#I started this drawing at the beginning of my vacation but it took me a while to finish it because I didn't have the pencils I needed

[dreameramimir]

I know this floor isn't downpour, but take the music that inspired this drawing \⁠(⁠･⁠◡⁠･⁠)⁠/

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[nevadancitizen]

-> OH VIKTOR, MY VIKTOR (WHAT COULD'VE BEEN)

synopsis: viktor reality-skips and meets different versions of you, different versions of himself, and some sort of god, who tells him of an unyielding truth.

word count: 5k

ships: viktor/reader

tags: angst with a happy ending, fluff and angst, pre-established relationship, pre-season 1 act 3 (aka sky isn't dead (yet))

notes: this is me cashing in my birthday fic (as in i can write anything cause it's my birthday) so i rewrote my other viktor fic w a twist from his perspective

related reading: Rot in Purest Gold

It’s been six weeks since you… left. 

Well, ‘left’ isn’t the right word, and Viktor knows that. But it lessens the blow upon his heart and his mind to just say that you left. Like you took a vacation instead of just disappearing into thin air. But that doesn’t erase the memory of the blue arc of… something – natural lightning, artificial electricity, something else – coming from the Hexcore and touching you, and you just not being there the moment after. 

He had scrambled for you, his cane clattering to the ground as he grasped at the air where you just where. A chant of “No, no, no,” left his lips, and panic quickly wrung his chest until he felt like he couldn’t breathe – more than he usually couldn’t, anyway. His leg buckled beneath him and he held his hands to his chest as he fell to his knees, trying to hold onto whatever was left of you (which was… nothing).

It’s been six weeks of a cold bed, six weeks of not waking up next to you. 168 pills (two for pain, one to regulate high blood pressure, and one to dilate the bronchi in his lungs to breathe easier – all taken daily). 36 days of work, despite your insistence that he take both days of the weekend off. 

It’s been 42 days of you… you left. You didn’t die. Your body would’ve been here if you died. There’s no body, so you’re not dead. (At least, that’s what Viktor hoped and prayed for.)

But, for all that hoping and all that praying, he never thought about what he’d do if he walked into the lab one morning, with you just… waiting. Sitting on the workbench, cross-legged, looking out the window. 

He says your name – a rasping whisper, honestly – and you turn. 

A soft smile spreads across your face. It’s polite, but forced all the same. “Hello. Do you happen to know where I am?”

“You’re here,” Viktor says, breathless and unbelieving. He staggers forward the best he can while his body is still in this state of pseudo-shock. His mind is racing – the speed of the hexgates couldn’t even hope to compare.

“Uh… yeah. I am.” You look around the lab and pull your knees to your chest. “Pretty nice place you got here. You rich or something?”

The tip of Viktor’s cane drags along the ground – he can’t even bother to lift it properly as he makes his way to you. You probably can’t even begin to know what this means to him. Seeing you, you for real (not in his dreams, or behind his eyelids, or in photographs). 

Tears well up in his eyes and mist his vision. “My love… what happened to you?”

Viktor rests his hip on the edge of the workbench and reaches out to you, his hand trembling. You shift away, your eyebrows drawing together in confusion. 

“Excuse me?” You say. 

His body shakes as a sob racks through it, his teeth gritting together to suppress the ugly sounds threatening to escape him. Viktor is usually calm, controlled; the one with a royal flush hidden against his chest. But this poker hand isn’t one he recognizes – what game are you playing?

A look of panic washes over your face and you take Viktor’s hand, probably to try to soothe him. But in that instant where skin meets skin, something… happens. 

Viktor opens his eyes with a start. He sits up in bed, and his joints groan in protest. 

The bed is… plush. Many blankets and pillows with a straw mattress much too big for just himself. And the bedroom itself isn’t huge, but it’s much bigger than anything down in Zaun. (Probably something below average in Piltover.)

Viktor pushes the layered blankets off himself and hooks his legs over the side of the bed. He stands and grabs his cane. 

There’s a knock at the window above the desk across the room. He looks over, only to see you, smiling, perching on the outside window sill. You look younger – maybe fourteen, or fifteen?

The thought strikes Viktor just as he passes a full-length mirror propped in the corner of the room. He looks younger, too: the same age as you, most likely. His face still has remnants of baby fat, and it looks like he’s in that awkward stage where he’s yet to grow into his cane. 

You rap against the window again –

– and it’s not a window. It’s two doors. Big ones, at that; with armored guards with spears standing on either side. 

“Enter,” Viktor calls out. It’s an odd sensation – he wasn’t the one who commanded his lips to move, but it was his voice coming from his mouth all the same. Like he’s being puppeteered. 

The guards’ armor clanks as they pull open the door. You stagger through the entryway, gritting your teeth and clenching your jaw repeatedly. You look almost… manic. Crazed. 

As you come closer, Viktor observes you – no matter how hard he tries to move, he can’t. It’s like this body is his, but… not. He’s just an observer. He can’t approach you, hold you, even if you look different. He knows it’s you. 

Grey streaks through your hair, and deep scars litter your body, the nastiest above your heart on your bare chest. Your baggy pants are torn and bloodstained. Mud and dirt cover your worn feet. Your gaze is trained on the ground; you don’t dare to meet Viktor’s eyes.

You finally kneel before his throne. Wait – was he sitting on a throne all this time? Is he, like, a king or something?

You confirm his thought with a whispered, reverent “My Liege.”

“My warrior,” Viktor responds in kind. 

You begin to reach for him, but stop yourself. Instead you rest your hand on your knee. “The exile to the badlands… I – I wanted – needed – a conflict to call me back home. Back to you.”

Viktor thinks to himself as his disconnected body stays silent. Why would he cast you out, especially if you’re in such high standing? The scars on your body indicate numerous battles, and you being alive before him indicates you’ve won all of them…

“If I may have the honor…” You trail off. You glance up at him once, but don’t meet his eyes. You bow your head. “I would… it would bring me great joy to fight for you again. To be your chieftain once more.”

His body continues to stay silent. If King Viktor has any thoughts, he can’t hear them. Well… this might be an improvement from the last… reality? Since Viktor only had a few moments of seeing you before he jumped to another one. Wait – jumped? Skipped? He needs to get back home to discuss this with you further. (Never mind your apparent amnesia – he’ll deal with that when he gets to it.)

“When the vultures start to circle…” Viktor begins.

“I will keep my nerve still,” you complete for him, your head still bowed.

He hums appreciatively. A small sound telling you to continue.

“The badlands…” You shake your head. “We must bring order. There are no gods, no kings – only man. The people there are many, but they don’t know how to organize amongst themselves. They have nothing but pride to defend.”

“Pride is a powerful motivator,” Viktor says. 

“They speak of a crown for the victorious,” you say. “It shall be rightfully yours, if you allow me to conduct battle in your name.”

He takes you in. Your body is strong, chiseled, half-bare. You look battle-forged, molded in a crucible fuelled by hellfire. He can’t tell if the badlands have done you good or bad, but you stayed loyal to his kingly counterpart. That ought to count for something. 

Viktor holds out his hand, his palm upturned. You look up, your eyes trained on his hand before looking up and meeting his gaze.

A moment passes. Your face twists slightly, the corners of your lips turning down a little and your eyebrows coming together a bit. Your jaw starts to clench and unclench again. 

He turns his hand over, the back of it presented to you. You breathe out a shaky sigh and lift your hand from your knee. 

“May the true king rise,” you say softly. You take his hand –

– and then immediately flinch away, clutching your palm. You let out a low growl, your face contorting in pain. 

Viktor feels his stomach twist and his heart drop. He stumbles backwards into the corner of his cage, flexing his hands and digging his fingernails into his palms.

“No! No, no,” you say. You clench your hand, trying to stop your palm from bleeding. “No, Viktor. It wasn’t your fault. You just don’t know your strength yet, that’s all.”

You put your uninjured hand on one of the bars. “Please, Viktor. You’re hurting yourself.”

Viktor looks down at his hands. Sure enough, his fingernails have broken skin and his palms are starting to bleed. And, when he really looks at his own hands, they seem… different. His hands were comparable to King Viktor’s, but not to these. 

His hands are rough and big, almost paw-like. And the rest of his body is, too; it’s mutated and it’s wrong. 

He looks at you. You look… mostly the same. Your eyes are the wrong color and you’re a little bit shorter, but still. So why was he so different? What the hell happened to him?

“What…” Viktor’s voice is not his own. He’s not controlling it, and it’s deeper, his accent is thicker, and his words just barely slur together. “What did you… do to me?”

“I’m saving you,” you say readily. “You – you told me to continue the treatments…”

His eyes flutter shut. That’s right. He did. His disease is progressing and he is dying. This must be a truth in every reality. 

“Don’t feel guilty,” you say, your voice soft and reassuring. “It’s worth it. Everything is worth it.”

Viktor opens his eyes. You’re still there, still smiling through the pain and still by his side. You look at him with nothing but love.

He lumbers forward, his bum leg no longer as much of an issue. He raises one of his hands and gingerly presses his fingers against yours where they rest on the bars of his cage. 

“There you are,” you say softly. 

Viktor’s eyes sting with tears. He leans forward and presses his forehead against the bars, letting his eyes slide close. It seems like there’s two truths in every reality – his disease and your love for him. Even if he’s a monster, you love him. You love him. 

Surely, at home – in his base reality – you still love him. Somewhere, deep inside, there are remnants of your feelings… and Viktor would do anything to help you remember them.

A tear rolls down his cheek. “Here I am.”

“Oh, Vik…” You bring your hand to the side of Viktor’s neck, holding his jaw. “Don’t cry. You’re perfect.”

He lets out a shaky breath. He feels your lips meet his forehead – 

– and then pull away. There’s a crooked smile on your face, and there’s something around Viktor’s neck. 

He looks down, noticing a necklace you must’ve slipped on him while distracting him with a kiss. It’s sparkling with diamonds and white gold, but speckled with blood. He takes it off and puts it on the desk in front of him.

“Money is easier to process,” Viktor sighs. He shifts in his seat and crosses his legs. “But I appreciate it.”

“I put a whole lotta effort into gettin’ you all these nice things,” you say, your tone holding a twinge of a whine. You sling your arm around his shoulders and lean in. “Do all them families without pig-cop-daddies mean nothin’ to you?”

Viktor breathes in, then exhales slowly. He puts a hand on yours where it rests on his shoulder. “It means the world to me.”

You laugh and squeeze his shoulders, pressing the tip of your nose against his temple and knocking his glasses askew. Even though Viktor still feels… trapped in this body, for lack of a better term, this is nicer than the body he was in before. You’re warm against his cool skin, and he can feel himself smiling. 

He allows you to continue your clinging as he flicks on a bright lamp and picks up a small magnifying glass. The word comes to mind – loupe. He hums softly as he brings the necklace close to his face, inspecting it with a careful eye. 

“The white gold is real,” he says. “Most of the gems are real diamonds. Some of the smaller pieces are substituted with quartz. The piece looks relatively old, so they are more likely to be blood diamonds rather than lab-grown.”

You rest your cheek on Viktor’s shoulder. Your hand moves away from his other shoulder, instead tracing shapes into his back. “How much d’you think it’ll go for?”

“Our usual fence is shifting something big in Miami,” he says. “If that deal goes well, and she’s in a good mood… maybe twenty thousand?”

Viktor can feel you smile against his clothed skin. “Mh… I hope.”

“And the duffels you and the others brought back…” He sets the loupe and the necklace down on the desk. “How much do you estimate?”

“Maybe… half a mil each,” you say. Your hand moves further down his back, tracing over the notches in his back brace. “Silco has been talking to Danske Bank – they’re willin’ to launder. He also has an investor in Bosnia lined up.”

