#I may adjust the strap attachments later

[ego-sum-arbor]

I finally did all the finishing work on my knit bi pride crop top!

It’s got a few issues— the fit’s a touch big, straps slipping, and the general perils of knitting with cotton, but I’m ultimately pretty pleased with it. I’m inclined to forgive small problems in my second fitted torso garment.

[oizysian]

hello, hope you are doing well and do you still take requests? if yes can i request top!wanda x beffy!gp!bottom!nat x switch! reader where nat was approached and flirted with by some woman so wanda and r decide to show nat who she belongs to. no pressure tho, i understand if you're not comfortable writing it.

i've also just finished reading the mafia!au and omg that is a masterpiece. hope there will be another chapter soon. 🙏🏻

You Belong to Us | Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanoff

Pairing: Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x bottom!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Natasha has a cock, talks of breeding, edging, blowjobs, ejaculating strap, threesome

Word count: 1.9k

“Do you know why you’re in this position?”

Natasha nodded, her face red with embarrassment as she lay exposed before us, her hands and feet bound, keeping her still on the bed.

“Words, malyshka.” Wanda said and I looked over at her, smiling at how she cared despite how heated up she was over how that woman acted towards Nat in the bar.

“Yes, I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“It’s much too late for ‘sorry.’ But you already knew that.”

Natasha’s eyes fell to the strap in Wanda’s hand, the big, girthy one she only used when we disobeyed her. I watched as Nat’s dick twitched with arousal, and licked my lips excitedly, knowing Wanda would let me play with her soon enough.

“You shouldn’t have let that nasty woman touch you like that.” Wanda said sternly as she stepped into the harness, pulling it up and securing it around her hips. “You know you belong to us.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her eyes downcast. “I thought she was only being nice.”

“You thought she was being nice.” Wanda said condescendingly, grabbing the lube from the nightstand and pouring a generous amount into her hand. “What did you think, Y/N?”

“I thought she was trying to fuck you.” I directed towards Nat and Wanda nodded in agreement, lathering the cock on her hips up with the lube in her palm.

“Please,” Natasha pleaded, her dick nearly fully standing at attention now. “I wouldn’t have let her -”

“Oh, but you did, Natalia.” Ooh, Wanda only used that name when she was upset. “You did let her. I saw how she was stroking your arm,” she got on the bed in between Natasha’s legs. “I saw her eyeing your dick.”

“Wanda, I-”

“Shh,” she said as she stroked her length teasingly, getting ready to fuck her ass. “You can only make it up to me by cumming inside of me. But, that won’t be until later. You need to be punished first.”

She brought the tip of the cock to her hole, pushing it in inch by inch ever so slowly. I watched as Natasha’s face contorted with pleasure, a soft moan falling from her lips.

“Wanda,” I said softly as her hips began moving. “May I play with her cock?”

“Yes, you may, Y/N. “

I hopped onto the bed excitedly, sitting next to Natasha’s bound form and wrapping my hand around her cock, spreading her precum along her length. Her hips attempted to buck towards my hand, but she was tied down to the bed, Wanda having most of the control of her body at this point.

Wanda fucked her slowly, letting her get adjusted to her thickness before rutting her hips against her faster, more urgently than before. Natasha called out for Wanda, her chest heaving, her nipples hard and aching to be touched, but Wanda ignored her, biting her lower lip and fucking her lover deeply.

“I want her inside me.” I whined. “Can I fuck myself on her, mommy?”

“Oh, fuck, yes you can.” Wanda panted, gripping Nat’s hips and pounding into her.

I straddled her, raising myself above her cock so I could position her at my entrance. Natasha moaned lowly as I sunk down onto her length, bouncing myself on her hips as Wanda fucked her ass.

“Oh god!” She cried out, tugging on the binds that kept her hands attached to the headboard.

I leaned forward and grabbed her breasts, groping them greedily as I rode her.

“Unh, oh fuck,” I groaned, rubbing myself against her as I slammed my hips down on her own. “I’m so close.”

“Don’t let her cum yet,” Wanda said to me and I nodded mindlessly, slapping Natasha’s tit and taking pleasure in her torture. “We’re gonna use her all night.”

“Oh, please, Wanda!” Natasha cried. “Mommy, please!”

“Keep begging,” she said with a smile. “I love hearing you beg for me.”

Natasha threw her head back, squeezing her eyes shut and letting her mouth fall open.

I brought my right hand down and played with my clit, rubbing it so I could cum before Natasha. I squeezed her cock as I came, but pulled off of her before she could cum herself.

“No, Y/N! Please, baby, let me cum inside you.” She begged but I shook my head, looking down at her painfully erect cock, wet with my juices.

“Mommy said no. Right mommy?” I looked back at Wanda who was still pounding her own cock into Natasha’s ass and she nodded.

“That’s right, sweetheart. You’re such a good girl listening to mommy.”

Natasha groaned, her voice rising with every stroke of Wanda’s dick.

“I’m gonna cum inside you.” Wanda said as she reached for the balls of the strap, getting ready to squeeze her load into Natasha. “I’m gonna breed you like the bitch you are.”

Natasha cried out pathetically as Wanda let her cum spurt into her ass, droplets of cum beading up on the tip of her cock. I could tell she was close, but mommy said she couldn’t cum. Not yet.

Wanda pulled her sticky cock out of Natasha’s ass, smiling down at the gaping hole, still hungry for her.

“You enjoy being bred, don’t you, Natalia?”

She nodded mindlessly, tears building up in her eyes.

“You love being my cumdump, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, mommy.”

Wanda looked over at me and beckoned me over to her. I climbed over Natasha on all fours and approached Wanda, who grabbed me by my chin and kissed me hard. I moaned into her mouth and she sucked on my tongue. When she finally released me, I was panting, needing more of her.

“Play with Tasha some more.” She said to me, leaning back on the bed and slipping out of the harness. “I want to watch.”

She tossed the toy to the side and spread her legs, playing with her own clit as I returned my attention to Natasha. She lay panting, sweating, as I crawled back over to her and played with her cock again. She let out a low moan and I stroked her ever so slightly, just enough for her to feel me but not enough for her to cum.

“Please.” She begged softly, turning her head to look at Wanda who was still playing with herself.

I brought my head down and took the tip into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it. I heard her crying out, begging for release as I took more of her in my mouth. When she began to twitch against my tongue, I pulled away from her, my spit and cum trailing from my lips to her throbbing tip.

“Oh god, please,” she begged, her hips jerking upward. “Please let me cum.”

I looked back towards Wanda and she shook her head, her hand working on her bundle of nerves. I licked my lips and laid down in front of her, my ass in the air, in full view for Natasha, as I ate Wanda out hungrily.

I heard Natasha moan as she watched us, my tongue and lips working tirelessly on Wanda’s puffy pussy. I felt her thread her fingers through my hair and push my face into her sopping cunt, which only egged me on further.

“Oh, yes, baby.” She moaned softly. “Lick mommy’s cunt. Just like that. You’re doing so good for mommy.”

I hummed against her, letting my tongue slip inside her.

She let her head fall back and she rolled her hips against my face. I could feel her clenching around my tongue so I knew she was close. I added two fingers into her wetness and sucked on her clit and she came screaming my name, forcing my face into her cunt roughly as she rode out her high on my fingers and tongue.

Natasha watched us, her breathing shallow, drool cascading down her chin, her body trembling, aroused beyond belief.

Wanda pet my head, humming softly as she pulled me away from her, watching as I licked my lips greedily, not letting a drop of her go to waste.

“You’re such a good girl, Y/N. Not like Natalia. She’s a bad girl.”

“Please, Wanda, I’m sorry. Please let me cum.”

“Are you sorry?” She said as she scratched my head, making me feel good.

“Yes, I swear!”

“Hmm.” She said as I laid down next to Natasha, bringing my hand up to play with her nipples. “We’ll see.”

Wanda brought her leg around to straddle Natasha, grabbing her cock rather roughly and bringing it to her wetness. As she eased herself down, Natasha’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and she let out a deep, throaty moan. She wouldn’t last very long with Wanda.

Wanda rolled her hips, alternating between bouncing on her cock and grinding down on her hips before Natasha let out a yelp, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Ask me to cum.” Wanda demanded, not stopping her movements against the other woman.

“Please let me cum! Please, Wanda, I’m sorry!”

Wanda got off on the power she had over us and I knew she was close when her brow furrowed and she took her bottom lip between her teeth. I leaned forward and took one of Natasha’s nipples in my mouth, reaching over with my hand to play with the other.

“That’s right, Y/N, play with her. She’s gonna cum inside me, aren’t you, Natalia?”

“Yes, mommy! I-I’m gonna cum!”

And she did. I could see the cum spurting out from between their bodies and Wanda let out a high pitched whine at the feeling of Natasha’s cum pumping into her. Wanda’s pussy milked her cock for all it was worth and I continued to play with Natasha’s breasts as she came.

Natasha’s head was back against the pillows, her eyes squeezed shut, mouth agape. She was absolutely blissed out.

“Mm, you’re still twitching inside me, Natalia. You’re a greedy pup, aren’t you? You want mommy to keep milking you?”

“Yes.” She croaked and Wanda smiled, satisfied.

“Y/N,” she called to me and I lifted my head to look at her. “Why don’t you ride Natalia’s face, hm? If I’m gonna get more out of her, she has to work for it.”

Giddily, I released her nipples and climbed up to her face, sitting myself right onto her opened, waiting mouth.

She lapped at my heat greedily, hungrily, and I had to hold onto the headboard to keep my balance.

“Mommy,” I moaned, throwing my head back. “She’s doing s-so good.”

“Is she?” Wanda asked, slamming her hips down against Natasha’s as she fucked her.

I felt Nat moan against me, her tongue fucking me, her lips attaching to my clit and sucking, my mind going numb from the pleasure. I was going to cum.

My hips jerked as pleasure overtook me. I threw my head back and moaned for Wanda. Natasha groaned underneath me before letting out a whimpering moan, her cum coating the inside of Wanda’s cunt once again.

“I’m not done with you yet.” Wanda said as she played with her clit, bouncing on Natasha’s cock.

It was only a second later that Wanda came, milking Natasha and rubbing her clit to heighten her pleasure.

I rolled off of Nat, kissing and licking her lips as she panted softly next to me. She grunted and groaned as Wanda’s hungry cunt continued to milk her, and when she finally got off of her cock, they had made a mess of each other and the bed.

“Looks like you’ve learned your lesson, Natalia.”

She nodded weakly, happily spent.

“Now we have to clean up after you. What a mess.”

[barenecessiteas]

Final Random Sinclair Headcanons Because I Can't Get Them Out Of My Head

Hello my darlings. We've reached the final part of my random headcanons. There's only one person left - you know him, you love him, it's adorable waxy boi Vincent! Again, these are all just random thoughts I had, I don't really write on here much, but these just kept coming to me so I figured I may as well share em. Hope you enjoy!

Vincent Sinclair

If you didn't happen to see this on my last post, I believe Vincent is the younger twin and Bo is the older one. Only apart by seconds for obvious reason, but Bo was technically born first

Even after the separation surgery, baby Vincent had a hard time sleeping unless Bo was with him. Having his literal other half suddenly not be attached anymore took a lot of adjustment for him

He also exclusively sleeps on his right side, or at least with the right side of his face against the pillow. Kinda like a subconscious need to feel something against the skin there since Bo wasn't attached to him anymore

Vincent is actually able to talk, he's just selectively mute. This comes from the abuse he witnessed on Bo by their parents

I kinda touched on this last time, but restraining Bo to the chair every time he "misbehaved" or threw a tantrum really just taught the kids that it wasn't acceptable to express their emotions. So even tho Vincent never actually experienced the same punishment, it scared him to watch that happen to his brother

That's why, in the introduction to the film, you see little Vincent seemingly just ignore Bo while he's strapped into the chair, just quietly eating his cereal and swinging his feet

This is NOT because he didn't care about his brother. He was just scared of getting the same treatment that Bo did. He had the idea that if he behaved in front of his parents, he'd be able to sneak off to comfort Bo later

We all see in the film how he's immediately concerned for Bo when he notices the arrow in his chest. He hates seeing either of his brothers hurt, and he just started feeling more comfortable openly expressing that after their parents were gone

So yes, he can talk, but usually it's not unless he absolutely has to. His voice is often harsh and raspy because of this, but it's still there

I don't see Vincent as the meek, timid, and abused twin like a lot of people do. Bo isn't just his brother, he's Vincent's TWIN brother. He's literally been dealing with Bo since they were in the womb

Vincent is just calmer by nature and it's much harder to actually get him angry. He's learned that Bo says a bunch of shit he doesn't mean when he's angry and it's usually best to just let him cool off on his own. Vincent doesn't take it personally

This doesn't mean they don't fight. It happened more when they were kids, but as fully grown adult men Vincent rarely ever gets so pissed off he actually fights with Bo

I think most people agree on this next part but I'm gonna say it anyway - Vincent started growing his hair out so that he'd have something to hide his face with if he ever needed to take off the mask

