exposed when his fingers leave him. But it’s soon replaced with the head of Shay’s cock. He pushes in slowly and it’s painful at first, leaving Haytham to groan and huff behind Shay’s hand. But Shay waits a moment, waiting for Haytham to relax before moving again. He may be desperate, but he isn’t a monster. 

Shay holds onto Haytham as he fucks him with an even pace, slowly pushing in further inch by inch. He pants in Haytham’s ear, grunting every so often and the noises go straight to his cock. 

As much as he wants to hold on, it’s Shay’s hand slithering around his waist to his cock that unravels him. He comes hard and if Shay wasn’t holding him up, he’d have fallen to the ground. His vision goes spotty and he holds onto the wall for support. 

Shay rides himself through Haytham’s orgasm, becoming more and more noisy as he chases his own high. He uncovers Haytham’s mouth and both hands come and hold his waist, bring Haytham back to meet his cock as he thrusts forward. 

It starts to become a bit much for Haytham as he comes down from his high. He grinds his teeth as everything begins to become a little too sensitive. Luckily though, Shay comes forward and grabs his chest from behind as he buries in dick into Haytham and comes in his ass. His whole body shakes as he holds Haytham in place, his hips rutting as he goes through his own orgasm. Looks like Shay was trying to hold out as long as he could as well but failed. 

The two stay still for just a moment as Haytham lets Shay collect himself. The party can still be heard going on outside and Haytham quickly realizes where they are again. As Shay slips out of him, Haytham turns his head to looks out the door slowly. 

The air in his lungs get caught as he meets a pair of prying eyes. As soon as Haytham spots them, they’re already darting off. Maybe, Haytham should have protested a little more about having the door open.           

#coco kinktober 2023 #Shay Cormac #Haytham Kenway #Assassin's Creed Rogue #Shay Patrick Cormac #Shay cormac fic #Shay cormac fanfic #shay patrick cormac fic #shay patrick cormac smut #shay cormac smut #shaytham #shaytham fic #shaytham smut #shaytham fanfic #haytham kenway fic #haytham kenway fanfic #haytham kenway smut #shay cormac/haytham kenway #shay cormac/haytham kenway fic #shay cormac/haytham kenway smut #shay cormac x haytham kenway #shay cormac x haytham kenway smut #shay cormac x haytham kenway fic #shay cormac x haytham kenway fanfic #assassin's creed rogue smut #assassin's creed rogue fic #assassin's creed rogue fanfic #assassin's creed #assassin's creed fic #assassin's creed smut

[tulipsie-art]

today marks one year since i left full-time art behind to work as a computer person and i think i can say for sure now that it was the right decision for me

it pains me to admit it because i fought against the idea for so long and was so dead-set on being a career artist but, i'm a lot happier now, not because i'm drawing less (trust me, i'd love to draw and work on stuff i'm passionate about all day), but purely because my work is so much less stressful. i had people telling me that because i'd got 25k or 30k followers on twitter that i'd "made it", that i'd hit the holy grail and could now easily make a living from my artwork, but that was so, so far from the truth lol

i was barely scraping by off commissions with a tiny stipend from patreon, and i would have new artists coming to me asking for advice on how to "make it", how to turn their art into their career, and like, how do you turn around to these bright-eyed artists who are making great work, who see you as their goal and say "i put years of hard work into building this following, got a few huge lucky breaks and i'm earning less than £400 a month from doing it full-time", that fucking sucks man

i don't write this to say "don't follow your dreams!" or "don't bother", i love making and posting art and i've met some of the most wonderful people doing it, but i think my thoughts mirror a lot of youtubers you see who give advice to new youtubers and say "for the love of god do not make this your career" - the unfortunate truth is the whole "social media artist as a living" thing, except for a very select lucky few, is a very rocky business model at best, and if i haven't already mentioned, can be extremely bad for one's mental health for a whole bunch of reasons

it's a career path i see glorified a fair bit and a lot of people aspire to it, but having tried to walk that path and been ostensibly "successful", god damn is it tough, if not impossible

i guess my other point, if there is any, is that artists on the whole have it really fucking tough, and if you have an artist you love and it is within your means to support them, please do so. i guarantee they're struggling out there - most artists with similar or even bigger followings that i've spoken to have had experiences that pretty much mirror my own, so i don't think i'm an isolated case

thanks for reading if you did, and i do want to say, i really, really appreciate you all <3 i don't get to draw much these days, but i do get to draw whatever i want, and to post it here and still get such wonderful positive reactions makes me very happy :)

#personal post weeeee #not art #not a fun post to write but hey #i wanted to get it off my chest

[milkywaydrabbles]

He who was found in chains, set free. | III.

Cross posted on AO3, here!

Sunlight shone through the window, rousing you from slumber. It was morning already, huh . That was the best you’ve rested in, well, you couldn’t remember. You don’t remember waking up once after speaking to the angel. Perhaps he casted a spell on you so as to not wake until dawn. No, that’d be silly use of his talents. You weren’t sure what to do next. Slowly you rose from the bed, and decided to trek through the large castle. You were sure he’d be asleep, knowing at the very least his vampiric senses wouldn’t let him in the sunlight (well...) and tried to make it back to the study. You wish you had looked up when following him. But now that you were alone, and very much lost , you took the time to look at your surroundings. 

Beautiful, large portraits of different faces hung around the walls. A man with dark, long hair. Pale, and dark, stoic eyes. Must be Dracula... you thought to yourself. You wondered why the blonde had kept them up. Eyes continued to wander, seeing more portraits of either Dracula or people that looked very similar to him. Family, maybe. Odd thinking of vampires with families . And then you saw one of the most ethereal woman you’d ever laid eyes on. Soft, blonde hair, with fair skin and gorgeous eyes. If you thought about it long enough, you’d realize that she very much resembled the vampire that took you in. 

But you didn’t think much of it.

You pressed on, forgetting your initial quest of finding the study and instead started taking in the artwork on the walls, wandering aimlessly throughout the halls. Although the castle was a mere shadow of its past grandeur, it was still as remarkable as ever. For you, anything bigger than a barn was remarkable. But this? This was a work of art on its own. 

Eventually, by mere miracle , you found yourself in front of a library. You don’t believe it to be the study from last night, but it was a room filled to the brim with books nonetheless. A small smile graced your lips, and you started shuffling towards the shelves. Endless books on different topics--medicine, herbs, history, the human body-- everything . You weren’t sure where to start. This was the first time you’d even seen a book since you taught yourself to read and write when that man fell asleep drunk each night. It was miraculous that he never found your journal and book clearly meant for children. He never really looked hard though, too busy wanting other things from you. You scowled.