His stomach drops at that name. Silco. But… he might be different. Viktor’s different, you’re different – it’s almost as if you’re part of some sort of robbery group, with Viktor as a mediator with the fences. The blood on the necklace and the duffel bags full of money are evidence enough. 

“Maybe we can take a trip there,” Viktor says, leaning back into your touch.

“Vik…” You laugh. “I’m on, like, seventeen ‘do not fly’ lists.”

He lifts a hand and runs a few fingers down your jaw. “When has that ever stopped you?”

You hum and lean into his touch, silently acknowledging that, no, a simple piece of paper (and the authority behind it) has never even given you the slightest bit of pause. “Why, ain’t you the smartest gemologist there ever done was…”

“You are quite the flatterer,” Viktor hums. 

“Only the best for the love of my life,” you say softly. 

His heart roars in his chest and he’s smiling so wide he’s sure he looks stupid. A breathy laugh escapes him and he turns, holding your warm face in both his hands. 

You scrunch up your nose and screw your eyes shut, your smile big as you put your hands over his. Your laugh is soft and giggly when he pinches your cheeks lightly. 

Viktor leans in, but his mental projection onto this body is so strong that it actually hesitates for a moment. This is… a different version of you. But he’s also a different version of himself – one that’s in love with this version of you. Besides, he doesn’t have that much control of this body, anyway. He’s missed you so much he can’t bring himself to care. 

It’s almost as if you can feel his close presence, or his breath on your face, or maybe you just want to kiss him. His thin, chapped lips meet yours – 

– and your lips feel rough, with patches of moss smattering across your face. 

Viktor pulls away, one hand still splayed across your cheek, the other holding himself up with his cane. You bring him away from your face, and he can take you in in full. 

He’s standing in the palm of your hand. You’re huge; sitting, you must be a story and a half tall. Your skin is covered – no, actually, you’re made of wood, twisting branches and trunks and bark making up your entire body. A winding crown made of bramble sits atop your head. Golden flowers, almost glowing, bloom across your collarbone and up one side of your neck, the petals looking almost silk-like. Your face is a simple blank mask, but Viktor can tell how you feel. The intrinsic connection between you two is almost tangible. 

You hold out a finger towards him, then slowly, carefully ruffle his hair. Viktor feels a little like a doll, but the care and caution you use when handling him causes delighted laughter to bubble up his throat. 

He leans into your touch, and a moment later, he realizes it’s of his own volition. He’s not trapped – his thoughts match his body, and he can do whatever he pleases. The very idea brings a smile to his face.

You make a sound that’s vaguely affirmative, kind of like cooing. You run your fingertip across the shell of his ear and past his pulse point, tipping his jaw up. 

He looks up at you, that content smile still on his face. “Yes?”

You (again, slowly, carefully) move him close to you. With your free hand bracing against the ground, you stand. Wind batters Viktor, but he blocks most of it out when he hides against the flat, broad expanse of your chest. 

When you stop moving, he looks over his shoulder across the vastness now exposed to him. Roots of trees reach from the ground into the night sky. Some are weaved together neatly, some are jerked into tight knots, some seem to be isolated from all the rest. None are the same. Everywhere Viktor looks, it’s crowded, with roots from one collection traveling a ways before joining another knot or weave or lattice, then another. 

“What… is this?” Viktor asks.

“Behold the beauty, the interconnectedness of all realities,” you say. Your voice is deep and rumbling – it reminds him of the far-away explosions he’d hear in the mines as a child. “Lo, Viktor, witness the cosmos. We nurture its essence, lest each fragile existence come unraveled.”

“We?” Viktor echoes, looking up at you. 

You look down at him, then raise your free hand to lovingly caress the flowers blooming on you. The color of the petals almost seem to match Viktor’s eyes. “Yea. We.”

You look forward and take a slow step that thunders when your foot meets the ground. The roots of the trees groan and whine as they bend out of your way as you walk. “Not long ago, I beheld a reflection of my own being… they were of your kind – small and frail, bound by the same fleeting fate. Dost thou know of this encounter?”

“I… did not know of this, no,” he says. 

You hum, and it sounds like the rolling tide of an avalanche. “Yes. It is as I thought.”

Viktor watches as you reach up to a particularly intricate weaving of roots. Your fingertips grow branches and intrude the plait, lacing themselves into it. 

He reaches out and splays a hand over the pad of your thumb as you… work? He’s not sure what you’re doing, actually. He doesn’t try anything else – just slowly lets his fingernails drag and catch on the dips of your thumbprint. It’s almost peaceful like this. Not trapped in his body or forced to say words he doesn’t mean. 

“Doth that reflection of my own being recall thee?” You ask softly. (Well, as softly as you can ask, anyway.) “Or art thou but a wisp of memory, lost in the abyss?”

“They… they do not remember me, no,” Viktor says, his voice hesitating despite himself. “I do not even know if they would wish to have their memories back.”

Your fingertips slowly retreat from the lattice. “Thou and I art entwined, Viktor. A truth, unyielding – two fated souls, forever bound in every existence. In all realms, thou art bound to me, as I am unto thee. This truth cannot be undone; not even by mine own hand.”

“In every existence…” he repeats, a whisper to himself. The thought – fact, as you had pointed out – makes his chest swell. 

Viktor gets interrupted when he feels something make contact with his foot. When he looks down, a root, skinny and scaly, is winding around his ankle. It reaches underneath his pant leg, and when it touches his skin –

– it’s you caressing Viktor’s ankles as he rests his feet in your lap. 

Nothing to be scared of. Nothing to be afraid of. Everything is fine. There are no cosmos, no alternate universes and nothing to worry about. 

The living room is warm and comfortable and it smells like home. It smells like you and sweetmilk. Fast-moving, sequential images are being displayed on a weird, skinny box – it’s a television. Something is playing on the television. 

A rather… odd-looking man is sitting behind a table stocked with various candies and foods. He throws a handful of colorful candies in his mouth and chews. After a few moments, his shoulders start shaking in either subdued laughter or poorly-concealed terror – it’s hard to tell. 

“It tastes like hamburger meat,” the man cries. “It tastes like raw hamburger meat!”

You laugh, and Viktor finds himself laughing with you. He doesn’t know what he’s laughing about. What’s a hamburger? A food. It’s an American food. What’s America? Stop asking questions.

“I am nothing if not a scientist,” Viktor says out loud. “And scientists ask questions, do they not?”

He turns to you and you have the wrong face. Distorted, melted. He opens his mouth to scream –

– and finds the breath stolen from his lungs. 

You have the root crushed beneath your finger. It crumbles and withers away under the slight pressure.

“Pardon the interruption,” you say. “The feeble realities… they yearn for the conscious, intelligent soul. Thy mind must be a feast most bountiful.”

Viktor gasps, recovering from the mental whiplash. Then, after a moment, he smiles slightly, a soft breath passing his lips. “I would like to believe that it is.”

“More shall seek. They sense thee, crawling forth for whispers of memories remaining.” You move a bit faster now, with more purpose. “We must return thee to thine reality. Mine own dear Viktor slumbers… soon, the time comes for it to wake.”

You continue moving at a quicker pace, but it’s clear you’re making sure not to knock Viktor out of your hand. The roots groan and give soft cracking noises that leave him worried as you continue on your path. 

Viktor clocks what you said a second later. “Wait, your own Viktor?”

“Indeed,” you say. “For now, it slumbers. This is for the preservation of both your fates.”

“Your Viktor is in danger?” He asks. 

“Nay. With every shard of my being, I shield it from danger unknown,” you say. “Such potent, restless souls dwell within you both. I shall not tempt risk and allow both thine eyes to open at the same time.”

Before Viktor can question you further, you slowly come to a stop in front of a ball of roots – a delicate lace made of strong wood. He feels an intrinsic, instinctual pull to it; like how an animal doesn’t know the word ‘hunger,’ but eats when it’s hungry. He doesn’t know the word or the feeling he has toward this thing – this reality – but he needs to interact with it. Needs to be back in that reality, his base reality.

“Hark,” you say. “Thine home.”

You reach out to it, invading it with your branches like you did to the one before. They snake their way through the intricate weaving.

You then look down at Viktor and bring him up to your collarbone, close to the golden flowers. Up close, the petals are whorls and swirls of golden yellows, and the stamen are crimson at the base with off-white tips. 

“Dost thou not behold the beauty of my dear Viktor?” You ask. 

He stops himself from touching one of the petals and looks up at you. “This… this is me?”

“Indeed,” you say. “A reflection. Brush over the blooms. It shall lead thee back to thine home.”

Viktor takes a step forward and brushes his hand over the flowers. A chime sounds, and pollen falls – well, it doesn’t really fall so much as it floats in the air. 

A translucent, almost celestial figure appears from the flowers and pollen, curled up with its eyes closed. As it hovers, it morphs for a few seconds, then becomes a reflection of Viktor; naked, warm, peaceful. A small smile rests on its lips. 

“Lo, witness my harbinger. My Viktor, the conduit of fate,” you say. “A catalyst for thine return. Touch, and behold its might — your might.”

Viktor looks up at you. 

“Be not afraid,” you say. Your voice shifts, and it’s no longer deep and thunderous and godlike. It’s yours. It’s the voice you have in Viktor’s reality. It’s the voice you use when you’re marveling at his beauty, when you make him turn soft and mushy and romantic. “They wait for thee, Viktor. Who art thou to deny thine beloved?”

And something in him cracks and blooms, like a weed through the concrete slabs of Piltover sidewalks. Viktor reaches forward and touches his reflection’s shoulder. 

His reflection breathes out a sigh, a pink mist leaving its mouth. It slowly uncurls, then opens its eyes and turns to Viktor. 

Their eyes meet –

– and he’s home. He’s in the lab, still holding your hand in a crushing grip. 

Your eyes go wide and your breathing starts to turn labored. Viktor is still crying. Tears well up in your eyes in response.

“Viktor,” you whisper, your voice warbling. 

He whispers your name in return. Quiet. Disbelieving.

You let out a choked, ugly sound, and scramble for him, almost falling to the ground as you get off the workbench. You wrap him up in your arms and he holds you close, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

“You’re really here,” Viktor says, his voice thick and sticky. 

“I’m here,” you sob. 

He pulls away just a little, just enough to see you, to take the true you in again. Your face is twisted in heavy emotion, and yet, you still look so gorgeous. Fat tears roll down your face and you can’t stop crying, but you’re all that Viktor ever wants. 

“I never thought I would see you again,” he says softly. “When you – it…”

He tilts his head forward, touching his forehead to yours as his eyes close. “I was so scared. I thought…”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy.” You laugh weakly. 

“What? No, no, don’t say that.” Viktor moves his hands, one now holding your face and the other resting on the back of your neck. “I would never get rid of you. Never, never in a thousand years.”

You put your hand on his where it rests on your cheek and relax into his touch. A moment later, you gasp, turning away from Viktor. “The Hexcore!” 

You look around, then spot it silently hovering above its place on the workbench. It doesn’t make any noise, doesn’t spit blue arcs of lightning, doesn’t do much of anything. 

“Is it…” You trail off and sniffle. “Is it stable?”

“We have not so much as touched it since you left,” Viktor says. “We did not want to risk anything… not until I got you back, at least.”

“You got me back?” You turn back to him with a smug smile playing on your lips despite the drying tears on your face. “Possessive.”

He laughs and returns to his rightful place, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Yes, maybe. But you cannot blame me, no? You have been gone, and I… I have been afraid.”

“I’m here now,” you say softly. Your arms wrap around him and ensure he stays close. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t know what to do.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Viktor says. 

You hum and rest your head in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He remembers you fawning over the faint scent of sweetmilk that hid under the smell of electrical smoke, smiling and telling him that it made him ‘even cuter.’ (But you had complained about the smell of rancid smoke. You told him to go get a change of clothes soon after.)