Even with that in mind, he's not afraid to throw hands if Bo really manages to piss him off 💀

Like they have gotten into legit brawls and fist fights as children if they got on each other's nerves

He does genuinely like the look of it long now, but it started mostly as a security blanket type thing

Speaking of his hair, his is naturally darker than Bo's, he doesn't dye it or anything. We see in pictures that they were blonde as young kids and their hair got darker as they grew older. Bo's hair just stopped darkening at the dark brown we see him with. Vincent's hair just kept on getting darker

He actually does take pretty good care of his hair. He's not super concerned about it, but he doesn't want it to be a rat's nest either. He makes sure to keep it brushed, washes it regularly, and he's generally good at keeping wax out of it

Vincent wasn't really bullied as much for his mask as most people think he was. The Sinclairs were basically local celebrities, so everyone in town knew who they were. Their birth and separation surgery were announced in the paper too, so everyone kinda knew it was from that

What really bothered him was the pity from other people. Kids could be assholes about it every now and then, sure, but hearing adults whisper about it was what he'd really hate

He got into wax kinda by accident. It was a day while Trudy was working on a new mask for him, he was sitting around watching her. She gave him some extra wax she had lying around to play with

Saying stuff like "poor boy" or "shame he didn't turn out as good looking as his brother" when they thought he wasn't listening. That's what really got to him

Vincent also isn't really shy, he's just introverted. He found that hearing people talk about him and feeling sorry for him behind his back exhausted him, so he really just prefers the company of his family

Trudy and Victor often told the boys old mythology stories at bedtime, so Vincent decided he wanted to make what he thought the monsters and creatures in the stories looked like

Since it was his first time using wax, it was far from perfect, but he'd spent so long watching his mom work on her art that he had an idea of some of the technique

He actually used a spoon to shape the wax for most of it lol

Even for such a young kid, he definitely showed promise. That's when Trudy really started to take him under her wing. She was delighted to be able to bond with one of her boys like that

Vincent always felt a little guilty for having a closer relationship with Trudy because of how she and Victor would treat Bo (and how they'd pay much less attention to Lester). He still loved his parents, but it definitely added a huge guilt complex

That's why he's so concerned about always being there for Bo and Lester to help take care of them. He just tends to let Bo take the initiative in taking care of him and Lester because he knows it makes Bo feel better

Just like Bo, he was taught to play the piano growing up. He's pretty good at it, but he never had the same interest in it that Bo did. He enjoyed listening to music more than playing it

Vincent has a very broad taste in music, he listens to a lot of different genres. Classical music is pretty much exclusively for when he's sculpting or making any form of art in general

It's a habit he picked up from his mother. He finds it less distracting so it helps him concentrate more

Like Bo, he was also very good at sports growing up. Really all of the boys were (Bo was just the most involved in it so he got better than his brothers eventually). He's actually surprisingly active

He tries to take frequent breaks when working with wax, even if it's just for a tiny bit. If he doesn't, his muscles get very sore, making it hard for him to work later on

However, when I say he tries I really mean that he only remembers to take breaks with smaller projects. Bo and Lester (or even Jonesy) usually have to remind him to step away for a bit

Speaking of Jonesy, she is in fact Vincent's dog. Yeah, she's the family dog too, but Vincent is the one who found her and raised her

He was going for a walk in the woods and found Jonesy abandoned as a puppy. Even though she was young she was still much smaller than she should have been. Her mother and litter mates were nowhere to be found

So Vincent gently picks her up and carries her home in the pocket of his hoodie. He stays up all night feeding her and watching over her to make sure she recovers physically

Bo was surprisingly chill with Vincent keeping the puppy. As long as Vincent was responsible for taking care of her, he didn't mind having a dog around

Lester lost his shit when he found out Vincent took in a puppy (in a good way, of course)

Vincent basically treats her like his baby (we stan a girl dad) and takes VERY good care of her. She has a great diet, has constant play sessions, and is overall very well cared for

It bothers him when Lester sneaks her some roadkill meat because he's always scared about Jonesy potentially getting sick

Jonesy also sleeps in Vincent's bed with him and has seen his face more than his actual brothers have. She loves to give him kisses on the scarred side of his face and it makes him melt

When Bo first came up with the idea of killing people to use as a base for Vincent's wax sculptures, he was hesitant. Sure, he knew killing people was wrong, but he was more worried about the danger it could place his brothers in

But once he actually used the first victim as a live "model" of sorts, he was convinced that this was the perfect way to finish his mother's dream. It didn't take him a lot of convincing

His collection of knives are all gifts from Bo and Lester. They'd often either buy them or find them on victims before cleaning them up to give them to vincent

The dual dragon blades are his favorites because it was a combined present from Bo and Lester for Christmas

He has much more morbid curiosity in killing because of his father's work. He found anatomy very interesting (and not to mention useful when it came to sculpting people), so he often takes pictures or videos to use as references when painting or sketching

Alright, we've now reached the end of my insanity. I hope you all enjoyed my silly little writing spree. I may or may not write more Headcanons in the future, idk. We'll see if inspiration ends up striking me lol. But for now, we've finished the Sinclairs. Thanks for reading, my lovelies, and I hope you all have a wonderful day 😘💕

[spirngakawening]

Ruth Fleming wears headgear so I briefly researched ✨️Orthodontic Headgear✨️:

Used (in combination with braces) to correct jaw misalignment & dental crowding - helps avoid corrective jaw surgery later on

Basically comprised of a metal frame that's in some way attached to the teeth (metal/elastic to braces) and strapped to the head

There are a few different types of headgear:

cervical pull (for overbite/overjet)

reverse-pull (underbite/crossbite)

high-pull (open bite)

Ruth's looks like the reverse-pull type without a chin cup... I didn't find any images of real faceframes that exactly matched Ruth's tho

Must be worn for at least 12 hours daily - the more you wear it, the more effective, & skipping a day undoes progress

Can't be worn while eating - Ruth may remove her headgear to eat, not eat at school, or drink her lunch through a straw

Can't be worn during any activity that could involve impact to the face - Ruth may be exempt from gym lessons

Wearing overnight is encouraged

Maintenance

Headgear adjustments call for pain medication & soft foods

Hard parts are washed daily, soft pads/straps washed every few days - must dry before wearing again

Correction can take 1-2 years, sometimes longer

Usually people start wearing headgear as preteens, so Ruth either started later or has been wearing it for longer than usual

Adults usually wear headgear for minor misalignment correction or after an accident that affected the teeth/jaw (eg lost some teeth & is prepping for dental implants/dentures)

It's not impossible that Ruth needs headgear because Max wrecked her jaw/teeth

And/or Max may have extended Ruth's time in headgear by hitting her in the face while she was wearing it

[deathmetalunicorn1]

May I request Nikola and Beelzebub with a female dom reader :3?

Minors DNI

-Beelzebub felt his throat bob as looked up at you the way all women want to be looked at, with fear in his eyes, as you smirked down at him, wearing a rather risqué looking outfit.

-The two loves of your life wanted to experiment a bit more in the bedroom, and after a bit of discussing, you offered to introduce them to something~

-Neither one expected to be in this situation only a half hour later.

-Beelzebub was sitting on a chair positioned in front of the bed, his legs spread apart with a spreader bar, and his wrists attached to the bar, holding him completely open, a gag ball in his mouth and a collar around his neck, which you were gently tugging on, smiling down at him.

-You slid the riding crop down his chest before tapping it gently against his tip, making him groan out, his eyes clenching shut as you giggled softly, “Good~ now then- I’m going to go and attend to our little scientist, and you’re going to hold it until I finish with him and come back to you, understand?”

-He didn’t answer you, as you kept tapping your crop against his tip and you slapped down a bit harder on his thigh, making his eyes shoot open, “Understand~” he nodded softly, breathing heavily through his nose.

-You adjusted the bullet vibrated attached to just below his tip, making sure it wasn’t going to move and you pressed the button on the remote in your hand, starting him off on low, making him groan out.

-You smiled, turning back to Nikola, who was bound on your bed as well with his knees and wrists strapped to a spreader bar, but face down, presenting everything to you both, a milking machine slowly stroking him as he was groaning out, begging for more as his eyes were covered by a silk mask.

-You crawled onto the bed behind him, slapping his ass lightly, making him groan out, wanting more as you slid your arms around him, your hands sliding to his cock as you turned off the milking machine.

-Nikola bucked into your hands, “No- please I-I was- so-so close!” you slapped his ass again, making him hiss out, “Now-now pet, don’t be greedy. You get to cum when I say you do~”

-He wiggled softly, not arguing with you, not wanting to risk you denying him again. You were quite cruel if you wanted to be, edging him and denying him over and over again.

-You unstrapped him from the spreader bar, “Now, lay flat on your belly my dear Nikola~” he did as he was told and his back arched slightly when you pressed a kiss to his spine in the middle of his back, rewarding him.

-You straddled his back and he shivered, feeling your wetness against his back as you began to rock against him, your hips rutting against his back at his waist. His hands wound into the blankets, moaning so pretty for you, begging you.

-You felt yourself getting hot, he was such a good boy for you, and you lifted yourself, “Flip over~” he quickly did, his hands catching your hips as he almost knocked you off before he wound them into the blankets again.

-Nikola hissed out as you rutted against his cock, rubbing against him but not letting him enter you as he gasped out, begging you for more and more as you moaned out softly, feeling his hips bucking against you.

-You smiled down at him, pulling off his blindfold and as soon as he saw your alluring body above him, still wearing your alluring outfit, his hands came to your hips as he quickly came undone, moaning out.

-You weren’t mad, smiling down at him as you leaned over, pressing a kiss to his lips, “Good boy~ you were so good for me~ now then- turn over and watch me do the same to our Bee-Bee.”

-As you slid off of him, your pussy throbbing slightly as you smirked at Beelzebub, who was trying to buck his hips up. He had no idea how hot it would be, watching you pleasure Nikola and leaving him alone, and now he wanted you so badly he could scream.

-You released his hands but not his legs before sliding on leg up on the chair, hovering just above his cock, the vibrator still going as you smiled, “Do you want me?” he nodded his head frantically, looking desperate, and you smirked, slowly sliding yourself down, a moan leaving your lips and he threw his head back as you didn’t remove the vibrator, which was now deep inside you and pressing further into him.

-You remained still as his hands gripped the chair and you licked your lips, “Let’s see how long you can stay still~” you lifted the remote and his eyes went wide, and you clicked it up to max and instantly you squealed, feeling the vibrations deep within you.

-Beelzebub felt his eyes cross and his vision go white at the same time before he felt you rocking against him, moaning out so deliciously before you pulled the gag out, letting it fall, “Tell me Bee~ do you want to cum?”

-His mouth was open, unable to form words, his mind going blank as he was overwhelmed and you smirked, rocking harder, sending him deeper and deeper before you grabbed his collar, choking him just slightly and you squealed as his hips snapped up into you and you felt him throbbing deep within you, filling you as you quickly reached your high afterwards.

-You slowly pulled off as Beelzebub was panting, his breaths coming in rapidly, wanting you to remove the vibrator and you smiled down at him, doing it slowly.

-Ten minutes later, after cleaning yourself and your lovers up, peppering them with kisses, bringing them down from their highs, “So what did you guys think?”

-Beelzebub was laying face down next to you, feeling you petting his hair, “I can’t feel my legs.” You giggled softly as Nikola’s head was on your shoulder, “I’m so drained.”

-You felt that was the best praise you could receive, “So do you want to try more new things tomorrow?” both men quickly answered, “NO!” which made you laugh, as they said they needed a break, but they couldn’t lie that they weren’t excited for the next time you did something like this, just not so soon.

[vaimetanyx]

Part 2 of my cosplay breakdown - Zagreus' skull belt

(Full process under read more)

[Skull pauldron] [Belt] [Greaves] [Toga + sash] [Wig + Laurels] [Armbands] [Flaming feet] [Satyr Sack] [Stygius v1] [Stygius v2] [Nectar]

Thankfully this one was a lot simpler than the skulls. My main issue was once again comparing inconsistent official art and trying to figure out what approach I wanted to take. I ended up with this pattern, with skulls at the front and a flat back.

I also had to consider how I was going to put it on and take if off, and went for a hidden buckle clip to make things easy. The strap was threaded through a white loop of material that I would later hot glue to the belt so it would be able to be adjusted if needed in the future, and to have a more uniform appearance. Unfortunately it turns out I didn't take any photos of this process but you can see how it looks attached here.

Back to foam work! After cutting out the base pattern and heat shaping it to have a slight curve, I cut out the circles for the skull bases, and and additional top half for depth. I should have dremelled these sections separately but instead contact cemented them together after heat shaping and had to be very careful with those teeth and eye sockets so I didn't dig into the base.

After attaching the flat backing piece and the skulls, using a bit of foam clay to fix up mistakes and add some detail/depth, and hot gluing the actual belt section, it was time to plastidip the whole thing. You can also see where I added some velcro to the opening side to better hide the opening and make the belt look like one solid piece. I over-sprayed way too much when using the plastidip, but it ended up with a lovely smooth finish.

