#I love drawing fur and hair :3

[arsenicjellyfish]

Couple o’ shitty parents, Tiberius and Meridith. Father of Ares, mother of both Keith and Ares

Tweaked their original designs that were made a little over a year ago, when I first drew them

[void-writing]

Escape from Flower Fruit Mountain

"What can you do? You were all trapped. Either you all die in Peng’s hands or the celestial flames burn you all alive. You never should’ve sent your brothers inside. There’s no exit, no - wait.

There was a way out. The transportation circle in your room you never quite got to erasing."

Chapter 15 of "Queen of the Mountain" by @centuryberry

[sillylilguy999]

bro i need to draw overhaul BADLY

LIKE HORREDOUSLY

LIKE IM GONNA SCREAM IF I DONT SOON the obbession is takign over i SKHDFKJWLEIUROUWEFYOISUDOYHCKUSYDLKCBHSLKJDFHLKJHSEKUYOIUSYINUXJKJHSKJHTKWJTUDVNSOWIEURY(SI&UI

sigh

i need help fr

hes just

YGHHGHJSJH

HES SO BABYGIRL

the way i can draw him wihtouht a reference FINE is CONCERNING

sighghhghg i need to do my biology and chemistry

i hate science fr (i just wanna draw my bbgs forever)

like aizawa tooo oooooomg hes my handsome little guy (hes like twice my age)

[sysig]

Dr. “Has to get a good grade in therapy” Doran (Patreon)

[bmpmp3]

im curious to see how we'll see how we feel about takehiro and the others' new designs when they're fully revealed but it did get me thinking about how i would design his outfit. unfortunately i realized very quickly that i would just put him in my own fashion style: department-store-clearance-core

[malikselfindulgence]

UHHHH [dropsthis and scurries away]

[gaystuffgarbage]

I'm sorry but I find this type of shading style kinda funny

[k-hotchoisan]

play rough

<san x fem!reader x seonghwa>

Where your pretty little cat hybrids keep more than your hands busy, especially when Seonghwa can’t keep his paws off you during his rut.

no fur coats, but a hell lot of purring 🐾

a/n: an exchange im doing with the loml @bro-atz 🩷 hope you’ll love it as much as I did hehehe. this is also a love letter to bro, who shares the same brain as i do, who now cannot remove me from their life even they wanted to 😛🩷

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, two horny kitty hybrids, Seonghwa is in heat, orgasms, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mild exhibitionism because San catches you and hwa fucking, cunnilingus, kitchen sex, anal, it's filthy (atp i think you're not surprised???), breeding

word count: 3K

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie  @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @jeon-ify @itza-meee @miss-fallon @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @owlbeforesunrise @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @haleyjoy @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @liyahbug05-blog @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn @vic0921 @woojirang  @yeo-arriba @jjoongstar

Seonghwa draws circles on your thigh, blinking slowly at the tv programme that he’s evidently not focusing on. It’s a lazy afternoon and it’s your day off. Both felines are more than happy to have you around, burying you with themselves at either side of your body. 

Both kitties can switch back and forth between their cat transformations, and they do, out of convenience for certain situations, and especially when they want you to carry them to bed. San lies down on your lap, his feline breed of a bigger size because of his human stature, evidently taking up more space on your lap. He’s definitely fallen asleep, judging by his slow breathing patterns. Seonghwa, on the other hand, seemed distracted. He’s huddled up against your shoulder, hand still on your thighs. 

You don’t pay him much attention, wanting to concentrate on carrying San. 

Seonghwa jumps when you shift to leave, a displeased expression on his face as his fingers grab your shirt, his ears downcast. “Where are you going?” He asks with a pout. 

“Let me carry San back into the bedroom since he wants to sleep”, you say, carefully picking the fluffier cat up. San stirs slightly, but when he realises it’s you, his body relaxes a little. Seonghwa reluctantly lets go when your hand slips under his chin giving him small strokes, feeling him purr before he finally lets you go. 

“Gosh, Sannie. I know you’ve been working out but holy shit-“ you stammer in your movements, trying to balance his weight on your arms. San is half-awake, flailing slightly in an attempt to keep his balance in your arms. It’s utterly adorable but you would never hear the end of his whining if you were to drop him again. You decide to stay still and let the feline adjust comfortably before you walked over to your shared bedroom to drop him off. San nuzzles against your neck, soft purrs reaching your ears as his cat body presses against you, and you can’t help but run your fingers through his soft fur. San in his cat form was a lot easier to carry than when he transforms into a hybrid, that’s for sure, but he really is a big cat compared to Seonghwa. 

You watch as San lulls himself to sleep, his tail-swishing gradually slowing down as his body relaxes, before you press a soft kiss onto his small forehead, leaving him to wander in his daydreams. 

Once San has completely dozed off, you gingerly slide off the bed, heading to the common space in the apartment, deciding to whip yourself something light to snack on.

You pass the sofa, your peripherals catching the taller male lying on the sofa. You steal a quick glance—Seonghwa also seemed to be deep in his slumber—his tail relaxed against the fabric of the couch, his arms outstretched, hugging the pillow, his hair splayed messily. Oh gosh, he’s so fucking adorable.

You let yourself internally fawn over how soft he looks before you turned your heel to the kitchen. What you don’t notice is the way Seonghwa’s eyebrows are furrowed, the way his legs are squeezing hard against the pillow, and the way the smell of you is flooding his senses when you bypass him. His breathing grows slightly heavier. 

You softly hum to yourself, even though you are at a considerable distance from the couch, you still wanted to be cautious about waking Seonghwa up. Recently it seems like he’s slightly on edge. For the most part, Seonghwa’s energy jumps between a spectrum—calm or just bursting at the seams with endless amounts of energy, almost comparable to San. But Seonghwa has been more restless as of late, his attention span everywhere, his sensitivity seemingly climbing up in levels. 

You pull open the fridge door, your eyes scanning the contents for any signs of leftovers you could have a quick munch on. Your hands reach out to a bunched-up pile of aluminum foil—the leftover kimbap you made the day before. You shut the door quickly once you have the snack in your hands, spending no time unwrapping the foil. 

Your attention is now on the content on your phone, reading off social media while you comfortably munch on the rice rolls, your body facing the counter, too engrossed to get a chair to sit. 

Midway through your snack time, your body jolts when you feel a pair of very warm hands wrap around your waist, his body weight pressing against yours. 

“You’re up, Hwa. Are you hungry?” You ask, stroking his arms, not realising that he’s letting them slip dangerously close to your chest. 

Seonghwa shakes his head, then presses his cheeks against your temple, nuzzling you. 

His arms tighten around you, his hands slipping under your shirt more boldly, his slender fingers cupping your tits, giving them a squeeze that elicited a soft groan from you.

The kimbap is left forgotten on the counter.

You sigh, the feeling of Seonghwa’s teeth nibbling against the soft skin on your neck while he kneads your tits seeping into your senses. 

You swallow hard, trying to keep your sanity rooted, even though Seonghwa’s hands are slipping downwards south, his fingers tugging and fidgeting with the elastic of your shorts. 

“What’s up, kitty?”, you manage to ask in between deep breaths. His thumbs hook onto the waistband, teasingly tugging your shorts lower. 

Then you feel something thick pressing against the curve of your spine when he leans in impossibly close. 

Heat is flushing into your cheeks but you remain composed, turning your head to face Seonghwa. 

“Can’t seem to sleep with the smell of you just suffocating me like that”, he mutters, tone low that you shiver, and he has one hand palming over his thick erection underneath his shorts. “And especially your cunt.”

You don’t answer him right away, your mind sifting through the possibilities behind Seonghwa’s recent behaviour. His tail curls around your thighs, riding the fabric of your shorts, the fluffy tip caressing your skin. 

“Your heat came early”, you realise when the pieces finally click together. However, a little too late by then, considering that Seonghwa has you trapped under him, his erection pressing painfully against your lower back while his hands are leaving no areas of your skin untouched. It’s creating a haze in your mind, and before you could even formulate a response to offer the older hybrid to buy meds, his fingers are close to your scalp, and he tugs your hair with enough force that you’re forced to face upwards, staring right into Seonghwa’s glazed out eyes. He stares down at you, eyes dripping with overflowing lust before he collides his lips against yours, stealing every bit of oxygen left, his tongue exploring every part of your mouth, all of your moans going right to his cock. 

When he pulls back, he leans you over the kitchen counter, pressing his weight against yours, his lips right at the shell of your ear.

“Fucking hell. I can smell how much your pussy just wants to be fucked.”