“I’m exhausted,” you say softly. Your voice is so quiet only he can hear, like it’s a whisper, like it’s a secret.

Viktor pulls away just slightly, then guides you to the plush sofa hidden behind the blackboard. He wheels it out of the way and waits for you. 

You lay down and stretch out, wiggling until you’re comfortable. You reach behind your head and prop your head up with your forearm, then pat your chest in a silent invitation.

Viktor props his cane up against the side of the sofa and carefully lays down on you, slotting himself against your body. You’re just as warm as he remembered. Your free hand strokes his messy, untamed hair, and it’s like you were never apart from him. 

He silently promises himself that this will never happen again – this separation will never happen again. The Hexcore will be dealt with, whether that means taming or destroying it. 

Viktor will never leave you again. Just like the god-you said, with every shard of his being, he will protect you. He may be a dying cripple, but a dying cripple doesn’t have a lot to lose. 

“Thou and I art entwined, Viktor. A truth, unyielding – two fated souls, forever bound in every existence. In all realms, thou art bound to me, as I am unto thee. This truth cannot be undone; not even by mine own hand.”

The voice of god-you, deep and thundering, whispers in the back of his head. The thought gives Viktor comfort. 

He slides his hand underneath you, holding you just as you’re holding him. He’s not letting you go, not for a while. As long as you’ll have him, he’ll be yours.

Come hell or high water, he’ll always be yours. He doesn’t have that much energy to fight that fate anyway. (Nor does he really want to.)

[satorusugurugurl]

Panties

Summary: Gojo has a thing for your pretty floral panties. 😏

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x AFAB!Reader

Warning: panty kink, panty play, grinding, dry humping, no smut

Word Count: 1,151

A/N: I uhm—was very inspired to write this. I have no excuse.

Pervert?

No, there was no way; Gojo Satoru was a pervert! He was just obsessed with you! His darling, perfect girlfriend. The cutest, sweetest, and sexiest woman he had ever come to know!

He wasn't a pervert when he took you on the most excellent dates! Spoiling you rotten with five-star, four-course meals! Was he a pervert when you both went on vacation? No, he thought his girlfriend looked stunning in the floral sun dress he bought her! Honestly, was he a pervert for pulling you into his office at the school, shoving all the papers to the side, and lying you down on the surface so that he could lift your skirt to see what pretty panties you were wearing?

No.

“T-Toru, you perv.” you gasp as he bunches your skirt up around your hips. “C-Couldn't wait until we got home?”

“I just want to see what panties my girlfriend wore. Is that being a pervert?” He runs his hands slowly up your thighs, squeezing and rubbing them until he reaches your panty-clad mound.

You were in white sheer panties adorned with the prettiest blue flowers. The lace hem was the same shade of sky blue, with a white ribbon in the middle. Seeing those cute panties had him licking his lips as he rubbed his hands together. You looked good enough to eat!

“Mhmm~ so pretty thanks for the mea—” your finger hooked under his blindfold, pulling it out before snapping it. “Oow! What was that for?” Satoru stuck his bottom lip out in a pout.

“I have a meeting with Yaga in fifteen minutes. Some of us, aka me, don't like to be late!”

“I’ll be fast, I promise!”

“Satoru, you and I both know if you start eating me out, it’s going to be thirty minutes tops!” Satoru whined like the spoiled adult he was before sniffling dramatically. “But, I will let you rub against me if you're fast!”

The second the word fast rings through his ears, Satoru is moving. His thumb begins rubbing slow circles around your clit while his other hand unbuttons his pants, pulling his cock out. Your arousal is visible through the sheer panties as he rubs your clit harder, drawing out moans from your throat. Watching those pretty panties get wetter and wetter has his cock throbbing and standing at attention.

Gojo heavily pants before he brings you to the edge of his desk, sliding the head of his cock up and down your clothed cunt. He can feel how wet you are, how your pussy twitches as the head brushes over your hardening clit. It made him squirm, knowing you felt as good as he did.

“Haaah.” he thrusts faster, teasing the bud, watching as your wetness begins to soak through the thin material keeping you apart from each other. “Fuuuck~ so pretty.” His bottom lip is sucked between his teeth, and he bites down on it hard, watching your thighs tighten, squeezing his cock as he continues moving against you. “Oooh, fuck baby~ giving me a thigh job~ or does my cock teasing your cunt feel that good?”

“F-Feels good~ feels good.” from the flush dancing across your pretty cheeks and how your back arches off the desk, Satoru knows you're getting into it as much as he was. “Mhmm” Your finger hooks under your panties, pulling them tighter against your pussy. “Faster.”

Who the hell would Satoru be to deny that request?! He moved faster, the tip pressing against your covered entrance, before sliding further up over your clit. He repeated his thrusts, grunting softly as he rocked faster, pushing harder against your entrance before rubbing over your clit. Your slick is wet, and god, it feels like heaven! But it's not enough to satisfy his yearning for you. If anything, it makes it ten times worse.

“Baby, sweetheart, please.”

“Please, what, Satoru?”

“I need more of you please~ pleeease, baby.”

His cheeks were flushed, and his tip was leaking pre-cum. Seeing him get so worked up made you feel feral. Glancing at the clock, you sighed; he was so worked up it really wouldn't take him long to finish. Without better judgment, you pulled your wet panties to the side and bit your lip, watching as Satoru’s eyes lit up like fireworks.

“Just rubbing.” Your reminder had your boyfriend rolling his eyes from under his blindfold before he slid his twitching click-through your silky fds up to your clit. “Yes~”

Satoru’s cock kept sliding between your folds and over your clit; feeling how wet you were made him move faster. From the strength of his hips, the desk moved underneath you, causing you to grow louder, whining as you clamped your thighs around him. It was so fucking sexy to be so close to fucking you but not allowed. Satoru snarled, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder as he bucked after, sliding through your folds. From the way he gripped your hips and shuddered out moans, you knew he wasn't going to last very long.

“So wet~ such a pretty little pussy~ fuck, you’re so cute.” Satoru praised repeatedly as he rocked against you harder, the desk creaking under your shared weight. “God, I love you, I love you—nngh.” He cried out, planting wet, open-mouth kisses over your neck. “I’m gonna cum~ gonna cum so hard for you~ please cum with me, okay?” The tip of his cock, focus solely on your clit, rubbing it up and down with his tip over and over faster and harder until you were arching your back off the.

“T-Toru gonna! Gonna cum!”

“Yes, sweetheart~! Yes, please!”

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, as your pussy, clenched and convulsed, throbbing against his shaft as waves of pleasure rocked through your every nerve. Watching you come undone, seeing the pleasure that was painted over the features of your face, had Satoru crying out, pulling back to watch his cock spill cum in between your thighs, the sticky substance staining your panties as he let out a ragged breath.

“Fuck thank you, baby.” He pressed kisses all over your face before sliding out from between your thighs. “You’re seriously the best! I needed that so bad.”

“You’re welcome, Toru, but baby.”

“Hm?”

“I need to leave soon. Could you help me clean up?”

You giggle as Satoru looks around frantically for something to clean you up with. He hurries off to fetch you a damp paper towel and some dry ones. Was your boyfriend a pervert? Yes, on some occasions, he was. But did you love that? Yes, you wouldn’t have him any other way.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3

[kozachenko]

[Click for better quality]

Ok yay I'm back from my vacation yipeeeeeee. I started this drawing of Keiki before I left and I was half considering just giving up on it.... until I did a short study of facial planes and then got motivated to work on this again! I'm glad I didn't give up on it though, as I'm actually really happy with this one!

Artist's Notes;

So as I mentioned in my last post about Touhou 17, I wanted to finish this by the game's five year anniversary but with how progress was going I didn't want to rush this so I decided to take a long break from it. Mainly because of the face. For a while now I was kind of feeling like I was stagnating with my drawings, not really in the clothing but in the bodies. There was something about the way I was rendering them that I just wasn't happy with, and after talking with someone else about this issue, I realized that the reason I felt this way was because the faces were too flat and didn't match the rest of the drawing and that I needed to find a way to make the rendering of the face feel consistent with everything else. So after doing a short study of the plains of the face (I used this 3D head model from art station as a reference for my short study, please go give this person some love as they are a lifesaver) I went back into this drawing and applied what I learned here. It was only after that that I finally became motivated to finish the piece, and while it started off as just a simple character sketch like Saki and Yachie's were, the moment I added in Keiki's little fire dragon I knew I had gotten in too deep and now here we are with a full on background. OK it's not super crazy or anything, but it gets the job done and it's better than there just being an empty void behind her. It's rare moments like this when I use brushes other than the Clip Studio Default Charcoal Brush and use the Clip Studio Default Paint Brushes as well (god bless the oil paint and dry gouache clip studio brushes, they were amazing). I don't know why but painting fire has always been really fun for me, there's something oddly satisfying about it y'know? I do think that another reason for this problem was because I was drawing faces like I would in my more sketchy style that didn't mesh well with my lineless style, so I'm glad I've started remedying that.

After adding in the fire dragon I had an idea to kinda make it feel like splash art in the way the composition works... probably because I have been playing Reverse 1999 again and it has taken over my brain. I do feel like Keiki's tools get a little lost in the composition, and I didn't fully render the metal parts of them mainly because I didn't feel like they needed it, but that's just something for me to improve on later down the line.

If you guys are wondering where I went for my vacation, I went to New York and got to go to the MET and the Museum of Natural History. In both places I found Kofun period stuff and I was so happy to see it you have no idea. I remember one of the Haniwa I saw had some neat face paint under the eyes that I tried to replicate with the makeup under Keiki's eyes in my drawing, though I think I'll gave to figure out how to draw makeup on characters because this reads more like blush to me than anything. While drawing this I also looked up some references of Kofun period jewelry and really liked the stuff I found, which also meant that now she has proper Kofun earrings instead of earrings shaped like Kofun tombs. I put some of the things I referenced with a closeup of Keiki's face as well down below. I made her outfit more reminiscent of the outfit I gave her at the beginning of the year with the buttons and all, though I do want to try and draw her in some more period accurate clothing like the Haniwa I took a picture of at the Museum of Natural History. I wish I could find a way to make her handercheif look better though as I wish I made it a little bit bigger, though I think I'm saying this because I've looked at this drawing for too long lmao. Once again something to work on for when I next draw her. Also want to get better at rendering hair, as some details (like the little strands in front of her ears) kinda got unreadable due to the similarities in colour lol.

Now you may have also noticed the little cracks I added onto Keiki's face, and that's because I have fallen in love with the idea of Keiki's body being made from ceramic and that she crafted her body herself. While they aren't very visible I also tried to add some doll joints to her body, which is an idea I played around with in the past but never went to far with. I also want to get better at rendering cracks in ceramic, porcelain, etc, as I'm not sure how those read in the drawing. I also have a headcanon where the cracks in Keiki's face show up because of heightened emotions, and while Keiki is aware of this and does her best to make sure her face doesn't break off.... she will still end up with at least a few cracks during any given day, and she can often forget to repair her own body quite frequently so Mayumi has to remind her quite a lot. Mayumi even taught herself some basic sculpting techniques to help repair parts of her body that are so badly damaged to the point where Keiki can't repair them herself, i.e. if both her arms broke off, Mayumi would put them back together for her so Keiki can at least have something to repair herself with rather than nothing. I also like to imagine that if Keiki created her own body, if you took a look at Keiki from the beginning of her life she would look completely different compared to now.

BTW If you guys are wondering what a very very angry Keiki looks like....ok in order for this to make sense have any of you read volume 11 of Land of The Lustrous? Am I bringing back some memories for those of you that have? Ok good, glad we all got that mental image brewing in our minds, I'll probably draw a version of Keiki that is somewhat inspired by that one day as it's an idea I've had for a little while now. And to those who haven't gotten to that volume yet and are confused.... don't worry about it, just keep reading :)

[munsoninthedark86]

We'd Catch The Rainbow(Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, creampie finish, swearing, mentions of smoking weed, use of the word "daddy" pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader word count: o.7k a/n: well, here is a little something after being gone for so long. I hope I'm not as rusty as I think I am. Also requests are open!