Then time to paint. I added some very dramatic shadows before bringing it all back with several layers of off-white blending into the darker colours. Once all the 'bone' sections were done I gave it a coat of the same matte spray that I used for my skull pauldrons, and then finished it off with another layer on the gold details so they'd stay nice and shiny.

The belt may actually be my favourite part of this cosplay, not because it's impressive, but becuase i turned out exactly how I wanted! It wasn't super tricky to make, and it's so easy to take on and off (and with the nightmare that was getting that toga sitting right I had to do that many times)

[definitelynotgideon]

GIDEONS HAMMER PROP-

I'm sad that Tumblr will only allow me 10 images 🥲

I started this project in early December 2023, and then had to hold off on parts because of snow (I don't have a garage or shop that is well ventilated so I do everything outside lol). I finished the Hammer completely on May 21st, 2024.

But here are some progress shots!!

So a quick jog thru for these pictures:

1: I found a file for the Skyrim hammer for attaching to a mop head, so I downloaded it to print on my 3D printer. I sacrificed a spirit Halloween scythe for the pole.

2: I soldered any seams on the hammer for durability sake. Melting the plastic together helps it maintain form a bit better than just gluing or together. I prepared and sanded bondo over the seams and hammer details after this. It was cold outside and I don't have a mouse sander so ya girl had some *sore arms* haha.

3: I found and adjusted files for hammer details. The rings and pomel were designed by someone else for the Skyrim hammer but I brought them into TinkerCAD and used basic shapes to get rid of the specific detailing, giving myself a blank slate. I also typed the kanji into Adobe Dimension, esported it as a 3D Object and printed the parts out to glue to the hammer later.

4: I glued all of the details parts in place.

5: after ensuring everything was set the way I wanted, I sprayed a couple of layers of plastidip over the entire hammer.

6: on the next nice day with no snow I brought the hammer outside, used Rust-Oleum primer and then spray painted the entire hammer black.

7 and 8: I needed an asthetically pleasing but practical way to carry the hammer through a convention, so in May I took one of the ring files and made a hookable loop, exported the file, printed it and then soldered it around the pole at certain points. To hold the rings somewhat in place but allow for movement, I took some black elastic I had sitting around from another project and used 'Liquid Nails' to adhere the straps on either side of the ring. I made sure to was going to sit in the right place on my back before gluing things down. The strap is just a replacement laptop bag leather strap. I wanted it to be able to go across my body.

9: Painted final details!

10: Brought the hammer to Con :3 the picture shows the size really well for scale. It's fairly lightweight. I can swing it within reason but cannot actually hit anything with it or else it'll break. Haha 😆

[i-spaced-sorry]

Enjoy a nice little whatever this is for day 6 of the May Writing Challenge!

Grabbing his Sox hat, he stuffed the rest of his clothes into his backpack and zipped it up.

Stepping out in the early spring morning, he began his walk to the bus stop.

He really didn't want to leave if he was honest, but the yelling had gotten only worse since his mom got sick! It was like every little thing she did in his eyes she did wrong. And Will was no help, what with him spending nights couch surfing at different school friends' bedroom floors, claiming "sleepovers" or "late night studying sessions".

Last night had been the last straw! His mom got violently sick in the bathroom and ended up throwing up blood. After calling EMS and faking nicietes, the minute the front door shut, the smile plastered on his dad's face dropped and he began screaming at the only other person present in the room....Jay.

Jay knew he was taking out his anger in some way, but claiming it's your child's - your own flesh and blood's - fault your wife got sick because he - the child! - asked for her to help him make lunch for everyone is just messed up.

So, when he overheard that his mom was in the clear and her vitals were returing to what they were before, he ran.

He didnt know where he was running to until his feet led him to the steps of the 9th District Police Station. Taking a breath, he stood tall, adjusted the bag on his shoulders and walked inside.

At the front desk, was a brunette, who looked like she had been awake for 36hrs straight and was about ready to go home.

"How can I help you?" She asked with a tone of lack lusterness.

Jay, fiddled with the strings attached to the straps of his bag and looked at the name tag on the desk sergeant.

"Ms. Platt" he began. If his dad taught him anything right, it was to always address someone with Ms. or Mr.

"I need help. My dad is abusive to my mother who has cancer and is emotionally abusive to my older brother and I. I'm running away" (oh the innocence of a 9yr old who hasn't learned to lie).

Sergeant Platt knew CPS would have to do a welfare check to check if the boy was telling the truth, but she also knew that CPS would probably not find anything substantial since the boy says it's mostly a domestic abuse of a parent and emotional abuse on the kids. She also was well aware that as a sergeant it was well within her rights to bring the child right back to the home and when CPS gets brought in they will most likely use the fact that the child admitted to being a flight risk as a reason his word shouldn't be trusted.

After a beat, she smiled and stated, "let me get my friend down here and we can all chat, is that okay?"

Jay just nodded and then followed her into a back room.

"What's your name?" She asked while they waited for her friend to come.

"Jay"

And before they could dive further into conversation, her friend - detective Al Olinsky - walked in.

After explaining the situation to him, the 3 of them talked in great detail about what Jay has observed in his own home, about how his mother is doing physically and mentally, about where Will has been staying, and how Jay feels about everything regarding the matter. To Jay, he enjoyed the fact that they took what he was saying seriously since he knew they could have just put him in a Patrol car and driven him back to Canaryville.

"Okay Jay, I know that your 9, but you seem smart enough to know that CPS will have to do a welfare check to make sure your story aligns. But I know they will send you back into his care. So I'm giving you my card cause the second things turn ugly and Im telling you they will, especially since you have alerted authorities to what's happening, you call me!"

CPS later that morning drove Jay back to his house on 47th and Wallace and after a quick check they determined that Jay was in fact safe in the care of his father.

Later that night, Pat Halstead put his hands on his child and beat him senseless,. fanning "you want something to snitch about? Well now you have something to snitch about"

Once his father left him alone, he pulled the card out from his jeans pocket and dialed the number on the card.

Standing in front of the 21st District, Jay took a breathe, adjusted his bookbag, and opened the door.

"Hi, my name is Jay Halstead. I just transferred from the Guns and Gangs unit at District 5. I'm looking for where the Intelligence Unit is" he said as he walked up to the desk. The desk sergeant was a brunette who looked crabby and one look away from killing someone with just her glare.

"Intelligence Unit is that way" she started.

Then it clicked, "wait, did you say your name is Jay Halstead? As in Jay Halstead who ran away from home at 9 and ended up at the Bridgeport police station?"

Jay stood stunned, "Platt?" He asked as tears welled up in his eyes. All those years ago, with Platt and Olinsky believing him, he not only got out of that house, but also decided he wanted to be a cop.

"You have to go upstairs, you'll be surprised to see who is working in the unit!" Platt stated while she hugged him.

Walking up the final steps to the bullpen, Jay took in the scene in front of him. A set of 10 desks separated in groups of 2's, 4 of those sets in the center of the room and the rest pushed off the side. Seated in one of the desks off to the side next to the file cabinet was none other than the man who saved his life,

"Alvin Olinsky!" Jay breathed out!

All Al could do was just sit there stunned!

[ciyapaofficial]

How can I make a no-sew shirt from an old t-shirt?

Finding creative ways to upcycle and recycle old clothing has become a fashionable trend in a world where sustainability is gaining momentum. One such fascinating project is changing an old t-shirt into a fashionable, unique no-sew shirt. 

This easy step-by-step DIY instruction blog will show you how to build beautiful clothing without picking up a needle and thread, whether you want to refresh your wardrobe or unleash your creative side.

Gather your Materials: To get started on your no-sew shirt project, gather the following materials:

An old T-shirt: Choose a T-shirt with an interesting design or color that you want to repurpose.

Fabric scissors: These will be essential for cutting and shaping the t-shirt.

Fabric chalk or a washable marker: Use this to mark the areas where you will cut the fabric.

Measuring tape or ruler: To ensure accurate measurements and a well-fitted shirt.

Embellishments (optional): If you want to add an extra flair to your shirt, gather any accessories like studs, beads, or fabric paint.

Select your Design: Before cutting into your t-shirt, decide on the style you want to achieve. Here are a few popular options:

Crop top: Transform your t-shirt into a trendy crop top by cutting it to your desired length. Experiment with different shapes like a straight line, asymmetrical, or even a knot tie-up.

Off-shoulder or cold-shoulder top: Create a stylish off-shoulder or cold-shoulder look by cutting off the neckline and sleeves.

Fringe shirt: Add some boho vibes by cutting vertical strips from the bottom of the shirt to create fringe.

Cut-out design: Get creative by cutting out shapes, such as hearts, stars, or geometric patterns, on the back or front of the shirt.

Measure and Mark: Once you have decided on your design, measure and mark the areas where you will make the cuts. Use a measuring tape or ruler to ensure precision. Fabric chalk or a washable marker is great for marking because it can be easily removed later.

Cut with Precision: Carefully cut along the marked lines using fabric scissors. Take your time to ensure smooth and clean cuts. Remember to cut through the front and back layers of the t-shirt unless you want specific parts to remain intact.

Create Additional Details: If you want to add some extra flair to your no-sew shirt, consider incorporating additional details:

Ruffles: Make horizontal cuts along the bottom of the shirt, leaving a few centimeters of fabric intact. Stretch these strips to create ruffles.

Braided straps: Cut thin strips from the sleeves and braid them to create unique shoulder straps.

Studded accents: Use fabric glue or adhesive to attach studs or other embellishments to the shirt.

Refine and Personalise: After completing the main cuts and adding desired details, try on your shirt to assess the fit. Make adjustments as needed, such as trimming excess fabric or refining the shape of the neckline or sleeves. This step ensures your no-sew shirt flatters your body and reflects your style.

Finishing Touches: Now that you have transformed your old tee into a fabulous no-sew shirt, take a moment to admire your creation. Consider adding some final touches:

Ironing: Iron the shirt to smooth out wrinkles and give it a polished look.

Washing: Launder the shirt according to the care instructions to set the cuts and remove any leftover markings.

Styling: Experiment with different outfits and accessories to create unique looks highlighting your new garment.

Advantages of Upcycling an Old T-shirt

Environmental Sustainability

Reusing an old tee helps to reduce waste and is a necessary step towards sustainable fashion. Utilizing an existing item lessens the demand for fresh resources while lowering textile manufacture's environmental effect.

Personalization and Creativity

Reusing allows you to express your creativity and personalize a t-shirt. You may personalize it by transforming it into something unique. Repurposing allows you to make it unique by adding embellishments, dyeing it, or cutting it into a new pattern.

Cost-Effective

Upcycling an oldie goldie tee is a budget-friendly option compared to buying new clothing. Instead of spending money on a new shirt, you can repurpose the one you already have. It saves money and prevents you from contributing to the fast fashion cycle.

Preservation of Sentimental Value

Many t-shirts hold sentimental value, representing memories of events, places, or people. Reusing allows you to preserve the emotional attachment associated with the t-shirt while giving it a new lease on life. You can continue to cherish its memories by transforming it into something usable.

Skill Development

Using a t-shirt again allows you to learn new skills and expand your knowledge. It encourages you to explore your creativity and develop practical skills, whether it's sewing, embroidery, or fabric painting. It can be a fulfilling and rewarding hobby that enhances your self-sufficiency.

Textile Trash Reduction

The textile business generates a substantial amount of trash. You can help to reduce textile waste by using an old t-shirt. It helps to decrease the negative environmental impacts of clothes disposal in landfills.

Circular Economy Promotion

Using old things adheres to the ideals of a circular economy, in which materials are reused for as long as possible. You may extend the life of your t-shirt and eliminate the demand for fresh produce by repurposing it. It encourages more sustainable and efficient resource use.

Social Impact

Reutilizing can have positive social implications as well. It can provide local artisans and small businesses opportunities, supporting local economies and communities. Additionally, by upcycling and promoting sustainable practices, you can inspire others to adopt similar behaviors and contribute to a greener future.

Reduction of Energy Consumption

Using old articles requires fewer resources and energy compared to producing new items. Reusing and repurposing materials saves energy and reduces the carbon footprint associated with manufacturing processes.

Encourages Mindful Consumption

Reusing promotes a shift in mindset towards more mindful consumption. Instead of constantly buying new clothing, reusing encourages individuals to think creatively and make the most of what they already have. It helps foster a more sustainable approach to fashion and consumption habits.

Conclusion

In conclusion, changing a t-shirt into a trendy no-sew shirt is a fun and creative way to update your wardrobe. Without a needle and thread, you may obtain a distinctive and elegant aesthetic with simple steps and minimum supplies. 

Whether you want to upcycle a worn-out tee or experiment with a bold design, this no-sew technique has many applications. So, grab your scissors, get creative, and show off your fashion sense. Embrace the eco-friendly approach and add a personal touch to your clothing while minimizing waste and exhibiting your DIY talents. Happy crafting!