“Wait! Hwa-“

“You’re such a bad owner”, he continues, in between groans that only make you squeeze your thighs when he grinds himself against you. “You’re doing it on purpose, right? Walking around with no fucking panties on. Just begging me to fuck you.” 

“It’s not that, Seonghwa-“, you squirm a little, your mind dangerously going blank when you feel Seonghwa pushing the opening of your shorts to reveal your soaking cunt, just taunting. 

“We might wake San up!”

His pants are the next to slide off, his cockhead just rubbing against the folds of your pussy. 

“Then let him. You know he likes watching your pretty little hole get stretched open no matter who’s fucking you right?”

He lines his wet cockhead to your hole. 

Then he pushes himself in, and the groan he releases when he does sounds like honey in your ears as he stretches you open to accommodate his thick cock. Your hand flies to his arms which are wrapped around your waist. 

“H-Hwa! Oh fuck-“ you gasp, feeling his cock slowly fill your pussy, girth thickening towards the base. 

“I’ve been such a good kitty right?” Seonghwa mutters into your ear, listening to the way you’re falling apart on his cock. “I held back so well. You should reward me, Angel. Then again, this pretty pussy of yours is enough. I’ll take good care of it for you.”

He pulls back and starts thrusting his hips against yours, the sounds growing wetter and louder. Seonghwa moans right in your ear, and his grip around you tightens further when he feels you clench around him. 

Cream and precum start to gather and further soak your cunt, some trickling down your inner thighs. 

“So fucking good. You’re so fucking tight for me, Angel”, Seonghwa purrs, his eyes rolling back in pleasure every time your cunt just sucks his cock in, wet and thick with cream. 

Seonghwa straightens his back, making it easier for him to just fuck you from the back all the same. 

The knot in your stomach tightens, and your breath hitches every time Seonghwa’s cock hits your sensitive spots. 

He presses his body weight against yours once more, his ruts growing more intense, and he has his hands around your neck. 

“You’re gonna cum for me, Angel? Fuck. Gonna make sure breed you so fucking good.”

And that was enough to set the both of you off—stars splattering across your eyelids, your legs shaking uncontrollably while Seonghwa forces his cock still in you, thick white filling your pussy up, leaking past your hole. 

You attempt to muffle your moans with your hands. Still, it’s rendered useless anyway, most because you watch San walk out of the bedroom in his hybrid form, ears pointed downwards, rubbing sleep from his eyes, expression unreadable when his eyes land on his friend with his cock stuffed in his owner’s pussy, and especially his owner looking up at him, her eyes in tears while cum drips down her thighs. 

His eyebrows are furrowed and he pouts. 

You stare at the hybrid before you, his ears perked up, his eyes glazed out and so needy.

San starts kissing up your neck from behind, his tail flicking back and forth, tickling your skin as he does. 

When you and Seonghwa had been caught by San, San pouted, upset that no one woke him up to let him join the fun. 

And now you were dragged into the bedroom, with Seonghwa sitting before you and San behind you. Seonghwa has his cat ears pointed forwards, his cock still thick and hard, messy with cream, and his fingers trail up your neck to your chin before he closes the distance between the both of you. 

The thing about San is that he knows how to play around with Seonghwa when it comes to fucking you, and during Seonghwa’s rut, it’s no different. 

When Seonghwa pulls away from you, lips wet with spit, precum seeping from his cockhead, mind greedy and desperate, San cups your tits, letting Seonghwa watch him pinch your nipples, letting your cunt spit more slick, staining your inner thighs even more while you squeal in pleasure. 

Seonghwa joins San, pressing and sucking his kisses against your skin, relishing in the way you groan every time he forms a pretty mark on your neck to your chest, then from your sternum to your pelvis, and he continues to lower himself right until his lips are on your pussy. He looks up at you through his lashes, watching the way your glazed-out expression when San makes you suck on his fingers. Seonghwa’s lips press against your creamy folds, letting his tongue slide into them, licking and fucking your pretty little hole, his cock leaking so much thick precum when he listens to your cries growing louder. San’s wet finger that he made you suck circles your asshole. He pushes one finger in, reminding you to relax or he can’t fit his cock in and Seonghwa continues to flick his tongue against your clit, tasting everything your pussy has to give. The hybrid behind you stretches your ass with another wet finger, and it’s making you tear up, but you feel his other hand slide across your thighs to soothe you. 

Your mind is hazy, and it’s not about to get any better when you feel your orgasm build as Seonghwa’s fucking your cunt with his tongue. 

San lines his cockhead to your asshole when he thinks you’re stretched open enough, and pushes in, kissing up your chin, reminding you to relax for him when he hears you sob. 

“You shouldn’t be mad at our sweetheart, hyung”, San defends you, watching the way your thighs are shaking from the impending orgasm. “She’s always been taking such good care of us, letting us fuck her whenever we want.” 

Another lick and your hands push Seonghwa against your cunt, cumming so fucking good on his tongue with a broken cry, your hole clenching San’s cock, his voice cursing in your ears. 

“Hwa! Fuck!”, you cry out, hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer to your cunt while he fucks you with his tongue through your orgasm, his purrs getting muffled, vibrating against your clit, making you shake even more. 

When Seonghwa pulls back, his cock is dripping with cum, his breathing as heavy as his cock.

You squeal slightly when San slowly pulls out of your ass before making you straddle Seonghwa’s lap. 

San leans into your ear to give you a suggestion. 

“You should be a good girl and ride him. You know he loves it when you do.”

Seonghwa looks like he’s on the verge of crying, his fists are clenched, his mind anticipating when he watches you hungrily lift your hips, grazing your pussy with his messy and thick cock before you push yourself on him, your legs shaking from how Seonghwa split your pussy from below. 

He hisses, a slew of curses leaving his lips while his cock twitches in you. His pretty ears are twitching too. 

“So good,” Seonghwa mutters in between tears. “Fuck. Still so fucking tight even when I fucked you just now-“

San lets his hands rest on your hip, guiding you to fuck yourself on Seonghwa’s cock. Seonghwa’s tail swishes rather violently, his head rolled back and pressed into the pillows, his whines and grunts filling up the room. Watching him squirm and unravel could get you and San addicted—especially with the stark contrast of when he takes the lead at first, only to completely fall apart in your hands when he’s under you. 

“Kitty is so fucking cute when you’re ruining him like this, especially when he’s in heat”, San hums. You nod, kissing San on his temple before your face contorts into pleasure when you sink onto Seonghwa’s cock again. 

“You’re such a good boy, Hwa. Such a good and pretty boy for me”, you sigh, leaning forward, letting your hands wander across his body, your fingertips teasingly grazing against his perky and swollen nipples. You press your thumb against his lips, and Seonghwa sucks on your fingers, looking at you with watery eyes. You wet your other thumb with your lips, and roll his nipples, listening to Seonghwa cry out helplessly underneath you while you still bounce off his lengthy cock. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck”, Seonghwa whimpers, his ears twitching uncontrollably. “Ngh- gonna cum. Fuck! Cumming-Oh fuck it’s so much”, he groans, eyes screwed shut, fingers leaving marks on your thighs, holding you still, letting his endless warm and thick spurts fill you up over and over again while you sing him praises.  

“Don’t forget about me, kitty”, San reminds you, his hands pulling you back as you lift yourself off Seonghwa’s cock with an eye-rolling shiver, so much fucking cum drizzling out from your hole, which San slips his cock in, and plugs your pussy hole shut, ignoring the way you’re crying that you’re too full.

It’s fine. San is gonna fuck the cum out of you anyway. 

San’s thick cock stuffs you full, and you hear him groan in your ear when he bottoms out in you. His hands caress your thighs before he lifts you and sits you on his cock again, listening to your cries. 

“Hyung, you really stretched her out so well”, San teases, his tail excitedly hitting the mattress whenever he feels you squeeze him. 

Seonghwa fucks his hand, watching the way you’re being fucked by San from below. Seonghwa doesn’t like sharing, but for some reason, he thinks San’s enjoyment of watching you be fucked stupid by him starts making sense in his head seeing you so ruined perfectly like that. 

Fluids pool at the base of San’s cock at every thrust, and it’s a pornographic sight of his cock thrusting in and out of your abused hole. 

In your ears, you’re just hearing San groaning, “fuck kitty. feels so fuckin amazing like this. Oh my fuck.”

Your brain is mush, coherent sentences aren’t even forming—only feeling San’s dick hitting spots in your pussy that’s making you see stars. 

Seonghwa shifts above you, his hand on your scalp, forcing you to look up at him and his pretty cock, watching him fucking his hand against your face. By instinct, you stick your tongue out as much as you can, even though you’re being fucked stupid by San. 

“That’s a good girl”, Seonghwa hums. “I’ll make you so fucking pretty.” 