Pushing the awful thoughts as far back as you could, you moved further into the library. The shelves were taller than you, so you had to crane your neck to see what else lay on the shelves. You felt a light within you spark. You’d never felt so...grateful, to be alive. To be given the opportunity to even look at these books. Tears filled your waterline, and you blinked them away as best you could, some falling still. 

A book piqued your interest, it looked like it was about magic. I can learn magic! A small laugh escaped you, more breath than real laughter. You pushed up, reached as high as you could, grabbing the massive book from its place and sat right there on the ground. This level of reading was much higher than you were used to, so it would take time, but you would try anyways. You flipped the first page, a  bit overwhelmed already with how much was on the page but you didn’t care. You finally had knowledge about yourself at your fingertips.

--

Alucard searched almost frantically trying to find you. He knew he shouldn’t have trusted you, he knew he should have kept you on a chain within the room so you couldn’t escape. And now you were somewhere in this damned castle, probably plotting his demise. You could sense your lies in his bones now, how could I have been so blind! You were faking not knowing about magic. You were going to betray him just as the twins did, you were going to try to kill him, you were--

You were in the library . He heard a small chuckle, so soft that if it weren’t for his Dhampir senses it would have skirted on by in the wind. He made his way to the door as quickly as he could and flung the door open with such aggression it made you drop the book from your hands. Eyes wild and filled with rage, Alucard stormed over and grabbed your arm, uncaring that it was wounded and that you yelled, and hoisted you up. “ What are you doing here? ” He spat.

All panic came tumbling back, all the fear that you rightfully had prior, eyes widening at his actions. You couldn’t breathe, trying to inhale anything into your lungs that felt like they were filled with stone.

“I just--I wanted to--I--”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

Tears flowed freely now, you looked like a deer caught within the jaws of a predator.

“I just wanted to read.”

It escaped you like a sob.

He let go of you, and took a step back.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to read, honest!”

He looked down at the book you had chosen, lying face down now. 

It was a beginner book for magic.

Alucard sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. God , he felt embarrassed now for his outlash.

“I’m...” He groaned. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” you wept, and continued. “No, I won’t do it again, I won’t do it anymore, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” Hands gripped onto the length of your skirt for dear life, trembling like a leaf. Your continued ramblings of I’m sorry, please don’t beat me, I won’t do it again, I promise broke Alucard bit by bit the more he looked at you. 

You were harmless . 

“Hey, listen, you didn’t do anything-” he reached out to try and console you, and the moment his hand reached your shoulder a thick sob bubbled out of your chest and you flinched away, protecting yourself with your hands. 

Shit . 

Alucard retracted his hand, and slowly moved them up in a defenseless position. Slowly he crouched, and picked up the book you started reading, closing it up and placing it on the table a few feet away. 

“Please, please calm down. I’m sorry, it was wrong of me to accuse you.” He talked as loud as he could over your sobs without yelling in fear of scaring you again. He just wanted you to listen . It took some coaxing, and after a bit more quiet sobs you had calmed down just enough to look at him with bleary eyes. Red, puffy, and burning. Your hands slowly went down to your chest, grasping at each other. He needed to be careful approaching you.

“My name is Alucard.” he offered.

You gasped.

“The Alucard? The one who defeated Dracula ?” It was the most emotion outside of fear he had heard from you yet. Filled with curiosity and wonder. 

“Just...Alucard. Please.”

You retracted a bit, bowing your head. “Yes, I’m sorry Alucard, forgive me.”

He shook his head. “There’s no need for the formalities, really. It’s okay.” 

--

After quite some time, the two of you headed down to the kitchen. It was the original reason he went to go find you. Give you some breakfast. Before he completely embarrassed himself. 

“Eat, I’m sure you haven’t had a proper meal in quite some time.” God, he had no idea.

You wanted to eat everything in sight. It might have been a bit cold now since it took some time to get you down here, but you would never complain. Not with the feast in front of you. Just for breakfast! You couldn’t believe it!

And then you remembered any time you wanted to eat freely back at Gresit.

I eat first, and then you eat my scraps you ungrateful bitch. Never forget who the master of this house is. 

The smile was immediately wiped from your face, and you retracted a hand that was reaching for some bread. Hands tucked neatly on your lap, you bit your lip and looked down. Alucard rose a brow.

“Is something wrong?” 

You shook your head, “You eat first. You’re the master of this house.” Robotic tone like an automatic response. 

This is going to take some time, Alucard grimaced inwardly.

“We eat together. I am the master of this house,” you flinched, “and as such, I want you to eat with me. Understood?” He didn’t like using the very clear trauma against you, but he needed to at least get you to ingest something. Whatever you could handle. You stayed still for a moment, and went back to reach for the piece of bread from before. Slowly, you took a bite and you could have cried all over again from how wonderful it felt to finally eat something not gutted from a mangled up animal which was clearly leftovers from a night creature eating. 

“It’s good.” Lips curled up, if only a little, in joy. 

“Good, I’m glad.” He nodded, and went about eating his own fill, glancing over to you every now and then to make sure you were eating. 

You were slow, taking your time, tasting things little by little seeing how your stomach would react. Eating was hard for someone who hadn’t eaten nutritious meals in years. You felt gluttonous, eating until you were full. You ate slowly, hoping you would be full quicker. You didn’t want to eat all of Alucard’s food, it was rude of you. 

“You can eat more, you know. I made this for you.”

Your eyes shot up at him, glassy, threatening to cry. 

“ Really? ” Your voice is small, but grateful. He nodded. You said nothing back, but smiled the closest thing to a real smile he’s seen. From there, you ate graciously, still taking your time and making sure your stomach didn’t hurt, but ate until you were full. Different meats, and cheeses, things you’ve never had before. It filled your heart as much as your stomach. 

--

The rest of the morning passed in silence, you returning to the library (he mostly guided you, so as to not get lost again), and pressed on with reading. This time on a chair. Alucard stayed with you, studying on his own. Your brow furrowed, mouthing out words and mumbling under your breath. 

“Do you...need help?”

You glanced up, embarrassment filling you. A pink warmth dusted over your cheeks, and your eyes looked anywhere else other than his face. “I uhm...I can’t seem to get this word.” You admitted.

Alucard went over to you and read over your shoulder. 