Original Source:

[partypoisonzz]

i'm dressing up like a cat (gerard way x reader smut)

Kinktober Day 15: Pet Play/Pegging

Era: Current (2022)

Reader Pronouns: She/her

Content:

- Kitty Gerard

- Pegging

- Mirror sex

- Degradation/praise

- Rough oral sex

Word Count: 2,736

Disclaimer: This explicit story was written by an adult for consumption by other adults only. If you are under 18, please do not read or interact in any way.

-

"Here, kitty, kitty."

Much to your delight, the sound of a jingling bell meets your ears as soon as the words leave your lips. Moments later, you feel something brush against your calf, followed by a low purr.

You smile as Gerard rests his head against your thigh, looking up at you with wide, expectant hazel eyes. You are more than pleased to see that the only things remotely close to a scrap of clothing that he's wearing are his cat ears and collar.

"There's my pretty kitty," you greet him, combing your fingers through his hair affectionately. He rubs his cheek against your leg, eyes falling closed as he revels in your attention.

Your hand wanders from his hair, curling under his chin. You hold his head in place, forcing him to look at you. Your thumb brushes idly against his cheek. "You're going to be a good pet for me, right?" you ask. "Gonna do what your mistress says?"

He nods quickly. "Yes, mistress."

"Good." You pat your lap. "Get up here, then."

With a quiet hum, he climbs onto the bed and stretches out over your lap.

You smile. "Good boy," you coo, gently caressing his back.

Your heart flutters as he fucking purrs, leaning into your touch as your fingers card through his hair before travelling back down.

This whole pet play thing is sort of new to you, but the adjustment hasn't been as strange as you initially expected.

Maybe it's the manner in which Gerard so obviously revels in your attention, like a... Well. Like an affectionate kitten.

Or maybe it's the fact that he just looks so pretty with a pink collar around his neck, a tag with your name on it attached next to the bell. Though you laughed at the if found, please return to... message when you had it made, there's something about feeling like you own him that causes heat to pool in the pit of your stomach. He's yours. All yours.

Hell, it almost sounds natural whenever he purrs or mewls or hisses. The nicknames of pet and pretty kitty fall from your lips now almost as easily as baby and sweetheart do.

Something about all of it is just... right, somehow.

You would be happy to just stay like this all day, with him purring in your lap, if he would let you. You know full well, however, that that isn't the intention this time.

A quiet whimper reaches your ears, followed by the feeling of Gerard rolling his hips against your thigh, just slightly.

However imperceptible he may have thought the movement was, you notice. Your hand stills on the small of his back as you click your tongue at him.

"Feeling needy, are we, kitty?" you ask.

He takes in a shaking breath. "Yes, mistress."

You chuckle, resuming your gentle ministrations against his skin. "Poor little thing," you fuss over him. "So desperate and can't even ask for what he wants. What should we do about that, hmm?"

Though it was definitely a question, Gerard knows better than to answer with words. He just lets out another quiet whine, pressing his burning face against the duvet.

You scratch your nails lightly over his skin as you continue to pet him, — not hard enough to sting, but certainly hard enough for him to notice.

"Does my pretty kitty want to take his mistress's strap?" Your voice is soft, sweet. Deceptive, considering the fact that you're going to fucking destroy him before the night's over. "Tell me, pet."

He swallows hard. "Yes, mistress," he mutters.

"That's what I thought." Your hand travels lower and lower before falling away. Without warning, you give the back of his thigh a teasing slap. He stiffens against you, letting out a sharp yelp.

You don't allow his shrill little noise to faze you. You'll be hearing plenty more of those right here in a second. "Up," you command him.

With a trembling nod, he crawls off to the side, allowing you to stand up.

You take your sweet time rifling through the drawers of your nightstand before coming back up with the strap-on and lube. You walk back over to the bed, raising your eyebrows when you note Gerard's anxious expression.

"What're we so nervous for, kitten?" you press. "You act like you've never been fucked before." You crook your finger at him, beckoning him over. "C'mere."

Still carrying an odd air of apprehension, he returns to his prior spot, bent over your lap.

You reach for the bottle of lube, chuckling quietly to yourself as you coat one of your fingers. "Relax, sweet thing," you tell him. "You know that your mistress will take good care of you. I'll go as slow as you'd like. I've always done that before, right?"

He gives a jerky nod. "Mmm-hmm."

"There we go. You're okay, see?" You run your other hand through his hair as your finger presses against his entrance. "You ready, sweetheart?"

"Y-yeah." You note how his fingers are already digging into the sheets. "Do it."

Slowly, you continue to press your finger in, — only to effortlessly slide all the way up to the knuckle.

"Huh." You crook your finger slightly, embracing the debauched moan that instantly breaks up from Gerard's throat in response.

"So *easy* tonight, kitten," you remark, setting a slow rhythm with your finger. "Too easy, even. You're already ready for another." You pull your finger out, letting out a chuckle laced with malice. "Hell, baby... Don't think I even need to use any more lube."

You add another finger, making sure to press against the places that you know make him moan and squirm.

The quick pace that you set would be way too fast if he hadn't already been thoroughly prepped. The thing is, though, that he almost certainly has. You just had very little part in it.

"Have something to tell me?" you press as you curl your fingers up into him, inspiring a desperate cry.

"Fuck... Yes," he pants.

"Mmm." You hold your fingers in that exact place, unmoving. "And what, out of curiosity, would that be?"

He lets out a shuddering breath before making his confession. "I, ah... I got myself ready for you, mistress."

You chuckle. "Well, you certainly did a good job," you remark. "Problem is, I didn't ask you to."

Before he can even process what's happening, you pull your fingers out of him, punctuating the shock of the loss with a sharp slap against his ass.

He gasps. His hips buck involuntarily against you, which only earns him another slap.

"Dumb little cat," you spit at him. "You forgot your place, didn't you?"

"I-I'm s-sorry, mistress," he stammers. "I was trying to be good... Really..."

You ignore his groveling, snapping your fingers before pointing towards the floor. "Kneel," you order.

He looks over at you, eyes wide and pitiful. "I..."

"Kneel," you repeat.

With a quiet whimper, he obliges you.

Just like that, your anger begins to dissipate. "There we go." You smile down at him. A slight thrill shoots through you when he flinches as you pull his chin into your hand.

"You've gotta remember, baby," you chide him. "Bad kitties aren't allowed on the furniture." You reach down to ruffle his hair, — a gentle, soothing touch before you continue to order him around.

As soon as you pull your hand away, you point towards the other end of the room. "Why don't you crawl over there?"

He gives you a questioning look. "To the mirror?"

"Uh-huh." You giggle, giving him a slight swat. "Go on, cat. Shoo."

You don't see the way that his face goes bright red at your condescension before he begins to crawl across the carpet, finally stopping  in front of the mirror.

Once he comes to a stop, you stand up and approach him, carrying over the strap-on and harness.

You notice how his eyes freeze on the mirror as you begin to shed your clothes, starting with your pants. His eyes travel away from the reflective glass and back up to you as you begin to toy with the bottom of your shirt, itching to see the real thing.

Of course, you aren't going to let that happen. "Uh-uh. Mirror only." You wait until his eyes return to the reflection before you finally pull the article over your head and toss it to the floor.

You chuckle as your bra follows suit. "There they are, baby," you tease him, reaching up to give yourself a quick squeeze. "Those tits you love so much." Your self-assured smile melts into an exaggerated pout as you look down at him. "It's unfortunate that bad kitties aren't allowed to touch, isn't it?"

He groans. "You're fucking evil..."

"And you're fucking dumb for talking to me that way." Your fingers tangle in his hair, yanking almost too hard for it to even be pleasurable. Almost.

"What is it gonna take to make you know your place, pet?" you ask him. "You're here to serve me. You don't get to make the decisions." You give his hair another sharp tug. "What has to happen for you to learn, huh?"

You almost think you're imagining it when you hear it. But *no.*

He just fucking hissed at you.

You decide to pretend that the white hot rush coursing through your veins is rage.

"Stupid fucking cat!" you shout. He cries out as your hand comes down on his ass again... and again... and again...

"P-please, mistress..." he moans between strikes.  "I'm sorry."

"Shut your fucking mouth," you tell him. "Better yet, let me do it, since you're evidently too dumb to know what's good for you."

With one quick swipe, you discard your panties and reach for the strap-on. You adjust the harness in what has to be record time, before reaching down to tug at his hair again. "Turn around."

He obliges, eyes going wide as you push your hand against the back of his neck.

"Suck," you order.

Between your hands and your voice, something drives him to finally comply.

You toss your head back as your fingers relax in his hair, becoming loving rather than cruel once again. "Good pet," you murmur. "Finally doing what you're fucking good for..."

He makes a muffled sound that you assume was meant to be an affirmation. You relish the obscene slurping sounds for a while before rolling your hips forward just slightly.

The first choked sound as you hit the back of his throat is delicious. It's enough to spur you on, repeating your actions. Soon enough, all you can hear are those obscene, strangled noises, intercut with desperate gasps.

"Is this what it takes for you to be good, kitten?" you ask between thrusts. "You need to have your slutty little throat fucked in order to lose that attitude?"

More muffled sounds between uneven breaths.

"Somebody needs to tell you not to talk with your fucking mouth full," you sneer.

He reaches up, tapping his finger against your thigh. Instantly, you pull back, allowing him to draw in a sharp breath.

He shakes his head. "N-no," he manages. "No. I..." He swallows audibly before continuing, looking up at you with tear-glistening eyes.

"It's alright, kitten." You rub soothing circles against the top of his back, allowing him to rest his head against your leg as he catches his breath. "You want to stop?"

"Need you to fuck me, mistress," he manages. "Can you?"

You laugh. "I sure can, baby." You stroke his face affectionately before pulling back. "Especially now that you've gotten me so nice and wet."

In more ways than one, you mentally add, noting the unmistakable throb between your thighs.

That can be taken care of later, of course. For now, you've got different priorities.

"Face the mirror again," you instruct him. "Hands and knees."

He does as he's asked without argument this time.

"That's my good boy." You line the strap up with his entrance before slowly sinking in.

Gerard lets out a shuddering moan, hands and knees digging hard into the carpet until finally bottom out.

"Taking me so well, kitty." You lean down, pressing a quick kiss against the top of his head before pulling back. "I'm gonna move, okay?"

"Please," he gasps. "Please, mistress. Need..."

"Shh." You pull back before pushing back into him, harder this time. "No need to beg, baby. I'm right here."

Slowly but surely, your thrusts pick up momentum.

Gerard's sounds continue to rise in volume all the while, pitiful whimpers turning into wanton moans.

Fuck, he's beautiful like this. Your only complaint is that his eyes remain fixed on the floor nearly the entire time, neglecting the mirror that is right in front of him.

That simply won't do, you decide.

Your hand cups his chin again, forcing him upwards. "Look."

As soon as those hazel doe eyes settle on his reflection, he lets out a broken moan.

The way that he looks right now goes far beyond pretty. He's otherworldly, cheeks rosy and streaked with the faint remainder of tear stains, mouth hanging open as a series of nonsensical noises break up from his throat with your every thrust. The headband that holds on his cat ears has come loose and is threatening to fall off, loose strands of silver-streaked brown hair fanning out around his face, and...

Shit. That fucking pink collar.

"See how pretty you are?" you ask quietly, planting a kiss against his bare shoulder before your hand climbs around to the front of his body. "Keep looking at yourself while I fuck you, baby. Want you to see how beautiful you look when you come."

With those words, your fingers suddenly hook beneath the leather of the collar. He gasps as you yank at it, constricting his air flow just slightly as you drive into him harder.

"You're mine, kitty," you tell him between fast-paced thrusts and tugs of the collar. "All... Fucking... Mine..."

He just continues to make debauched, incomprehensible noises in response. In his current state, you're not sure that he can do much else.

You look down in the mirror, grinning wickedly as you take note of his cock, pressed against his stomach and leaking.

"You're close, aren't you?" you ask.

He nods frantically, giving a high-pitched whine.

You reach the hand that isn't currently tugging atnhis collar around, taking him into your hand.

"That's it," you encourage him, matching the speed of your strokes to the rhythm of your thrusts. "Come for me, kitty. You've been so... fucking... good for me..."

Soon, his breathing is reduced to a series of sharp, uneven gasps. With one loud, final cry, he comes all over your hand, his stomach, the mirror.

You milk him through it until he has nothing left to give, squirming against your touch. "Mistress... Can't take any more..."

You lean down to press a kiss against the side of his face before pulling out of him. He makes a quiet sound before his knees start to give out underneath him.

"Nope." You loop an arm around his waist, pulling him until he's upright.

He leans back against you, still panting. "Holy shit..."

You chuckle, holding your come-streaked hand in front of his face. "Think you have it in you to clean up a bit of your mess, baby?"

He doesn't hesitate before allowing you to plunge your fingers into his mouth. He licks them clean in what seems like no time at all, hot tongue swirling over your skin.

You groan as you pull them back out. "Fuck, pretty boy. You must be trying to kill me."