He pumps into you, his mouth hot and wet as he leaves open-mouthed kisses on your neck and bare chest. It feels like it’s been so long since you two have had this privacy and intimacy. All it took was a little weed and that look in your eyes. That’s when Eddie had guided you to the nearest bedroom. Your clothes came flying off along with his own.

“Shit,” he moans against your sweat slicked skin. “Missed my baby girl so much.”

You both look down to where he’s pumping into you, his cock filling up that tight cunt. He’s almost too excited by all of this. He slows down his pace, his ringed fingers coming up to press against your face as he cups your cheeks. You let out a muffled moan when his tongue slides into your mouth. It’s been way too long since he’s fucked you.

“Missed you too, my Eddie bear.”

He laughs softly at your cute nickname for him. You’re always so sweet and so kind to him. That’s what attracted him to you at first. Your kind and sweet nature made him crazy for you. You showed him softness he hadn’t felt in years. And now with you under him, your legs wrapped around him, he’s falling for you all over again. Who would have thought a few months away while you were gone on summer vacation would make him so needy for you?

Your hands reach up to brush some of his hair out of his face, and he leans in to kiss you. His kisses always leave you so breathless. Your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest. He laughs again when he nips at your bottom lip and it makes you squeal. He loves hearing those cute little noises coming from you.

“You’re driving me so fucking crazy, baby.” He growls in your ear. “Shouldn’t have let my little cutie go away on vacation.”

His big hands push your knees towards your chest, burying himself even deeper into your tight cunt. You’re both left panting and gasping as the new position brings you both different sensations. You feel even more full of his cock, if that’s even possible. Your mind starts going blank as Eddie begins snapping his hips harder and faster. It’s like he can’t get enough of you even if he tries. He wants to be so deep inside of you. It’s the only way he feels like he can be completely close to you.

“Wish I didn’t have to go,” you breathe out as he slams himself into you. “But ‘m back now, honey…”

He drives himself into you over and over, relishing in the way your pussy squelches from being so wet. He looks down to see how there’s a creamy, frothy ring of your juices coating the base of his cock. It’s almost pornographic to him to watch himself fuck you. It’s better than any video he’s ever seen. It’s better than any picture he’s seen in a magazine.

“You’re fucking squeezing my cock so good,” he whimpers. His balls are drawing up as he feels his orgasm nearing.

Eddie doesn’t want this to end just yet. He wants you to cum as well. He knows if he works this out just right, you’ll both fall off the edge together. You watch through hooded eyes as he brings his thumb to his lips and licks it. Then he presses it to your swollen nub, rubbing it at the same pace as he fucks himself into you. Your eyes roll back in your head as you feel the fire in your belly being stoked even more than before.

“That’s my good girl,” Eddie praises you. “Cum on my cock, babygirl. Come on, cum for daddy.”

That’s all it takes for you to fall off the edge. Your gummy walls begin contracting around him as you cling to him. Your voice is shaky as you moan and whine his name. Eddie throws his head back as the pleasure washes over him as well. His orgasm hits him hard, making him grow weak in the arms and legs. He has to hold himself up as best as he can as his cock throbs inside of you, painting your insides white. 

Slowly, he comes to a stop and he rests his head on your chest. You begin playing with his hair and rubbing his back soothingly. You never want this moment to end. It’s a beautiful silence despite your ragged breaths as you try to catch your breath. Eddie chuckles softly as he finally lifts his head and kisses you so deeply and so sweetly.

“Damn baby,” he says between pants. “You know I’m not going to let you go for a long time, yeah?”

[wandanatsbaby]

The Little Rose - 1

Series Masterlist | Intro

Warning: This series includes dark themes

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wanda looked in the mirror to the 5 year old girl that was sitting in the back seat. The girl was playing happily with two barbies she had brought while occasionally looking out the window.

Wanda looked back at the road just in time to see the big New Jersey Sign. Just as they had passed the state border the little girl got tired of playing with barbies.

"Where are we going?" She asked Wanda as she started pushing herself up as far as her seat belt would let her.

"Sit down Detka! You're going to get hurt" Wanda scolded. "We are going to Westview for vacation" the girl nods happily as she gets in a small bookbag and grabs a coloring book and crayons.

"How much longer til get there?"

"2 hours. Why don't you draw me a pretty picture? I'll turn on some music"

"Okay!"

Wanda begins to mess with the radio looking for a good station until she pauses on a certain one

"A 5 year old girl named Rose Romanoff went missing today around 12:35pm. It is said the girl was last seen at a restaurant with her foster parents before she went to the bathroom. And didn't return. The girl was last seen wearing a sunflower dress with pigtails. She has red hair and Green eyes. if anyone sees her please report it to the authorities." Wanda looks back at the girl before turning the radio quickly and taking a deep breath.

As they get to their destination Wanda sighs and climbs out of the car before opening the back door and helping Rose out and picking her up, placing her on her hip and then grabbing her toys.

Wanda walks up the steps of the house and sets the girl down. Unlocking the door she let's Rose in and then looks around before stepping in herself.

Finally in the safety of her home Wanda gets a good look at the girl. Her red wavy hair had gotten longer since the last time she saw her. Her eyes are no longer as bright as they Once were in the compound and she had gotten a couple inches taller. The sunflower dress she wears has spots of dirt around the bottom and she wore a pair of flip flops that had some sort of cartoon character on them.

“Wandy?” Rose called for the women making her snap out of the memories.

“Yes, my little flower?”

“Why Amy an Mark no come? They alway come.” Wanda looked at Rose with a blank expression before squatting down to her level.

“Well Sweet girl your with me now. Mark and Amy are no longer going to be here. Just you and me.” Rose looked at Wanda confused. She doesn't understand what Wanda was saying. Amy and Mark had been with her since Natasha died. “Come on let me show you your room.”

Wanda stands back up and reaches her arm out for the girl to take.

Rose stops and looks at the room in awe. The walls were painted pastel pink roses and vines painted all over them. There was a small bed that had lots of pillows and stuffed animals on it with a glittery pink bedspread. A Toy box sat in the corner of the room next to a big doll house and finally there was a huge walk-in closet that already had multiple pieces of clothing in it.

“For me?” Rose asked Excitedly as she was already bouncing on her feet wanting to go inspect the toys.

“All for you. Why don’t you go play and look around while I start dinner. Does that sound okay Detka?” Rose nodded and then immediately ran over to the toy box pulling out dolls and furniture to start setting up her doll house. Wanda smiled before walking towards the kitchen where she started to prepare dinner.

She was so happy she finally had you again. You were home and Wanda was going to get to be your mom. She took a glance at the picture that was hanging on the living room wall. It was of Natasha and Wanda a couple months before she died. They had just started a relationship then and was getting ready to tell Rose about it before Natasha had- Wanda stops her thoughts and with a sad sigh continues to the kitchen.

Tags: @simpformelissa

[dmitriene]

— i don't care anymore.

summary: feelings accumulated inside of you for years abruptly bursted out. content: re4! leon x fem! agent reader tags: nsfw, smut, hurt/comfort, mentions of blood - death - trauma - nausea - alcohol, confused relationship, receiving fingering, unprotected p in v, marking. (let me know if i forgot something!) authors note: my first smut which includes leon and quite sensitive themes, hope you like it! please enjoy your reading) 🖤 (18+ warning)

«i'm so lost and confused / i don't know what to do»

«where are they now / i don't care anymore»

Bioweapon —

USSTRATCOM — a place that gradually began to feel like a cage in which you found yourself due to your own choice, joining a secret unit on the list of a few more people in order to prevent the spread of bioweapons, devoting not only your body and mind to this cause — but also your life.

Contact —

Leon Scott Kennedy — the first person who took a step towards you and the first acquaintance that significantly smoothed everything that happens around you — to be honest, an awkward temporary contact with a fair haired man even pleased you, because your rare meetings and short dialogues made your thoughts switch to a slight smile playing around the corners of his lips as he jokes about an upcoming mission or discusses how he would like to go on vacation, and you, to be honest, too.

Zombies —

A defocused look and a veil before the eyes — not yours, but a rebellious creature in front of you, a twisted body and indistinct sounds that came from the mouth of an incomprehensible creature while its ragged movements and crooked legs carried it towards you in desperate attempts to get to you, only for your fingers to pull the gun trigger and fill the space with the sounds of gunshots, the bullets ripping through layers of already rotting flesh only to riddle the body of a creature that faintly reminded you of its human appearance, until it finally fell to the ground.

Blood —

Crimson thick liquid — it oozes like rubies from a limp body in scarlet streams along the floor and down to your feet, and you feel how strong and fast your heart beats arrhythmically, dispersing the blood through your own body with a loud noise from an overabundance of the body, forcing the whole body to break through weak pulsation, you don’t even have time to comprehend what is happening, as a heavy and itchy load immediately falls on your entire body, starting to feel cold sweat that collected in small drops on your skin, forcing your hands to automatically start trying to convulsively brush off the unpleasant discharge.

Nausea —

Unbearable pressure on the cranium — which seemed to have an impact on you from all sides, as soon as you look away from the corpse, your head starts to spin and your breath spirals in earnest, a disgusting lump forms in your throat and it seemed as if all space was leaving under your feet, and any matter around dissolving, followed by a vile, indescribable feeling that forced the body to strain to its maximum limit.

Panic —

An overwhelming feeling that sharply wedges everything around and is very blurry — you try to focus on the environment around you and you suddenly feel that you have nothing to breathe, in an instant you seem to be deprived of any access to oxygen, which, it would seem, should have been enough, your mouth opens in panic and in a futile attempt to swallow more air, but everything turns out to be in vain.

Comfort —

A sharp feeling of psychophysical pleasure and the opportunity to breathe — the necessary warmth began to spread through the body following the sensation of someone's arms ringed around you, someone's strong figure embraces you in an understanding embrace, as if only wanting to divert your thoughts from everything that previously worried you, and then a heavy hand lies on your back and begins to slowly draw ornate patterns with his fingertips

— «Shh.. everything is fine..»

the velveteen tone of voice helps to recognize in whose hands you are and the heart finally stops abnormally rushing around the chest, your breathing gradually returns to normal and in a matter of a moment the lump rolls back from a simple realization — you are in the safest possible place at the moment.

Monastery —

The long awaited feeling that falls on your shoulders and covers you with apathy like a blanket — a successfully completed mission safely returned you for some time to your usual state of affairs, being in the comfortable environment of your monastery and inspiring peace of mind that affects better than any medicine that helps excess weight and thoughts vanish from your body like something superfluous.

Alcohol —

Astringent and bitter taste that recreates a burning sensation in the mouth and further down the throat — an uncounted sip of ruby liquid makes the body perform an incredible somersault, thoughts turn into porridge and eyes get wet over an unpleasant veil that your obscuring gaze, because it is in such an environment that memories overtake you.

Aggression —

Discontent seething through the veins with hot blood, covering everything in front of you — your eyebrows frown after the hope that a few sips of alcohol will help you calm down and cope with painful thoughts, a glass of tart liquid is instantly emptied, your heart is convulsively knocking on your chest and blood walks all over your body with a familiar noise, and then you can’t stand it, with all your strength you hit the glass on the table, breaking the glass to smithereens, while your fingers instinctively clench around the fragments in an attempt to forget, injuring yourself on thin glass.