With a strained groan, he bucks his hips against his palm, another load decorating your face. 

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so much, kitty. I know hyung likes messing you up with his cum. Still, I’m the one with his cock in you y’know”, San complains as he pushes his cock even deeper, pulling you out of any remaining coherent thoughts, your legs pushing open when your third orgasm hits from the overstimulation. You break, spraying all over Seonghwa when you lift your hips off San, forcefully pushing his cock out, his cum diluted by the clear liquid. 

No doubt, you’re completely spent. Your eyelids are heavy from exhaustion, but San and Seonghwa take turns pressing kisses onto your lips, whispering sweet nothings alongside purring against your neck. 

You’re in an absolute sticky mess, in tears, so fucked out thanks to your two pretty kitties.

And you’d let them do it all over again. 

[macfrog]

If you ever feel up to it - a little short story from the scom universe about reader and Joel deciding to have a second baby or finding out they're pregnant for the second time would warm my cold dead heart <3

i am. so. sorry. for the word count on this i truly do not know what happened. but i had a lot of fun with it, so. hopefully y'all do, too. happy fathers day! x

jellybean ~4k words | series masterlist warnings: pregnancy symptoms (feeling and being sick, horniness + sleepiness. aka me even when not pregnant), 99% just duckie vs her mom

Duckie spills the secret on a Friday.

The morning is lazy, slow. The breathing of the sea across a plain of beach. Your fingers sift through her hair like the breeze through sun-bleached pages. The way she and the sun tint the room peach.

Sarah sprawls out across the spot still warm on her dad’s side of the bed. She’s in a habit of waking up early to sneak through to your room, lift the bottom of the covers, and army crawl between your bodies.

Joel’s in a habit of stirring to the heat of her at his back, her tiny toes at his spine, and turning to scoop her in one arm. They sleep curled into one another, mouths catching flies.

This morning, though, she’s up to something. She brought a secret.

She’s flat-out on her stomach, pens scratching at the paper. There’s the scent of cherry and lemon and green apple tangling in the air. Taut frown on her face, tongue poked with concentration. She looks just like her dad.

She pauses and looks up at you. “What color is this part?” she asks, dabbing at the blank hubcap.

“Silver,” you reply, fixing the cap back onto the grape pen before it stains your sheets.

She huffs. “I don’t have silver, Mama.”

You tap on the page. “Daddy’s wing mirrors are black, but you did ‘em green. The colors don’t matter, do they?”

But it’s seven a.m., and you’re sharing only the red jellybeans for something of a pre-breakfast snack (the four-year-old’s idea), and you’re exhausted despite having slept the full night, and she keeps halting any time Joel’s humming quietens – just in case he spoils his birthday surprise.

She hunkers down with the lemon pen to nail the emblem of his truck, and you figure – color is just the least of it. Truthfully, to your kid – and so, to you, too – nothing has ever mattered more.

You cup her cheek and lift her gaze back to meet yours. “How about I grab you a glitter pen today, just for the wheels?”

She grins. Little milk teeth, gappy and gummy. Peach fuzz cheeks, sweet as the rest of her, a perfect fit in the palm of your hand.

I love you I love you you’re my whole world I love you, you want to say.

Instead: “Only if we tidy your room later. Deal?”

“Deal, Mama,” Sarah giggles, and her little ink-stained hands splay out across the page again.

She scribbles only a few more splotches of color before you both notice it.

The sudden silence.

The water’s stopped running. The shower screen rattles as he pulls it back. Dripdripdrip from the showerhead straight down to the empty basin.

Sarah twists to watch Joel’s disembodied arm blindly grab for a towel folded on the sink. It whips off out of sight, and he calls through from the bathroom.

“Duckie? You still there?”

“Gogogo,” you whisper, helping your daughter cover her dad’s drawing with blank sheets. “Leave the jellybeans, Duck, save yourself!”

She finds the entire thing hysterical. Swinging her masterpiece under one arm, two fistfuls of rainbow pens, springing from the mattress like it suddenly caught flame. She throws herself from the foot of the bed and dashes across the hall to her own room, candy scattering in her wake.

Joel’s head cranes around the doorframe. “Where’d she go?”

You smile, shrugging. Chewing innocently on a jellybean. “That’s funny. She was here a second ago.”

He pads over to the bed, towel slung loose around his hips. Smirks, when your hungry eyes descend his figure – the bearlike shape of him, all muscle and fur, toned where he needs it but soft where you want it.

He cages over you, dark hair dripping with the smell of citrus, skin sticky.

His lips are like velvet against yours. Tongue still singed with coffee. A low growl from his throat when you lean forward to lick into his mouth.

“Smell so goddamn good,” you murmur, dipping your head to bury into the crook of his neck.

His beard is fuzzier when it’s damp, natural masculine musk melded with the fresh soap and rich aftershave he uses. All honey and oatmeal, mixed with a woodsy scent – and fuck, it’s intoxicating. Moreso than usual – stronger and sexier.

You take his hands and lower them to your hips, letting his fingers knot around the baggy material of your – his T-shirt. Tugging on it, exposing the slip of delicate lace on your hips.

“Darlin’,” Joel warns, “we’re late. We still gotta drop Duckie off – If she walks in –”

You groan, huffing back into the mattress. The weight between your legs ripples over the horizon, pulses into weak nothing.

Joel fixes the shirt back down to your thighs just as the thunder of his daughter’s footsteps rumbles back into the room.

Tonight, he breathes, slicking some of the hair from his face.

You grin, taking his hand to pull yourself back up.

Sarah materializes in the doorway, a lingering half-girl. Smiling from behind the frame, twisting the ball of her foot into the floor.

“Hi, Duck,” Joel says, still playing with your fingers.

“Hi.”

“You look guilty.”

Her grin widens. She totters into the room, launches herself onto the bed, and nuzzles into your side. She squirms when Joel digs his fingers into her waist.

The beats of her laughter drum against your ribs, the same way her fists used to when she lived inside you.

“Alright.” You cradle her, her little head tipping back to wake the rest of Austin up with her squeals of glee. “Are we ready for some actual food, now?”

Joel chuckles, reaching for his mug.

Sarah nods from your lap. Her eyes drift down to the print on your tee. “Mama?”

“Mhm?”

“Do they like jellybeans?”

You frown. “Does who like jellybeans?”

Her finger prods lightly into your tummy. “The baby.”

Joel chokes, splattering coffee into his fist. He slams the mug down, pounds his chest clear of liquid.

“There’s no – Jesus, Joel,” you swipe mocha flecks from the sheets, “Told Sarah to be careful with her pens and then you spray coffee all over the…”

Sarah rolls off, cackling. “Silly Daddy,” she hoots, leaping on the bedroom floor.

“Hey,” you usher her over to the door, “Why don’t you go pick out what you wanna wear today? I’ll be right behind you. Quit tryna give your dad a heart attack, okay?”

“The baby, Mama,” she’s repeating, walking like a little convict. She turns over the threshold to her room like it’s a cell, her pink pajama uniform and guilty expression to go with it. Still laughing, swallowing the ticklish bursts when she notices you’re shaking your head.

“There is no baby.” You kneel before her, repeating, “No baby. Just you. How about your T-shirt with the butterflies?”

It seems to distract her enough. Thank Christ. She gasps, inspired, and twirls off to find the tee.

“Fucking hell,” you sigh, pushing back to your feet.

Joel’s flapping the sheets when you slip back into your room, still clearing his throat. Half-dressed: a white T-shirt over his broad chest and a pair of black boxers. Soaked hair clinging to the back of his neck and drying in flicks across his forehead.

Jesus, you want to pull him back over you and let him have his way.

You close the door over and spin, hands on your hips. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Me?” he croaks. “Did you hear what she just said?”

“You’ve known this kid for four years, Joel, you really can’t tell when she’s fucking with you? She’s my kid, keep up.”

“Just seemed an awfully –” he thumps his chest again, “– awfully specific thing to say.”

“She’s in a phase I think,” you reply, catching the pillow he tosses across. “She’s telling stories. Last week, her pre-K teacher congratulated me our supposed wedding. Asked to see pictures of the Mickey Mouse officiant.”

“Jesus,” he grumbles. “She really bought that?”

You mimic the breezy voice: “Sarah was very convincing.”

Joel scoffs. “I don’t know if I can take a lying phase and a copying phase at the same time. Every goddamn word I say, she’s gotta repeat it.”

“She idolizes you,” you straighten the sheets, “I think it’s endearing.”

“Hm. Just wait until it’s you.”

He wanders around the bed, pulls your back against his chest. His arms cross over your tummy, lips pressing into your shoulder where his shirt has slipped.