He laughs weakly. "Think I could say the same thing for you."

"No, my dear. That chapter is done." You nuzzle your face against his neck before pulling back, threading your fingers through his.

"Come on," you urge. "Let's go get cleaned up. I'll worry about the mirror later."

He hums an agreement before tacking on an afterthought. "Want me to eat you out in the shower?"

You give an incredulous chuckle. "Ready for another round already?" you ask. "I thought I was trying to kill you?"

He manages to turn around, wrapping his arms around your waist before pressing a kiss against your lips. "Baby," he mutters as he pulls away. "I'd drown in you if I could."

Your heart soars. "We'll see about that."

-

Taglist (Ask to be included!):

@mysunfishpeedinmyroom @xocasper @clichedlovers @yachiiko @enchantinghouseofwh0res @dangerouslittlefairy @deadlovers @canyoutakemehome

[seokjinsonlyone]

so i got on tiktok for more than five minutes for the first time in like a month the other day and i saw they was doing this trend where it’s sorta like fmk but like husband, boyfriend, or sneaky link and i just wanted to add my two cents

namjoon:

this is your boyfriend

i know you may be thinking ???? boyfriend???? not husband??????????

but yes boyfriend listen we all know this man is brilliant; big brained and big bodied; cognitive skills off the charts; he knows a thing or two about a thing or two

however, he just ain’t there yet 😭 he don’t even got his license y’all gon flub on the contraceptives once or twice and next thing you know you strapping your kid into the basket of his bike so he can drop them off to school 😩

and his cooking……….. like watching this man with a knife gives me anxiety

he has a bit of growth to do but that’s why you date before getting married 🥳🥳🥳

y’all would go on the beeeest dates i’m talking museums, picnics, hikes, and yes bike rides

and like he’s just so sweet and thoughtful and he tries his very best to be gentle despite his destructive nature so it would just be so cute and fun for him to be your boyfriend

seokjin:

it goes without saying that this is your husband

to be honest ion even really need to elaborate on this one like…

he cooks; he cleans; he’s thoughtful, supportive, silly, will do anything to make you happy…

everything you could ever want and need in a man is manifested in kim seokjin

so just lemme tell you what this ^^ gif is this is like three months after you’ve given birth to your second child

he got home from work way later than expected he was tired exhausted really but still helped you with your new baby taking turns tending to them on and off all night

you had just gotten into a really good sleep when your alarm went off signaling it was time to get child number 1 up and ready for school

you groaned sitting up but before you could even get out of bed he was wiping the sleep from his eyes and telling you he was going to take care of it

“but you got off late last night and you helped me too”

he reassured you that it was fine and that he had it he knew how hard you worked all day everyday and you never got the opportunity to clock out

it was his day off anyway so he kissed your forehead and told you to get back to sleep

which was a bit easier said than done bc those two were like bulls in a china cabinet there was whining and scuttling all around a few disagreements on which outfit your child should wear and what they should eat for breakfast

but soon enough you looked out the window and saw jin adjusting his shorts and a few seconds later your child bobbling out after him backpack a little too big for their body before they walked hand in hand to the car

that’s… what that is… that’s your husband

and when i say your i mean mine that’s my husband

you can keep scrolling 😗✌️

yoongi:

husband <33333

like jin this man is the total package

he cooks, cleans, is loving and supportive, will take care of you emotionally, and on top of that he’s handy! extensive knowledge about interior design!

like if you want some pictures hanged or a shelf built or something this is the man for you

your lil bob the builder <3

like idk what it is with this man but something about him is just so soft and makes me want to love and be loved by him

like if this is not your husband this is your long term boyfriend you are dating him for no less than five years and when you part way you ain’t gon know how to live without him

so don’t leave

bring the documents he already said so

hoseok:

boyfriend 100%

hobi just seems so partnerable

i look at him and i see movie nights and pillow talk

i see cuddles and late night facetime calls

your own personal hope on the streets when he wants to loosen up or practice or relieve stress😩

you go to a restaurant and each pick a dish and share it with each other like he’s very much giving one milkshake 2 straws

or you two cook together side by side he’s chopping vegetables and cleaning while you’re sautéing and stir frying and what not

you go shopping with him and critique his outfits when he tries them on and vice versa

i don’t even know man i just see hobi and i think he’s flawless i want to give him the world

and i think about that time when he said one of his personal goals was to become special to someone 😭😭😭

so like girl get your boyfriend and just give him all the love he’s searching for all the love he deserves

jimin:

….sneaky link

look at him smh caught in 4k sending a “you up?” text at the tender hour of 3am

idk what to tell ya man he just ain’t bout it rn

he ain’t looking for nothing but fun

atm it’s just him and his bros

every once in a while he’ll go searching for a connection for a night or two

there may be a few repeat offenders a string of flings if you will but never anything serious

i can see it in his eyes everyone can really bc he flirts with every living and nonliving thing in sight

taehyung:

husband

now you may be thinking… is he not on par with namjoon when it comes to practical skills???

and like yes perhaps but he definitely is not as much as a liability

like i think i can trust him to open a packet of barbecue sauce without risk of ruining my outfit and like i know i wouldn’t fear for my life if he was slicing a hard boiled egg

which is not to say that i wouldn’t mind getting stabbed by joon there are certainly worse ways to go but that’s not what we’re talking about

what we’re talking about is tae and how i just know with him you’d be safe physically mentally and emotionally 🥺🥺🥺

and idk if it’s bc i done seen him in slacks one too many times but something about him just screams commitment

like he’s giving 401k he’s giving life insurance he’s giving condo in florida where you spend the winter bc your bones get too cold where you normally live

but you know what he’s also giving passion like you will 100% spend the rest of your life in love with this man

like in that picture it’s giving you’ve been married for three years it’s wednesday and he’s off so he asked you on a date

it’s taking you longer than anticipated to get ready you wanted to look pretty for him bc truthfully you don’t get to go on dates often as much as he’d like to

your hair and makeup is finally done so you find him and tell him you’re almost done and you’ll be out as soon as you slip on your outfit

he lazily turns his head to you and tells you to take your time there’s no rush and he’s just looking at you with absolute hearts in his eyes

you’re not even fully ready and there’s hearts in his eyes 😭 it makes your heart race and you can’t keep the smile off your face as you get ready for your date, for the rest of your life together with him

jungkook:

i know y’all gon hate to hear this one but… sneaky link

^^ that may be your boyfriend but you ain’t his girlfriend 😭

that is the face of someone you called and told that you wanted to stop messing around bc you was getting attached but he convinced you that it didn’t have to be all that and acted cute until you changed your mind

listen this man is in his prime he ain’t tryna settle down

the moment you try to commit is the moment he jumps out the window

and this is not to say that he’s not a good boy but like i’ve known jungkooks i’ve been friends with jungkooks and the second you try to take things farther than what they want that’s when they stomp all over your heart

however i do firmly believe that jungkook ain’t like them others he’s more than a good boy he’s the best boy

and if he like idk heard bells when you walked by or was pulled by the red string of fate or like felt the yearning or whatever it is that he done conjured up in his head he’d be everything and more 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

[whumpcereal]

behavior modification, part four

<prev, masterlist here

content warnings for adult language, creepy/intimate whumper (like, on blast here), restraints, muzzles, minor discussion of involuntary urination (definitely not sexual), noncon touching, noncon nudity (not strictly sexual), and threatened future noncon.

part four: ivan welcomes jack to captivity

Ivan doesn’t hesitate. When the airport taxi drops him at the curb two days later, he barely makes time to drop his bags before he heads to the basement to see what Seligman has done with Jack.

The basement looks much the same as it always has, but there is a new wall that cuts three-quarters of the way through the original footprint of the room. No one would think it was a recent addition; the contractors WRU hired did an excellent job making sure that it blends in with the rest of the room. There’s a regular door, white and beveled like the others in Ivan’s house, but with a discrete lock that Ivan can unpick from the outside. Behind that door is one made of steel, securely padlocked and entirely soundproofed. Ivan reaches into his pocket for the key, his groin already tight at what he knows he will find. He closes the door behind him before taking a closer look.

The boy is still out of it—at least, Ivan thinks he is. With most of Jack’s handsome face swallowed up by a black leather muzzle, Ivan can only go by his eyes, which are buttoned shut just as if Jack were taking a nap. Of course, there are salt tracks that disappear into the cut leather and spidery coronas of red where he’s burst blood vessels in his cheeks, but really, Jack looks almost peaceful this way. But it isn’t the muzzle that excites Ivan most. On the contrary, once Ivan’s shown Jack what to do with that pretty pink mouth, he won’t have to muzzle him again. No, it’s how Seligman has chosen to restrain the boy that Ivan can’t resist.

Jack is on his knees, his top-half wrapped tight in an old canvas straitjacket. Seligman has an excellent sense of humor.

Of course, Seligman’s made some modifications. At the back of the jacket’s collar, between Jack’s shoulder blades, and just beneath his back ribs are wide D-rings, sewn into the fabric and attached to metal eyelets in the concrete wall behind by short lengths of chain. Beneath him, Jack’s ankles are immobilized in a modified hog-tie, secured with linked chain to the D-rings on the back of his straitjacket. His knees are splayed wide open beneath him, peeking out from faded black basketball shorts.

Seligman may be a sick fuck, Ivan thinks, but he knows what he’s doing. Sweet little Jack cannot move a muscle. He is entirely at Ivan’s mercy now. Their work together will be underway soon.  

Ivan can’t help himself. He laughs. “Oh, there you are.”

And then, Jack’s eyes flutter open, somehow bluer and more beautiful against their bloodshot whites.

The boy is terrified. The naked fear and confusion in those big blue eyes is precious. Ivan reaches to touch the boy’s red cheek, and Jack tries to jerk away—but he can’t. His body barely twitches against the solid tension of his restraints.

“Careful now,” Ivan coos. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The muscles in Jack’s throat cord as he fights to speak—well, to scream—but the sound is mangled and lost behind his muzzle.

“Settle down now, Mr. Kenyon. Settle down.” Ivan ghosts his thumb over the thick black leather that nudges at the underside of Jack’s cheek. He cups Jack’s face and forces the boy to hold his gaze. “I’d love for us to have a chat. I’m sure you want to know more about your—position here.”

Jack bleats against the muzzle, cheeks burning under Ivan’s touch. Ivan shakes his head.

“But I can’t take that off of you unless you promise to behave. This is a professional environment, after all.”

Another muffled attempt at a scream. The effect is gorgeous, and Ivan lets Jack’s chin go so that he can reach down to adjust himself.

Jack sees, and his eyes widen. He shakes his head furiously, pulling, tugging, straining against the straps and chains, as though it will make some kind of difference. It will be easier, Ivan thinks, when the boy understands that his efforts will have no effect on his situation. When he’s learned to be helpless.

But that won’t happen for some time, and until then, Ivan is content to enjoy the show.

“And here I thought you were top of your class,” he says, smoothing Jack’s tousled hair from his sweat-damp forehead. “It seems you’re having a hard time understanding. But don’t worry, Jack. I’m a behavioral scientist, after all. I know how to help someone learn.”

He reaches into his pocket, and his fingers bump against a small remote control. It will activate the electric clip that Ivan asked Seligman make sure to attach to the metal buckles fastened across Jack’s back. A crude system, perhaps, but Ivan is sure it will be effective until he installs the shock collar WRU sent; he didn’t want Seligman to collar the boy without him.

“Now, let me ask you directly: if I remove the muzzle, will you be quiet?”

Jack hesitates for a moment, his face contorted beneath its leather prison. Then, he nods—well, as much as he is able.

Ivan doesn’t believe him for a second, but he smiles sympathetically. “Alright, then.” He unclasps the buckle and pries the leather away from Jack’s sweaty face.  

Jack spits the metal bit from his mouth and his guttural scream fills the room almost immediately. Ivan enjoys it for a moment—after all, no one can hear the boy, and he looks so good this way—but then, he remembers: punishment is most effective in the moment, and he is meant to be training Jack, after all.

Ivan reaches back into his pocket and punches the remote. Jack’s shriek is replaced by an animal keening, his body spasming as the electric current wraps itself around his ribs.

“I told you,” Ivan says gently. “My directive was clear. Behave, and you’ll be fine.”

Jack’s mouth is practically foaming, and faint aftershocks still wrack his body. “You fucking—”

Ivan presses the button again, and Jack’s body writhes in its canvas sheath. Jack’s eyes roll back in his head, his chin thrust high in the air, and Ivan can’t help but appreciate the tableau.

“Language,” Ivan hisses. He pulls the remote from his pocket and wiggles it in front of Jack’s heavy-lidded eyes. “You know, that clip is situated awfully close to your heart.”

Jack’s Adam’s apple bobs like crazy in his white throat; he can’t swallow, can’t speak, can hardly breathe. Ivan tucks the crook of his hand under Jack’s chin, pressing just hard enough that Jack should understand he means business.

“Now, are you going to behave?”

Jack doesn’t respond. His chest heaves beneath the straitjacket’s straps and buckles, his jaw slack and wet with his own spit.