Return —

A confusing sensation of fussiness and unbearable tension — an unusual sudden fussiness and tight clenching of the lips until the pinkish skin turns white, new and uncomfortable feelings that arose somewhere on the internal soil due to the meeting with the long straight corridor that led to the oval office, provoking uncomfortable bubbling and noticeable lack of air to re-form deep inside, while the mind screamed endlessly that there was no place for weakness and your own discomfort, so the fingers had to slide along the bridge of the nose in an attempt to get out of the viscous shackles of an unpleasant foreboding.

Disruption —

Acute anxiety and inability to focus on the environment — as soon as you cross the threshold of the door out of the office on cottony legs, you already unconsciously rush towards any free room to lie down there until you come to your senses, until your vision swims worse than the raging sea waves followed by a sharp movement of your hand that pulls some unknown door handle for you to roll over the threshold and lock yourself between four walls, leaning back against a wooden surface and taking in air into the lungs.

Need —

Feeling unable to cope with what is happening on your own — fingers smear transparent drops of tears on your face before lifting your head and only then perceive the surrounding picture, in your most vulnerable and hopeless position you locked yourself in an unknown office with a man whom you had already allowed to probe your weakness — Leon Scott Kennedy, you know nothing about him except his name and pair of blue eyes that look at you in pure surprise, and you feel even worse from the realization that if he were to pull you to him again now, you would gladly give in to this impulse, but instead you stand with your back to him and tremblingly reach for the door handle.

Consolation —

A warm, honey like feeling that you succumb to and let yourself feel weaker than usual — only to hear an already completely unimportant document slap on the table before footsteps echo against your eardrums and you feel close contact with his warm chest before strong arm shamelessly wrap around your waist line, carefully and torturously slow forcing you, like a feather, to turn to face him, only to bury your face somewhere in his chest and at the same moment endless and unintelligible sobs pour from your lips, and the tongue unties itself, as soon as his voice with warm breath touches the shell of your ear

— «Shh, sweetheart, i got you.. i got you»

your voice is hoarse and torn after another sob, and you don’t care at what moment a gentle appeal sweetly slipped from his lips

— « I-I'm.. I-I can't take it, Leon.. I'm»

— «I know.. i know»

Attraction —

A blind reaction to the inability to think concretely — a ridiculous desire to remain in caring hands and sink into an unexpected need to feel his presence closer, to force all the disgusting memories to burn out of your head as your head slowly lifts up to meet his gaze with your tear stained eyes, and his hand is incredibly tender as he caresses your cheek and his thumb carefully traces a line under your eyes, collecting tears and watching your eyelashes quiver at the sudden feeling of embarrassment that has blossomed inside you and revealed a pinkish blush on your cheeks.

Awareness —

A complete understanding and acceptance of what is happening, penetrating the spine, an awareness of a need that rises above everything else — his head slowly lowers to face you, and a finger slides from your cheek to your chin to gently lift it, you catch a small quiver of his eyelashes before his warm lips touch yours in an uncertain kiss, and you don’t even have time to comprehend what is happening and the seething heat inside, which made your heart contract and beat not because of an unpleasant lump of feelings, but something warmer, and he pulls away with a half lidded eyes in order to cover half of his face with his hand, squeezing out

— «I'm sorry.. i shouldn't do this, probably, i should - »

he does not finish, because the realization hits you with pressure and you give in to the need, dropping your lips to his again.

Passion —

A strong impulse that is accompanied by an irresistible attraction to someone — something that makes you find yourself in his arms, seasoning your back against a cool wall, while his warm tongue greedily explored all the depths of your mouth and your sweet lips, pulling charming moans and needy whining to his ears — he is ready to give in to your every desire, drawing a path of kisses from your lips to your neck to paint it with bright buds of scarlet traces, a warm hand carefully pulls off your blouse to throw it behind your back, needing to touch your seductive flesh, teasingly swiping his tongue up your collarbones as his free hand gently yanks off your bra, making you whine

— «Please, hmn.. L-Leon..»

his voice is lower than usual, demonstrating a reciprocal need for contact as his tongue touches your chest and lightly brushes your nipples with his teeth, causing your spine to intuitively arch and your fingers to sink into his shoulders

— «Mm, sweetheart, just a little bit, want to taste every part of your delicious body..»

Lust —

The need for voluptuousness, sensual sexual desire from which all sorts of sensible thoughts float — the only thing that left room for thinking was how to cover every part of your body with his marks in order to squeeze out more moans and sweet sobs from you, and it comes out when he gives you what you wished for a long time, wriggling in his arms for closer contact.

his hand slid freely up your thigh, making your legs flinch around his waist, while his hand teasingly lay on your pubic tubercle hidden behind the thin, soaked fabric of your panties to run his fingers along your sensitive spot, listening to how his name slides from your swollen lips

— «L-Leon!»

he hums, turns his attention back to your face and in a quivering kiss covers your lips again until his fingers finally begin to make jagged and erratic patterns over the small pea of your clit, smiling into your lips as your back arches sharply and your head rises back, and he seizes this moment to slip outside of your underwear and pull the panties down, leaving them hanging from your leg while his fingers spread your labia minora to plunge one finger into your wet crotch, swiping and repeating fictitious movements in and out , until your hips begin to buck up intuitively, with every opportunity to move towards his caresses — and a smirk blooms on his lips, he adds another finger and watches your face writhe with an overabundance of feelings.

Euphoria —

An overwhelming sense of bliss — trembling into every cell of your body, making you tremble in his firm arms and sink your head into his shoulder as the walls of your cunt clenched and unclenched around his fingers until the sweet sensation of orgasm slowly subsided, allowing him to take his fingers out and bring them up to his lips, licking your juices utterly greedily, watching your cheeks redden shamefacedly at the sight of him savoring you on his fingers before sinking back into your joint kiss, letting you taste that strange taste on the tip of your tongue before moaning into his lips with not a request, but a sincere need

— «N-need.. need you..»

a low laugh sounds extremely languid, vibrating off his chest and allowing you to feel it to the fullest in connection with you being in his hands, while his whisper caressed your ear, swiping a wet strip along your ear lobe, drawing a sob out of you

— «Need what, hun? You need to talk properly, hm?»

the challenge in the tone of his voice makes you flinch, the desire to feel his cock deep inside of your cunt covered everything with a veil and pressure in the lower abdomen, provoking your tongue to untie enough to squeeze out embarrassedly

— «Need your c-cock.. inside, please.»

a satisfied smile stretches along the line of his lips so that he again covers her lips with his, soft and hot, weaving his fingers into strands of your hair and running between them with his fingers, while his relatively cottony legs from his own arousal lead him to a table nearby, Leon lays you on lightly cool surface before parting your lips and finally freeing himself from the stuffy layers of clothing.

Frenzy —

An extreme degree of mental arousal, a violent loss of self-control — a surge that makes him, with impatient and sharp movements, pull off his t-shirt and throw it aside, only to go down with his hand to the belt of his trousers, tangling his fingers in the buckle and deftly releasing it to lower the interfering fabric into floor, and all he needs is one quick glance at your glossy eyes that are following the movement of his hands and how he was getting close to the elastic of his boxers as if he play's with a cat, with you.

the nervous lump finds its way down your throat as you watch as Leon releases the rubber band and lets his cock slide out freely, causing him to shudder in contact with the cool air, revealing to you a view of his slightly swollen cock dripping with precum, his footsteps in your direction measured and feel like an eternity, until you feel his hands smoothly spread your legs, running his tongue over his lips at the sight of your shiny with arousal cunt, and the spine arches by itself as your hips thrust into his touch, and you hide your reddened face in your hands, suddenly feeling his lips on the skin of your neck, shuddering from his hot breath and sensual whisper

— «Don't hide your pretty face, darling»

he adjoins his sharp cheekbone to your neck and then leaves a smeared bite, leading a path of crimson hickeys and butterfly kisses to the line of your sharp collarbones and teasing them with his teeth, awakening in you an unbearable heat from the accumulated arousal that provokes you to reach down with your hand, groping for his cock and running a finger along his urethra, smearing precum all over it and getting out Leon's sharp growl, which is then covered by his deep voice

— «You want this so much, aren't you, needy thing?»

his tone of voice completely obscures your mind and ability to think concretely, so you foolishly nod your head and whine from a quivering kiss on the top of your head before he starting to act, slowly pushing his crimson head inside your cunt, marveling at the ultimate narrowness

— «F-fuckgh, sweet thing, you are so tight»

his movements are slow and measured, full of exhilarating excitement, before he picks up the pace and begins to move more boldly, pressing his hips against your buttocks, on which his large and slightly rough hands rested, as his cock plunged into your hot insides with each time faster and faster, watching with eyes covered with lust as your cunt sucks his cock into you all the way and shrinking as if refusing to let go, and his pace became almost animal, pulling out loud and hoarse moans from the depths of your throat, covering your mouth with his hand and whispering softly into your ear, while he slowly put your legs on his shoulders

— «Shh, sweetheart, don't want anyone to know what we're doing here, aren't you?»

and you nod dumbly again, feeling your legs rest on his shoulders as he rams into you from a completely different angle, hitting your kervix and enjoying your muffled moans and whimpers as you desperately try to mutter about the intense pressure in your stomach

— «Need t' cum.. pleaseleonwanttocum!»

he answers you with a deep growl before looking down at you and freeing your lips from his palm, replacing it with his lips to drown out your further cries of pleasure, whispering

— «Cum.. cum for me, let yourself go, yeah?»

and you writhing, moaning into his lips as he kisses you endlessly despite the catastrophic lack of air, while you ring his neck with your hands and let yourself arch, stretching like a string into a frenzy, while your knees convulsively trembled, and all the erratic moans driven by the wave of orgasm get taller, matching his by how much your cunt clenched around his cock.

— «S-shit, doll, not going to last m-much!»

you both moan obscenely loudly in unison, trying to drown out all sounds as much as possible, while your body convulses pleasure like an electric shock, he licks your swollen lips while your eyes roll back in ecstasy for a few moments, feeling Leon crush your thighs with rapture , feeling his orgasmic discharge approaching, he thrusts into your hot and dripping cunt one last time, and then ejaculates, staining the walls of your cunt with his hot ropes of cum before going limp and wrapping his strong arms around your body, pulling you closer.

Bliss —

A feeling of supreme pleasure, joyful and comforting — what you feel at last again in a long time, feeling him gently trace his thumb over the marks he covered your now limp body before pulling his cock out of you and kissing your cheek, hearing you whimper softly before snuggling closer to him from being so tired and wanting to stay in this trembling moment - so he gently strokes your back, lifting your chin to look at your tired sleepy eyes, which makes him mumble softly

— «How are you feeling now, hun?»

your lips curl into a warm, sleepy smile before nuzzling into his chest and muttering, hugging him as tightly as you can, clinging to your current situation

— «Good.. never felt so good before..»

those were the last words from you before you let fatigue and exhaustion get the best of you and pass out in his arms and gentle presence.

© dmitriene - my masterlist please, don't copy my works as your own, and if you want to post them somewhere else - contact me. reblogs, likes and comments are very much appreciated, thank you for reading! ♡

[softdykellie]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ motion sickness part ii | ellie w.

previous part here | next part here soon

PAIRING: modern!ellie x fem!reader

SUMMARY: having grown up together, everyone knew eachother in jackson. when a brooding newcomer owner to a tattoo shop comes along apparently charming her friendly florist neighbor things seem to take a turn.

WARNING: alternative universe! purposefully all lower case. multiple part series. not a very eventful beginning as ellie’s relationship with reader is slow burn but it will start evolving after this one seriously trust me!