“How much harder would two be?” he mumbles into the bare skin.

“Two Sarahs?” You scoff.

Joel laughs. “Yeah, you’re right. I forget she runs on chaos and jellybeans.”

“Yup,” you turn in his arms, linking yours behind his neck, “And there ain’t no point in talking about it anyways, because I am not fucking pregnant.”

He rolls his forehead against yours, stealing bristly kisses. “Okay.”

“I’m not, Joel.”

“I believe you, baby.”

Sarah’s bedtime is a liberal eight, eight thirty on weekends. She likes to sit up, lodged between you and Joel on the couch, and help pick the movie you two will watch once she’s in bed.

Once – and only once – Joel tried to fool her by pretending to play her choice, then switching as soon as she went down.

The kid quizzed him on the movie the next morning. He failed. She’s never forgotten.

Tonight, though, Joel’s out. Some game that you know and care too little about sports to learn the name or importance of. He’s with some buddies at the local bar, probably nursing his second beer in as many hours, and counting down the minutes until he can come home to his girls.

Sarah snores soundly, slumped at your side as though butter wouldn’t melt. The flicker from the TV across her face, the gentle mumbling of the voices onscreen. Her hands limp in her lap, fingers idling in a pink snack bowl.

You admire her, stealing a piece of her popcorn. Teeth grinding down when you remember dishing it for her earlier, hearing her curious voice ask whether or not the baby likes popcorn more than jellybeans.

Nope, you sang, tossing a handful in your mouth as you passed her the bowl. Imaginary babies don’t eat popcorn.

She snorted (which unnerved you, because what the fuck is this kid finding so funny?), and followed you to the living room so close that you could feel her toes at your heels.

Some of the kids in her class have siblings. Some older, but mostly younger. It’s the only fucking explanation, the only thing that explains this sudden interest in the real estate of your uterus.

She’s going through a phase, you tell yourself, suckling on popcorn. But then – how many fucking phases do kids go through? Which phases did you go through?

Barney & Friends. That was a fucking phase. Refusing to leave the house without the hoodie your mom bought you from the Museum of Natural History, even in the height of summer. Ketchup and broccoli, your boyfriend at seventeen, frisbeeing your neighbor’s newspaper and aiming for his flowerpots.

Phase, phase, fucking phase.

Does she know something you don’t?

…No. You took a test just last week. Shut up. Stop letting the kid into your fucking head.

Joel’s keys jangle on the other side of the door, shunting into the lock with a sound which stills your brain.

You tilt your head over the back of the couch, your man’s beard tickling your nose as he kisses you. “Evening.”

“Missed you,” he whispers against your lips. He straightens and tugs the jacket from his shoulders. “She not in bed yet?”

“She fell asleep down here,” you reply. “I got too tired to carry her up.”

He caresses your forehead, big pillowy palm. “You feelin’ okay?”

“It’s been a long day,” you grumble.

Joel smiles. He flops down onto the couch beside you, reaching over to stroke Sarah’s head.

You roll, solid as a rock, curling into his side. “She keeps saying it, Joel. She keeps fucking saying it.”

His chest jumps, tectonic plates moving with a laugh. “You’ve met your match, honey. Produced a professional little shit.”

“One of the other moms from her class is pregnant,” you mumble. “That’s gotta be it, right? That’s where she’s getting it from?”

“Maybe,” Joel muses. His fingers link with yours. “Why don’t you take a test anyways? Settle it in your mind?”

It startles you awake, even if only enough to prove the fucking point.

“No, Joel!” you hiss, body jerking. “If I take a test, and it turns out negative – which it will – she wins! My four-year-old fooled me. No,” you pluck spilled popcorn from your lap, pinging it back into the bowl, “I know this kid. I gave birth to this kid. She is not fucking winning.”

“Alright, baby,” he coos, “it’s okay. I won’t let the four-year-old fool you.”

You glower. “Thanks, asshole.”

He chuckles. “She’d make the best big sister, though. She would,” he insists, when you huff back against his chest. “She’d love being the oldest. Get to be bossy, get to call the shots. Get to protect them, no matter what.”

Your voice feels so small, as inquisitive as your daughter’s when you blink up at him. “Were you protective over Tommy?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, he was annoying as all hell – and I told him so – but anyone else had anythin’ to say about him, and – well, they had me to deal with.”

“Big scary Joel Miller,” you whisper, yawning into his shirt. “I knew him once.”

“Mhm,” he rumbles, “You sure did.”

You look up again, blinking all doe-eyed and dreamy. Already half-asleep.

“He never scared me,” you whisper.

Joel smiles.

“Well, you scared the hell outta him.”

Saturday morning, you wake to an empty bed. No snoring man, no scribbling girl. Just you – a starfish on the mattress. Bathing in waves of late-morning sun, sheets for coral, body as heavy as though you really are at the bottom of the ocean.

Her giggles carry all the way upstairs. Sarah. They surf into the room on a sunbeam, sounds like bubbles which shatter and sprinkle over your aching body.

You smile into Joel’s pillow, breathing in the smell of him, and peel your eyes open.

It’s ten thirty. Definitely – you blink three times and rub at your eyes, just to make sure. Ten thirty, and something’s swirling behind your navel. Something that sharpens, sours, when you push yourself upright.

“Oh, shit,” you rasp, and throw yourself across the room.

You barely make it, collapsing in a heap at the toilet. Your stomach empties in seconds; three heavy, painful gags and your head is in the bowl, choking on last night’s dinner.

“Motherfucker,” you spit, gasping, “Oh, Jesus.”

You’re sick. You’re just sick. Sarah probably caught something from pre-K, passed it on without even knowing. And, hey – you feel better, now that that happened.

You’re just sick. Nothing else.

“Mornin’,” Joel calls, watching as you stagger into the kitchen.

Sarah mimics his drawl. “Mornin’, Mama.”

“Hi, Duckie.” You crumple into the chair beside her, shoulders hunched. The smell of burnt toast and grape juice twists up your nose, and you suck in a slow breath.

Joel sweeps a hand over your forehead. He tips your jaw up to face him. “You alright? Thought we heard running.”

Sarah rips a slice of toast in two. She stares at the fluffy insides, the jam dripping from the tear. The sight of it lifts the hairs on your skin, the gloopy mess splattering onto her plate.

“Just feel kinda…funny,” you slur, turning away.

“Funny? Funny how?”

“Funny how?” your daughter parrots.

You shrug. Every word, every inhale makes you feel even more nauseous. “Probably just ate something.”

“Heard that one before,” Joel drones, and you throw him a flat look.

Sarah licks the jam from her fingers. She holds her tiny hands up to her dad, snorts when he pretends to bite at them.

“Eat your breakfast, Duckie,” he says then – in his Dad voice. And in something softer, kinder: “Can I make you somethin’?”

You swat the idea away, but it’s already churning in your stomach again. “Just gotta – get over whatever it – is.”

The table falls silent. Joel and Sarah stare blankly at one another. When you turn to look at your daughter, she’s staring straight back. Smirking.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you clip, wincing again at the dribbling jam.

“Alright,” Joel utters, “I think you oughta take a test now.”

“That is not what this is,” you groan, petulantly pushing up from your chair.

He takes your hand, steadying you. “No? I was thinking about it, baby, and I don’t think we’ve been safe enough to be so sure.”

You dump your golden toast in the trash and turn, crossing your arms. Your shoulders lift. “We’re not being any less safe than we have been the last four years.”

“Safe,” Sarah says, and Joel holds a finger up.

“No,” he tells her. “No. Not that word. Go back to funny.”

She beams at him. “You’re funny, Daddy.”

He sighs, pacing over. “Look,” he lowers his plate into the sink, “I’ll take Duckie to the park. Let you rest up, give you a quiet house for the morning. But darlin’, if you’re not better by tonight, you’re takin’ a test.”

You grimace. “But she –”

“I know –” he grits his teeth, “– I know you don’t want her to be right. But I want you to be okay, more ‘n I want to prove my child wrong. Like it or not, you’re taking a damn test.”

Your eyes flit across to the kid swinging her legs in her chair, the splotch of jam down her Peppa Pig T-shirt. Your greatest accomplishment and your biggest challenge, wrapped up into a hundred-centimeter, jellybean-fueled monster.

Her cheeks lift, jam-covered and smug.

“Funny,” Sarah says, nodding.

The afternoon strings the sun high in the sky.

You’ve been home alone for the better part of an hour, busying yourself by cleaning to take your mind off the nausea tugging at your esophagus. Making and remaking beds, folding laundry until your fingers cramp.