“I asked you a question, darling. Are you going to behave, or should I muzzle you again? It’s your choice.”

Jack’s shoulders twitch, and the buckles rattle. “Please,” he rasps.

“I’m afraid that doesn’t really answer my question,” Ivan says. His thumb hovers over the remote button.

“No!” Jack manages.

Ivan smirks, still poised to strike. “What do we call it, Jack, when we add an unfavorable consequence in order to discourage a behavior?”

“What?”

“In operant conditioning, darling. When we administer a consequence the subject will not enjoy in order to weaken an undesirable response. Like I just did with you. I administered a shock to discourage you from disobeying me. What do we call that?”

Jack shakes his head, or at least he tries to. His voice is wet and wheezing. “I—I don’t—why? Why are you doing this?”

“For such an intelligent boy, you seem to struggle with answering such a simple question,” Ivan sighs. Jack squeezes his eyes shut in anticipation of the next shock.

It’s really too easy. For all that humans believe in their own complexity, it takes very little to reduce them to their basest animal instincts.

“Let’s try again,” Ivan says. “What is it called when we administer an aversive consequence to discourage behavior?”

“I don’t know,” Jack whimpers. He doesn’t look up. “I don’t know. Please. Please—”

“Oh, sweetheart. You’re not in a position to be making requests. Not anymore.” Ivan bobbles the remote between his fingers. “Not to worry. I’m here to do the thinking for you, aren’t I? It’s called punishment, Jack. A basic principle of behavior modification, wouldn’t you agree? You were bad just now. But you won’t be bad again, because I made sure that you know that, if you are bad, it will be painful. Would you agree? That you’ll be good for me?”

Jack only stares back at him, eyes still bleary and lost.

“I think you’ll be very good,” Ivan coos, carding his fingers through Jack’s hair. “In fact, I’m sure that you’ll be a very good boy by the time we’re done with your training.”

Jack forgets himself. “T-training?”

Ivan wraps his hand around the remote, and Jack’s eyes widen.

“See, you’re such a fast learner!” Ivan says. He pockets the remote, and Jack’s shoulders relax. “But I suppose your confusion isn’t unreasonable. I can save my quiz for later if you’d like to ask your own questions now.”

Jack looks uncertainly at Ivan. Ivan knuckles his fingers into Jack’s hair and rips his head backward. The boy hisses in pain.

“Speak now, Jackie darling, or forever hold your peace. I won’t give you this opportunity again.”

“Is this some—some kind of-of-of prank?” Jack asks. He sounds almost hopeful.

Ivan laughs. “Oh no, darling. It’s not a joke. I take my work very seriously.”

Jack is wary—he is doing all he can to avoid looking Ivan in the eye—but he manages to take some control of his trembling lips. “Then, what is this?” he asks.  

Ivan lets Jack’s hair go and stands up, pulling at the crotch of his pants. “By ‘this,’ I’d assume you want to know why you’re being held in such a manner?”

Jack’s head bobs in a shallow nod.

“Because this is what you signed up for,” Ivan says with a shrug. “You wanted to be my research assistant, and so you are.”

“I don’t—I don’t understand.”

Ivan stands and moves away from the boy, leaning his weight on the heavy steel table at the center of the room. Seligman’s left Jack’s paperwork there in a neat pile. Ivan picks up the manila folder and begins to page through it.

“Did you read the contracts I left for you, Jack?”

“I—I signed them,” Jack says, his voice practically a whisper. “Where you told me to.”

“That was good of you,” Ivan replies. “But if you’d read them thoroughly, you’d be better prepared for what’s going to happen next.” Jack is silent, and Ivan clicks his tongue in displeasure. “Go on, darling. Ask your next question.”

“What’s going to happen next?” Jack asks weakly.

“I’m so glad you asked,” Ivan says, slapping the folder shut with excitement. “The NDA you signed is for WRU. They’re the corporate investor in our research. Are you familiar with them?”

Jack’s chest bucks with a sharp breath. “The—the company that—they—don’t they—they turn people into pets?”

“Companions, Jack. That’s the politically correct term. They give troubled people a new lease on life.”

“I—” Jack begins, but no words follow.

“WRU has been working on some issues having to do with its public image. I’m sure you’ll remember that one of their designations is Romantic, yes?”

Jack doesn’t need to respond; the way the blood disappears from his cheeks is enough for Ivan to know that he understands.

“Well, their previous training protocol had a lot of flaws—things that made watchdog groups uncomfortable, you know. So, they’ve hired me to work out the kinks in their system, so to speak.”

Jack is sweating now.

“Ask your next question, Jack. I know you’re wondering.”

“Why—why am I—“ but he can’t finish.

“I need a test subject to help develop the new training protocol.”

He can see on Jack’s face that the boy is humiliated, that he’s ashamed of his own fear and weakness; but there is anger in those beautiful tear-soaked eyes, too. Even so, Jack can’t seem to prevent his tears from falling.

“Why?” he rasps.

Ivan shrugs. “Why? Why what? Why you, I suppose? You’re just what they’re looking for. Young, handsome, eager—we’ll just need to make you compliant and responsive as well.”

Jack flinches at the word responsive; he tries again to shake his head, but the chains hold him in place. He’s sweating in earnest now. “But you can’t—those places—they don’t just kidnap people.”

“And I didn’t kidnap you. You signed the consent forms, didn’t you?”

He did, of course. Ivan and Seligman made sure of it. For all intents and purposes, Jack Kenyon no longer exists; his mind and body are the sole property of WRU, and Ivan is his private custodian. It’s the sweetest part of the deal, knowing that there’s no legal recourse—knowing that one day, Ivan will be able to show old Joe just what he’s done to his beautiful boy, and there will be nothing Joe can do about it.

“No,” Jack moans. “No—you—you lied to me!”

“I didn’t. You simply didn’t read the fine print.”

“You drugged me,” Jack spits back. His neck strains against his short lead, and Ivan tries not to get distracted by the notion of adding a leash to the collar that sits in the box WRU sent over. There are so many delightful toys that he and Jack will get to play with.

But that’s not important right now.

“Those signatures are authentic,” says Ivan. “You weren’t coerced. You chose.”

“Even if that were true—” Jack’s eyes are wild now, distracted and bouncing everywhere at once. Then, he freezes. “Oh my god, Joe.”

“Oh, yes. He is your one detractor,” Ivan says condescendingly. “Other than Joe, you are deliciously unattached.”

Jack pulls again at his restraints, but the chains hold him fast. “You won’t—don’t—please, don’t hurt Joe! I’ll do anything.”

Ivan’s been looking forward to this part. He leans down and lets his breath sit hot in Jack’s ear.

“Jackie darling, you’re the one that’s hurt Joe.”  

“What do you mean?” Jack asks slowly.

“Well, you blocked his number. And when the statement for your credit card gets delivered next month, he’ll be able to see the paper trail you left him, all the way to Los Angeles.”

“No.”

Ivan nods. “It’s a shame, the way you ran out on him, but I suppose he knows you’re a bit chaotic—all of the things that you did before you found him, all of the things you went through—"

“—no, no, no—“ Jack murmurs to himself like a man possessed, and Ivan can’t help but smile.

“You could have been so much more direct. He wants to marry you, to take care of you—and you couldn’t be bothered to even leave a note.”

“No!” Jack howls, and the chains rattle again. It doesn’t matter; he isn’t going anywhere. Jack Kenyon won’t leave this room. Whoever—whatever—emerges, it will not be Jack. But he hasn’t accepted it. Not yet. It’s still too early. There is still some fight left in him, even if he knows no one is coming for him now.

It’s beautiful, Ivan thinks.

“Fucking—let me out! Please. I don’t consent. I don’t—”

“Oh, but darling, you did. You did consent. And don’t you value scientific knowledge, Jack? Aren’t you honored to be part of such an important project? You’re going to be the evidence of my research. Living evidence of a complex behavioral hypothesis. Not to mention, you’re helping me secure a bonus for providing WRU a made-to-order companion at the end of this—if I don’t keep you myself. My agreement does stipulate that I get first rights to your contract.”

Ivan presses the button on the remote before Jack can scream.

The boy arches against his straps and buckles, lips torn wide in a silent howl of pain. It takes a moment for the twitching to subside, and then Ivan secures the muzzle back in place, shoving the bit hard against Jack’s tongue before he buckles the strap behind his head.

A dark stain spreads at the crotch of Jack’s basketball shorts, a puddle dribbling between his red knees. It’s encouraging, Ivan decides: the boy is already miles away from the young man he’d been just a few days before, and they’ve only just begun.

“Oh, no. You’ve had an accident,” Ivan murmurs. “You’re quite agitated, aren’t you?”

A strangled scream rockets up Jacks’ throat as Ivan slowly works down his soiled shorts, taking his underpants with them. The fabric tangles beneath Jack’s knees, sopping up some of the mess. The smell is not particularly alluring, but watching Jack’s breath mount as Ivan’s fingers move over his exposed skin is a pleasant enough distraction.  

“Don’t be afraid, now,” Ivan says gently, letting his eyes scour every exposed bit of the boy in front of him.

Jack’s cheeks are pink, and his eyes stream with tears. The boy’s fight will return, Ivan is sure, but for now, there is nothing he can do. Ivan cups Jack’s naked hip with his hand, letting his fingers tickle gentle patterns against Jack’s soft skin. Jack whimpers, and Ivan gropes harder.  

“Shh,” Ivan soothes. “Soon, this won’t even faze you. It’s going to be a pleasure to break you down, darling. A brilliant mind like yours? But for now, I’ll need to get you cleaned up—we’ll talk about the rest of your questions later.”

They have all the time in the world, after all.

next >

[pillage-and-lute]

In All that I Have Done

Sad. I recommend listening to Arvo P ärt’s Spiegel im Spiegel while reading. Very, very sad, cannot stress this enough. Non-explicit major character death. (Happens of old age but still)

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More than forty years after the fall of Cintra one Professor Pankratz put down his pen. In the last ten years his hands had lost some of their surety, but his quill didn’t shake when he put it down. 

He ran one hand down his face. His beard had started going silver just after he’d adopted the style, but both it and his hair were now fully steel grey, with not even a hint of their former color. He adjusted his spectacles, tweaked the fashionable, but less than flamboyant hem of his doublet, and began to read what he’d written.

The last will and testament of Professor Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. 

I am writing this, sure and sound of mind, if not of body, in the event of my death. For many years I had a living, de facto will, that is, who ever found me dead by the roadside could loot my body for what they wished. As I got older and my body forced my errant heart to settle down I realized that this could no longer be the case. I fear I have put this off much too long, but happily, it seems I was not too late.

To my remaining family, my baby brother Alfons and his wife Iwona, I leave the rights to my songs and other works, and the royalties to them. Have fun. Alfons, Iwona is a beautiful woman and I would have wooed her, but that you were so in love I couldn’t bring myself to steal her away. I write this with a chuckle, Iwona my dear, because if you’ll remember we met first, and I introduced you to my brother only after you’d hit me in the head with a frying pan for flirting. 

I have also set up a trust, a portion of the royalties will be funneled into it for your son, Mikolaj, although he is a strapping young man who may never need it because he is a fine craftsman, as these spectacles he made me can attest. With luck he may spend it on marriage, should he ever woo that baker lad who made those charming blackberry tarts.

To the grandson of my friend Priscilla, Gaj. You have just been born and are a wonder beyond belief. Your parents are lovely people and you are lucky to have them. They should feel lucky to read this since I fear I shall be long dead before you learn your letters. However; there are times I wish I had fathered children. There are also times I remember what those who do go through and am thankful I did not, but you are a miracle. In the hope that you are given the very best of education, I have put in a word with the university. Should you choose, you will have the best schooling the Continent can offer, free of charge, with the compliments of Oxenfurt. Just, when you are someday a raging young student, sloppy drunk on a night out, think of me, if you can think at all. 

As I have of late stayed in quarters provided for me by the university and their gracious staff, I shall relinquish it all in return, as well as whatever items are held within not listed here. There shall be money in the vase by the fireplace for my funeral, as well as a generous tip for the maids, who have been wonderful and kind to an often forgetful and frail old man who is too much in his feelings.

My wardrobe I leave to whoever wants it, apart from my best blue doublet. (The sky blue one, which brings out my eyes) I should hope to be buried in it.

And finally, to my dearest and truest friend, Geralt of Rivia I leave a note, a song, and a gift.

Jaskier once again scrubbed his hand over his face. His study held a chill, despite the fine summer day, or perhaps it was just him. He got cold so easily these days. His breath rattled a little as he took a deep breath and hauled himself out of his comfortable chair. Melitele’s great gorgeous thighs, but his knees ached today. Jaskier paused at the mirror to tease his hair into place, advancing years never having divested him of his style. He flashed a wink into the mirror and shoveled a little coal into the small fireplace. 

He settled again at his desk, a different paper in hand, separate from the will, and began to look it over. This letter held none of the fine penmanship of the other, instead the letters were blocky and easy to read, better for the eyes that may have gained much in a mutation but skipped lightly over letters and switched them about.