“ An herbology is practical, magic depending on geographical locale. The incantations as depicted in this book will require certain plants, however once mastered can be replaced with surrounding vegetation that grows within your region.” 

Ah, that made more sense now. 

You repeated some words to yourself, tracing over the letters on the page. Geographical, incantations, vegetation . Those are words you understand, and can now read . 

“I’m surprised you know how to read, given your...circumstances.” 

You continued thumbing the words, “I taught myself. As best as I could. Some words are...difficult.” 

Alucard hummed, and went back to his corner of the room, eyes unable to process the words on the pages anymore. 

“Would you like to study more?” You perked up. 

“Would you...would you help me?” you sounded hopeful. He nodded. You grinned.

“I would like that very much, Alucard.”

“You know, you never gave me your name.” He was teasing you, smirk curling his lips. Now you felt terribly embarrassed. You bowed your head again, “I’m so sorry.” And then you gave him your name.

He hummed again, repeating it back at you. You felt your heart in your throat. It was the first time someone had said your name without disgust. 

“Very well, I have time today. Why don’t we start our studying now, hm?”

#adrian tepes #adrian tepes x reader #alucard (castlevania) #alucard tepes x reader #alucard x reader #alucard tepes #castlevania #castlevania (2017) #castlevania netflix

[eufezco]

REUNION – E.M. x FEM!READER

This is because I saw that photo of Joseph wearing the Hellfire t-shirt without Eddie's wig and I thought about adult Eddie Munson and agh 😵‍💫 I'll be writing a part 2 and probably 3 so if you wanna be tagged please let me know (part 2 is gonna imply smut) ❣️

english isn't my first language

masterlist

You arrived at Hawkins a month before the reunion. You bought a house in the midwestern town a couple of years ago, when you started making real money out of your artworks. You thought it would be a good idea to have a second home in some remote location and what better place for that than your home town. The house was big, probably bigger than you needed it to be and it was decorated with some of your pieces of art, trusting that the solitude of Hawkins would keep your works safe. Plus, the house was located really close to your parents', who after the earthquake and everything that happened after that never really left Hawkins but strongly encouraged you to leave as far away as you could. Your parents could see your house from theirs, and they could tell if an intruder had broken into it looking for your worldwide coveted artworks. Also, after your horrendous break-up a couple of months ago, they wanted to have you around. But at some point you would have to get your life back, you couldn't let this hold you back for the rest of your days.

Your friend Nancy had been planning this reunion for months now, it was her idea to get the crew back together after more than ten years, and after most of you had followed different paths. The chosen place for the reunion was her own house, the Byers’ house. Nancy and Jonathan married not so long ago yet it seemed like they had been married since the first day they started dating. Nancy and Jonathan worked together at the biggest newspaper in the entire state of Indiana. She, as the ambitious and perfectionist teen she used to be, ended up as the newspaper director and editor, Jonathan was the main photographer and subdirector of it. They had covered every one of your exhibitions in their newspaper and you couldn't be more thankful to them because they have always had nice words for you and your art. Out of everyone in the group, they were the only ones remaining in Hawkins and you weren't quite sure if they actually lived here, but you knew that they did spend a lot of time in Hawkins because Joyce and Hopper wanted them close to help them with the first years as a married couple and during Nancy's pregnancy.

Joyce and Hopper also got married, which could not make you any happier after all they had been through. They also had a house in Hawkins but you were sure that they spent most of the year in Lenora because Hopper was surprisingly tanned when you saw him in the supermarket, and thanks to El and Mike being in college, they made the right decision moving to a better place.

Will told you that Mike and El went to the same college, along with Dustin and Suzie. By this time, you assumed they should be finishing their degrees or already applying for jobs. Mike studied psychology, El decided to study biology, and Dustin, of course, chose physics. And as far as Will told you and by his facial expression when he did, El and Mike were still dating. Dustin and Suzie did too. They both were studying physics which was great because they could spend more time together. How cute, you thought when Will told you.

Will was happy. Well, most of the time. He was happy when he was around you or when he wasn't having an existential crisis which made him paint more and somehow create better works. He also was happy when he was around that cute boy he claimed to only be friends with. Liar, you thought. You basically addopted him after he was accepted into one of the most ambitious art colleges. Well, of course you didn't adopt him in the literal sense of the word, but it was almost as if you did. He was your pupil, you helped him with his college work, teaching him new techniques, different points of view of one piece of art, new ways of processing colors... He accompanied you to your exhibitions, posing with you for the newspapers and magazines, and always giving him a space in your galleries for his works so people could admire his art and Will could start gaining some recognition, not only as your protegé. Will lived with you and your fiancé. Well, now it was only you and Will, but your fiancé used to adore him. He used to say that Will would be the one to continue your artistic legacy which was a strong relief because you knew he was talented as fuck.

Lucas and Erica Sinclair attended one of your biggest exhibitions in New York and that was the last time you saw them. Lucas got a scholarship to play basketball and quickly became one of the most promising basketball players of all time and Erica was nothing less than his trainer. They both built prestigious careers on their own and now every elite athlete wanted to train with Erica Sinclair, and every brave-enough-basketball player wanted to play against Lucas Sinclair.

Steve went to college as his father had always wanted him to and yet Mr. Harrington wasn't happy with Steve. He didn't pick business nor law as his father wanted. Instead, Steve studied education. Deep down he always knew that he had to do something related to kids. He never stopped working hard and started saving money to leave his parent's house. Robin wanted the same for her so they moved in together when they got the money. You went to visit them a couple of times, getting drunk with cheap alcohol and talking all night about stupidities. That was probably when you saw them for the last time. Robin took a fashion design course and Steve worked in a kindergarten. Steve met a cute girl who was a single mom and with whom he fell in love immediately. Her daughter adored teacher Steve. They always spent at least a quarter of an hour after the classes finished and all the parents were finally gone talking about the little girl that bonded them, the little girl not wanting to leave Steve's side until her mom said it was time to go home. They eventually moved in together and now they had a beautiful daughter and were expecting another one. Next to Steve's kindergarten was Robin's boutique. She lived with her friend, a girl that she met in the fashion course and with whom she seemed to be very close friends with.

You were the happiest knowing that your friends were living a good life.