Sarah’s room has never been tidier. Joel’s workshop has never seen so little dust. And you have never been more determined to prove your four-year-old wrong.

You’re lingering in the bathroom, the window gaping. Sucking in breath after breath of fresh air – which only serves to tickle the acid burning its way up your throat, entice it further.

You’re emptying the cabinets, reorganizing them into some senseless order. Playing Tetris with boxes of Band-Aids, slotting in tubes of toothpaste. You blindly reach behind your hip for the next box – a nearly empty thing which rattles when you lift it, jitters as though nervous.

You glance down.

“Fuck off,” you hiss, throwing it on the shelf beside some tampons.

It stares back at you, as blinding as the sun. The two display window examples, pregnant and not pregnant, like a wink peering out from the dull cabinet.

Your gums taste of bitter bile, rancid. Teeth furry and aching. Your entire body aches – though nothing quite so bad as the space below your ribs, still tender from all your retching.

Slowly, your hands slip down your front to cup your lower tummy. Rounder than before, suppler – bloated, even.

“’s from all the throwing up,” you tell nobody in particular. Maybe yourself. There’s a desperate edge to your voice, almost a plea.

But then – a plea to who? For what? There was nothing you loved more than carrying Sarah for nine months. Duck. Start saying duck. Baby Duck.

You were never on your own. She was right there. Someone to talk to, someone to complain to. Someone to weep to, in the quietest lulls of night.

Her language came to you as easily as your own. All her kicks and punches, her fucking acrobatics while you tried to sleep. It was love, in its most chaotic form.

And you loved her, the very moment you saw those two lines. The very moment you realized she’d been in there the whole time.

You realize now, squatted on your bathroom floor, that it feels the exact same. A warmth, radiating from your very core, if only you’d pay it enough attention to feel it.

Like there’s someone there. Right there.

“If you’re fucking with me,” you warn your stomach, reaching for the single test, “I will lose my shit.”

Love, in its most chaotic form bursts through your bedroom door no less than half an hour later.

“Hi, Mama!” Sarah sings, tearing through the room with her hands behind her back. Her knees bump against the side of your bed, the air about her summer-warm and pollen-sweet.

“Hi, little Duck,” you mumble, voice swollen. You wipe sleep from your eyes, asking, “How was the park?”

She answers with a wide grin on her face, whipping out a small, shabby bunch of flowers. Dandelions and daisies tangled around one another, loose petals scattering over your bedsheets.

“Oh, baby,” you push yourself up, ignoring the sickly weight in your stomach, “Are these for me?”

She nods. She dusts her hands free of grass when you take the bouquet. And then, as you smell them and hum with delight, she turns.

First, over to the dresser. She stares at her reflection, pokes at some of the makeup on the table. Then over to the window – where her breath fogs the glass. You hear the whack of Joel’s tailgate closing, and she tracks him into the house, before examining the windowsill.

You watch nervously as she drifts back over to the bed, a curious hop to her movements. Inspecting, like she knows there’s something waiting to be found. Someone.

“Did you have fun with Daddy?” you ask.

“Yep,” her small voice says, distant and distracted. She disappears into the dim bathroom.

You slump back down on the mattress, dropping the flowers in a clump on your bedside table. “I don’t even know when I fell asleep, baby girl,” you say through a yawn.

Sarah doesn’t reply.

“Duckie?”

“What’s this?”

You lift your head. “What’s wh…Oh, n-no, Duckie, wait –”

She flees past you, one fist raised and wielding the pregnancy test.

“Sarah! Jesus, fuck –”

You’re chasing after her before you have a chance to consider it – nausea be damned. She’s squealing something, roaring with laughter, blitzing out into the hallway. She swivels, ladders down the stairs backwards, leaps straight into the arms of –

“Christ, Sarah –”

Joel stumbles backwards with the force she throws at him. She’s safe in his arms by the time you reach the top of the stairs, waving the stupid stick around his head like it’s a magic wand.

“Daddy!” Sarah cries.

He glances up to you: hunched over the top step, panting, clutching your stomach. He pinches the test from her grasp. “What do we got here, baby duck?”

She kicks her feet. She has no fucking idea what they have, but she knows you didn’t want her near it – and if you know your kid, you know that’s all the catalyst she needed to fucking take it.

You slowly make your way down towards them, smirk growing the nearer you draw.

Joel glances down to the test. The creases by his eyes deepen. He hugs Sarah closer.

“Two...two means...pregnant, right?” he asks.

You sigh, nodding. “Mhm.”

His head lifts.

He breaks, the second he sees your expression. Eyes glassy, tears spilling onto your cheeks. The same smile you wore that June morning: sleep-deprived and shellshocked, a love pumping through your veins so strong that you thought you might burst with it.

Joel reaches for your hand, reels you in against his body.

“Shit,” he laughs, holding the test up.

Your shaking hands take it from him – though you already knew what it says. You were dreaming of it all when Sarah broke into your room.

Dreaming of linked hands and echoed giggles; of bunkbeds and matching surnames, of all four seats in the truck filled and all four chambers of your heart spoken for.

Dreaming of one on each hip, one in each hand. Dreaming of them tag teaming Joel, of the word kids slung with his southern twang. My kids, the kids, our kids. All ours.

Dreaming of two Sarahs, goddamn it. Because nothing ever completed your life as effortlessly as one Sarah, and – hell, she was born to follow in her dad’s footsteps and become the elder Miller sibling.

“Shit,” you agree, turning to sob into Joel’s chest.

“Duckie,” Joel says, voice hoarse and choked by tears, “You’re gonna be a big sister.”

She giggles, tracing the damp lines down your cheeks. As she reaches your jaw, the elation on her face slowly dwindles into something of a frown.

Your lips part to repeat it – a big sister, Duck – when her tiny voice steals the air from your lungs.

“Shit!”

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Cat got your tongue (Percival de Rollo x Half Tabaxi!Reader)

synopsis: Percy liked to believe he wasn´t territorial or easily jealous, but something about seeing you with Vax makes his blood boil.

warnings: jealousy, marking, smut, afab reader

word count: 0.9k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall

A/N: Thank you @kawaiiangel906 for this request and I am so so sorry it took me so long to get to it. I hope you still enjoy. <3

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by @saradika

Laughter sounded over the grounds of the keep from outside all the way into Percy's workshop. Not even concealed by the sounds of the white-haired man tinkering with a weapon. It wasn't like he had much concentration left for it at the moment anyway, but what little was left of it before fled faster than it had come to him. This had been going on for far too long in his more or less humble opinion. This thing between you and Vax’ildan. Not a thing, as you had reminded him countless times, fur covered ears twitching at the idea of it alone. Worries temporarily stifled with a sweet kiss to the forehead and a deep hug. Filled with whispered confessions of love.

Grumbling under his breath Percy makes his way out of the keep.

“Percy!” You immediately jump up and run towards him, a wide grin on your face.

Percy’s eyes lay on Vax for a moment longer, who sits left behind on the grass where you had just trained with him, looking right back at the two of you. When Percy's eyes snap back to you he can see your mouth moving. Had he really not heard you talking this entire time?

“I'm sorry, my love. Could you repeat yourself?” He asks  the back of his neck.

“I just told you about my training with Vax… Are you not feeling well?” Your eyebrows draw together tightly.

“N-No, it's nothing. I am quite alright. Thank you.” Percy takes a hasty step back to avoid your hand coming up to feel his temperature. “Perhaps too much time in the workshop. I am happy that the progress you and Vax’ildan are making is to your liking.”

“Come sit with us then. We were about to be finished for the day anyway.” Your hand caresses his cheek, the other taking him to pull him along.

Night has never been particularly calm amongst the group either. Most certainly not since you had obtained the keep. Laughter and the sounds of people drinking into the early morning hours traveled easily. But this night's rest was particularly hard to come by. It could. Your bones hurt from the extensive exercise each day and the fights in between. Just not with a certain someone distracting you from the sweet release of slipping off to slumberland by needy lips grazing over the skin of your shoulder blades and teeth nipping at the column of your neck.

“Percival…” You groan. “It is late.”

The words come out mumbled and somewhat unintelligible. Still you turn your head until you can see the white head of hair from the corners of your eyes. One heavy hand finding its way into the light tresses to play with them.

“You have barely spent any time with me or anyone that isn't Vax’ildan lately.” Comes the equally mumbled response against your back.

He doesn't stop what he is doing until you are awake again and turn around fully.

“Love…” You begin a sentence but are quickly shut up by the possessive grip pulling your waist impossibly close to his.

“Shhh. This will just serve as a reminder to the others that you are mine.” Percy's teeth nip right below your jawline. Sucking on the tender flesh until deep purple bruises bloom all over.