My dear Geralt, it read. In all that I have done, I have had but one masterpiece. Critics may disagree on my greatest work, but I know it exactly, and have since the day of it’s birth. My opus was not Toss a Coin, or even the rehabilitation of yours- and all witchers- reputations. My masterpiece was my relationship with you, a wonderful and awful secret masterpiece of the heart, mind, and soul.

I know you do not dally about with words, but lest you misunderstand this last, most important of missives, we must discuss them. The word awful is now so said as to mean the same as terrible, but this cannot be true at all. Terrible is that which inspires terror or creates fear. Awful, or aweful, if you will, is to inspire awe. To be full of it. Sometimes that awe is fearful, sometimes reverential, perhaps a condemnation and sometimes a blessing. You, my friend, inspire awe. And in me you inspired something much greater than that. In all my years, which are so few compared to yours, nothing has so inspired love in me, as you. It has been my life’s greatest blessing.

When this letter comes to you, regardless of how it comes, it means I am gone from this world. I fear it shall indeed be soon, but I do not fear death. Weep not for me, my friend, instead let me bury in this parchment what there is left for me to say.

More than forty years ago I asked you to come away with me. All these decades later I still dream that you would, yet, I understand why you did not, and why you pushed me away. I offered you my heart that day, but it was the heart of a being you would watch wither away, as I’ll admit I have done. You could not be my forever, knowing that I cannot also be yours. There is no apology, no tears, no explanation needed there. 

Indeed, even for casting me away I need no words, and you have always had few to give, my friend. You didn’t keep me away for long, after all. I am like a magnet, drawn to you. Even now I feel your pull, like the tide to the gentle lady moon, but I cannot follow. 

After the mountain we met up again and again, our lives orbiting eachvother like planets, but we never clung so close as those first twenty years. That is the fault of Dame Time, a tricky mistress, as she collected her dues for twenty years of hard travel and ill care on my body.

I wish I could have given you more of my years. I find I am angry, and yet not so. At once, I could have had more time beside you, had somehow things been otherwise, but I know I had more time with you than might have been, perhaps more than I could reasonably expect. Someone, some goddess, or Life, Time, Destiny, or Fate, gave me enough time to finish the masterpiece that is my love for you, and that is enough.

You read here the ramblings of an old man, but I shall burden you with a few more sentences. 

You may recognize the case to which this letter is attached. Inside is my lute, as given to me by Filavandrel. I wish you to have it. I know you have never been musically inclined, but to me this instrument means so much more than music. This is the physical being of us, and all that may entail. I hope that you keep it, and treasure it how you will. If ever there comes such a person that you wish to play it, for whatever reason, gift it to them, but I beg you, tell them to whom it belonged, and how it came to belong to you. 

And finally, I leave you with a few unsung verses that I feel someone ought to read.

To the edge of the world May this letter be born That it comfort and heals you Although it brings you to mourn

I wrote every song And traveled along For my faith in a witcher and my friend before all

I hope you be blessed and continue your quest To be a friend of humanity As I go to rest

That's our epic tale My champion prevailed Defeated every villain And continues the tale

Toss a coin to my witcher, O valley of plenty...

love, Jaskier.

Professor Pankratz carefully rolled up the parchment and slipped inside a waterproofed tube, tying it with a blue ribbon that would likely only be lost in the parcel’s travels. He did it anyway, then he trailed his fingers over the finest instrument he’d ever played. Hand tremors meant it had sat silent for many months, but he plucked a few, slightly out of tune strings in a familiar tune. Then he put Filavandrel’s lute away, slipping the note in it’s packaging into the outer pocket of the case.

There was a funny feeling, he felt as he sat back in his large desk chair, to completing your greatest work, but he knew at least one being would remember it forever. He took off his spectacles and leaned back in his chair, the fire in the grate convincing him to doze. His eyes slid shut, and Jaskier greeted eternity with open arms.

[little-diable]

Sorry doll - Chris Evans (fluff/smut)

I’m sure people have written about this scenario with Chris before, but I thought it would be a nice way to ease myself into writing for this handsome man, I’m taking Chris requests, so please go ahead and message me. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Warning: the way the guy in the beginning acts around (y/n) could trigger some, please be careful. 

“Uhm, no, he must be around here somewhere”, her nervous gaze flicked around the buzzing room, trying to find her way out of the guys grasp, “you know”, the way he so silently began to murmur his words shot shivers up her spine, nervous sweat began to break out on her skin, god, she needed to get away from him, now.

“I don’t think you even have a boyfriend”. 

He flicked his tongue, the hold he had on her middle got tighter, tilting his head to the sight as (y/n) tried to step away from him, though unsuccessful with it, once again. 

“Why don’t we-”, he got interrupted by a tall man, he had two bottles of beer in one hand, placed the other one on her hip, kissing her cheek.

“Sorry doll, there was a big line”.

His bright eyes twinkled in the dim light, a newfound feeling of safety swapped over her, making (y/n) sink into his embrace. 

“And you are?”, the stranger gazed at the guy in front of her, his eyes were burning holes into the guys frame, watching him creep away from her, visibly gulping, “uhm”, without another word he turned around and left the two on their own. 

“Thank you so much”, (y/n) turned her face towards her savior, shooting him a weak smile, the sudden need to wash the strangers grip off her overcame her, made her tremble, “I should have stepped in sooner”, he murmured, eyes dancing over her distressed features. “Hi, I’m Chris Evans”, the name rang a bell, but (y/n) felt too uncomfortable, too exhausted, to think about it any further, she shook his awaiting hand, “(y/f/n) (y/l/n)”. 

Chris kept on watching her, trying to figure out what was going on inside of her head, "do you want to sit with me and my friends?”, he pointed his hand towards a desk on the other side of the bar, clearing his throat as he was waiting for any reaction. “Or I can accompany you outside, I don’t want you to go through something like this again”, something about the way this stranger cared for her, made her heart swell, made a smile appear on her lips. 

“I wouldn’t want to keep you away from your friends”, she fumbled around with the strap of her tiny bag, eyes completely focused on his bright ones, slowly drowning in them. “Don’t worry about them, come on”, he grasped her hand, trying to ignore the warm sensation, that began to flood through him, he walked towards a table, eyes glancing at his four awfully familiar looking friends, “I’ll call you guys later”, he grasped his jacket and pulled her out of the bar. 

He tugged her down the street, fingers still interlaced with hers, Chris wasn’t intending on letting go of her anytime soon, something about that gorgeous looking woman kept him wanting more, he wanted to get to know her, to discover her deepest secrets.

“So tell me (y/n), what have you been doing in the bar, on your own?”, the crispy autumn air made him pull his jacket even tighter, trying to shield his body from the cold, “uhm, my friend canceled on me, I’ve been waiting for her as that guy came up to me”, she mumbled, eyes focused on the road ahead. 

The cap he was wearing projected a light shadow onto his handsome features, (y/n) had a hard time focusing on the things he was talking about, “do you want to go for some ice cream?”, his loopy grin made her chuckle, “now?”, her eyes fell onto her phone screen, “11.34pm”. “Now”, he repeated, watching another smile appear on her lips, “alright”, she slightly shook her head, giggling at his overly excited expression, “I have just the place in mind”. 

“So, why does your name sound that familiar to me? Are you a famous lawyer, doctor, or something like this?”, both were sitting on a park bench, ice cream cones in their hands.

“I’m an actor”

He nonchalantly spoke, praying that she wouldn’t turn into one of those overly excited fangirls he had to mingle with from time to time. “Oh, alright”, her (y/e/c) eyes found his once again, she was smiling up at him, trying to ease her way out of the topic, she could feel the uneasiness radiating off him, something he’d find himself admiring more than once later on. 

A yawn made it past her lips, “come on, I’ll walk you home”, Chris rose from the bench, fingers tingling to touch her once again, “thank you”, her raspy voice made him shudder, made him want to pull her close, for her to drown in his embrace, heart to heart, not intending on letting go of her anytime soon. 

“This is where I live”, (y/n) came to halt in front of an old brick building, fingers still interlaced with his, “mhm”, Chris let go of her hands, he grasped a lose strand of her hair, twirling it around his finger, his bright eyes wouldn’t let go of hers. “Can I ask you for your number?”, (y/n) barely processed, what he was asking for, too mesmerized by his handsome, calm features. 

“Do you want to come inside?”, (y/n) wasn’t quite sure where her newfound bravery came from, but the way her body ached for him was enough to keep her going, enough to look at him with dilated pupils, praying that he’d say yes. 

It took Chris a few moments to answer her, weighing his options, he didn't want to rush things with the precious girl in front of him, didn’t want to overstep any invisible lines, but the way she was gazing at him was enough for him to nod his head “yes”, following her up to her small apartment. 

She felt the need to apologize for her messy living room, for the clothes that were littered around the apartment, but Chris took away her breath, lips molding against hers, moving in synch, coaxing heavenly sounds out of her. “Down the hall, last door on the left”, she breathed against his lips, wrapping her legs around his waist, weight getting supported by his muscular forearms. 

His beard tickled her skin, made her giggle as he kissed down her neck, hands exploring her upper body, slowly creeping underneath the fabric of her shirt, she was putty in his hands, trembling for him. Anticipation began to take over her body, nestling in her heart, watching his lust blown pupils staring down on her, a slight smirk tugged on his lips, he placed her down on her bed, admiring her. 

“You’re beautiful”, he pulled her shirt over her head, eyes attached to her bra, her boobs were spilling out of the tight fabric, (y/n) kept on praising herself for wearing her lacy lingerie for once. “Chris”, she stuttered his name, (y/n) unbuttoned his shirt, groaning as her eyes fell upon his muscular chest, the man above her was the literal definition of a god. Her fingers danced up and down his abs, too mesmerized by the sight, her mouth felt unusually dry, too excited for what was yet to come. 

“May I?”, Chris sucked on her collarbones, fingers moving across her bra clasp, smirking against her skin, “yes”, it was just above a whisper, but enough to shoot tingles down to the rapidly growing bulge in his tight trousers. He didn’t waste any time, didn’t fumble around with the fabric, he pushed the straps down her arms, lips attaching themselves to her hardening nipples, making (y/n) arch her back. 

“I need you”, she didn’t want to wait any longer, too desperate for his touch, needy to feel him buried inside of her for the first time, “do you?”, he teased her, hands grasping her behind, massaging her flesh, pressing his centre against her core. He grunted her name, god, she felt too good in his hands, Chris could have cum right there and then.  

Both kept on groaning, the sound echoed through her room, her clothes were scattered around the floor, his soon following after, her mind was racing, hands moving down to his length, pumping him through the fabric of his dark boxers. Chris placed his forehead against hers, his hot breath fanned across her features, she pushed his boxers down his legs, hands wrapping themselves around his velvety skin.

He pulled the silvery packet out of his back pocket, ripping it open with his teeth, (y/n) took it out of his hands, rolling it down his throbbing length, ready to be buried deep inside of her. 

“God, the things you do to me”, his hungry eyes were burning holes into her frame, tingles were erupting in her lower belly, a deep desire began to flood through her, overtaking her body. Chris slowly pushed his tip past her dripping folds, both were too impatient, too excited to waste any more time. 

“Fuck, (y/n)”, his growl made her arch her back, she felt tight around him, a feeling he’d be obsessed with for the longest time, his length was slowly stretching her walls, she needed a few moments to adjust, slightly nodding her head, telling him to go on, to keep on exploring her body. 

His eyes were worshipping her, admiring her gorgeous frame, “don’t”, he ran his thumb across her lower lip, getting (y/n) to let go of the sensitive flesh. Chris pulled her in for another kiss, his hips kept on meeting hers, gazing her sweet spot every time he sunk into her heat, he could watch her falling apart, giving into his touch, the heavenly feeling. 

The knot in her belly began to tighten up, (y/n) was close, almost ready to fall over the edge, Chris sucked on her neck, leaving marks she’d admire later on, his teeth kept on gazing her skin, intensifying the pleasure that overtook every vessel in her body. “I’m close”, she stuttered, out of breath by now, Chris began to speed up his thrusts, he wanted to watch her fall apart, the way she was staring at him, mouth opened in an “o” shape, what a sight for sore eyes. 

“Cum for me”, his horse voice was enough to push her over the edge, her walls clenched around him, made him squeeze his eyes shut, following shortly after, releasing himself. Chris pressed a slow kiss onto her lips, tasting her sweetness one last time before he pulled out of her and walked across the room,  discarding the light material. 

He pulled her into his chest, hands tightly wrapped around her naked frame, “thank you for saving me today”, (y/n) ran her hand up his chest, he kissed her forehead, Chris eyes began to fall shut, slowly drifting into a dreamless sleep. 

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

Love on Open Waters: Chapter 1: The Capture

Prologue

Word Count: 1,419

Five Years Later

Patton smiled at Roman. “Alright, kiddo, time for bed.”

Roman looked up at him from his position on the bed. “Do you think Virgil will come back soon?”