WORD COUNT: 632

ellie. you tasted her name on your tongue and melted into the feeling, flushed. dina had certainly manifested her wishes into fruition, you thought. stared at the girl for way too long, getting familiar with her features and vacant gaze towards the alcohol filled shelves against the main bar wall, freckles like starry war paint, eyebrow scar, pale green iris, peach pink lips, auburn hair gently brushing her shoulder at length. breathtaking, you immediately named the feeling, but she looked worn, tossed around. you blamed it on the bruised eye, caught onto sky grey vibes.

a silly game blossomed into your heart years ago, the inspiration for your flower shop really: how everyone you meet could be described by the floral language. dina thought hers too common, but it was your favorite, a daisy, standing for loyal love and “i’ll never tell”. jesse, a white jasmin, sweet love, amiability. even abby, coriander. you did not know the girl at all, but you saw red carnations grow behind her in the way spiritualists would claim to see auras. red carnations; “my heart aches”.

“flower shop girl, yes, that’d be me”

“cute” she mumbled sipping on the beer dina had given her before promptly pretending to be busy elsewhere though noticebly eavesdropping.

“you’ve got a lot of tattoos on you” jesse pointed matter of factly, earning a chuckle “perks of the job?”

“the job” ellie repeated his words in light humor as if minimizing her own career with the sound “yeah, i guess. you want one?”

“fuck, yeah! maybe a dragon up my back or or you know a snake, i don’t know, what do you usually draw?”

“pretty things” she answered before taking you off guard with a head movement that pointed you out amongst them all “like her” she twisted her body around to meet your face “what would you get, flower girl? roses?”

“the sun” you answered “what does that say about me?”

ellie smiled a weak smile, raising the sleeve of her grey t-shirt to expose a beaming sun by her bicep, detailed sad expression in black ink across its center. you took notice of everything. ferns and a moth grew from her hand to the very end of her forearm and covered scars you could only assume to have been self inflicted. a sword pierced through the spare space of skin next to a phoenix and finally angel wings alongside a well hidden initial: J. you wouldn’t ask, but you wanted to.

“trying to figure that out myself”

you hadn’t noticed when abby left, only that she was gone when a couple dollars slipped past you towards the ground from the countertops, extra tips for dina. you wanted her extroverted ways to carry the conversation, ask the newcomer about the altercation, but she seemed to enjoy playing dutiful dedicated owner more. small talk failed you, and ellie was uninterested.

you planned out your next meeting in your head, showing up with cookies as they do in the movies, catching glimpses of her sketches on the wall, giving them backstories to fill the gaps. it wasn’t so strange to be eager as you were taking into consideration how rare these opportunities had presented themselves: you never left jackson, not even on vacation. the world was meant to turn on its axis but you were destined to stay still, an agoraphobia rooted into your veins like movement would burst your chest open, bloody and broken. the flowers had been a therapist’s idea: to take care of something innocent as a purpose, exist outside the shell of a body you painfully cared for in pure obligation. your personal garden arsenal though, had meaning. yellow tulips, that’s what you were. the flower for unrequited love. the one tattooed by ellie’s hipbone you were yet to see.

[frodo-with-glasses]

ANOTHER JOURNEY BEGINS TODAY!

Happy Hobbit Day everybody! In celebration of Bilbo and Frodo’s birthday, I am—as promised—reading LotR again. I hope you’ll join me for another journey through this wonderful book!

What To Expect:

Chapter Reviews

Reviews of Phil Dragash’s audiobook

Reblogs of old art (when it’s still good)

Redraws of old art (when it isn’t lol)

Brand new art (for moments I missed on the last go-round)

And more shenanigans!

I would also like to run another ask game, if possible! I might revive one of the old ask games, or—as suggested by the ladies on the discord server—I might draw funny scenes from the movies on request. Vote for your favorite below!

So, Lady Glasses, where have you been?

Some of you were looking forward to seeing more Magnolia AU content in the interim between LotR rereads, and I’m really sorry I wasn’t able to deliver on that. A lot of things started to change IRL right around the time I finished the book, which affected my schedule and how much free time I had to draw. I also made a new friend, and with that person, started to roleplay my original characters (which I’m going to tell myself was writing practice ;-P), and that took up a lot of my creative energy as well.

But I’ve been promising for months that I’d start reading LotR again today, and I want to make good on at least one promise. So, here I am! I hope to be able to keep to the doodle-a-day schedule I had last year. We shall see.

As of today, I am actually on vacation, but I’ve been working hard for the past month to make sure you guys have reviews and doodles to enjoy even while I’m away from home. Thank you so much for your patience with me, and I hope you enjoy this brand new journey through Lord of the Rings!

WELCOME TO ANOTHER YEAR OF FRODO-WITH-GLASSES!

[keelt9]

Chapter 7

Masterlist

“You look…” Pam scanned my face before sitting on the chair. “Great?” She didn’t even sound convinced of her own words. 

It’s my first day in the office, finally my endless vacations are finished and I'm back to work full of energy. I see my meetings schedule for the week, a few with writers but most of them to put me at the day with my daily activities.

“What happened with the cute QB that came the other day?” I knew it, I scoff after sending to print a few things she came to pick.

After coming back from our trip Joe got a call the next day, he must leave right away, avoiding us forced moments of faking that our decision was easy to take. The remaining week I spent changing things in the apartment and even painting the wall where my photos are from a different color, the green mint color is already gone now I have a white wall, just keeping my mind busy.

I gave Pam the papers. “We’re just friends Pam.” She took them, maybe it’s the tone of my voice or the expression on my face that make her nod and don’t say anything else.

The phone of my office rings, interrupting us. “Stratton?” I replied; Claire needs me in her office. “Ok, thanks.” 

Pam is fighting to say something. “It’s ok Pam, we will always be friends.” Like she did months ago, I make her stand as we walk to the door. “Now, get out of here, the boss is looking for me.”

Claire is waiting, sitting reading a manuscript which she interrupts as I perk at her door.

“Y/N, please, come in and sit.” She has a wide open smile. “Do you remember that at the beginning of the year I had to present a book to the big bosses? You know, marketing things, covers of the editorial and all those stuffs”

I nod but I don’t get what this has to be with me. “Well, I suggest the book of Lucy.” 

Lucy is the author of the kids book I work on all my vacations, the strange drawing and the mysterious story.

“They love it.” 

Claire explained one of the many duties about coming out with the pick of the book is a tour for promoting and winning investors for new ones. Lucy already agreed, fascinated but with one condition, she wants I be with her all the time, in her words. <Y/N made to adjust and improve all my story without changing my essence.>

It’s 3 months of traveling around the country and 2 months in Europe and Asia. 

“It’s almost half of a year, I know, but I couldn’t agree more.” I’m perplexed, not even in my wildest dreams this comes to my mind. “Think about it, ok? But hey, it’s a good opportunity and you've been working hard for this.” 

“I’ll go.” I didn’t even think twice. “Count me in.” 

“OMG! Honey! This is great!” Mom pulled me for an asphyxiating hug. “I’m so proud of you.” 

After a long meeting with Lucy, Clare and all that will be involved, we decided to begin right away with the intention that by the time we conclude the tour it's the beginning of autumn, perfect occasion for kids who look for a book with that kind of illustration. 

We only have one week to set the things we need and start the tour in Osaka. I decided to go with Pete and my parents to give them the news in person. Archie said he will miss me but he asked me one single favor.

“Please bring a postcard from everywhere you’ll be.” He is standing next to Nora with a cute smile on his face.

When I was about to leave his home the next day, Archie hugged me tight and kissed my cheek. “Call every night aunt, I’ll be answering all the time.” 

“Take care of your parents all right?” Archie nods and my brother and Nora just chuckle with the resolute nod of their son.

At home my parents were jumping of happiness, it’s a big opportunity and all knew that, so they decided to improvise in a small dinner just the three of us and Leah. 

“I know you take care of yourself but could you give your old man the pleasure to hear those words?” Dad said, grabbing my hand across the table.

I giggle and grab his hand. “Dad, I’ll promise you I'll take care of myself.” Mom laughs. “Besides, I’ll bring Pam with me, I’m not going alone.”

“Find a good looking European boy.” Dad cleared his throat and sat straight holding my hand. “Don’t look at me like that Mr. Stratton, not for her, for me.” Leah took a bite of the cheesecake my mother made smiling.

Talking about boys, friends say goodbye, right?

“Bro, this is…” Chase opened the door, his sight at his back until he saw me. “I know you.” He has a side smile, thinking for a second. “Oh, I definitely know you.” I laugh at his eyes wide open. 

Joe appears at the door with a pink hoodie. “Who…?” A side to side smile on his face. “Hi.” Chase looks at us with a mischievous smirk, when Joe looks at him and understands his friend is still at the door and he is behind him and me.

Joe fakes a cough, but Chase doesn’t move. “Do you mind?” 

“Oh, yeah, sorry, sorry, I just…Can I give you a hug? It’s really a pleasure to meet you.” He slowly comes closer and gives a hug softly. 

“Ok, ok, this is more than enough.” Joe pat Chase back, making us laugh before he definitely goes inside the house. “Come in, please.” 

I shake my head. “You have an amazing garden, do you mind if we talk here?” 

“Am I in trouble?” I scoff as he closes the door and sits on the steps.

“I'm leaving.” I’m not picture Joe turning around so quickly to face me but he can’t even talk. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s just a couple of months.”

I explain everything to him, and he listens carefully. “So, I thought it would be nice to say goodbye.” My eyes were stuck on the flowers of his garden, until I turned around. “Are you even listening?”

Joe is so immersed typing something in his phone. “You speak too fast, could you repeat one more time after NYC?” 

“What?” Joe showed me his phone, and his calendar was marked with green dots.

“I miss some dates.” I cover my face, feeling shy. “You probably won’t come to the kick off, right?” 

“Joe.” I feel moved for all his attention. “You don’t have to do that.” I point to his phone but my mouth doesn't shut up after that. “I mean, it’s not like I won’t text you…” That came so fast.

“Great! I mean…” He scratched his chin after a high pitched voice. “A <Have a good game> It’s well received.” 

“I have to go.” I stand. “I still have to pack for leaving tomorrow.” 

“You’re welcome to come in, we are just preparing something for lunch.” He pointed to this house.

“Thanks but Leah’s parents invited me already.” He put his hand around my arm and pulled me to lock me in his arms, my heart started to beat like crazy. 

“Have a good trip and take care.” I patted his back and split. “Send me a photo wherever you are, all right?”

I nod before walking to the entrance where I park my father’s car, but every step goes slower and slower every time.

“Hey Joe.” He raised his eyebrows as he kept listening to me. “Take care. I want to be back and see you winning games.”

Joe scoffs with a smile on his face; a contagious one, I wave my hand before entering the car, driving out of his house, still smiling.

The first month and half was crazy, I never was in charge of something this big and Pam and I have weeks of stress just learning how to do it and not die in the try. By the end of the first month we have things under control.

The book received good acceptance in every place we set an autograph signing and we closed some important negotiations with foreign editorials on the way.

“Here.” Lucy put in front of me a bag. “I was traveling around and I saw a boutique, and for your recent searches, I think this is something you'll buy.”

I pull it out and it’s a black hoodie with small embroidered red tulips at the sleeves. Just perfect. 

We have just two weeks here in Europe before coming back and not counting the huge amount of postcards Archie asked me for and souvenirs for my family and friends. I didn’t find something I like for Joe.

“Oh, thanks.” I search for the size and it’s actually Joe sixes. “Who do you know the size of?”

Lucy giggles and orders her coffee. “I asked Pam, and she said, <Do you know Joe Burrow?> I almost faint.”

I opened and closed my mouth multiple times, making her giggle. “Don’t worry she specified you are just friends. Relax. Still, powerful friends I must say.” 

The last two weeks we spent in Italy, then we took a flight to California, setting the beginning of our tour at home.

“Are you joking?” I entered my hotel room, exhausted after 10 hours of flight. “That’s great, right?” 

I just told Leah we have a few days off next week for recharging batteries and going back to the rest of the tour book.