Pressed into the mattress by his lean hips, you writhe and mewl helplessly. Subconsciously, your own hips begin to grind up against his after a while. Unable to just take it anymore.

“More.” You plead in high pitched tones. No matter how much you try, your voice just won't stay down.

“Nuh uh uh. What's the magic word, dear?” Percy reprimands you with a smile on his face.

He can feel the movement of your hips as well and it is a game to him. He is fully in charge of you and your pleasure in this moment and he knows it just as well as you do.

“Please, Percy. I need more.” You try again with your tail wrapping tightly around Percy's middle to prevent him from possibly pulling away.

“See, that wasn't so hard. When you ask nicely people will be far more inclined to give you what you are asking for.” He slides down almost unnoticeably, pushing up your nightdress, until his chin rests against your sternum, just underneath the valley of your breasts. Scattering more purple spots over them and then wandering further down. A puff of warm breath bringing your legs together around his shoulders. With a chuckle and two fingers, Percy opens them up again.

“Now, let everyone hear who you belong to.” The words echo in your ear as only moments after, his length impaled you in one rough thrust.

A groan in unison fills the room, on one side from the sudden stretch and on the other, because in response your claws shot out and dug into his shoulders. The rhythm with which he starts thrusting into you as soon as he recovers, has you near screaming. Moans of his name and desperate pleas string together to a sort of prayer. The sweetest prayer Percy had ever heard in his life. Until he has driven you over the edge so often that your throat is sore and your body is a twitching mess. Brain so clouded in fog that you can barely concentrate on anything beside his body against yours.

As you lay beside each other, entirely spent, Percy's hand trailing over your side, a satisfied purring fills the room from your lungs. Not even strong enough to keep your eyes open any longer, you are finally granted the relief of sleep. Dreaming of only one man. The one right beside you, who at that moment felt you were his completely. Pressing one last kiss against the back of your neck as he drifted off to sleep as well.

[gracefireheart]

It's them. Again 💃 Back at it with somewhat different looks :]

(Some notes about them below the keep reading line)

For Tallulah's design, I gave her a cow tail instead, and I changed her fur pattern to be similar to a white-throated magpie-jay. And ofc, her hair is like-- right between black and dark brown in color, which I also put as her eye color :]

Gave her a bag (that has lil' images that represent her family) that I imagine works like Ramona's bag from [specifically] Scott Pilgrim: Takes Off. Where suddenly, Tallulah will just pull out a big fuck-off battle axe <3

Instead of having black hair with pink highlights, I made Chayanne's hair [sandy?] blonde with pink highlights.

As much as I love the duck floatie on his Egg design, it can be a pain to draw. So, while I was doing the lineart (to which I was going to draw the duck floatie as is), I decided to change it into an apron instead.

q!Phil's got some new clothes! Which includes: A cream undershirt, a green samue I took the sleeves off of, two lil' friendship bracelet (one purple and pink that's made by Tallulah, one yellow and pink that's made by Chayanne), and a lil' skull charm chained close to his waist uvu

For q!Phil's avian/elytrian side, I decided to just let him have talon feet 24/7, his wings are ofc fucked up from Enderpookie Enderking, and he was going to have tail feathers, buuut they ended up pretty hidden 'cause of his pose + the pants o(-(

q!Phil may not have chronic pain, but imo, it would still benefit him to use a cane while his wings are fucked up like that. So he's gonna be using a cane in my drawings.

And then we have lil' sleepy q!Missa. He's just in his sleeping garb in this drawing :')

[moonstruckme]

do you think you could write poly!marauders just having a calm morning with a gn reader plz? like they lie in a bit and go sit on the couch for breakfast or smthn like that? i’m loving your fics btw babes, reading them everyday LMAO.

also do you think i could be the 🌶️ anon plz? i’m peppers_library, but i can’t request with that account!

Absolutely you can, my love! And this is suchhhh a sweet idea. I can't seem to help making Sirius a nuisance lately, so I'm a bit worried I've missed the mark on a calm morning, but I hope you like it <3

poly!marauders x gn!reader ♡ 907 words

You rise to consciousness slowly, roused by a slight movement at your back. You turn in Sirius’ arms with a soft whining sound.

“Sorry,” Remus whispers. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay,” you murmur, cracking an eyelid. Buttery morning light has infiltrated the cracks in your curtains, illuminating Remus angelically from behind. It turns the rumpled ends of his hair golden, and when you cup the back of his head to give him a kiss, it’s warm as a cat’s fur after laying in the sun. Remus makes a satisfied humming sound, hands snaking around your waist to bring you closer as he kisses lazily at your bottom lip. 

“Oi,” Sirius grumbles, arm tightening around you and halting Remus’ progress, “get your own.” 

“James left to go on a run already,” Remus replies.

“Doesn’t matter. I had them first.” 

“Wait, has he really?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbow to see over Remus. Sure enough, there’s only a faint indentation in the sheets where you’d supposed James to be sleeping. “I think I’m going to try and make muffins before he gets back,” you decide, starting to get up, but Sirius keeps you, his arm surprisingly unmovable around your middle. 

“That sounds lovely,” Remus says, watching amusedly as you try to pry Sirius’ fingers from your t-shirt. “Should I make us some tea as well?”

“No,” Sirius protests, reaching around you to clamp his other hand around Remus’ forearm. “Neither of you can leave me, it’ll get cold in here.” 

Remus extricates himself from Sirius’ grip with little effort, standing and leaving you to fend for yourself. “You’re welcome to get up too, Pads.” 

Sirius casts his head forlornly into the juncture of your neck as he moans, “But it’s so early.” 

You make another attempt at escape, and Sirius rolls over you with a vitality that defies his claims of lethargy, pinning you under his weight. “Siri,” you laugh, cupping his face with one hand and pressing a kiss to his cheek, “you can’t keep me here, honey.” 

He all but ignores your tenderness, looking down at you obstinately. “Can’t I?”

“Don’t you want muffins? I’ll let you pick the flavor, so long as we have the ingredients for it.”  

Sirius frowns pensively. “Those blueberries haven’t gone bad yet, have they?”

You grin. “Nope.” 

Time is on your side this morning. James slips in and goes straight to the shower just as you’re setting the timer on the oven, emerging eucalyptus-scented and in his pajama bottoms when the muffins are cooling on the counter. 

“Smells good in here,” he says as he comes into the kitchen, stopping short when he sees you like you’re not in the same disheveled state you were when he left. “Oh, sweetheart, what’re you trying to do to me?”

“James.” You take a tentative step back, all too familiar with the glint in his eyes. “It’s just a t-shirt.” 

It’s no use; he’s hauled you up onto the counter before you can take another breath, pushing between your legs with both hands on your ass. “Don’t play coy with me.” He nips at the underside of your jaw, drawing frenetic giggles out of you. “You put those legs on display on purpose.” 

“Let them go, you neanderthal,” comes Sirius’ hypocritical call. “Bring us the muffins while they’re still warm.”  

James grants you one, sweet kiss to soothe the damage he’s done to your face before giving you a conspiratorial look. “So demanding,” he says lowly, but helps you down from the counter. 

“Finally,” Sirius says as you enter, as though the plate of muffins isn’t still steaming. “What was the point of getting out of bed if I can’t have muffins or cuddles?”

James doesn’t hesitate to indulge him, sidling up to the other boy and holding a muffin under his nose as a temptation. You sit on the floor next to Remus, taking the cup of tea he offers you gratefully. He’s already resumed his work on the puzzle you’d started the night before, which both James and Sirius claim they’re going to “win” despite neither of them having the patience to put much work into it. You pick up an oddly colored piece, studying the picture on the box alongside your pensive boyfriend. 

“Doesn’t look like the same brown as the tree, does it?” he murmurs. 

“No. Maybe the fence, though?”

“Ah.” He takes the piece from you, putting it in its place with a satisfying click. “Nice one, love.” 

“What a couple of nerds,” Sirius drawls, and you look up to find he’s moved into James’ lap, being fed pieces of blueberry muffin like a prince. “How’d we end up dating such losers, Prongs?”

“I don’t know,” James says consideringly. “They make us tea and muffins, so that’s not bad.” 

“I’ll allow that the muffins and tea are perks, definitely.” 

Remus drags his attention from the puzzle to give Sirius a deadpan look. “You seemed alright with us this morning,” he reminds him. “But I suppose Y/N and I could go handle our nerd business elsewhere, if it suits you.”

“No need to leave me, too. I’m not in his camp,” James says, though he breaks off another piece of muffin to give him. 