You arrived late to the reunion. Everyone was already there, well, at least you thought everyone was already there when you and Will got to Nancy and Jonathan's house. Your face was decorated with a big and bright smile after seeing all your friends reunited again. You started by hugging the two hosts, noticing how Nancy's belly was getting bigger. You asked her to remind you how far along she was and she let you touch her belly to feel the baby kicking. Cute, but not for me, you thought. Then, you hugged everyone else, a wave of memories taking over you every time someone wrapped their arms around you. Being all together again was like when you go on a trip for a really long time and then you come back home to find your comfy bed and not just some random matress in some hotel. It was a hot coffee on a winter day, it was walking in the rain, enjoying the raindrops but not getting wet thanks to an umbrella, it was spending Christmas at home and it was waking up in the morning because of the sunbeams.

Will went to talk to Mike, El, Dustin, Lucas, and Erica who were enjoying Nancy and Jonathan's expensive wine while sitting and laughing on the living room couches. Seeing them with glasses of wine was the most shocking thing ever, they were still kids for you. You were talking with Robin and Steve. Both of them seemed very happy. Steve pulled from his wallet a picture of his little girl, showing it to you like the proud dad he was. The baby was chubby and her hair was tied in two pigtails, a big smile on her little face. You were about to compliment the baby when someone knocked on the door of the house, were you expecting anyone else? Maybe it was Joyce and Hopper who decided to join, maybe it was–

"No way." Dustin said, standing up from the couch and raising his hands to his head. Lucas and Mike let out a surprised chuckle, also standing up from the sofa. You looked at the door, where everyone's eyes were focusing after Jonathan opened it. Your eyes opened wide, your mouth dropped, and your glass of wine almost fell from your hands when you saw Eddie Munson entering the house followed by Max Mayfield. Everyone approached them and hugged them, you just stood there, waiting for everybody to get out of your way so you could wrap your arms around the rockstar. Before you could, he approached you, his big arms opened and a bright smile on his face as he walked towards you. You smiled at him and you left your glass on the living room table so you could hug him properly. His cologne was intoxicating and his hand rubbing your back gave you goosebumps.

Eddie Munson was the guitarist of Corroded Coffin. Yes, that small band that used to play in Gareth's garage was now worldwide famous. Tours, interviews, photoshoots, fame, concerts, recognition, fans, money... Eddie Munson had everything he once dreamed of. And so did Max. Even though it was a metal band, they still needed a lyricist and a manager and Max Mayfield was the best at her job. You had followed their music career, you had seen them on the cover of the Rolling Stones magazine on many occasions. They reminded you of you and Will, Eddie had Max under his wing. You went to hug the redhead girl and she hugged you back tightly, so happy to see you again.

Will and Max sat together during dinner, throwing glances at you and Eddie who were sitting in front of each other at the big table. Your eyes and Eddie's couldn't help but look at each other every five seconds. If he was handsome when he was a teenager, now he was even more handsome as a grown man. He let his beard grow enough to make it sexy and not to make him look older. His hair was shorter but his curls remained there as well as his rosy lips, just as you remembered them. Eddie took his time to check you out as well. You had become a grown, independent, and beautiful woman. He had followed your artistic career too, how could he not? You were the most successful out of them all. Not the basketball player, not him, not the lyricist but you. Everyone talked about your paintings although now you were on the cover of every gossip magazine. Yes, he knew about that too.

You noticed that your glances with Eddie weren't the only tense ones, everyone could feel the tension in Max and Lucas' eyes staring into each other and you thanked it was bigger and stronger than yours and Eddie's so you both could go unnoticed. The rest of the people at the table talked but you only could pay attention to Eddie chuckling after looking at his redhead friend sitting by his side. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were now focused on the food in front of her as she nudged Eddie. If someone had told Max before she arrived that tables would turn this way...

Eddie ran his fingers through his hair before lighting a cigarette. He had to park a few blocks before getting to the Byers' house, and now they had to walk to the house. Max followed him, her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket.

"You know that she will be there, don't you?"

Eddie hummed, taking a long drag of the cigarette. "And you know he will be there, don't you?" He asked back to his friend. Max rolled her eyes. Lucas was water under the bridge to her. Eddie didn't believe so. He had seen the lyrics she doesn't show to anybody and those words were not written by someone who has gotten over her ex.

"You're single now." Max pointed out. Eddie nodded his head, letting the cigarette smoke out of his mouth. He was single now, but even when he was married, Max's songs about first loves and how you never really get over that first person hit too close to home.

During dessert, everyone talked about how their lives were and some cute and funny memories were brought to the conversation by Dustin and Will. You all laughed remembering all the things you did when you were teenagers and used to live in the same town; from falling in love to fighting demons and emerging victorious in the process. When Jonathan and Steve started pouring the drinks, everyone's bodies started to heat up. Eddie took off the blazer he was wearing, revealing the tattoos on his arms and the veins running down them until they found his hands, which you noticed were decorated with big silver rings. All of you got up from the table when you were done. Jonathan put a vinyl on the turntable when you moved to the living room, everyone kept talking but you decided to turn your back to them and stare into the painting on the wall, taking short sips out of your glass of wine.

"Is it yours?"

He stood behind you. Maybe closer than he should be because you could feel the warmth of his body against yours. You nodded to his question, pressing your lips together, you weren't quite proud of this one for some reason. "It's good." Eddie confessed. You turned to look at him with your eyebrows raised.

"Since when Eddie Munson knows about art?"

He chuckled. Suddenly he seemed to be closer than before. "Since never. But he knows a pretty thing when he sees one." Your cheeks and ears warmed up as you took another sip out of your glass and he did as well, after subtly looking up and down on you with suspicious smile on his lips

"How was your breakup?" A playful and devilish grin appeared on his lips after asking. You rolled your eyes but decied to attack back.

"How was your divorce?"

He laughed while bowing his head. "Touché."

His engagement appeared everywhere and also did when not even a year after the couple decided to split up. Eddie and you talked long enough during the night about nonsenses that really helped you escape that awful topic that had been haunting you everywhere for the last months. He was the only person that could joke about your breakup and yet you would know that he cared about how you felt about it. You didn't want to talk about it anymore, people had talked about it enough for you, making up the most random assumptions and spreading false rumors about why you had broken up months before you walked down the aisle. But, luckily Eddie asked you about a lot of other things, probably knowing that you didn't want to talk about that and he also talked to you about what future plans and projects him and Max had.

Mike approached you both, interrupting a sweet conversation you were having about how you two should see each other as much as you used to do. "Nancy is too tired already so we're heading to my parent's basement. You know, relieve old times. Are you two coming?"

You looked at each other and Eddie took one last sip out of his glass. "Yeah, sure." He answered for both of you. Mike nodded, and walked away.

"Actually, we could go to my place instead." You suggested, the words came out of your mouth before your brain could process them. The man who was ready to join the rest turned to you, his eyebrows raised, surprised by your offer.

"You have a house here? In Hawkins?"

You nodded to his question.

"And you wanna show it to me?" Eddie took a few steps toward you, a playful smile on his lips and his body almost towering over yours. He had always known how nervous that made you. It did back in high school and it still did now more than ten years later. Him being taller than you and having to look down to stare into your eyes, his tongue getting his lips wet, his hot body that close to yours... He was so close that you could see through the thin silky fabric of his shirt the tattoos decorating his chest. You shook your head, emerging from the trance in which his scent held you, you rolled your eyes and smacked his shoulder. Eddie laughed and separated from you. He didn't ask questions like why were you only inviting him nor why the color of your irises had disappeared thanks to how big your pupils were because probably the same thing had happened to his eyes. Your eyelashes fluttered slowly as you waited for his answer.

#stranger things #stranger things fluff #stranger things angst #stranger things smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things x fem!reader #stranger things scenarios #stranger things headcanons #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson scenarios

[onmyyan]

Caspian at Christmas

T/W: Yandere shenanigans, suggestive themes, Cas being a cutie, christmas is celebrated by reader n Cas but just for the fun stuff like cute clothes n warm drinks and none of the religious trauma lmao (EDITED 12/16/22)

A/N: Not Requested,  Sum short n sweet for the kids🖤🖤🖤 I still have a tooon of requests I need to post which I'm sorry for the delay about, they are otw pinkie swear okay onto the story!

Growing up Christmas was always your favorite time of the year, from the sweater weather to the permanent smell of coco and peppermint, it all wrapped around you like a blanket, comfy and simple.

Being the hopeless romantic you were, the cheesy things couples did around this time always called to you, back then it felt like a members-only club you couldn't get in but now you had Caspian, someone with an even bigger boner for all things rom-com than yourself, and really, who better to share these things with?

Cas has a very similar line of thought the moment he steps outside and his breath can be seen in the cool air, his mind quickly began to race around looking for the best way to celebrate the year coming to an end, his best year at that because the universe had gifted you to him.

In no time he opened the triple-locked folder on his phone, it contained intensely specific dates for you two, all detailed with your most likely reactions and how much you'd enjoy said activity. At this point, he had a rough draft for every occasion.

It took a lot of strength but that morning he managed to force himself away from your sleeping form without a kiss. He'd been planning this specific date since he found out about your love for the season, now was just the best time to execute it.

Having grown up in a full house of 7 there was always food being made, usually by the house matriarch with Caspian dutifully at his mama's hip, long before the rest of his family would rise, so he'd mastered the art of cooking quiet enough not to wake someone.

He made sure to time it all perfectly to be finished around the usual moment your pretty (e/c) eyes started to flicker open and bless him with another day together, the breakfast would be themed and like most of what he made, almost look too pretty to eat

Almost anyway.

"G'mornin Sugar. You're free today right?" He would ask setting the tray on his side of the bed before taking your hand to his lips, unable to resist himself, he would press small kisses into your knuckles as you agreed, making sure to act happily surprised when you respond as if he hadn't already seen and memorized your schedule for the week.

"What did ya have in mind hun?" You asked rubbing the sleep from your eyes, a gesture he couldn't help but coo at, as if reading your mind he gently lifted the steaming drink before you, tipping the smooth coffee gently into your parted lips, at first his little habit of hand feeding you was a little jarring but he was just so endearing and sweet it wasn't long before you indulged him, after all it wasn't so bad being doted on like a princess.

His smile was worth it all, the pleased little hum you'd hear whenever you did something he enjoyed which, if we're being honest here, was most things, had a familiar warmth settling in your tummy.

"I wanna take you out. Go get our tree from this cute little farm, it's a thirty-minute drive so I wanted you full before we left."

Something about the language he used had heat rising to your face. Ours. The simple word holding so much weight.

His gaze held you in place as he took you in, always staring that one, if it were anyone else you'd have been uncomfortable but he made you feel like artwork being examined.

He'd installed bedroom camera's for a few reasons, one of his favorite's though, had to be the ability to capture and replay moments like now, where you'd get that awe'd look on your face, completely surprised someone would do something like this for you- but he would, he'd do anything to keep his soulmate happy, this was nothing in his mind, not with what he had laid out for the two of you down the line.

Our boy is a long-term planner, he knows how he's going to propose, where he'll take you for your honeymoon, and the kind of house you'd buy together(read: the house he's going to buy for you both after he finds out exactly what you like) the bakery you'll open and co-own, the dog you'll have(he's planning for one but would literally get you an emu if u asked for it- the man is flexible okay?)

"Thank you for breakfast baby, did you already eat?" You pressed a small kiss into his hand, returning his previous action much to his delight. Your free fingers delicately danced along the road his freckles mapped out on his skin, tracing the little constellations with a sigh you relished in the peace he brought with him everywhere.

"Oh I'm gonna eat- soon as you're done," the wicked grin on his handsome face twitched with intent for a split second before returning to that warm look from before. The kneading grip he had on the meat of your inner thigh told you everything you needed to know about his plans. "N' I've been a good boy so, I get my breakfast in bed."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere oc caspian #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #caspian delmont #caspian x reader #my oc

[indigosunsetao3]

Chest Candy

Another submission for for @glitterypirateduck‘s ‘SoapItUp’ challenge.

Title: Chest Candy

Pairing: Soap/Ghost (first time writing this pairing)

Warning: None. Canon typical violence. Fluff?

Summary: What if Soap lived after that fateful shot and Simon still felt the need to protect him?

Inspiration: This piece of artwork by @wombywoo

Prompts: "I won't let anything happen to you" (had to change the tense on the won't) "It's more than that" "Was this your plan the entire time?"

Word Count: 2.2k

How long had it been since he had seen his hair like this? All uniformly cropped to his head and not a single piece out of place; it was too short to be anything but tidy. Still though, Soap ran a soft bristle brush over it, smoothing it a bit and attempting in vain to cover the newest scar in his collection near his left temple. He didn't like looking at it, it made that close call too real and he wasn't ready to unpack that fucking mess yet.

A soft knock on the door pulled Soap out of his revere in the mirror and he looked over his shoulder. Reaching out he grabbed the beret from the counter and fitted it over his head, shifting it to the left a bit so the edge blocked some of the scar. Today was all about the 141, and him specifically, and he hated the thought. It was his last official day in service, the injury too debilitating to allow him in the field thanks to the memory issues and the way his hands shook. Price had promised him desk work, that he wouldn’t be shunted to the side, but Soap knew not being in the thick of things would be its own sort of slow death.  “Sorry, need in?” Soap asked as he opened the door with a forced smile to find Ghost, Simon, standing there. The sight caught him off guard for a moment, taking in his Lieutenant in dress uniform instead of the usual jeans and a jacket. He had all of his medals pinned in neat rows and a ceremonial cross strap across his front and back. But what drew Soap’s eye instantly was the clear face underneath Simon’s solid black half mask. Soap had seen him cleaned up before, but this felt different. There wasn’t a hint of eye black in the crinkles beside his eyes, no dirt smudged in his eyebrows and most of all he looked content. There were no dark circles from sleeplessness and his brown eyes seemed to be shining with relief and pride. “I’ve been ready,” Simon said as he took in Soap. “Price is rounding up Gaz who hasn’t left his mirror for over an hour,” he smirked a bit. “Sergeants and their preening,” he teased before reaching a hand out to Soap without hesitation to fix his beret. It was cocked and he gently shifted it on his head, noticing how the man stiffened at the touch. “If I don’t fix it Price will,” Simon said quickly to cover up what he had just done. He pulled his hands back swiftly and Soap saw the embarrassed wince on his face. Ever since the incident Soap had found Simon lingering around more and more. It was subtle at first, waking up in the hospital to find the man half dead himself at his bedside. Soap chalked it up to a Lieutenant looking out for his charge when the nurses told him he hadn’t left him the whole time. Then when Soap was recovering at home Simon checked in more via texting or even a sporadic phone call. It was quick and to the point but Soap noticed he heard from him more than anyone else on the team, hell even his family. Again, he figured there may have been some guilt there and Price was too busy to check on him and Simon was the next in line. But now that he was fully recovered, well as much as he could be, Simon was still present. It was more than he had ever been before and Soap had caught him just watching him a few times when he thought Soap was distracted. “Thanks Lt,” Soap said quietly, his hand moving to feel the more exposed scar absentmindedly. “I was hoping no one would notice,” he forced a bigger grin then dropped his hand causing the medals on his chest to rattle lightly. “But I guess that’s the whole point of today. May as well show off the trophy,” he continued trying to make light of it. “Stand on my right,” Simon said quietly as he stepped back to give space between them again. “No one will see it,” he continued knowing full well what it was like to want to hide scars. How he himself wore a mask to hide his face and gloves at all times to keep his hands hidden. Even today when it was out of regulation, he donned a mask and gloves.

Soap gave Ghost a questioning look, he wasn’t sure how no one would notice the still pink ridge that was so dangerously close to his temple. How the line was a groove into his scalp where no hair would ever grow in again and he’d always see the mark. But there was no time to discuss, Price and Gaz were there and they were shunted off to the ceremony without much fuss.

The stage wasn’t overly large, just enough for a podium and a few chairs for older people to sit while they waited to give their speeches. The 141 was to stay lined up in the back off to the side, standing in parade rest while they waited for their turn. For their ‘chest candy’ as Ghost liked to call it. Another mission, another war adverted and another wounded soldier’s story to tell the world.

Soap was antsy as they walked out onto the stage for the start of ceremony. He had usually liked being the center of attention, enjoyed making people look at him, getting recognition for the job he had done. But not today. His hands were fidgeting at his sides as he walked up behind Ghost, Gaz behind him with Price leading the way. He could feel the tremor start as the anxiety rose and he cursed slightly as he turned heel and set his feet, moving his hands to lock his thumbs behind his back. He couldn’t get them together and he clenched and unclenched his fingers a few times to try and get them to relax so he could at least lock in.

“Fucking hell,” Soap muttered as he shut his eyes and took a deep breath to try and calm his nerves down. The doctors said the tremors would hopefully fade over time but to avoid any sort of stress or anxiety while he recouped.

“What?” Came Ghost’s voice quietly without looking over at Soap as he stood at attention, eyes scanning the room.

“Nothing,” Soap answered as he rolled his neck and attempted to lock his hands back behind him again. “My hands are fucked,” he finally added after a moment, “I’m shaking like a wee bairn and people staring are not helping,” he finished as he cut his eyes across the room. Even if no one was watching him yet Soap felt like all eyes were on him as people filed into their seats.

“Deep breath,” Ghost said simply, “close your eyes and regroup.” He finally looked over and slightly down at Soap and saw the wide-eyed look of panic as well as frustration on the mans face. “Do it,” he added more sternly.

With a huff through his nose Soap closed his eyes and tried the counting technique his doctor had given him to calm himself. It was frustrating and he felt stupid doing it but he did it anyway, starting backwards from twenty as he rolled his wrists out to try and relax. He made it all the way to fourteen when he felt Ghost shift next to him and he heard Price mutter something but he kept his eyes shut and kept counting down. His fingers were no longer tingling when he made it to seven and when he got to one he was able to interlock his thumbs.

“Better,” Soap said after a moment and opened his eyes. Someone was walking up to the podium and he dared a glance up at Ghost and what he saw nearly knocked him back. In the moments his eyes were closed Ghost had removed his mask and tucked it away somewhere. The scars on his face were in full view and Soap could see people staring at him, and not Soap any longer. Their faces portrayed expressions of shock, curiosity and even a dose of fear at the white lines that crisscrossed over Simon’s chin and cheek, a large white gash running straight through both of his lips.

“Eyes front,” Simon said simply as he continued to stare ahead at a fixed point across the room. Even with the reveal, something hardly anyone ever saw, Simon seemed perfectly at ease as he ignored everyone in the room.

Soap stared forward as well, not taking in anything that was being said or done as he tried to figure out just what the hell was going on. Simon never removed the mask, ever. Hell Soap had found him asleep in his own barrack with it on before and he’d wear it into the bathroom shower stalls and have it back on his face before he ever came out. The ceremony seemed to drag on for hours as Soap itched to ask Ghost just what the hell he was thinking and he could tell Gaz and Price were just as shocked. But the trick had worked because even as Soap stood front and center to get his medal, most eyes were still on Simon.

“What the hell was that?” Soap asked after they exited the stage to a backroom as Price and Gaz paused for a conversation with someone. He was fairly certain that Price had stopped Gaz on purpose so he and Simon could talk. “You didn’t have to do that. I could have handled it just fine,” Soap nearly snapped, though he was still grateful. “I don’t need charity.”

“My job,” Ghost said simply as he looked at Soap with his hands in his pockets, his face still uncovered. “I swore I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. And it did. So I'm doing my job now and protecting you the only way I know how, ” he started but Soap interrupted him.

“That’s part of it, Ghost. I knew what I signed up for. You did your job just fine and we all walked away,” Soap answered simply. He wasn’t going to let Ghost eat himself alive for the guilt over what happened. Soap was lamenting it enough without anyone’s help.

“It’s more than that,” Simon replied, though the calm demeanor he had before was starting to crumble. Soap could see him swallow once, twice, and his eyes gave off an air of nerves.

“What more is there to it?” Soap asked as he tapped the medal on his chest. “The Government was satisfied with our work, they’ll use my story for years to come as bolstering antidotes for their little parties,” he scoffed. “They got what they wanted; it’s done. I’m done. I’m going off into the sunset while you lot continue on without me.” And there was the worst truth of it, the ugly thought he had been trying to ignore for weeks. He was going to be left behind, not be around the men he saw as his true family and the man he had secretly pined for, but had tucked away with many other painful issues he chose to ignore.

He was getting worked up again and he could feel the shakes start; he needed to go. Needed to walk and move around, standing in this small room was not helping. He reached for the door to wrench it open before Simon’s hand shot out and shut it firmly as he leaned against it.

“Fuck this was supposed to go differently,” Simon finally breathed out as he looked down at Soap who he had effectively pinned between himself and the door. “Listen, Johnny, there’s something we need to discuss and I didn’t want to do it here,” he reached his other hand up to grab at Soap’s collar, “but you aren’t giving me much choice.”

“What?” Soap asked feeling trapped though it wasn’t in a panicked sort of way. He was more intrigued by how Ghost was nervously looking around. How Simon’s fingers curled tightly into the starch pressed collar of his uniform and the arm that was holding the door shut slid to cage him in more to the wall. “Spit it out then LT. You’ve got me cornered and I’m not up for fighting you,” Soap prompted as he tilted his head back to look into his eyes better.  

“Shut up, Johnny,” Simon said simply before he yanked hard on his collar to pull him into a crushing kiss. His hand on the wall moved to grab Soap’s jaw to tilt his head further back and he felt Soap sigh into the kiss, his hands moving to grip at the back of Simon’s head letting his fingers tangle in the short hair.

“That wasn’t much of a discussion,” Soap finally breathed minutes, hours, days, later as Simon rested his forehead against his. “Was this your plan the entire time?”

“I had actually planned dinner,” Simon answered before he leaned back and smoothed out his own shirt before turning the collar back down on Soap’s. “But you’re too impatient.”

#soapitup #call of duty #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mctavish #soap mactavish #soap cod #cod soap #soap call of duty #call of duty fanfic #soap modern warfare #soap mw2 #soap mw3 #my fic #fanfic #simon ghost riley #cod ghost #ghoap #ghoap fic

[iwanttofuckereh69]

To properly celebrate @hornyimpulsivity's birthday i decided to inflict emotional damage onto everyone with both an illustration and a fic. Happy birthday bestie <333

Fandom: Tokyo Revengers

Pairing: Draken (Ryuguji Ken) x Hanma Shuji

Rating: T

Word count: 1k

Content warnings: angst, breakup, mentions of smut

Summary: It's been twelve years since Tenjiku. Draken and Hanma met again when they both were at their lowest. One thing led to another and what was supposed to be a one time thing, started to become more scary than any of them was willing to admit. Now Draken is struggling to tell Shuji the truth. He is after all more afraid of losing him than anything else.  

A/N: Hello, this is a short scene pulled out from a bigger thing so probably not everything makes perfect sense without the context. Artwork by me, and the story is a group effort between me and @hornyimpulsivity. Enjoy! PS. dialogues are written with "-" instead of quotes marks because im polish and stubborn

Shuji didn't laugh. He didn't mock the Dragon for being a pussy that’s whining over a few burned photos. He didn't say anything borderline insulting, trying to be funny, like he used to. Instead there was warmth. A bit of kindness the Dragon desperately needed. A compassion he wasn't expecting. And surprisingly wise words he should probably consider actually listening to. The Reaper was right, placing his hand on top of the Dragon's heart, pointing to right where it hurt. Where all those memories still were, just like he said, as vivid as ever, despite the photos that captured them being gone. Those weren’t just frames, still images frozen in time, fading on the crumbled pieces of paper. He could still hear all their voices. Their naive laughter. Their youthful playfulness. The smell of the beach in the midst of July, the smell of gasoline and the roar of engines. The sweet perfume Emma used to wear. And even Shuji was there somewhere amongst all the others, an annoying brat from a long time ago, with ugly ass hair and lame leopard print on his bike. The same Shuji that could punch the living shit out of Draken when nobody else dared to come close to him. The same one that now held him, keeping him from falling apart.

Draken smiled softly, looking up at him, in those beautiful eyes of his, glistening as if they were pure, liquid gold. It wasn't the first time Draken couldn't tell what twisted emotions filled those eyes of his. But it wasn't the first time either, when he felt nonetheless utterly fascinated by them. And it sure as hell wasn't the first time he just couldn't stop looking.

He wanted to tell him so many things. Make so many stupid, cringey confessions. But before he managed to open his mouth, his lips were already occupied. The kiss was sudden... and yet, funny enough, expected. So many times Ryuguji caught Shuji's curious eyes wandering across his smile. So many times he himself shyly gazed at his lips. He was scared of this longing, he was scared of the feeling it brought along.

He didn't protest, however. Quite the contrary. He entangled his fingers into Shuji's hair, pulling him closer, as close as he could possibly get, angry at the stupid clothes that kept their skin from touching.

Draken lost his balance and leaned over the wall, pushing Shuji against it, kissing him as if it was their last kiss.

(It was.)

It was different from all the kisses they shared so far. This time it wasn't about fucking, it wasn't about satisfying that primal, filthy desire. It was much more meaningful. Much more scary. Because they shouldn't be kissing like that. They shouldn’t be feeling like that. They were never meant to… And yet they found each other somehow. 

- That's gonna be a memory I'm going to hold onto most desperately - he whispered into his lips, holding Shuji's face close, not ready to open his eyes, not ready to confess that it was probably their last kiss. - The one i will probably cherish the most - he added.

He wasn’t ready to let go of him, scared that Shuji would disappear. 

- I'm not just a memory yet, my Dragon. - Hanma whispered softly and smiled right into Draken's lips, before allowing them to connect once again. 

One of Shuji's palms quickly ended up on the side of Draken's neck, caressing it with fondness and occasionally sliding his thumb across his jaw and cheek. The other one eventually found its way to the Dragon's hip. Soon, Hanma's curious fingers were wandering up Draken's body, reaching his waist, and to his backside, squeezing his buttcheek in quite a playfull and weirdly affectionate manner. 

Not yet. But soon. 

Draken’s lips trembled when he felt Shuji kissing him again so impatiently it hurt. It hurt somewhere inside his chest, somewhere where his heart was, his heart that was beating so fast it seemed like it was about to tear apart his chest. 

Ryuguji gasped, feeling his touch. Impatient as ever and yet… intimate. Affectionate. Tender. Shuji’s palms knew Dragon’s body so well, as if he had touched him a million times before. And maybe he did. In this life, or another. He just seemed to know all the curves, all the crevices. Like a lover would. 

Is this what they became? The unintended lovers? That was supposed to be a one time thing. A brief encounter, a chase after bodily pleasure, nothing more. But it became more. Yet Draken couldn’t even pinpoint exactly when that happened. It just stopped being brief somewhere along the way. It stopped being simple and just horny. 

They were supposed to be just friends with benefits. Buddies that fuck sometimes. It’s not like Hanma would ever even consider them to be something more than that, right? Right…? 

And yet, here was Kenny, struggling to say whatever he was about to say out loud, as if those few words would break his own heart. As if those would break Shuji’s heart as well. That was probably the most horrific of things. He cared about that pretty boy, obviously he didn’t want to hurt him. The situation just… got out of hand. But he couldn’t let it continue either, it wasn’t fair. 

- Shuji - he whispered softly, trying to stop all those tender, affectionate kisses the Reaper was placing all over Ryuguji’s lips. He moved back and gazed at him as Shuji took a big draw of a half burned cigarette. Damn he was pretty. Inside and out. He deserved the fucking world. But Draken couldn’t give it to him. 

- Hm…? 

- I… I got back together with him - he said, so quietly that only his Reaper could hear it. He wished he didn’t say it at all. There was that tricky, malicious part of his brain that was telling him to not say a word. But it wasn’t fucking fair. 

#tokyo revengers #draken x hanma #tokyo revengers fanart #tokyo revengers fanfiction #angst #my first published work in color wow #never again :)))))) #also i was adamant on never publishing anything from that ff we've been writing for over a year #and yet here i am #be nice #im not native english speaker so its probably super bad #but its worth it for the pain #digital art #tr fanart

[mikuplushes]

in 2021, i made a post promoting the band set it off that i have since deleted, praising them for being kindhearted individuals who cared deeply about their fans without an ounce of toxic masculinity involved. so how the hell did they lose the core of their diehard fans in the past 2 years? as someone who would have done anything for them at some point in time, allow me to explain.

midnight era was set it off’s peak as a band. they had come back after their last album flopped a bit and were bigger than ever. they also won a fan power award from rock sound magazine, praising them for having such a dedicated fanbase. they’d already kicked sexual misconduct-ers out of their band and off of tours — they felt safe. and when the pandemic hit, this brought another golden era i was involved in — maxx and cody’s twitch era. i was a moderator for cody and i’m close friends with maxx’s former mods (and am dating one of them). with this, many of the band’s most diehard fans felt rewarded.

the beginning of the end started with maxx. maxx did not pay his emote artist, taking advantage of a minor who was just dazzled to do work for ✨maxx danziger✨ and when the artist eventually realized their error and asked for either payment or to take the emotes down, maxx took the emotes down. my partner also did free videos for maxx for a while, but eventually asked for an extremely low payment per video. when they realized how badly they were underselling themself, they asked for more or for the paid videos to be taken down, and maxx took down all of them.

the asking for payment was happening amidst it coming out that maxx had been cheating on his ex, lindsay, for almost the entirety of their relationship. maxx refused to reach out to anyone about it, including lindsay, and has not said a word to this day. it also came out that he had cheated on his current girlfriend, who has shown forgiveness.

this is when i started losing hope in the band. at first it was kind of funny seeing maxx look miserable in all of the promotional stuff coming out since their album elsewhere was releasing. it was funny thinking about how many of sio’s songs were about being cheated on and kind of infuriating at the same time. i hoped he would feel embarrassed every time he had to perform bad guy. but no. he was smug.

at some point in time maxx tried to start up his discord and twitch again after his previous mods left, but boy oh boy. anyone who tried to call out any of his actions or criticize him at all was banned from his server! i remember all i said was it was kind of pathetic of him to delete the mods’ very sweet goodbye message to the community, and i was banned just for that.

my own personal problems with cody aside (a whole other story), i started feeling truly bad about the band as a whole when they revealed their paid fanclub with exclusive content. things went exactly as it seemed they would — the club was overpriced and updated sparsely. it was, in short, a money-grab.

back in october, they released a few parody merch designs based on horror franchises, including a fnaf design made by an artist that did not give them permission to use the artwork. i don’t know what ended up happening to the artist/the merch design.

not long after the elections in november, cody made a really awful tweet. that’s when it was revealed that he was registered as a republican, and all of the remaining faith i had in the man shattered. sorry, this is the only screenshot i could find of it.

when he received backlash on the post, he doubled down on it. it’s pretty clear at this point he’s socially liberal and fiscally republican but it hurts to see him support such a harmful political view. he deleted his tweets but he hasn’t been back on twitter since. he also eventually took the republican view off of his facebook.

as if to double down on losing fans, sio announced a show with machine gun kelly, known for sexualizing minors, and then recently a tour with all time low, known abusers. the mgk show felt a bit “well, do they know?” at first, but all comments of concern were ignored. the tour with all time low being announced felt like a slap in the face. what happened to the band that cared about their fans more than anything else? what happened to that fan power award? this feels malicious. it feels like they’re alienating fans on purpose. they deleted comments calling atl abusers. i’m sure they took this tour for the money, and it hurts knowing they value that more than the safety of their fans.

in short, we can’t trust these guys anymore. they’re not here for their fans, they’re against them. so much for the fan power award!

#set it off #cody carson #maxx danziger #zach dewall #yesterday at work one of my coworkers commented on my elsewhere sticker on my water bottle #mind u i was writing this post at work #they said ‘oh did you see them on tour!’ #i said i got it at their album release party #i didnt have the courage to say anything else