“Yeah, it’s just, I’ll lose the rhythm of work.” Leah bluffs and I picture her rolling her eyes.

“Sorry, I forgot I’m talking with my workaholic friend.” I laughed and laid in bed. “Are you planning to come or are you going to your home?

“I have a few souvenirs to deliver.” I observed a bag full of things for them.

Mom received with a lovely surprise a Saturday morning, Peter and family were there too anxious to see me.

“This is great, have you seen this daddy?” Archie keeps showing all the postcards I brought for him, holding one candy of the insane amounts of boxes I bought for him, sparkles in his eyes. 

We are sitting in the backyard enjoying a sunny afternoon as I told them how those months have been going.

“How many days off do you have?” Peter asked taking a sip of his water. 

“4 days, then I must be in NYC for the next part.” Archie ran to his dad showing another one, this time Beijing.

Mom entered with more snacks. “Joe died seeing but we hardly saw him either.” 

I narrowed my eyes but dad clarified for mom. “Oh, the training camp begins this week and last one he traveled for all his check ups.” 

Joe takes the training camps very seriously, after the first ones didn’t come out as he expected my parents told me he set a strict routine around the weeks of training camps, his health is his priority.

“Joe invited me but mom said we couldn’t go.” Archie say taking another chip. “Work stuff.” All giggle and Peter toss his hair.

That night I met Leah in her home, she parepare a sleepover like the old time, a lot of food, horror movies and now we're grown up women, a few drinks.

After a few rounds and a lot of junk food, I started to feel a funny bubble sensation all over my body.

“You should go.” Leah said serve me another margarita. “And yes, I got it, I mean, you should go, as a friend.”

“Leah.” She smiles, let's be honest my tone didn't express the right amount of warning.

“Listen, you bring that nice hoodie from across the world and I know you.” Leah sits across the night table in her living room. “That endless texting, quick calls and random pictures along all day, scream, <I miss you>” 

In fact I do, but I also know he's always been clear; full focus on his annual goal and a new ring on his hand.

“He doesn't have to know you are there.” I scoff but she continues. “Go, see the practice from far away, at the end give him the hoodie and leave, any harm for both of you.”

I throw a pillow at her. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It's my gift. Think about it at least, preferably, go.” The doorbell announced our pizzas are here. “All right?” 

Leah stands staggering as she walks to her door and screams. “Your silence is an affirmative answer!”

By Monday morning, I had one day off, which I think I will use to go home, do some duties and fly right to NYC.

“Hey you.” I enter Leah's studio with a coffee in my hand. “Oh my hero.” Leah takes a sip, her favorite one and closes her eyes to enjoy the moment.

“It's early for you, are you leaving?” She put it aside and go back to her work 

“Yes.” I take the last sip of mine. “I don't want to be late.”

She giggles. “Believe Y/N your house is waiting for you right where you left it.”

“I don't going home right now.” Leah choked with her drink and put attention to my black cap and white shirt with a huge black number.

“Oh my fucking god.” She pointed to the bag. “You bring the hoodie! This is crazy.”

“You right, I miss him, what can I do?” Leah jumps from her chair faking a scream running to press me next to her.

“Bless the cameras around this place because I have an on video.” She squeezed my cheeks. “But get out of here!” 

“Wait, wait, wait.” I grab her by her shoulders. “Do you think I should..” 

Leah shakes her head. “Y/N, you don’t have to answer but think on this.” She takes a deep breath and a serious face appears in her face. “Things are difficult and could turn more difficult but, do you really believe trying is not worth it?” 

It’s hard to say the answer because it's the same question I have been asking myself all these months.

“Don’t, don’t put on that stress face, go, maybe, just maybe, the answer is there.” 

The sound of the door opening distracts us, a couple enters with their baby in a stroller. 

“Oh, hi, just a minute and I will be with you, all right?” The couple smile and walk back to Leah's studio.

But she gasps for the cute little girl who has a beautiful white dress. “Hi, little girl, are you ready?”  The baby smiles at her and giggles softly. 

She walks with me and we stop at the door. “Relax, have fun and call me if you need something, ok?” 

I nod, and she smiles at me. “Good luck could be helpful.” Leah laughs and grabs my hand.

“For who? You or him?”

[sungfairytales]

hi, guys!! <3

hmm, so. this is really random, but my vacation finally arrived. SO, fortunately i was able to describe (and make a draft) of my twst yuu!!! previously, i had planned to make a post about magnolia (not my yuu, she has powers). but, with the tumblr update i couldn't edit the draft, so i kind of made this one. without further ado, i present it to you: Grace Liddell.

well, first of all, forgive me for my English (it's not my first language). I'm going to tell you a bit about Grace, as I plan to post more about her!! 💗

starting at the beginning. Grace is based on both Alice and Alice's flowers in Wonderland.

As such, Grace is extremely curious (which she hates), intelligent and daring. Her tongue is sharp at many bad times to be, stubborn and a little proud. However, she also knows how to be sweet to those she loves and caring;

Before the girl simply appeared in a coffin in Twisted wonderland, she was from an extremely strict family (in an academic sense, having an older brother now). She always liked challenges, books and puzzles (and was extremely curious too);

Living with her family was a bit difficult, so she had a habit of always running away to bookstores or running away from events she was forced to attend. It was literally Grace's last memory before going to Twisted wonderland — one last escape from one last event.

Now for the latest!! She currently lives with Grim in the ramshackle dorm, although yes, it took her a while to get used to it.

She's currently living with Grim in the ramshackle dorm, although yes, it took her a while to get used to it;

Her relationship with Grim is a bit like family, with her feeling responsible for Grim. I got a lot out of this relationship with Yuu himself in the game, because it's something I really like;

She takes care of him by doing her best (even if she deeply believes it's not enough), and really considers it family. even though she can sometimes be a bit bossy and stubborn, the girl really loves spoiling him.

also mentioning here a relationship that goes back to the prologue: the Adeuce. in a nutshell!!

So,,

at first, she really did hold a grudge against ace. however, grace allowed herself to think it over and a little unconsciously, they grew closer. Grace, even if she doesn't say it out loud, really appreciates ace's personality and spending time with him. she sometimes likes to tease him (amicably) when he shows care. riddle's overblot only served to bring them closer together. Basically becoming one of Ace's partners in crime, even if she denies it for sure;

As for Deuce, Grace already liked him. Both for the armchair he brought out in Ace when he tried to escape punishment, and for seeing his dedication. The girl was never exactly one for words of affirmation with everyone, mainly because she wasn't used to it, but seeing that Deuce was wanting to be a better student and not be like before, it was kind of inevitable not to talk about it. Whenever Deuce needs help or feels down, she tries to do as much as she can to help, both academically and otherwise.

here's a sketch of how it would look, it's not finished yet and I don't consider myself that advanced in drawing :')

well, this post was more of an introduction in general. i really hope you enjoy it. <3

[missmaywemeetagain]

Moonlight, A Pink Scarf Universe Story

A/N: So, I was challenged to do a prompt game, and since I'm desperately trying to fight my perfectionism and become more consistent with my writing, I took on the challenge and wrote this dramatic little heartbreaker this afternoon just under the wire like crazy person. I hope you enjoy this short, barely edited extension of Pink Scarf. It takes place a few months after the Christmas 1960 flashback in Part 16. (Please go easy on me because it is literally the least revised/edited thing I've ever put out and I desperately hope you like it 💗)

Thanks to @thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @be-my-ally and @vintageshanny for challenging me to do this even when I wanted to convince myself I couldn't do it.

Prompt: “Do you mind? I came here to get away from other people.”

Rating: PG-13 || Word Count: 2k

TW: Miscarriage, medical trauma, angst, depression, intrusive thoughts

Moonlight

Hawaii, March 1961

The room is pressing in on you with all these jovial faces, celebrating in paradise after Elvis’ successful benefit concert for the Pearl Harbor Arizona Memorial. You should be celebrating with them.

You wish you could.

Instead, you are fighting back tears, praying that no one notices your frantic need to escape the otherwise wonderful atmosphere.

Elvis decided to bring you all along for a month-long vacation of sorts as he films his newest picture, Blue Hawaii, and performs the benefit concert to raise money for the Memorial. Y’all need some rest and recreation, he’d said joyfully, his eyes falling on you in particular, and how could you possibly refuse? It genuinely seemed like a great idea, even though he’d technically be working, and so would Jack by extension, but a change of scenery would do you some good after everything that's happened. Maybe you and Jack could reconnect on the tropical getaway, you’d thought.

But so much had happened since you agreed to this trip.

No one knew, of course. Not Jack. Not your family. Certainly not Elvis. You had made sure of it because you couldn’t stand the hopeful looks that would have come with the news, and the inevitable pity that would’ve come after.

The humid Hawaiian air coupled with the room full of people makes you feel as though you can’t draw a full breath. Lightheaded, you push your way through the throng of people filling the lavish home that had been rented for the express purpose of Elvis being able to stay comfortable and private during his shooting schedule. It’s an incredible relief once you burst out onto the patio, then stumble down the sandy path to the breathtaking beach.

Surprisingly, there’s not a soul on the moonlit sand, and for that you are eternally grateful because you cannot hold back your choked sobs any longer. The ebb and flow of the surf crashes over your crying, and you very much wish you could drown your sorrows in the vastness of the ocean in front of you.

Getting pregnant again was not even something you thought was possible. It was cruel, you thought, that you’d nearly made it 12 weeks this time before your body decided that it would reject the baby. You had just started to really, truly think it would be different this time. You were getting ready to tell Jack. You were almost, almost happy.

Even more cruel was that it was almost a year to the day of you bleeding out on the floor of the Rollerdome.

In some ways you’d been thankful that everyone had been so busy preparing for the trip that no one paid much mind to the fact that you locked yourself in the bathroom for hours, silently sobbing through the cramping and the bleeding and the clotting. You’d known then it was too late.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you hug your knees and begin to rock in the soft sand. At least it’s beautiful here, you think absently, trying to soothe yourself.

You’d taken to bed, claiming a bout of food poisoning, and no one was the wiser, being as excited and busy as they were. Not one of them seemed to bat an eye or think it was strange that no one else had any symptoms. A small part of you breaks a little at that, feeling more alone in the world than you ever have. But another part figures it’s just as well. Perhaps it is a blessing that no one knew of your latest failure. Honestly, you so were disappointed in yourself over it all you didn’t think could handle that disappointment from others, especially Jack.

Two days after losing your second child, you’d gotten on the plane to come here, spending hours upon hours with a false smile spread across your features. Maybe if you smiled enough you’d start to believe it. After all, you were in paradise with Elvis Presley. Millions would kill to be where you are.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Be grateful for what you have, you berate yourself, as you have more than once on the trip. Not even the stunning beauty of the island has been able to push your thoughts away from your loss, your seemingly unending sorrow permeating even the most beautiful of sunsets.

The only moment when you’d felt truly free of it had been watching Elvis’ concert earlier. He was so mesmerizing that it was impossible not to be caught up in his performance. You’d been happy for the momentary distraction, for the way your heart had flip flopped a little at the sight of him in his element, sweaty and feeding off the crowd effortlessly. It was easy to get swept away amongst all the screaming fans, to understand why the man you’d called a friend was the sensation that he was, and to forget everything but him for just a little while.

But by the time this stupid afterparty rolled around, the dark cloud that followed you this past year found you once more, and you were honestly too tired to push it away any longer.

You can’t help thinking how you should have an infant with you now, that in a kinder world you’d have your baby and perhaps another on the way. But the world is not always kind. Instead you are empty and alone.

So you find yourself sobbing on a gorgeous beach in Hawaii in the middle of the night, finally allowing yourself to sit in the grief of your misfortune.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been out here before his tall, lanky frame towers over you, interrupting your grief so suddenly that you find yourself livid.