Sirius rolls his eyes, chewing the muffin before giving you and Remus a benevolent smile. “I suppose we’ll keep you around.” He winks at you. “Thanks for the muffins, darling.”

[jellyfishsthings]

WARNINGS: reader is a Velaryon with some Targaryen features but not an OC, this is just some story building there will be other parts. I just finished the books and I am obsessed with GOT wither way I was bored and this is the result so beware ... I think that's it. Also Theon is a pookie in this fic because I said so

PAIRING: fem!reader x Robb Stark (romantically), fem!reader x Jon Snow (platonically), fem!reader x Theon Greyjoy (platonically)

part 2 , part 3, part 4

The cold wind still raged on, hitting the walls of Winterfell. Her room was one on the lower floors next to Jon's and Theon's rooms. The sunrays gently fell on her sleeping figure dragging her from her deep slumber. The fireplace was filled with ashes and the chill in her bones was reasonable. It might still be summer on the North, yet the occasional snow always drifted down from the dark grey clouds. A discreet knock pulled her out of her thoughts and Theon's irritated voice filled the room.

"If you are not in the courtyard in two minutes, I am ratting you out"

Like clock work the same words sounded the moment dawn greeted the North. It was a small routine they had formed two namedays ago. She covered herself in Robb's old furs, the ones he secretly gave to her and claimed he lost them. They had kept her warm for over six moon cycles, they had holes in several places and the edges were coming apart but it was her most prized possession. At first it smelled at him and she was always trying to bask in his scent, that was until Theon caught her smelling the neckline while wearing it and she wouldn't hear the end of it until she openly caught him staring longingly at Sansa.

Unfortunately, they were both in the same position, they wanted people they could never have, and only each other knew. They would drink together glasses of wine and they would stumble giggling around the castle. One time he had drunk so much that he composed atrocious poetry about the beauty of his lady Sansa and her copper hair and then about the Northern prince that fell in love with a girl that had mud brown hair adorned with streaks of silver grey and deep violet eyes that appeared dark blue in the right light. She knew that her appearance betrayed her ancestry the Targaryen blood that flowed in her Velaryon veins.

Her family had been brutally murdered, she had heard and read the tales of how her mother gave her life to protect her dark-haired girl and the bloody necklace that hugged her fathers throat. At the tender age of seven moon cycles her whole family had perished and she had been the only survivor. Ned Stark had found her in a bundle of fabrics crying her heart out and once he saw the sword that could have taken her head, he swore to protect her and take her in as his ward. She should have been grateful, she knew as much, he had given her everything, a warm house, plenty food, clothes and a loving family one she wasn't actually a part of and maybe that was the reason she was closer with Theon and Jon, the outsiders. It wasn't like she didn't like the Starks, she loved them to bits and yet she could never be one of them. She would be the squire under their Maesters care with her nose hidden in ancient books and scrolls, lost in maps and various languages and basic training as a healer. But her new passion was sword fighting. As a woman she had only been allowed to practice archery that she was quite good at and always betted with the boys around their performance.

And that was how Theon found himself at incredibly early hours with a wooden sword in his hand, frowning at drawings of fighting styles freezing his "balls" off. She had bested him at the fine art of combat at practically her fifth lesson in a few hits. She had a strategic mind and she was quick on her feet, the most perfect and most deadly combination that existed.

He pitted the man that would take her as his wife, because most men were incredibly controlling but there was no chance, she wouldn't get things her way. He was proof enough.

She had the three of them wrapped around her little finger from all those years back. She had grown up with them from when she was a babe, but at her seventh nameday her and the Maester left, since she was his squire, she had to follow him, he had taken her under his wing, she had practically been his daughter, the one he never had. At that day and several later they had cried so much that even Lady Stark was regretting her decision, she liked the girl enough, she had the tendency to wreak havoc and get lost in her books a bit too much, neglecting her chores and her lessons at needlepoint half the time, but she made her kids happy and she was too smart and witty for her own good that it was impossible not to have a sweet spot for the orphaned girl. She had been overjoyed when she learned about her return nine namedays afterwards. Her son, her calm and collected Robb was shuffling at his feet, nudging rocks around and toying with the hem of his cloak, the bastard and the Greyjoy ward were portraying similar behaviors and she had to control herself not to laugh at their antics.

Ned had pushed his son forth, claiming that it was around time he greeted their guests, he shot him a glare and his parented watched him as he wiped down his palms at his breeches and headed towards the carriage, his hand shook as he lightly grazed the handle and pulled the door open while staring into place, not ready to accept that his best friend might have changed. He was frozen in his place as a girl wearing a dark blue dress and heeled leather boots stood before him. She tilted her head to the right and only then did he notice her hair.

A knot at the back of her head that was a swirl of chocolate brown and silver white strands that framed her face beautifully. Her violet eyes hid a familiar mischief that he had dearly missed. She nodded at him, before facing his father and dropping into an elegant curtesy. It was as if he was on a trance, unable to tear his eyes from her form. It wasn't until he heard her voice, she was speaking in a language he didn't understand, yet he could recognize the bite on her tone. His father wore an amused smile as he answered her back. He would learn at the evening feast what had caused such reactions, the news almost swept him from his feet, his whole existence reduced to one word. Betrothed. Ever since then it was like they were walking on eggshells around her. All three of them longed for their missing link.

It wasn't until a few days latter when they invited her on a hunt that they could glimpse on what they were. They had found a boar and his in bushes only to lose their horses in the process. They had been walking for hours and all it took was an ill-fated joke from Jon.

"No. I do not love you. Of course I lied to you. Yes, it does make you look fat. No, I have never been in the Riverlands. It is pronounced Eyrie. And all of this pales to utter insignificance if we are to let ourselves be food for the hounds."

They had all been tired and snappy, making comments left and right and picking fun at her the way they used to. They had been waiting quite impatiently for her to snap back and the moment she did, loud laughter echoed in the woods. And just like that everything was back to the way it used to be.

Ever since then life seemed dreamy to Robb, he had his friends and his family all getting along and everything seemed perfect. But reality hit him hard each night knowing that the girl he fostered feelings for was promised to another.

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Always In My Heart✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

A/N: I lost my best fur baby today. October would’ve been 3 years since I adopted him. From a stray on the streets to a spoiled house cat. He battled so much. From FIV+ to broken teeth to diabetes and then to cancer. He was the best kitty ever and was my very own first cat, so he was extra special. I wrote a little one-shot to try to express how hard this loss is for me and to try to cope. I miss you, little Biscuit. Mama loves you 🥹 This is for everyone who’s ever felt the loss of losing a beloved pet.

Summary: Losing a pet is never easy, but you’re not alone because Joel is right there with you, keeping you afloat.

Word Count: 1.2k

Tags: Grief, love, soft Joel, losing a pet, angst with comfort, no use y/n, no outbreak au

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Drip. Drip. Drip.

   The misty rain pelts on your drenched skin, and you’re cold. You’re so very cold. You can feel the chill burrowing down to your shaking, fragile bones like they may break at any moment. 

   Thunder booms through the gloomy sky, lightning flashes in the far distance, and you swear you can hear the faint cry of a lost soul deep in the woods. Can almost hear your favorite meowing coming from the covered grave in front of you…

   The grey clouds completely cover the sun, the pattering rain seems to mourn just like the cold tears that stain your cheeks. You feel lost, broken, just like your heart is. Completely shattered.

   The crunching noise of the shovel meeting the earth is almost too much for you to handle. This is too much. On your knees, fingers curling in the hollow dirt, your jeans ruined from the muddy ground. And you can’t look up, can barely open your swollen eyes as you mourn the loss of your favorite cat who had made you so very happy. 

   He was your entire world.

   You miss him so much. The feel of his long, soft fur. He felt like velvet, smelled like a warm summer’s day, and you miss the way he’d curl up on your shoulder at night, purring with affection and love. You miss his little meows, the ones that would echo down the long hallway. It always was your favorite thing to wake up to.

   But now he’s gone. Faded into the afterlife when the cancer became too much. He was a fighter, the strongest fighter you’ve ever known. But now he’s just a precious memory. 

   And it hurts. God, it hurts.

   Your tears blur your vision, your face buried in your dirt covered palms, fighting the bitter sting of losing your best fur baby. You only had him a few short years. It wasn’t enough time. And now he’s gone…

   The sobs escape your lips, and you’re now a blundering mess on the ground, asking God to just give you one more day. One more day of long cuddles and top of the head kisses. And his slow blinks. The ones he’d give you every single time you told him how much you loved him. 

   You just want him back, but life isn’t fair, and pets don’t get to stay nearly as long as you’d like. Life is cruel, and you wouldn’t wish this awful pain on your worst enemy.