Patton patted his head, dipping down to place a brief kiss on his forehead. “I don’t know, young prince. Maybe one day.” He walked to the door, leaving it open just a crack but turning the light out as he went.

Patton walked down the corridor, checking to make sure the other castle residents didn’t need anything. He went up a floor and did the same thing there, checking in on the king in his study and informing him of the time. He was thanked and sent on his way. He stepped through the main spaces, checking the other studies and the main living areas to make sure that everything was in place and that the maids had done their jobs to the best of their ability.

When that was done, he made his way over to the servants’ quarters and checked in on everyone. He sped up when he got to the maids’ quarters, not wanting to be caught in conversation with a certain person. He walked at a slightly faster pace, exhausted and wanting to get to bed before much else happened that night. His mind ran through all the projects he still had to do, the mending he wanted to do on his favorite suit jacket but also the new skirt he was planning on making.

His distracted thoughts had him slowing down until he almost ran into the one person he was trying to avoid. She stepped back but blocked his path in the narrow corridor. “Where are you off to, Patton?” Gaelle’s voice was higher than it was when talking to anyone else as she tried to put on an accent she thought he liked. Gaelle was someone that was under the impression that Patton was anything but exclusively gay. She seemed to have some sort of obsessive crush on him despite him wanting nothing to do with her.

Patton sighed. “Gaelle, I’m tired. I just wanna go to bed. Maybe do a bit of sewing first.”

She frowned and he knew he’d said something to displease her. “You know, sewing isn’t a very manly thing to do.”

Patton closed his eyes and nodded. “You tell me this every time you see me. And every time, I could not possibly care less about your opinion. I must, once again, inform you that I am not romantically inclined toward you. If I am to be blunt, I’m not even platonically inclined to like you. So, if you don’t stop harassing me every night and let me pass, you won’t have a job in the morning.” His voice had changed from tired to a honey smooth tone that meant he was extremely upset but wouldn’t show it.

She scoffed, not hearing the danger in his voice. “You can’t do that.”

He dropped the ‘customer service’ smile he’d been maintaining and gave her a look that was deadly. “Not only do I have the ear of the king, I’m still your boss. Either leave me alone, or pack your bags.”

She scoffed again but moved to the side. Patton gave her a tight lipped smile and passed, going on to his room. He stretched when he finally closed the door behind him, reveling in the feeling of dropping his mental burdens at the door. 

He moved away from his bedroom door and toward the small balcony that overlooked the ocean a few miles away. He leaned against the railing, trying to get lost in thought as he stared at the shifting water. Just as he was relaxing, an arm wrapped around his waist, a hand coming up to cover his mouth with a cloth. He tried to shout but made the mistake of breathing in. His vision faded as he clawed at his attacker, who simply held him until he passed out.

⚓⚓⚓

Patton woke with a headache. The ground shifted under him, constantly in a rocking motion. He raised a hand to his temple only to find that he wasn't bound. He stood and looked around the small room. There was a bed that he’d woken up on that was tucked into a nook of the wall, a desk that was attached to the wall with a chair which was attached to that by leather straps for arms, and an empty shelf above the desk. Looking around the small wall, Patton found a trunk sitting at the base and a hook for a coat on the wall.

He took a few steps forward, the cabin wasn’t very wide, and tried the door, only to find it locked. Sitting on the bed, he wondered what was happening to him.

He didn’t have long to wait before the sound of a key in the lock reached his ears and a man entered. The first thing Patton noticed about him was how tall he was, barely fitting through the door. He had on a long dark green coat that went down to his knees, a grey shirt that was open to halfway down his chest and revealed his chest hair, and loose fitting black pants with a sword on his hip. When he came into the light, Patton noticed that he wasn’t as tall as he’d thought, having a large and dirty green hat with a feather in it on. His boots were simple work boots, the kind that Patton had often seen on the hired help that came to the castle for a quick paycheck.

When the man came into the room and shut the door behind him, it took Patton a minute for his vision to adjust again as the green-clad man took a seat in the desk chair, taking off the hat as he did so. Patton noticed his hair was a bleached brown, his skin tan from the sun, he wore a mustache darker than the rest of his hair, and his right iris was almost white compared to his dark green left eye.

“Can you guess why you’re here?” The man’s gruff voice brought Patton’s attention back to the situation at hand.

Patton sighed. “Sir, I don’t even know where here is, let alone what I’ve done to deserve this.” He tried to put his usual authority into his voice to hide how badly it was shaking.

The man nodded. “You’re being held for ransom. You’ve harbored a person I have interest in for too long and I intend to have them back. Thus, you are going to write home and tell them that until they hand over the mer or a sum of money to his equivalent to make up for the loss of revenue, you are staying with me.”

Patton furrowed his brow. “The mer?” He thought for a moment but soon realized there was only one new addition to the household recently that would constitute such actions from someone. “Virgil,” he said under his breath.

“So you do know who I’m talking about,” the man said, a note of triumph in his voice.

Patton nodded. “Unfortunately, I don’t know where he is.”

The man narrowed his eyes. “Explain.”

Patton shrugged, not breaking eye contact. “Virgil did indeed stay with us for four months. However, he disappeared a day or so before my capture and, as far as I know, has yet to return. I can’t give up a location I don’t know.”

The man nodded and slapped his thighs before standing and putting his hat back on. “In that case, I’ll be back with food in a few minutes.”

Patton reached out a hand but didn’t touch him. “Wait! Am I at least allowed to know the name of the man keeping me prisoner?”

The man didn’t turn around but did speak. “Remus Cadoc, Captain Remus Cadoc.” He left without waiting for a response.

Patton sat in the locked room for what felt like a half hour before the door opened again. This time, it was someone else bearing a tray of food. Unlike Captain Cadoc, this sailor didn’t seem to have any weapons on his person. The man put the tray on the desk and doffed an imaginary hat at Patton. “Cap’n got caught up in work and couldn’t bring this to ya but told me to do it.”

Patton thanked him and stood. “May I know your name?”

He smiled. “The name’s Apollo Aiman. What’s yours?”

“Patton Hope.”

Chapter 2

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[annabethy]

under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow day 17: santa suits

Character A dresses up as Santa Claus for Character B,, percabeth

Percy cannot believe that he’s actually been talked into this. As he looks himself in the mirror, his face is as red as the velvet suit he has on. The white beard that’s glued onto his chin makes him feel incredibly old and ridiculous.

It doesn’t help that his wife laughing her ass off next to him.

“Stop it,” he whines, turning to face her.

Annabeth is standing next to him, her arms wrapped around their baby. She’s wearing a coat, and the infant in her arms is covered in a few layers of blankets to fight the wind swirling around the park. “You look miserable,” she tells him.

“Yeah, well, I’m dressed as Santa Claus for my mom’s dumb Christmas party. Consider me miserable.”

“You volunteered for this.”

“No,” he blames childishly. “You volunteered me for this. This was not done willingly.”

“I thought you would say yes,” she defends, still snickering.

“We’ve been married for four years and you thought I would happily put on a Santa suit and spray paint my hair white? Did you really think that, wife?”

“I mean, no, but your mom asked me, and I couldn’t say no.”

Percy glares at her. “It wasn’t you that had to dress up.”

Annabeth just gives him a sweet smile, and he has trouble staying mad at her. He wasn’t even really mad at her to begin with, he supposes. He’s just giving her a hard time, but as embarrassed as he was right now, he still finds it endearing the way she laughs at him. He doesn’t mind mortification too much if it stems from her. He just likes making her happy.

“I hate you,” he mutters, but he yanks her closer by the waist. “Now you owe Santa Claus a kiss.”

Annabeth adjusts the weight of their daughter on her hip so she can press her palm over his mouth. “Do you want to scar these children, Percy? They can’t see Santa Claus kissing someone other than Mrs. Claus or else they’ll lose all hope in the magic of Christmas.”

Percy frowns. “But you’re my Mrs. Claus!”

She laughs and passes him the baby. “Please never call me Mrs. Claus again. I don’t want to have grey hair just yet.”

He rolls his eyes fondly, struggling with the infant. She’s squirming in his arms and beginning to hold her arms back out for Annabeth, soft cries starting up. “Look what you’ve done, Annabeth. My own child is scared of me.”

“Have a little Christmas spirit, Percy. It’s the attitude she’s afraid of.”

“I don’t have attitude,” he says, clearly with attitude. “You’re just an ass.”

She stands on her tiptoes, kissing him on the cheek. “I know. You love me anyways.”

“Unfortunately.”

She steals the baby back from his arms, and just before she’s about to drift away from him, leaving him to interact with children that are abnormally sticky, she whispers, “Tonight,” sounding an awful lot like a promise. “You just have to decide — are you going to be naughty or nice?”

She stalks off with a teasing grin, and the unsaid promise leaves him with enough motivation to make it through the party.

His mom comes up at some point to take pictures of him, and he knows that he’s going to burn those. It turns out that children really are sticky. Their hands are everywhere, and they seem to always be covered in frosting or other unidentifiable substances when they come up to him. He has to restrain from flinching when they try to tug at the beard that’s attached with adhesive to his face. The second he gets home, this beard going in the bonfire right alongside the pictures.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” his mom asks between children.

“They’re so sticky,” he says, strangled.

“They’re kids. Of course they’re sticky. Your baby is sticky too.”

Percy looks at her, offended.

His child is not sticky, and his wife is going to hear all about this later. The audacity of his own mother to insinuate his child is sticky. Sophia would never.

“My baby isn’t sticky,” he grumbles, sneering at his mom’s amused look. “You’re sticky.”

Night begins to roll around after what feels like days of endless stretching. Percy is exhausted and somehow sweating in the middle of a New York winter. He desperately wants to take a shower and scrub off the diseases he’s certain at least one of those kids were carrying.

“It was that bad, babe,” Percy says from in the bathroom. He has a toothbrush in his mouth, and he’s yelling at her as she lays in bed. “I swear one of them peed on me.”

He can hear the quiet chuckle come from the bedroom, but he gets no further response. He doesn’t think she understands the severity of the situation. He may get sick and be unable to leave bed because a child touched him. He feels like a petri dish.

“Children touched me, Annabeth! Aren’t you concerned?”

“I’d be concerned if a child didn’t touch you, considering you have one yourself. Shouldn’t you be used to tiny, grimy hands by now?”

“It’s one thing when it’s my own baby, but I do not want to ever touch another child again.” Percy finishes brushing his teeth, and he turns back to the bedroom. “A shower has never felt so good before.”

“Quit it with the dramatics,” she says. Percy walks through the door to their bedroom and he sees her sitting on the bed, facing him head on. The sight he’s met with has him bursting out in laughter.

“What are you doing?” he manages to choke out, going up to her and plucking the Santa hat off of her head. “You said I’m your Mrs. Claus,” she explains, snatching the hat back but refraining from putting it back on.

He knows for a fact that she did not have this a week ago because they’re constantly together, so he couldn’t possibly know where she got this outfit from. It’s a short velvet dress, white fuzz along the rims, and buttons down the front of the red fabric. It’s tight too, and he’d never admit it, but it does get him just a teeny bit hot and bothered.

“You like it?” she asks, but he can see in her eyes that she already knows the answer. His fingers snap the elastic strap on her shoulder.

“I love it. Getting dressed up for little me?” “I did tell you that you’d have to decide between naughty or nice,” she says. “Have you made your decision yet?”

“I’m not sure.” Percy steps back to take her all in, to delight in the curves that are prominent. Her smooth legs stand out, and her hair is ruffled from the hat. He desperately wants to see just how much messier her hair can get. “I’ve always been nice, don’t you think?”

“I don’t think there’s any harm in mixing it up,” she agrees.

Percy’s fingers find her shoulder, just barely brushing the skin. He can see the goosebumps trail down her arms. “But I also think you’ve been pretty naughty, wouldn’t you say? Forcing me to dress as Santa Claus and then doing this?”

Annabeth cracks a grin, unable to take him seriously, and Percy quickly follows. He drops onto the bed next to her, his arms wrapping around her. He digs his face into her neck as laughs take over his body.

“Please never call me naughty,” she says, giggling. “It doesn’t sound good coming from your mouth.”

“Then maybe don’t ambush me at midnight after I’ve been attacked by tiny humans all day! I really don’t know what you expected.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes playfully and kicks him lightly. “You love the kids, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

“I love our kids,” he corrects.

“Kid. Singular.”

He pouts. “Why not two?”

“Because our first is barely even one,” she teases.

“I want a million babies with you.”

“Calm down there, Santa Claus. You need to finish working Christmas first.”

Percy kisses her sweetly. When he pulls away, he relishes the blush spreading across her cheeks and the way her hair spreads out across the bed like a golden halo. “That’s what I want for Christmas next year then.”

“A million babies?”

“Maybe just two.”

Annabeth throws her head back and laughs, and now he’s kind of glad that he was wrestled into this Santa Claus suit. “I love you.”

Percy kisses her again, and he says against her, “I love you too, naughty Mrs. Claus.”