You furiously swipe the tears from your cheeks, knowing your makeup is smearing but not having the energy or wherewithal to care. “Do you mind? I came here to get away from other people,” you snap.

Even in the darkness, you see how taken aback he is by your anger, his pretty face shifting from surprise to annoyance.

“Is that any way to talk to the guy who brought you to this beautiful place?” Elvis says lightly, but you can hear the edge in his tone. He’s not used to people speaking like that to him, least of all you.

Honestly, you’re not really sure when you last spoke to him at all. Since your strange little embrace on Christmas, he’d taken to avoiding you most of the time, yet again. Coupled with how empty you felt from your miscarriages, the fact that your friend had been so obviously (and seemingly purposefully) absent from your life in the past year was heartbreaking in its own right. It was like a slap in the face on top of your other failures, so far from the unbridled excitement he’d shown when he’d discovered your first pregnancy before anyone else had. So far from the love and care and attention he’d given you before.

You’re not sure you really understood how much it bothered you until this very moment. His sudden entitlement for attention and gratefulness makes your blood boil.

You pop up off the sand, pushing your windblown hair out of your face. “Oh, yes, how sorry I am that not every one of my thoughts is about your stunning generosity, your majesty,” you say sarcastically, viciously, before turning to stomp down the beach away from him. You’ve never, ever spoken to him this way, to anyone this way, but the darkness of your sorrow has flared into something else entirely, this blistering anger threatening to swallow you whole and take Elvis with you.

“Excuse me?” he says indignantly, grasping your arm and whipping you back to face him. His eyes flash in the darkness, both in confusion and with warning.

“Don’t touch me!” you spit, ripping your arm out of his grasp.

“What has gotten into you? What the hell did I do?” he shouts, his voice raising over the surf.

“Not everything is about you, Elvis!” you scream back at him.

For a second, it looks as if you’ve slapped him across the face, with the way his eyes widen in surprise.

You pause for a moment, breath heaving, before continuing. “And since when do you even care what’s going on with me?”

 “W-What are ya talkin’ about? O-Of course I care! I-I-I brought ya on this trip, d-d-didn’t I?” The emotions fly over his features so quickly it makes it too hard to discern what he’s thinking, but his stutter belies his frustration.

“You’ve barely talked to me in a year, Elvis. Can’t imagine why I’d think you care,” you scoff.

His eyes go dark, then blank, that Hollywood mask of his sliding over his features. “You’re nuts! You’re just bein’ crazy…” he starts, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I must be. I must be crazy thinkin’ my friend might give me the time of day after…everything that’s happened,” you hiss back.

Elvis blinks, his long lashes fanning over his cheekbones. You don’t know if he’s finally done the math in his head, figuring out that you nearly died and lost your baby almost exactly a year ago. Or maybe, like he’d somehow known you were pregnant the first time, he gleans some supernatural understanding of what might be happening with you now. Either way, his gaze softens dramatically.

“Oh, honey,” he says, “I didn’t—”

Yeah, you didn’t, you think bitterly. He didn’t do a lot of things. He wasn’t even there after you almost died. But you suppose being a star of his caliber didn’t leave him much time to slum it with you, not anymore. And why would he want to? Not when you’ve been depressed and have already failed at the one thing you felt you were created to do as a woman.

“Just leave me alone, E. You’ve gotten good at that,” you mutter, angry tears filling your eyes, turning away from him to stare out into the churning waves.

You can’t look at him. But you feel the heat of his eyes, nonetheless.

“Don’t do that, y/n,” he says quietly.

“Don’t do what? Speak the truth?”

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he growls.

He doesn’t get to be angry. Not about this.

“No, you don’t know, Elvis. You have no idea what it’s been like, you couldn’t. And you haven’t even tried…” you trail off, shaking your head.

You know that’s a lie. Whatever had happened between you on Christmas had been something, as much as you’d tried to deny it and forget his strange behavior. Perhaps that had been him trying.

Suddenly, more than anything, you want him to pull you into his arms like he did that night three months ago. You want him to comfort you and let you sob against his chest, to inhale the distinct scent of him as the heat of his lean body presses into yours. You want the desperate tension that is climbing between you to shatter you and make you forget that the past year had ever happened.

But instead of drawing you close, you watch him put distance between you. You feel as he fortifies that invisible wall he’s built between you this past year. It’s only in the depths of his churning cobalt eyes that you see something akin to apology, along with something deeper that neither of you truly wants to unpack.

Then, Elvis shutters that churning away, his fist clenching and unclenching in time with his jaw. “Yeah, I guess not. I’ll leave ya alone, then.” And he turns and walks away.

Oh god. You feel as though you’ve been hit in the chest, pain radiating inexplicably through your torso, the claws of his dismissal ripping through your insides. You don’t know why. You wanted him to go, and he went.

You sink down into the sand, fresh tears pooling in your eyes, and you wish more than anything that the ocean would just swallow you whole.

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[sato1001]

Apologies for being gone for so long, after my trip to Disney I got pretty sick before and during the holidays. And other irl stuff came up that prevented me from working on Toby Sparrow along with a big major art/writer block happened as well.

Now I'm back!!!!

After this post of a sneak peek that I've made during my vacation two months ago. I had finished a while back and just didn't had good timing to make a post about it.

Drawing 1: Toby's new appearance after the move takes place. She lost her reddish brown banda due to this character here (Toby let it go to Leia). Her overall was severely damaged, to the point it was difficult to repair the damages. Now her right leg had to be amputated, and Toby's leg was severely bad due to a battle with the sister Krang. A part of a build crashed down on Toby, affecting her shell (yes there is a crack on her shell as well) every joint was affected. However, her right knee took severe damage enough that Toby didn't feel anything in her leg. Toby designed her prosthetic, but Donnie made it and placed his logo on it. It took her weeks to learn to rebalance and start training hardcore. Master Splinter, gave Toby a light blue mask since it's Toby's favorite color. She got a new pair of pants, well one side has been cut and adjusted (Toby isn't afraid to show off her prosthetic leg or scars) overall Toby tried to keep to her original style.

Drawing 2: Toby is Toby that is hot-tempered, and will strike if needed to. She got more of an ill-tempered after the movie. She was very hard on herself for being weak in the battle (She wasn't weak Toby fought hard, but she felt weak to Krang). Surely Dr. Feelings or Dr. Deilcate Touch may happen.......(Good Luck Toby)

Drawing 3: Dr. Feelings asked her if she had a crush on someone, Toby be embarrassed by this and blushed (she does) but doesn't admit it. To Toby, this was a very weird question.

Drawing 4: Leo and Toby were interrogating some punk, the punk was playing tough guy. Leo plays good cop role while Toby played as a bad cop role. And she lost patience with people lying to her, so she wanted to beat this dude up.

Drawing 5: So Leo and Toby had a bet during training, and Toby lost that bet. Toby was gonna glue his shell again and put glitter and cheap gemstones again, if she won the bet so Leo made sure he wins. (Plan on doing a drawing of it). But Leo easdropped Dr. Feelings and Toby talking about hoobies, and heard that Toby doesn't know how to dance or likes it. Toby also doesn't pyhiscal contact at the begining of them meeting each other, Toby gotten over it. But feels off with it and gets embarrassed easily because of it. Leo enjoys very minute of it considering these two turtles pranked each other often to get at each other. (Yes I know I did a poor design with Leo on this drawing, forgotten to add crack into his plastron and placed his strap on the other side.)

[the-feral-one]

It was quiet as Oki looked out at the sea. Upon seeing it begin to sparkle, he nudged Wo until the snail awoke.

"Mm?" Wo raised his head before lowering it onto Oki's. "What are you drawing my attention to..?"

Oki pointed at the sparkling water.

"Something's happening! Do you...want to go and see?"

Wo looked from Oki to the water and back again, and nodded.

"It's certainly intriguing.."

Oki stood up and shook the sand off himself. He held a hand to Wo.

"Let's go~"

Wo gave himself a shake and put his vine into Oki's hand. The pair set off towards the water.

--

Once they made it to the water, Wo and Oki spent a minute or so looking out at the water. They observed it sparkling under the moonlight, before Oki looked up at Wo.

"Shall we~? It has been a while since you got to be in the sea~ Last vacation, if I remember right."

Wo looked out at the water, then at Oki.

"It..does want to make me find out what the sparkles do.."

Oki waded into the water until it was up to his knees. Wo slowly followed him, not letting go of his hand. The snail stopped when the water reached half-way up the lowest row of tablets in his 'spiral'.

Oki started to play in the water, splashing it in Wo's direction. Wo dodged it the best he could to begin with, but soon found himself joining in. Soon, the pair were frolicking in the water, their splashes making water and sparkles go all around them.

After a few more minutes of splashing, Oki stopped to shake himself. Wo observed Oki's actions, and was about to do the same, but found out that he couldn't due to not having enough water to shake off of his head. The snail looked down at the water surrounding him, then had an idea.

Wo let out a sigh, then submerged his head. He kept it underwater for a minute before pulling it out. Oki took notice after steadying himself following another shake of his body and head.

His eyes went wide. As he saw Wo shake himself, he saw that the snail was covered in sparkles that came off as he moved. When the snail stopped shaking, the sparkles remained, making the snail appear in colors of blue and silver.

Oki went towards him.

Wo worked to steady himself.

"I never knew I'd see you this pretty, Wo..~"

Wo's cheeks went pink, and he let Oki hold his vines.

"One hopes that these sparkles linger long enough for our treasures to see them~"

Oki took a few seconds to look at the sparkles again, before pulling himself closer to Wo.

Wo lowered himself as Oki drew closer, until they kissed.

When they parted it, they decided to get out of the water. Upon returning to the hammock area, they sat where they were resting before.

Wo fell asleep again, the sparkles still decorating his mossy body form. Oki continued to look out at the beachfront, and at the Pokemon that he could see in the distance.

[aeridanus]

Some babbling about the last months, the insanity is finally boiling down.

Since autumn of last year, things at work got increasingly stressful, but we were able to cope. Went to Fuerteventura in March to recharge, and in April, I fucking finally made it to Lead Concept Artist, after struggling against some bad management for the better part of a decade. Shortly after that, things started to escalate with ferocity, and our move came right on top of that.

The move is behind us and everything went well, but the situation at work became unbearable, especially for me. I finally took the decision to end my time with my employer of twelve years and have a new beginning elsewhere. I thought I'd seen it all in those twelve years, but with every week being worse than the week before, I slowly slid into a state of mind where nothing but work existed. We didn't even do overtime, it was "just" the feeling of the team and myself being consumed by the arrogance and ignorance of management people unfit for their roles, and ultimately, being confronted with the realization that I can't do shit about it, no matter what I do. Being a little woman didn't help either, as fucked up as it sounds.

Now it's all behind me since Thursday and I have two weeks of leftover vacation/overtime left before I start at my new employer. I'm looking so much forward to leave all the stupid politics games behind me, and while every place has its own set of issues, at least the insanity of what we experienced over the course of this year will be gone.

We actually had a second vacation on Fuerteventura only two weeks ago, but as we weren't able to re-schedule, our flight left on the morning after I handed my notice in and had to tell my team. It took six out of eight vacation days to come down from the chronic stress of the year, and only now that everything is done and final, the recuperation phase starts.

My brain is in complete idle mode currently. It's not like burnout, it's "just" idling around and happy with that. Feels like it enjoys having less electrical activity for once. Now would be the perfect time for Fuerteventura, but eh. Learned something about vacation scheduling for next time.

The photo above is from this recent vacation. I took the infrared camera and the "red plants" Kolari filter on board and filmed the takeoff. We were taxiing to the runway when this Lufthansa A340 took off right beside us, and with the red grass and the stormy sky, it came out like these fancy flickr-insta retro-hip colorgrade-things. x)

I hope to get some drawing mojo back in the next days :)