   You shrink against your drenched raincoat, not even caring that your hair is tangled and dripping down your back. You don’t much care for anything right now; all you can feel is the large hole that’s gaping in your broken heart.

   The rain continues to pelt down on your shoulders, your body shaking like you’re stranded in the middle of the Arctic Ocean. The frigid waters are dragging you under, and they’re about to swallow you whole.

   Just when you think the dark depths will win, strong arms encircle your back and envelop you into a warmness that soothes the screaming voices in your head. 

   “Hey. Easy now, sweetheart. Easy.” His thick, deep drawl shrouds you in comfort while big teardrops fall against his dark green flannel. He cradles the back of your head with one hand, the other gently drawing soothing circles down the middle of your back.

   “I… I didn’t get enough time, Joel. It wasn’t enough. I should’ve done more. He could’ve had more days. I didn’t…”

   “Shhhh. S’alright, babygirl. You did more than enough. You gave him the best life he could’ve had. Do you know how lucky he was to find you? You were the best cat mama I’ve ever seen. You loved him so much, and he loved you very much,” he coos, pulling you closer to where you can smell his woodsy cologne and a hint of tobacco wafting off his tongue. 

   He feels like home. He is home.

   “You really think so?” you sputter out, tears breaking over your lash line and falling onto his soft button-up shirt.

   “Look at me,” he says gently, his hand cupping your chin and tilting your face up to look into his soft brown eyes. Eyes that make more tears spill over the edge. He catches them, wiping them off with the pads of his thumbs and softly traces them down your cheeks until you feel warmth flood your insides. “You’re such a brave girl, my love. So very brave. And you were nothin’ but loving with that cat. Even made me fall in love with him, sweetheart.”

   You giggle, your breath shaky and eyes misty. Even when you’re sad, Joel Miller can make the rainy days turn to blue skies. “He loved you, Joel. He followed you everywhere you went in the house. Especially in the mornings when you made your coffee.”

   He laughs and shakes his head, his brown eyes a little teary from the memories. “Yeah, he sure did. And I’m gonna miss him a lot.”

   “Me too,” you squeak out quietly, gripping onto him like he’s your lifeline. 

   He leans forward and traces his plush lips against your forehead, leaving you breathless with the semblance of comfort he leaves on your skin. He’s like a blanket of warmth, and he’s just saturated you in love.

   When he pulls back to look at you, he pushes a wet strand of hair behind the shell of your ear and lingers there on your cheek, sparks radiating through his touch. “I love you, sweet girl. And I know this hurts. It hurts like hell, but you’re so strong and brave. You’ll get through this. It’s gonna take time, but I’m right here to help you through it. You’re gonna be okay, sweetheart. Maybe not today, maybe not next week, but you will be. And I’ll be here through it all with you.”

   A tear slips from the corner of your eye, and then you’re crashing into him, throwing your arms around his broad back as you sniffle into the soft material. “Thank you, Joel. For being here for me. For helping me lay him to rest in our backyard, for loving him as much as you love me.”

   His fingertips brush your skin, and then your head tilts back automatically, knowing what that touch means. He leans in and places a soft, lingering kiss on your lips, the kind you want to melt in, one that tastes like honey and longing and pure comfort. When he breaks the kiss, he places another on the top of your head and pulls you flush to his chest, strong arms enveloping you once more. And it feels like peace, a place you can rest and bring life back inside your worn body.

   Joel brings you to life time and time again. And this time is no different. 

   “‘Course, sweet girl. I’ve got ya, always. I love you,” he whispers, blanketing you in love that only Joel can make you feel. 

   Suddenly, you know you’ll be okay. It might hurt for a bit, but Joel will always be here. Even on your worst days, he keeps showing you that he’ll never leave you struggling. He’ll be here for it all, loving you till the end.

[nicoliharu]

Coli!! Hi hi good morning!! Do you have any Headcanons for Ruggie?? Like, when you draw him do you have anything you always include or leave out? Just curious hehe I love your art!! Have a nice day <3 <3 <3

Hi Dede! Thanks for the ask🥺😭💗

I will comment on what I would like to do differently when I draw him cause for me you write him PERFECT and I wouldn't change anything! This guy is precious and needs love to know he isn't inferior to anyone! 😭💗

⚠️ My headcanons (design) Ruggie Bucchi:

So, aren't that many changes, it's just simple, the way I usually imagine him 🥺👉👈

🍩 Skin: Ruggie has more melanin, I personally love Ruggie with any skin tone but forgive me Yana but it's hard to resist painting his skin like that.

I mean, I think it goes much better with his color palette. Personally, I would paint with this palette for him in my fanart and content forever. I want to eternally thank whoever had the idea of giving more melanin to his plush 🥺💗 I don't know if it's my laptop screen that's old, but it looks a little desaturated, but I'll adjust over time.

🍩 Blonde lashes: I still need to practice more cause I love the idea that Ruggie would have some blonde lashes, not gold and flashy but brown light 🥺

🍩 Freckles: Excessive on the nose/cheeks, ends of the arms, and a lot on the back…IT'S CANON IN MY HEAD, YANA YOU FAILED ME, HOW YOU DARE?? HOW CAN YOU NOT GIVE HIM FRECKLES?😭

🍩 Body hair: Well, he's a guy who's growing, he's about to turn 18, there's no chance no have body hair. Besides, I believe that beastmen have more body hair than humans, so for Ruggie I imagine golden hair but if it gets wet it turns a little brown, on the arms and legs 😔👉👈

🍩 Eye pupil: I know that's normal but I like to think that his pupil becomes ''thin'' (how in English is this?) when he feels threatened or annoyed by something and dilates when he sees something that interests/likes him.

🍩 Teeth: Bigger and thicker than Leona and Jack. Please, spotted hyenas have a bone-breaking bite and tear thick skins too. Ruggie canonically said he can easily eat steak with bones…Oh gosh if he likes bite who he lov- STOP NICOLI SHHHH

🍩 Hair: A little rough and messy with some split ends, I don't think he cares much about any special shampoo or conditioner, taking care of his hair. Besides, I think he occasionally cuts it with scissors on his own. I know I could leave it wavy or curly but thinking that rough bristles remind me of hyenas' fur makes me so 🥺

🍩 Body: We know that Ruggie's thin cause his condition but I believe that his legs and arms are ''strong'' of cause the acrobatic way in which he moves, both day to day, running and practicing at the Club. I don't mean bulging muscles but you realize that given his activities and abilities it makes sense!!! 😔

🍩 About the piercing: it was a detail I wanted to add but I don't know if I always imagine him with that or not 🤡👌

Forgive my grammar and English mistakes! These are my humble headcanons for Ruggie's design, if anyone thinks differently this is just fun for everyone, y'all have the right to imagine how they want. And I would like to say one more thing, about other details that I can only talk about better with more drawings, such as excess hair with spots above his tail (I love this detail too). So there will always be changes for everything!

Thank you again for your ask Dede, you're a wonderful writer that I admire so much and love your works! 🥺😭💗💗💗

[i-eat-candles]

Redesign of my little goober Kaleidoscope!!!

More info and drawings under cut

When I tell you I had so much fun redesign this guy omg there were some points where I was kicking my feet while drawing

I’ve always kinda didn’t like how the original design for them came out. When I posted their design it was taken with a lot of love from you guys and I was really happy to finally get my drawings out their, but something always bothered me about it. It was so…boring in a way. They way I draw them looked like they had the personality of a stale cracker. Also for a dragon with the name Kaleidoscope, they weren’t very eye popping or colorful to me. Also I hated their colors. The only things that I kept about the original design was the mobility aid and their wings.

When making the ref sheet, the main thing I wanted to do was give them at least a little bit of personality. I tried to do this with their body language, like how they stand up tall and proper with their head slightly tilted up with an almost smug look on their face. I headcanon the SilkWings have 3 sets of arms/legs, but not many use them in the way Kaleidoscope does. They also uses their hands a lot, not just when their working but also when they talk. It’s almost unsettling to other dragons when they talk to them. I wanted to try to convey this value of their hands by drawing them so it kinda looks like their showing them off.

Also yes, I did give them a beard. Tbh I’m not the biggest fan of the fluffy SilkWings, I can totally get like the chest fluff and other little things, but I don’t really like it when it’s all fur and not scales. I did want to add a bit of hair to them though, and I love the idea of giving dragons beards. I saw a post once and it was someone’s drawing about how they prefer facial hair on icewings instead of fluffy ones, I don’t remember who the post was made by but I really really like this idea I would like to give some credit to you for the idea.

If you have any questions or comments about Kal, I would be so happy to hear them!

Here are some other drawings I’m working on of them: