#I wish you could make pics smaller

[flowerboy11300]

Hey y’all, scared to post this cause I’m not confident in my art but I tried posting it a while ago (so this is old art) but yeah

Here is wtv this isssss

Any comments or tips are highly appreciated!!

[imsilay]

FRIABLE

“easily broken into pieces”

cw: toxic ex!König (not so ex lmao), smut :>, noncon. (idk lmk if i missed something)

summary: König doesn’t believe in breaking up.

(cr on pic)

You were relaxed, totally carefree in your home. Couch full of blankets and pillows, so warm and cozy. Just how you liked it. A sitcom playing in the TV as a background noise when you heard a noise, a loud, very loud thud from your kitchen. The thud made you feel like a hand's nails digging into your heart, squeezing it in its palm. Heavy footsteps followed the thud. You quickly grabbed your phone and pulled the covers up to your head, so the intruder wouldn't notice you immediately. Hopefully, not until you managed to call the police. The trembling of your hands made it harder to type your password correctly. Your fingers stumbling to find the correct numbers to click, and the constant noise of footsteps was making it harder. When you couldn’t manage to type the password - swearing yourself under your breath for setting such a ridiculous code- the footsteps inched closer and closer. You tried to calm your breathing, squeezing the blankets in your fist in an attempt to calm down, hoping the intruder wouldn’t notice you and leave after getting whatever they want.

“What are you doing there, Maus?” you heard him chuckle lightly and bend his knees to be at the same level as your lying form. And you froze, hoping you heard him wrong. It could be him, right? Yeah, you broke up with him long ago and he hadn’t reacted to you ever since. You must have heard wrong. “Did you think you became invisible by covering yourself like that, hm?” he cooed, his voice dripping with honey. Making you wish it was just a robber with a voice similar to him. But once a hand grabbed the covers and pulled them off, you had to face the truth. König was here. Still looking down at you with that icy blue eyes and endless love in them. His eyes moved down from your eyes to your lips, then down to your cleavage. And then down to your thighs, exposed from your shorts. As if he was deciding his path to follow. Then he tilted his head to the side and looked back into your eyes. They were wide open and staring at him, trying to understand his intentions. “I liked the choice in clothes but I would love it if you weren’t wearing anything.” he joked and chuckled again as his hand came to cup your face and pull you up to sit straight before him.

“What are you doing here?” a scowl started to form on your face. You were sure that you made it obvious that you didn’t want him anymore when you broke up with him three whole months ago. And you were certain he understood it because he never called you since. So why’d he break into your house now? “And did you broke my fucking door?” now, you were scowling and your hand had raised to grab his and yank it away from your face. However, he was quick to move before you, managing to place himself away from your reach, before standing up fully before you. His hands left your face for a moment before sitting next to you and wrapping his arms around your smaller form. “It was the only way in, you didn’t think I would fit into the window, ja?” his voice full of amusement as it showed that he couldn’t care less about being your ex. You placed your hands on his forearms in a pathetic attempt to push him off, but it only made him tighten his grip and pull your body onto his lap. “Don’t be like that.” he huffed like a kid who couldn’t get candy, “I missed Meine Königin so much. Didn’t you miss me?” he mumbled, his head nuzzled into your neck. You stopped squirming to get out of his grasp as he pressed his nose into your neck through his mask.

You were speechless about how casual he was about the whole thing. “We broke up.” you felt that you needed to remind him since he acted like you never did. “Hmm?” he mumbled softly, his thumbs caressing the skin of your upper back and waist. and his arms cradling your body so tightly that there was barely a centimetre between your bodies. “I said, we broke up!” you proclaimed, trying to push him, “So stop hugging me!” you yelled as your hands were squeezed between the both your bodies, preventing you from moving even an inch. “Let go of me!” you yelled at him, irritated with his strength. “I missed your scent.” he mumbled completely ignoring you cries to be free, “You always smell so good.” One of his hands let go of you only to take off his mask and reveal his face to you. Then it found its place on your back. You wanted to scream at him, to curse and spit on his face. And you did. But he only smiled, pressing his lips on yours to shut you up. He thought the way you yelled at him was cute. His tongue explored your mouth like a King came back to celebrate his victory in his land after a successful battle. His lips sucked yours as if he was drinking water first time after three month.

He groaned into your mouth when you bit his bottom lip to stop him from kissing you so hungrily but it made the blood in his system rush southwards. He buckled his hips upwards to meet yours and when his crotch pressed against yours he let out another groan. Being away from you made him more sensitive than he is, that was why you felt him grow harder under your hips as he kissed you breathless and grabbed a fistful of your hair desperately. When he was out of breath he let go of your lips just to press his lips onto your neck and breath in your scent. “You son of a…” you started to curse at him but your voice cut off with a gasp when he bit the soft skin on your neck. He immediately licked and pressed a soft kiss on ther irritated skin but you knew it would leave a bruise. “Let me have you, Meine Königin.” he purred, his voice was sweet like honey, like a child asking for a hug. But he was not a child and you weren’t the one to oblige his wishes. Well not anymore. “No.” you said firmly. His hands squeezed your sides like he couldn’t bear the thought of not having you. Being inside your tight cunt, having your sweaty body agains his, kissing you as he felt you got close and clench around him was like breathing for him.

He needed you for living. “Meine Königin.” he breathed as he looked into your eyes with with tears welling eyes. “Don’t you love me? You know i’m the best for you. No one can love you the way i do. Can’t you feel how i need you, hm?” he moved his hips up to press his huge bulge on your crotch, earning a little whimper from you when he brushed against your most sensitive spot. His eyes lit up at the sound of your cute whimper but he hide it immediately after noticing the scowl on your face. “I didn’t forgive you for what you did.” you spat at him and got angrier when you remembered what he did. “Are you still talking about that guy?” he growled and pressed you against him firmly like anyone can steal you from his arms in any moment. “He was hitting on you. I did what i should do.” his tone giving away how ‘regretful’ he was by his actions. “You shoot his legs, both of them, before my eyes!” you shouted at him completely speechless by the way he acted. “We’re over it now. It’s nothing you should think about anymore. And where were we?” he mumbled then a smile tugged on his lips before adding, “Oh, i was about to take these off.” he threw your shirt and bra off before you could register what was happening and buried his head between your soft mounds. You put your hands on his shoulders to push him away but he captured one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked gently, knowing how sensitive they were. You moaned softly before squeezing the shoulders of his tight black shirt as he rolled his tongue around your nipple.

Your mind got foggy for a second when he gently nibbled and hungrily sucked one of them whilst pinching and rolling the other. “K-König stop-“ you moaned and grabbed his hair desperately, but not to pull him away. Instead you pulled him closer as your body rose up from the way it had you feel like. You didn’t knew why but any intimate touch felt way more intense with him. By the time you wanted to slap him across the face, you also wanted to grab his hair and pressed his face into your pussy. You could feel the slickness on your panties when he switched up to the other nipple and sweetly tortured it the same. “Every inch of you is so delicious.” he mumbled with a dizzy tone as he let go of your breasts and licked a line from your neck to your ear. “It makes me want to eat you whole.” he whispered, his tone was thick with lust and desperation. “If i could be inside your sweet cunt all the time,” he trailed off to press his massive bulge into your clad pussy. “i would never want to leave this pretty pussy.” he purred and eventually his thick fingers brushed over your waist to stop on your waistband. “Now i will ask you for the last time, Meine Königin. Can i take you?” then he added with a sensual kiss on the back of your ear, like the sweet boy he is, “Bitte?” the situation got you dizzy with the want, you could feel the wetness ruining your panties, the need for him to fuck you into the makeshift nest on your couch. You still haven’t forgiven him but you decided to delay it when he pressed you right onto his crotch by your hips.

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc <3 your comments also makes my day :* and i love to reply all of them :>

i need him so bad _(´ཀ`」 ∠)_

[7ndipity]

Things That Remind Them Of You

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: The things that remind the members of you while on tour and make them call you up to tell you about it.

Warnings: none

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon for this request! I hope you like it!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin: A little cliche for him, but food. He’s always wishing he could take you to the different restaurants he gets to visit while traveling. Another is whenever he catches the scent of something that reminds him of your perfume. One whiff and he’s suddenly aware how long it’s been since he last spoke to you, whether it’s been five hours or five minutes, he doesn’t care, he has to hear your voice again.

Yoongi: For Yoongi, what reminds him of you is almost always music. Your favorite song, a song you hate, the song you once sang so badly at karaoke that he cried laughing, even songs that don’t seem to have any connection to you but just give the right vibe, each one has him reaching for his phone. You like to tease him that every song seems to remind him of you, and he chooses not to admit you’re right.

Hobi: It’s the taste of his morning coffee. He’s so used to hearing your voice first thing in the morning, still slightly groggy from sleep, sharing your plans for the day with him over your drinks of choice. He has to call you, he has to share at least this little bit of his day with you, otherwise everything just feels off for the rest of the day, like he’s missing something.

Namjoon: Similar to Yoongi, Joons’ world is so immersed in music, so he tends to find himself calling you after shows or rehearsals, when his mind starts flicking through memories connected to certain songs. Some of them are heavier, others make him smile in spite of himself, like the one he wrote after your first night together when he realized you were the one.

Jimin: It’s not necessarily something specific that reminds him of you, but more so certain times when it’s quiet, his mind immediately goes to you. Peace reminds him of you, of the sleepy late night conversations before you both fall asleep. He finds himself calling you in those moments to hear your voice, otherwise the quiet just feels wrong.

Taehyung: It’s whenever he sees other couples, especially when he’s out sightseeing. He always wishes that you could be with him while he’s away on tour, but seeing other couples sharing special moments together makes him realize just how much he misses you all over again. He calls you up immediately, telling you all about what he’s up to and asking your thoughts on it, making it feel more like you’re there with him.

Jungkook: For Jungkook, it’s the most random things. One of the members did something funny? He has to text you about it immediately. He saw a cute dog while out to lunch? He’s sending you a pic. At the end of the day, he still tells you about these things all over again when he calls before bed, but you don’t mind. Sharing the little highlights of each other's days makes the distance between you feel the littlest bit smaller.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @universal-travel-er @bo0o0o0ooo @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[slasherscream]

Wash Day

pairing:  jordan li x fem black!reader

"You wanna go out to dinner tonight? Know I've been busy this week. Feel like I've barely seen you." Jordan mutters against the shell of your ear. You shiver as he gives the skin a teasing kiss.

Already you're pouting, knowing what your answer has to be even though you wish so desperately that you could give a different response. "Wish I could, Jordan. But my night is already spoken for."

You're spun around by a hand on your hip, playful and fast so that you can't stop yourself from falling into his chest. Your hands grip his jacket for balance, and he reaches up to hold one of them with his own. "You got plans? With who? Cate? Cancel them."

"Brat." You laugh.

How demanding Jordan is would be less cute if they ever asked you to do something they themselves wouldn't. As it stands, with the way they do anything you ask at the drop of a hat, all you can do is roll your eyes and pretend to be exasperated instead of smitten.

"Fine, don't cancel. I'll just come with." Jordan sighs, as if seeing his best friend is a great tragedy (Which it is. Cate being there means you'll smack Jordan's hand away when he tries to sneak it up your skirt at dinner.)

"What if we want a girls' night?" You shoot back, grinning.

Jordan shifts. The hands on your waist are smaller now, but pull you in closer, "You're the one who's feeling bratty. Really have been neglecting you this week, huh baby?" Jordan smirks, in that condescending way she does when she realizes you're trying to get a certain reaction out of her.

"The plans aren't with Cate, and they aren't cancellable." You sigh, deciding not to rise to the bait of her tone, smirk, or the little circles she's rubbing into your skin.

"What are these oh so important plans?" Jordan asks.

"Do you know how many white boys have complimented my hair today, Jordan?" You ask.

"Pardon?" Jordan blinks at what seems to be a completely unrelated topic.

"Six! Six white boys complimented my braids today. I'm about to kill myself, if we're being honest. I must looked fucked up, and you didn't even say anything." You pout.

You've been having a bit of a rough day, to say the least.

"You look beautiful. What are you talking about?" Jordan asks, confused but nonetheless, wanting to make you feel better. "If you didn't look good I'd very politely... have Cate tell you. But you look great! You've been getting compliments all day, you just said it yourself!"

"Wow, you'd throw Cate under the bus, huh coward?"

"Cate isn't interested in making out with you every spare second of the day. I am. You can be mad at her. I've got stuff I wanna do." Jordan's grin is downright salacious. You smack her arm, trying not to smile.

"Ah. You are operating under the same delusions of the white man. I see that now, I'll let go of the anger." You say, sighing and kissing Jordan on the cheek.

"First of all, don't you ever fucking insult me like that again.... Second of all, what particular delusion am I sharing with the white man?" Jordan asks.

"White men only compliment a black woman's hairstyle at two points in time. When it's brand spanking, fresh off the lot new. Or when it's started to look like shit. I've had these braids in for longer than... is your business. So guess which compliment I'm getting right now?"

"I fucking refuse to say your hair looks like shit, and this conversation feels like a trap. You're always beautiful to me." Jordan says.

"Thank you, baby. But we live on a campus where the diversity win photographers lurk around every corner trying to get pictures of 'The Diversity Win Couple' in our most natural state. I need to take out my braids tonight before I talk crazy in the group chat, and Andre sends me a 'this you?' pic that will devastate my argument." You shake your head somberly, already imagining the fate that lies before you.

"You could stop talking crazy in the group chat." Jordan teases.

"You know damn well I'm not capable of that."

The two of you burst into laughter, unable to keep it together. Jordan has always been obsessed with how easy it is for you to make them laugh.

"Is that gonna take up your whole night, though, baby? We don't have to go to dinner early! We'll go wherever you want." Jordan insists, tone bordering on begging.

Whenever they come out of a particularly busy week, they spend the next two weeks glued to you. As if to make up for it. The clinginess is a stark difference from how they acted before you made things official.

"Jordan, look at the braids on my head."

"I'm looking at them."

"Are you seeing them with your eyes?"

"Yes, and my eyes are sending the image to my brain, which I assure you is working. What's your point here, baby?"

"How long do you think it will take me to undo these, detangle my hair, wash it, deep condition it, and then wash it again?"

Jordan squints at you for a long moment, analyzing your hairstyle and the utter displeasure on your face. "I dunno? Maybe... four hours?"

"I should fucking murder you. Just for that, you're helping me with wash day now."

Jordan's face breaks into a grin like sunlight breaking through clouds, "So I do get to spend the day with you, is what you're saying?"

"Yeah, baby, you get to spend the day with me." You click your tongue at them. Pitying them for the ache in their fingers they're about to feel. They complain about curling their God damn hair a couple of times a week. You suspect you'll be ready to kill one another by hour two.

But you also missed them a lot. Or whatever.

"Don't cut too high up, Jordie. " You whine, shifting his grip lower on your braid, to an acceptable cutting length of the hair extension.

"Baby... can I ask you a very serious question right now?" Jordan hums, obediently cutting where you instructed.

"What?" You ask, already starting to unbraid the piece.

"How... long... do you think your hair is?" Jordan, to be fair to him, does ask the question quietly and with the proper amount of hesitation.

"How dare you! Are you calling me bald?" You gasp, stifling a laugh.

"Don't do this to me. You are prolonging the process. We can cut these braids at least four inches higher than what we're doing right now." Jordan says, you can't see his face but you can tell he's also trying not to laugh. Bastard.

"My hair grew!"

"From the top of your head. It did not magically lower itself further into the fucking braid extension." Jordan loses the battle and laughs.

"Jordan Li do not fucking cut off any of my hair or I'll cry and then blow up this school."

"Of course, princess." Jordan kisses the top of your head and gives in to your terrorist demands because you're cute.

"So how am I supposed to do it, baby?" Jordan claps her hands and you smile at how eager she sounds to help.

"You're gonna want to section it off. Do like... eight parts of hair. That'll make literally every step after this easier. Then you're gonna comb the hair from the bottom, 'kay?"

"Got it."

Jordan starts the process of parting your hair, careful and slow. Fingers sectioning off eight chunks of hair that she keeps apart with the silky hair ties you hand her over your shoulder.

"You sure you don't want me to comb it, Jordie?" You ask Jordan.

"I'll be gentle, don't worry. You always say your shoulders hurt at the end of wash day. Which is crazy, because I've seen what you can bench. I've got you, baby." She spritzes extra detangler spray on each of the parts she just made.

You move around slightly, a little sore already from sitting still between her legs for so long, but smiling to yourself nonetheless. A pillow is suddenly shoved into your face and you lean away, confused.

"Sit on this one instead. It'll be better." Jordan says.

You switch out the pillows and tilt your head back to look at her. "Why're you always right? Is that your kink?"

"No, my kink is bossing you around." Jordan smirks and leans down to give you a kiss. Despite the awkward angle you can't help trying to deepen the contact. The feeling of her soft lips sliding against yours, firm but gentle, is always irresistible.

She hums and gives you a playful nip before pulling away. "Don't start something we can't finish."

"Who says we can't?" You shoot back, staring up at her.

"You will be pissed an hour from now if you glance at your phone and we haven't made any progress." Jordan runs her thumb along your bottom lip before pushing your head forward.

"Who says it will take an hour?"

"I do. If we start, I'm not stopping." Jordan's voice dips seductively and a line of tension runs up the length of your spine.

You smack her thigh for teasing you, "Shut up."

"Is this comfortable?" Jordan frowns, staring at the angle your head has to be at to fit in the bowl of the sink.

"No, but this is the best angle this chair can get me to." You say. Usually you just wash in the shower, but since Jordan is helping the sink makes more sense.

Jordan stands, scowling at how uncomfortable you seem. Suddenly he grins, "Baby! Make a chair with your shields. Something that leans."

You were getting a lot better with being able to make complex shapes, with less concentration. You stand up from the chair you'd dragged from the common room. Jordan pulls it out of the way and gives you an encouraging thumbs up.

It takes you a minute, but you conjure a shield that resembles a salon chair and the both of you let out identical cries of delight.

Jordan pushes you to sit down with a kiss on your forehead. "That's my fucking girl. Tell me if the temperature is too hot."

Jordan washes your hair with the perfect amount of pressure and thoroughness. He's nearly rhythmic in his methodical cleaning. You didn't realize your eyes had fluttered closed until you hear him laugh. You open one eye to glare at him playfully, knowing he won't get soap in them.

"What's so funny?"

"You're like a cat. You gonna purr for me, baby?" He smirks.

"If you keep going like that, yeah. Or I'll fall asleep. Please don't make me fall asleep. I'll fall on my ass." You say.

"I'll endeavor to make the rest of the wash as unpleasant as possible."

He does not do that. And at one point you do fall asleep. Jordan catches you before you can actually fall. 'Thank God for Supe reflexes', you both think. You spend the rest of the wash with your eyes wide open and Jordan laughing at you.

"Did we put too much?" Jordan asks, dabbing at another drip of oil and conditioner down your brow.

"No, this is typical. The hair has to be saturated. It's dripping because the oil is you know... getting hot and even more liquid-y." You say, eyeing the episode of Property Brother's you'd both decided on. "Hm. I think that woman should be put to death."

Jordan was keeping vigilant about dabbing at the sides of your face. You'd been in charge of one side, at first. But Jordan seemed to have a sixth sense for when the other side was dripping as well, and kept interrupting you before you could get to any trickles of oil. You'd given up and just started narrating the show for her as she wasn't taking her eyes off the line of your brow.

"Why? What did she do?" Jordan dabs again.

"She wants to put up a fence that blocks the view of the historical house that she did not have to buy if she wanted a fence so bad." You roll your eyes.

"Is the city gonna let her?"

"No."

"Haha. 500k down the drain." Jordan cackles.

"Anti-gentrification win!" You hold out your fist for a fist-bump and Jordan obediently obliges, oil soaked rag still held in her fist.

A comfortable silence falls over you two, besides the noise of the portable hair dryer.

"I really think we put too much, baby." Jordan mutters, dabbing again.

"I have been doing this since I was twelve, Jordan!"

"Play the video again, one speed slower this time." Jordan's eyes are glued to your phone.

You're sitting between his legs again, cushioned by the (superior) pillow of his choosing. You were trying to decide on a simple hair style when Jordan saw a picture of Mini Twists and got excited to see you in them.

("You've already seen me in mini twists, Jordie. What are you talking about?"

"You weren't my girlfriend the last time you wore them though! Now you are, and I get to look at you as much as I want."

So that had decided that.)

"Okay, I think I got it. 'M gonna start with a braid base, without making the parts too big, then start twisting the hair with two strands, and that will make it last longer, right?"

"Right." You smile at how focused Jordan sounds.

They're hot when they're in the zone. You just didn't think they'd get so into helping you with your hair. But you should have known, really. Acts of service paired with their inner perfectionist? You're completely relaxed at this point. You know Jordan won't have you walking out of your room looking crazy, come hell or high water.

"Is this okay?" Jordan shows you a picture of the back of your head, three rows of twists done.

You gasp, snatching the phone, "That's my head?"

"Uh... yes?" Jordan answers slowly.

"The back of my head? The head on my body?"

"Should I start over?"

"Fuck you! These are almost better than mine. Who's hair are you playing around in when I'm not here, Jordan LI?"

"Stop using my fucking government name." Jordan tilts your head back to look at him with a gentle grip on your neck, grinning down at you. "You play too fucking much. You sure they're good, princess? It's okay if I need to redo them."

"I'm gonna give you orgasms that will make you lose brain cells."

"Baby!" Jordan laughs, rolling his eyes. "I'm serious. Do any of them need redoing?"

"The first row is really fucking good for a beginner but the second row is damn near perfect." You say.

"I'll redo the first row then." Jordan kisses your temple before moving you to face forward again.

"I said they were good!" You protest.

"But the second row is better. I want the whole thing to look good. Don't want you feeling self conscious cause I fucked up the style, y'know." Jordan mumbles.

You tilt your head back to look at him, ignoring him sucking his teeth (a habit he picked up from you) at you moving.

"I love you, Jordie. Thank you for helping me today." You coo.

You watch his face go red with a grin. He grins back, leaning down to give you a gentle kiss. When he tries to pull away too soon you whine, holding him close by the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Wanna kiss you. You're sweet." You breathe the words against his lips, insistently continuing the caress.

He sighs, smitten, and let's you lead for a moment. Hand finding it's way back to your neck and tightening just enough to make you gasp. Still, he pulls away too quickly.

"I'm gonna fuck you up." You scowl at him.

"The only thing you're gonna fuck up is your neck, brat. This is a horrible angle for you." Jordan's smile is so soft at the edges it's your turn to blush.

"Speak for yourself."

"No, I'm too busy speaking on behalf of your neck."

"Well, I'm speaking on behalf of my-"

"Pussy?"

"I was going to say raging hormones but that's a lot more to the point, yeah. Or maybe I was going to say something romantic. You ever think of that, Jordie? Huh?"

"Were you going to say something romantic?" Jordan hums.

"No."

"Let me do your hair in peace." Jordan turns you forward again with a laugh.

"Turn this way." Jordan instructs, snapping another picture.

"I don't know whether you're worse than an Instagram hair stylist or a Mom." You ponder, words barely audible because your girlfriend is scary.

"Shut up and smile." Jordan scowls.

As if engraved into your genetic code the words make you do just that. You suffer through another 20 pictures being taken before you say enough is enough.

Jordan happily shows you the pictures, as if you hadn't seen yourself in the mirror just a minute ago. Or ever. The grin on her face so wide it looks like it hurts.

"You like it, baby?" Jordan asks again.

"It looks so good, Jordie. It looks like I paid someone honestly."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You drape your arms around her shoulders. "How's this angle?"

"For what?" Jordan tilts her head to the side, puzzled.

"For kissing. Since you were so worried about the angle before."

Jordan scoffs, but she's the one to pull you in. She doesn't pull away this time.

A/N: i needed reader to have a goofball vibe because i have a goofball vibe. if you enjoyed this fic consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anonymous ask saying you enjoyed it! a writers fuel is engagement. xoxoxo

[mumms-the-word]

Ascension, Return

Pairing: Gale x You (Reader POV) Summary: You watch as Gale restores the Crown of Karsus and temporarily becomes a god before disappearing to return the crown to Mystra. And you can only hope, now that he is a god, that he will return. ao3 link A/N: I was thinking the other day about how in the ending for an Origin run for Gale, regardless of how he plans to deal with the crown business, he always shows up as God!Gale in front of Mystra before agreeing to hand over the crown or deciding to stay a god. And it got me thinking...wouldn't a romanced Tav who is expecting him to give up the crown see him ascend? So anyway I wrote this to get those thoughts out there. As usual pic of my Tav Dani because I keep forgetting to ask to borrow people’s better pictures

It doesn’t take long for you and Gale to make plans to retrieve the crown from the depths of the Chionthar River. The sooner you get this over with, the better, you think, and yet something about this endeavor has you on edge. You secretly wish you can just leave the crown down below the waters…but then, anyone could get it down there, with the right spells or the right technology. You can’t risk that.

You don’t want it in Mystra’s hands either, but what choice do you have? She, at least, is a goddess interested in balance, neither evil like the Dead Three, nor entirely good and thus subject to extreme corruption. There’s no telling what she’ll do with the crown, but she has offered one thing in exchange—a cure for your lover’s affliction.

He’ll be free of the dark hungering orb at last.

It’s enough to convince you. You retrieve your worn bedrolls from the Elfsong and shoulder your pack, ready for your next little adventure—a small boat ride to the other side of the river, and a few days spent with Gale as he searches the murky waters.

You join him on the banks of the Chionthar, well away from the bustle of the city as it is trying to rebuild, watching over him as he sits, eyes glazed with concentration, guiding simulacrums to walk the riverbeds and floors of the river, combing through the mud for the crown. He could have let his simulacrums search without him guiding them, but he wants to be sure, to search closely. He doesn’t want to waste his time turning away simulacrums who bring back scraps of metal, shrapnel from the Iron Throne, or bits from the carnage of the fight against the Netherbrain. So he looks through their eyes, seeing nothing for hours but hazy water, mud, and river plants.

Though you long to lie back and watch the sails of fishing vessels drift by like clouds on the breeze, reveling in a hard-won moment of peace, you don’t want to miss a moment where he might need you. You do not want him to be caught unawares by some curious animal, or worse, a lingering enemy. So you sit and watch, your stomach twisting into knots as you face what you know will be inevitable—the moment when he finally finds the crown.

It takes all of two days of searching. After hours upon hours of looking, he stiffens, his physical body reacting to something beyond your sight, and you know at last that he has found it. You both stand as his simulacrum emerges, dripping water, with the cold bronze of the crown in its hands. 

The Crown of Karsus.

It’s so much smaller than you remember. When you faced it on the top of the Netherbrain it had easily been the size of a large carriage. Here, on the banks of the Chionthar, it’s no bigger than a normal crown. It looks innocent. Harmless.

But you know better.

The power it releases…you are no stranger to it. You readily recall the metallic taste on your tongue as you drew near it atop the Netherbrain and the way its very aura tried to drive you to your knees. Its power is weaker now, pulsating from the bronze metal like a faint heartbeat, but you know that it won’t stay that way.

You glance at Gale, wondering what you’ll see in his face. Dark hunger, perhaps, or something bittersweet. Reluctance, dread, or tired resignation. But his expression is surprisingly neutral. He doesn’t step forward to take the crown just yet. Instead, he studies it with his eyes before taking a deep breath through his nose and turning to look at you.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

You blink, a little taken aback. “Of course,” you say. “Always.”

“That’s gratifying to hear. It will take me some time to restore the crown and the Netherstones to their original state, fit enough to give to Mystra. The process will be necessarily delicate, given the orb I carry. I should ask you to keep a safe distance. A city’s worth of space, perhaps, just in case, but—”

You cross your arms. “I’m not leaving your side, Gale. I’m here with you, for good or ill.”

He smiles then, as much relieved as he is amused and resigned. “I know. I expected as much. But I thought it best to offer or warn you regardless.” He takes a deep breath. “Very well, then. We stay together. I just hope you’ll be patient with me.”

You reach out and take his hand, threading your fingers between his. “I will be. I’m here for you. Take all the time you need, my love.”

He gives you a grateful look, squeezing your hand affectionately before leaning in to brush a sweet, gentle kiss against your lips. You let him pull away, slipping out of reach, and watch with bated breath as he steps forward to accept the crown, the mark on his chest glowing brighter and brighter as he nears and finally takes the crown in his hands.

You don’t know what you expect. A light show, perhaps. A wave of dark, Netherese magic, or a black hole effect. You steel yourself to the fear that he will simply evaporate or fall to his knees in pain.

But nothing spectacular happens, aside from his mark glowing brightly. To your eyes, the crown acts as little more than a normal crown. To him…

You see his chest expand with a deep breath, the orb flaring brighter, watch him blow the air slowly through his lips, his face tense. But without the tadpole in your heads, you can’t guess at what he’s thinking or feeling. He closes his eyes, simply breathing, concentrating. Fighting, perhaps. Wrestling with some unseen force. The glow on his chest dims slowly until it is only a faint purple tint on his skin. Only then does he finally tighten his hold on the crown and turn back to you.

You get the sense that he has just won a silent, unseen battle within himself. It occurs to you too late that putting the crown and the orb in close proximity might actually hurt him. But it seems that the danger has passed...for now. If he’s in pain, he isn’t showing it.

“Come,” he says. “Let us make sure we’re a safe distance from the city. Just in case.”

His words don't inspire confidence, but you say nothing. You merely follow him back to your camp further up hillside. You know he has work to do.

———

You give him time. That’s all he asked for. Time to concentrate on the magic. Time to manipulate threads of the Weave. The Mystran Weave and the Karsite Weave. Sometimes you think you understand what he’s doing, but more often than not, you don’t. The magic he is performing is beyond your comprehension, guided by notes in the Annals of Karsus which lays open in front of him. You suspect some of it comes innately to him, an understanding born from carrying Netherese magic for so long. The rest must come from Karsus himself, written down as instructions or incantations. You give up trying to understand and simply make yourself useful. Or you try to, anyway.

All you can really do is linger nearby, keeping an eye out for anything that might interrupt his work. You barely interrupt him yourself, save to place some food and water near him with a soft reminder that he needs to eat to keep his energy up. He’s not a god yet, you tease, but the words taste sour on your tongue.

Yet. But soon.

You don’t feel ready for it. You know it’ll only be temporary. You hope so, anyway. But you’re still not ready.

The day passes by without you noticing. Gale sits with the crown, working, weaving, an illuminated aura around him filled with heavy magic. You leave him to his work as the sun moves slowly overhead toward the horizon, painting the sky in tones of orange, red, and purple. You lay down to watch the swirls of violet and indigo magic that gather around him as night falls, until in your exhaustion, you close your eyes for a moment to rest.

You don’t know when you drifted off to sleep, but you’re awoken in the early hours of the morning by his hand on your shoulder. You stir, blinking groggily up at him.

“It’s time,” he says softly. He helps you sit up, hands lingering on your arms, your hands. The crown isn’t with him, but sits on top of his pack several feet away. “I’ve done all I can. The stones and the crown are together again. Functionally the crown is complete, but…there is one last step I need to take.”

He kneels in front of you, dark eyes searching your face in the dim firelight. No, you realize. Memorizing. You feel a sudden knot in your throat and though you are seated safely on the ground, it feels as though a yawning void is opening up around you, threatening to swallow you whole should you tip too far to one side.

This feels like a goodbye.

“Once I put on the crown, the magic of the orb will finally combine with that of the crown. And I will…change,” he explains quietly, while you try to calm the surge of fear that grips your heart. “The magic of the crown and orb will become one and give me the power at last to meet with Mystra as an equal.”

An equal. He doesn’t say as a god. But you both know the truth.

You can scarcely breathe. You want to trust him. You want so desperately to believe in him. And he is looking at you so lovingly, but the very air seems tinged with sorrow. Nothing is certain. Nothing save his love for you, and even then, the tiniest doubt worms its way into your head and your heart.

Once he is a god…will he even remember to come back to you?

“And then?” you ask, your voice no more than a whisper.

“And then…I will hand the crown over to Mystra. And hope she keeps her word.”

You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “I trust you, my love.” You use the words, saying them out loud, to dispel your doubts and fears. You do trust him. With your life, with your heart, with your all.

If only you could trust Mystra. Can she be trusted to cure him? Can she be trusted to let him return? And if he does return, can she be trusted to let him return unchanged? Chosen or not, will he still be Gale Dekarios, the man you love? You don’t know. But you hope so.

He smiles at you and brushes the backs of his fingers against your cheek, his fingertips trailing along the line of your jaw. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He leans in for a kiss and you, selfishly, wrap your arms around him and hold him tightly to you as your lips move against his, wanting to never let go. You rise to your knees, following him as he tries to pull away, kissing him deeply, tangling your fingers in his hair, until at last you are both breathless and you have to hide your face in his shoulder. You cling to him, reluctant to let him go just yet.

“Just come back to me,” you whisper. “Whatever happens.”

His arms tighten around you and you feel the bob of his throat as he swallows with difficulty. He strokes your hair and your back, pressing little kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your head. You can feel it in every touch and breath he takes. He doesn’t want to let go yet either. 

“I will, my love,” he whispers back. “I swear it.”

It’s enough for now. It has to be. You could delay this day for a thousand days and still never be ready to let him go. But you have to. If he wants to be whole again, free of the orb, perhaps even free of Mystra…he has to do this.

You reluctantly loosen your hold on him and sit back on your heels, meeting his dark-eyed gaze in the early hours of the morning. He takes your hands and lifts them to his lips, brushing kisses against your knuckles, turning your hands over to kiss the center of your palms. Each touch of his lips to your skin is a reverent confession of love and longing and it only makes your heart ache more.

Please don’t let this be goodbye.

“Wait for me,” he says.

You cradle his cheek in your hand, gazing earnestly at him, soaking in every detail of his handsome face, committing it all to memory. “I will, my love. I swear it.”

He smiles at you then, full of love and happiness. He steals one last kiss from your lips before finally pulling away and standing, taking several steps back.

You stand too, preparing yourself for what is about to happen, even though you scarcely have any idea. You expect some of what you expected before, with light shows and waves of magic at best, disintegration and death at the worst, but now it feels even more real. Even more likely. You don’t know what will happen, so you brace yourself for the worst, heart pounding in your throat, gut churning with dread, and hope, desperately hope, for the best, even though you don’t know what that will look like.

You hold your breath as he moves several paces away from you and bends to pick up the crown. This image, too, you commit to memory. The way he looks illuminated by the firelight, the lights of the city glimmering behind and below him, the stars glittering above him. The sight of him with the crown in his hands, contemplating it with an expression of deep gravity. The crown looks small and harmless, despite the sharp curls and the soft glow of the purple, orange, and pink Netherstones that are now set once more in the bronze. But he looks serious, regal even, with it cradled in his hands. Like a king mulling over the weight of his position and the choices that lay ahead. He is beautiful. Heart-achingly beautiful. You wish this moment could stretch on forever, if only because it means not losing him to the crown. To godhood.

He turns to give you one last lingering look, your eyes meeting over the distance between you, before he slowly raises the crown to his head and settles it over his brown and gray locks.

The effect is instantaneous. A blast of magic blows outward from him, kicking up wind and dust and flashing bright enough to rival the sun. You cover your eyes, shielding your face, the light blinding you. Suddenly the air feels electric, tasting of metal and ozone, as though you’re about to be struck by lightning at any second. Wind swirls around you, picking up speed, a cyclone of power and magic with you caught in the edges. You struggle to stay on your feet, your body resisting the pull into the vortex. What little you can see is naught but a haze of magic, purple, blue, and inky black, rushing around you and mixing with the wind. Threads of blue and silver lightning dance around you, passing close enough to make your hair stand on end, shocking you when you take an unsteady step backward. The vortex of wind, lightning, and magic threatens to suck the very air from your lungs until, with crack like thunder, everything around you stops.

The air grows still. It is as though you suspended in time. Held fast by magic. Your ears are ringing with the sudden silence.

You cautiously lower your hand. You have to blink a few times for your eyes to adjust, but once they do, the sight of Gale causes a flurry of emotions within you.

He stands before you as something…more. A god in all but name. He’s taller, you swear he must be, or else his very presence makes him seem bigger. His skin has turned a shade of hard silver, his hair ashen gray. The mark of the orb stands out in stark black on his chest and when he turns his head to examine his hands, his body, you see splintered blue lightning crackling at his temples and down the sides of his face. His brown eyes now glow blue-white with magic, any trace of his former warmth consumed by the light of the power within him. He’s striking, awe-inspiring…

And you can’t help but fear him, just a little. 

On instinct you have the compulsion to kneel, but you don’t. You force yourself to stay on your feet and look at him, really look at him, and try to find the man you love behind this new godly veneer. He has to be in there somewhere. He has to be.

“Amazing,” he murmurs, and his voice is layered two or three times over with a strange echo, one that gives you unpleasant shivers. Even his voice carries tiny waves of power. You already miss the warm tones of his mortal voice with its Waterdhavian accent.

He flexes his hands, raising them before his face, his expression one of wonder and awe. With but a gesture, he summons threads of the Weave together in glyphs and effects you can barely make sense of, though you feel the thrum of magic deep in your chest and know, instinctively, that he is capable of snapping your mind with a thought or destroying you with a word. He smiles, and the effect is strange. He looks like himself but he doesn’t. Something about it seems wrong to you. Uncanny. Familiar and unfamiliar.

The pit of dread in your stomach grows.

But then he catches sight of you, waiting, watching breathlessly, nervously, hoping that he’ll remember his promise to you. His smile fades and for the briefest moment you catch a glimpse of the man you love. Even his blue-white eyes, shining eerily from his familiar face, can’t hide the love he has for you.

He lowers his hands to his sides. “It is done. The crown is fully restored once more.”

You nod. You haven’t the faintest clue what to say next. You’re still trying to make sense of the man-god before you.

He smiles again, and something about it is both patronizing, as though he pities you for not understanding, and sincere, an echo of his mortal kindness and patience. He presses a hand to his chest. “Well, I’d best be off then.”

“Wait—” You reach out as if to stop him and he pauses. Your hand hovers uncertainly in the air before you lower it to your side. "One last kiss, before you go. Please."

His smile softens. "I can deny you nothing, my love," he murmurs. He crosses the distance between you with a strange grace he didn't have before. Before he was elegant, but at times a little awkward. None of the awkwardness remains in him now.

You look up as he stops in front of you, his fingers curling beneath your chin the way he does when he wants to lift your face or guide your lips to his. You stare into his glowing eyes a moment before letting your eyes flutter closed. His lips touch yours...and it's different.

There's a magnetism there now that wasn't there before. You seem drawn in as if by gravity. He tastes of metal and magic, his skin cold but not unyielding. Your lips tingle with each kiss and the moment you seek to deepen the kiss—you gasp as a blue electric shock drives your mouths apart, your teeth practically rattling, your lips suddenly hot, almost burned. You press a hand to your mouth, looking up at him in shock, but he's just as surprised as you are. He seems unharmed, despite the tiny sparks of white-blue lightning still skittering over his lips.

"Ah...what an interesting side effect," he says, touching his hand to his mouth. The lightning calms. "Are you all right?"

You nod, rubbing your lips lightly as the numbness from the shock begins to subside and the tingling begins to fade. It wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't unpleasant either. Still, you're wary of trying it again.

He watches you, looking torn, before a new resolve settles his features. "Then I suppose that is my signal to go. The sooner I depart, the sooner I can return." He takes your hand carefully, moving it away from your face, and presses a cautious kiss to the back of your hand. His lips impart another, smaller shock to your skin, but this time you're ready for it. Your fingertips go a little numb, but you manage not to wince.

"Wait for me, my love," he says, finally letting go of your hand. "I won’t be long."

You step back, giving him room to do whatever he needs to do, and watch as he begins to glow, brighter than your eyes can stand. You keep your gaze on his until the very last second, when the light grows too bright to stare at. You blink—and then he’s gone, disappearing in a shower of starlight that fades too quickly.

You are left alone in the cool night, with naught but a dying fire for company. 

———

You don’t sleep. You barely bring yourself to tend to the dying embers of your campfire and stoke it back into warm flames. After that, all you can do is sit.

And wait.

And wonder.

And pray.

“Come back to me, my love,” you whisper into the cool night air.  "Please."

You half-wonder if he can hear you. If, on some level, you’re praying to him, the newest of the gods. You don’t know if that thought comforts you or worsens your dread. How does he think of you now, now that his mind is that of a god, capable of seeing beyond the constraints of a mortal’s limited view? If he hears your prayers, does he think less of you, or love you more? Will he remember his promise, or will the power he now holds tempt him to break it? You want to have faith in him—you do have faith in him—but doubt creeps in despite your best efforts.

Come back to me.

You recall what it was like to wait for him at Mystra’s shrine at the Stormshore Tabernacle. How he had explained that time runs differently in the Outer Planes. How he would only be gone for a moment. Each second that had ticked by during that time felt like a year.

Now, sitting on the hillside, every second that passes feels like an eternity.

The fire crackles. The lights of the city begin to dim. One by one the stars fade out, hiding from view as the black of night begins to lighten into the blue hues of pre-dawn. And still, he isn’t back.

Wait for me, he said. And you will. You’ll wait as long as you have to.

But what if…?

No. You can’t bring yourself to put your fears into words anymore. Doing so will only make them seem more real. More feasible. There could be a thousand explanations for why he isn’t back quickly. You just have to have faith in him.

You get up and begin to pace. You start breaking little sticks and twigs into tiny pieces to feed to the fire, piece by tiny piece, just for something to do with your hands. You pluck blades of grass one by one or count the stars you can see. And you wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Your thoughts are your own worst enemy and you wish you had called an ally to come and sit with you. Even Scratch with his favorite ball would have been enough to quiet your heart and mind. But instead, you sit alone, the crackle of a fire the only sound to break the silence.

Your eyelids are heavy now and your body longs to drag you down into slumber, but you resist. You want to be there when he comes back. If he comes back. When he comes back.

You get up to pace again, rubbing warmth into your stiff fingers, amusing yourself with memories of him. His smile. His sly jests and silly puns. His hands on your body and his body against yours, yours against his. The smell of him, as much as you can remember. The way he looked during battles, magic crackling and swirling around him. The way he looked in your bed, fast asleep. Gale Dekarios in all his mortal glory, the man you fell in love with. The man you wish was at your side once more. 

Gods, but you miss him. You press your hands to your chest, feeling your heart beat beneath your palms. What is taking so long?

The first hints of pink and orange appear on the horizon as you turn to pace away from the fire again, your steps wearing a noticeable path through the grass. At this rate, you fear the sun will arrive before your love does. 

You contemplate how you’re supposed to face the whole of a new day alone when a flash of light illuminates the darkness behind you. You whirl, heart racing, to see a shower of starlight once more—and out of it steps Gale.

Mortal. Human. Alive.

“Gale!”

You fly into his arms, which he is already holding out wide for you, nearly toppling you both into the ground with the force of your embrace. You both stagger, but you don’t let go, and his arms around you are as fierce in their hold on you as yours are around him. He practically lifts you off your feet. You can’t put into words how much it means to you that he’s solid your arms—warm, breathing, alive in your arms.

“You’re back,” you gasp, the tears in your eyes and clogging your throat making it difficult to speak. You don’t want to sob and make it seem like you doubted him, but the emotions welling up inside you are hard to suppress. “You came back.”

“Of course, my love,” he says soothingly, not yet relinquishing his hold of you. “You are everything to me. I could do nothing else.”

You untangle yourself from him to wipe the tears from your face and look at him, looking for any changes wrought by his visit to the Outer Planes or from his brief time at godhood. He looks like himself again, his lightly tanned skin flush with warmth and love, his dark brown eyes as rich and deep as ever. You comb your fingers through his soft hair, once more brown and shot through with hints of gray, rather than all over ashen as it was a while ago. Your fingers linger on his cheek, noticing for the first time that the dark vein-like threads that trailed from his eye to his chest are no longer visible. 

The mark of the orb is gone.

In its place are a series of faint scars in the same threads and shapes as the old mark, appearing just below his jaw and flowing down to form a circle over his chest. The tattoo-like color has faded away entirely and there is no dark bruise at the center of the circular marking. Any trace of Netherese magic is gone, leaving behind little more than scars faint enough to be missed by any who are not actively searching for them.

You trace the circular scar lightly with the tips of your fingers. “Does this mean…?”

“It does,” he says, pressing his hand over yours so that both of your hands are pressed flat to his chest. You feel his heart beating, his pulse perhaps a little elevated, but every beat strong and vibrant. “Mystra has cured me of the orb. Completely.”

You want to hate her, and perhaps you still do, and always will on some level. But in that moment you’re grateful and relieved too. You wrap your arms around him and squeeze him tight, overwhelmed with happiness and relief and joy. Your love is cured at last. The threat of losing him to Netherese magic is at last put to rest. He is whole again. Restored. 

And he is yours. Not hers.

As dawn colors the sky overhead and spills pink-golden light over the both of you, you kiss him, reveling in the taste of him, in the warmth and weight of him, in his hands on you. Not a single spark of lightning threatens to drive you apart, so you deepen your kisses as much as you please. You simultaneously want to push him down into the grass and make love to him there and kiss him for an eternity you know you both don’t have and simply gaze at him in awe and wonder that even while he had godhood in grasp and a crown on his head, he gave it all up for you.

He gave up godhood for you.

You never realized you could love him more than you already did. But you do. Your every heartbeat sings love for him.

You lose track of time kissing him. It could be moments or hours. You don’t know nor do you care. But at last, when you finally pull away from him, it takes you a second to remember where you are, standing out on the hillside across the river from the city. The sun is rising over the horizon now, painting the world in gold and shifting the hue of the sky to a beautiful, cloudless blue. A new day is beginning. 

A whole future awaits. And it is yours to shape with your love at your side.

“What’s next, my love?” you ask. “Now that we have everything we both want.”

“Next? For us?” He chuckles and takes your hand, bringing it up to press a tiny kiss on your empty ring finger. “If you still want me, I believe we have a wedding to plan.”

“I will always want you, Gale Dekarios. Now and forever.”

“Is that a yes to planning the wedding? Because I’ll have you know that Waterdhavian weddings are quite the large-scale affair.”

You laugh, his humor clearing the air like the sunlight warming away the fog of a morning and the dew on the grass. “Yes. Come on, let’s find some food to eat and get started. I can’t wait to begin a new life together with you.”

“My love, that new life starts now,” he says, bringing you in for another kiss. You smile against his lips and allow yourself to be corrected. He is right, of course.

Your new life with him begins now.

[madhatterbri]

Home | D.M.

Summary: "You may kiss an Irishman, but it's the Scotsman you'll take home,"

Author's Note: Take from a pic I found on FB. Happy MITB Saturday, babes. ❤��

Drew McIntyre Masterlist

Taglist: @plentyoffandoms @theworldofotps @mrsarcherofinfamy

Pure Fiction

Drew McIntyre looked at the smaller Irishman next to him. His blood was boiling. Finn Balor, with his piercing blue eyes, didn't look at the angry Scotsman. This wasn't his idea. It's just a storyline creative made up to finish off Liv once and for all from Judgment Day.

"You think it's funny, don't ya?" He asked. Finn peered at Drew. His hairy chest is in line with his vision. "Think I won't beat ya again if ya start to get funny with my lady?"

"I...I," Finn cleared his throat. He wished they had picked anyone else in the locker room, but Y/N. Now, he was to deal with an angry Drew every Monday. "I would never mess with your little lass. We are going to kiss and part ways. I promise,"

Before Drew could speak again, Finn ran from the situation. Drew watched him leave. His anger wanted to boil over. This was one storyline he couldn't wait to see end.

The segment ended with a kiss between Finn and Y/N. It was believable, at least. The audience ate it up. She was sure that it would hit thousands of views in no time. Finn ran like a scared puppy the moment they made it backstage.

Y/N walked to the locker room and changed. She loved it when they booked her to be a part of the main event. Then she could change and make it to the hotel. Her locker room door was open when she made it.

"Hello?" She asked. Y/N wasn't aware of any other storyline. Maybe creative decided to come up with something last minute. She turned on the lights to see Drew sitting on one of the benches alone.

"Thought I'd wait for ya so we could drive to the hotel together," he offered. It almost seemed innocent. Perhaps a little too innocent.

"That would be great. Let me just shower since I'm disgusting," she accepted the offer. Y/N walked to the showers with her bag. She left it on one of the benches. Her ring attire was taken off, and she stepped in the showers.

The cold water felt great against her sore muscles. She sighed in content and rubbed her hands over the back of her neck. The sound of the water drowned Drew's footsteps towards her.

Y/N jumped when she saw him in her shower stall with a pair of shorts. He stalked over to her. Lust is the only emotion she could see in his eyes. Drew turned her around and pressed her against him. His hard on pressed against her.

"You may kiss an Irishman, but it's the Scotsman you'll take home," he whispered in her ear. She gasped when his wet shorts hit against the tiled floors.

[biaswreckme]

my eyes are full of desire | mingi/reader

You and Mingi on a video call after the Mawazine festival concert.

Fandom: Ateez

Pairing: Mingi/Reader (gender neutral)

Member: Mingi

Word count: 1165 words

Genre/Tropes: Smut

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Triggers/Warnings: pwp, masturbation, phone/video call sex, established relationship, sex toys

You can read it on: AO3

A/N: This was heavily inspired by this pic from the Mawazine gig.

“I want to see you.”

“You are seeing me, love,” Mingi answered through the video call, not understanding at first what you were asking for. He had showered, hair still damp after getting to the hotel from the festival, newly cut hair enhancing his features.

“I mean… I know how you get after shows…” you start, still a little shy at voicing what you wanted sometimes, especially under his intense gaze. 

“Yeah? How do I get?” He asked, the smirk on the corner of his lips letting you know he was aware of the effect he had on you and exactly what you were talking about.

“You know…” you took a deep breath, feeling your cheeks flush with both embarrassment and excitement, but also getting courage to voice your needs. “Needy. I want to see you touching yourself.”

He smiled and then bit his lower lip - he knew he was teasing you, for you always spoke of how much you missed his luscious lips whenever he was not in the same city. “Then get that vibrator you like, I’ll wait for you.” He asked, more of an order than anything, needing to see you fall apart with him.

You rushed out of bed and got the toy he was talking about; it was one on the smaller side, but curved just right where it could press on your spot and have you coming undone in little time. You went to clean it, using the time to also get undressed and shouted for him, telling him to get rid of his clothes too. At first, you were not really sure about doing these things, but after the first time you spent months apart while he was on tour, you caved in. You needed to see him, to have him any way possible, even if it meant ensuring you had safe phones and connections. Now, you were more into it, even going so far as having bought a tripod for your phone so your hands could be free - and he had one himself, one you had packed for him as a surprise.

When you got back to bed, propping up your phone on the tripod, you saw Mingi had indeed gotten comfortable himself: he was there, propped up by pillows, slowly stroking himself, fist loosely closed around his engorging erection. His eyes were closed, losing himself in the sensations, one leg straight on the hotel bed and the other slightly raised, bent knee, his other hand on his thigh, soft breaths coming out of his mouth. For a moment you just stood there, appreciating the view. 

You could certainly just watch him for hours, especially when he lost himself like this; Mingi enjoying his own body was a sight you would never get tired of enjoying. “I see you’re getting started without me.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted to see, though?” He replied, not opening his eyes yet, making a point to slightly open them while moaning softly, and you felt yourself getting more aroused. It was as if he was putting up a show for you, and you didn’t doubt for a second that it was his intention. He knew how much you were affected by him, as much as he was affected by you. “Just lie back and enjoy the view, baby. Get yourself ready for me.” 

And so you did, reclining on the bed, adjusting the phone so he could see you, but more importantly, so you could see him without any hindrance. He was watching you, carefully paying attention to how you focused on your own body, wishing it were him, his hands touching you, his lips caressing your skin, teeth playfully biting their way down your torso, letting your hand follow the usual path he did. Mingi seemed to copy your movements on his own, following your rhythm and touches, not hiding his noises from you. His gaze was penetrating from the other side of the screen, eyes never leaving yours as your hands reached their destination, and though you wanted to close your eyes in the sensation, you didn’t want to stop looking at him and his beautiful body.

“Come on, baby, turn it on and enjoy the show,” he winked and closed his fist around his fully erect cock, slowly stroking himself as he watched you using just enough lube to make the toy glide more easily, and he did the same, warming the gel in his hands before repeating the same movements from before, from base to tip, stopping to circle his head teasingly. 

Mingi was all big, and it never failed to completely hypnotize you, the way his large hand encircled his erection, the way he knows his own body so well, moving his other hand to softly caress his balls, rolling them in his hand while the other kept the same relaxed and unrushed movements, stopping on the upstrokes to tease his most sensitive spot, one you knew so well and also enjoyed teasing. He waited for you; when you pressed the button on the toy for the second time, with the vibrations intensifying, he increased his tempo, moaning a little louder, his breath hitching every now and again in pleasure. 

There were no other sounds besides both of your breathing and moaning; there was no need. With just one glance you could tell he was getting closer to the edge, his hand circling a little tighter now and faster, his legs and hips moving of their own accord, almost as if he was humping his hand, imitating the moves when he is with you, in the same bed, sharing the same breath. You usually like the vibrations a little softer, but there was a need deep inside you that demanded you to reach your peak with him, moving the vibrator so it was constantly pressing against that most pleasurable spot.

His breath got louder, moans turning into whining, Mingi almost begging, needing to feel you there with him, stroking himself harder, almost losing his rhythm, drowning in pleasure. His eyes focused on the phone, watching you succumb to the intensity of the moment, the orgasm taking over his body almost by surprise upon seeing you fall over the edge, wishing he was the one causing that - but he was, just not physically. When you heard his loud groan, your eyes searched for his in that small screen, watching him beautifully and subtly arching his back, his eyes closed, lips apart, hands moving much softer on his cock, trembling in aftershocks as he kept stroking through the orgasm, almost on the edge of overstimulation. Your vibrator had been thrown to the side, your body shivering and trembling, grabbing onto a pillow to ground yourself, the sight of him being overtaken with pleasure becoming ingrained in your mind.

There were a few minutes in which none of you spoke, basking in the sensation of fulfillment, until you broke the silence.

“So… do you still have the concert outfit?” 

[kachowden]

okok headcanons for Loren do with them what u may:

Loren LOVES having his hair touched in any capacity- head pats, scritches, pulling, he’ll take it all. he relishes in the feeling of darling using his hair to jerk him around.

he def memorized darling’s schedule so if darling has night classes or is out late, you can bet Loren is no more than a dozen yards away making sure they get home safe. he’s definitely taken out more than his share of ill-intentioned strangers, likely with darling none the wiser…

idk if this has been addressed before but i feel like Loren isn’t the most booksmart, like just your typical himbo level of dumb- and maybe he seeks tutoring or something from darling, or he just marvels at their basic knowledge like they’re Chomsky

Loren is really proud of his body but he gets incredibly flustered anytime darling so much as acknowledges his muscles or stature- or maybe he even wishes he were smaller than darling so he could constantly be below them

he for sure spies on darling in their dorm, but i think he feels kinda guilty about it. he knows it’s an invasion of their privacy but he just can’t help himself. he definitely has pics/vids of darling sleeping that he looks at every night before bed

i’m probably gonna send in more when they assault my brain later anyway i’m in love with ur writing and thank u for keeping us fed

I didn’t touch on this fully, but Loren isn’t actually a true Himbo. His brother is more accurately one.

Loren tries to do well in school, and at most he does pretty average so yes he does seek out Darling to tutor him.

I also love the concept of Loren being a guilty Yandere. He hates that he can’t stop himself from trailing after you, from breaking into your apartment and stealing your clothes from lockers and using them when he can’t stop himself from thinking about you in the late hours of the night.

There’s actually an unfinished draft that further elaborates on his uh borrowing habits. A chewed on pencil found it’s way into his pocket after a little argument between the two of you.

[lets-try-some-writing]

What do you think about how the bots would think about seeing pictures or videos of when the kids were smaller. Like a video of Jack in middle school with a lisp from his retainer or pictures of Miko having an awful haircut her parents got for her to make her look more “presentable” as well as her fighting tooth and nail for them not to watch an old video of her piano recitals. Raph’s glasses being a little too big at first because he had insisted on getting glasses from the adult section like his dad and grandpa and they weren’t the right size for his head yet and the multiple little tools he made growing up to try and hold them up until his head grew.

Little things that as they got older they found embarrassing but just are general parts of growing up.

Pfft. This idea is rather humorous. I added my own little twist to it too.

Embarrassing Pictures

The whole situation began when June brought a camera into base to take pictures of the children. It was nothing new, Miko took pictures all the time, so the team didn't question it. However after June started making a fuss over the pictures, trying to convince the children to smile and whatnot, the team became vaguely interested. Once asked, June revealed that she intended to add the photos to her photo album, electing a groan from Jack. And when asked to explain what that was, she told the team all about how she liked to take photos to save and look at again in the future.

Suddenly very interested in seeing photos of the children, the team gathered around June and asked to see her photo albums. June was perfectly happy to oblige and returned to base a day or so later with not only her photo albums, but also ones she had managed to haggle off Rafael's parents and Miko's host family (Why they had the albums was a mystery, but some liked to theorize it was because Miko didn't want her parents to have them to show off). The children were mortified as June put the albums under a magnifier and projected the pictures onto big screen for the bots to see.

Jack's baby pictures came up first. And in the beginning they were pretty tame. It was a few photos of when Jack was an infant and aside from the odd bath photo and a picture of him dressed up as his favorite superhero, everything seemed fine. It was mostly just images of him being a cute kid, which the team found to be both fascinating and adorable. They hadn't realized humans could get any smaller, so seeing a tiny version of Jack doing adorable things not too dissimilar from what sparklings did on Cybertron brought smiles to their faces. Of course then Jack's middle school photos came out and suddenly the teenager couldn't look anyone in the eyes or optics as pictures of him with his braces and then retainer were shown to the team.

Ratchet: *pointing at the picture of Jack with his retainer* Is that some form of human torture?

Arcee: *suddenly very worried* Jack, are you already at home?

Jack: NO! WAIT! I mean-! Look, I had to wear a retainer for a while to fix my teeth, that's it.

Miko: *laughing* You really do look like you are being tortured in that pic!

Jack: Shut up!

Bumblebee: You had to have a cover over your teeth to fix them? Why not just remove them and put them back in the right way?

Rafael: *softly* Bee... no. Humans don't work like that.

Thankfully for Jack, he wasn't the only one who got a taste of humiliation since soon after Miko's own photos came on screen. Just like with Jack, it was mostly cute baby photos (which the team collectively cooed at and more than one may or may not have saved a mental screenshot for later). However by the time her photos from between the ages of eight and twelve were brought up, she started wishing for the sweet release of death.

The worst haircut she had ever gotten was the beginning of the torture. In the photo she was frowning and trying to fight back as she was held in front of the camera, a shoulder length bob cut and bangs taking the place of her usual wild hairstyle. This earned her a bit of mockery from Jack who was still feeling rather bitter about her prodding at his pictures earlier. However it didn't end there, her parents had also recorded several of her recitals which began playing as June hooked them up to the projector. She tried to stop it, but could only watch in horror as the team witnessed her horrendous singing combined with her rather remarkable skill with the piano. The team weren't all that concerned, finding it mostly cute, but Miko wanted to die right then and there.

Bulkhead: You play that instrument well Miko. Why haven't you played that one around base?

Miko: BECAUSE ITS EMBARRASSING!

Optimus: Is it? I find you talent with that instrument rather pleasing.

Ratchet: *under his breath* She screams like a Turbo-fox.

Optimus: *kicking Ratchet lightly* Your voice is lovely too.

Safe to say Miko didn't walk away from her photos being shown around mentally sound. But with Rafael's own photos up next, she opted to try and draw attention away from herself by mocking her younger friend as his baby pictures were displayed.

Rafael honestly didn't have all that many embarrassing photos up until an image of him duct taping his grandfather's glasses onto his face came on screen. Young Rafael was waling as he tried to rip the tape off in the photo, causing the team to chuckle in amusement much to Rafael's horror. After that more and more photos of him trying and failing to wear adult glasses came on screen, each more dooming than the last as Jack and Miko laughed. One image showed him with glasses almost three times the size of his face tied to his head with string as he tried to walk around looking normal only to run into a wall.

Jack: *laughing* You ran into a wall?

Rafael: I was eight!

Miko: You look like a bobblehead!

Rafael: ...

Bumblebee: Why did you not just get normal sized glasses?

Rafael: I wanted to be like the grown ups...

Optimus: That is nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I believe I have some pictures of Bumblebee doing something similar...

Bumblebee: Optimus no! Please no!

It was too late. Before anyone could do anything about it, Optimus helped June put her albums away and highjacked the projector and uploaded images directly from his personal databanks. Bumblebee died a little inside as Optimus unapologetically showed pictures of him being a feral monstrosity and tearing up furniture and consoles around high command. He could only heat up in embarrassment as Optimus then proceeded to show pictures of him doing numerous other things ranging from eating rations like an animal, shooting Prowl with a blaster by accident, to picking out his first earth alt mode and the subsequent car wash that came with it.

Rafael: Why a Volkswagon Beetle? That's such an old model.

Bumblebee: I liked it alright!

Arcee: He thought it was cute.

Bumblebee: NO! I DID NOT!

Ratchet: He did. And he even thought it was the height of motor transportation on your backwater world for nearly a month.

Bumblebee: RATCHET!

As if contented, Optimus finally stopped sharing his pictures after Bumblebee started steaming from the stress of having his past exposed. But Ratchet being the slightly malicious medic that he is took the chance to throw Optimus under the bus in turn. He hooked up to the projector next and began sharing pictures of Optimus back when he was Orion Pax, much to the Prime's silent humiliation. Pictures of him eating wild animals innocently, him screaming at a stray cyber-cat on all fours, him getting drunk as pit the one time he allowed Ratchet to take him to a bar, and all sorts of photos of him gnawing on things came up one after another. It was a different time, but Optimus should have known better than to assume Ratchet wouldn't have collected such incriminating photos of him.

Bulkhead: Prime... are you eating a datapad in that picture?

Optimus: ...

Arcee: Why were you crouched on top of the bookcase with a electro-dove in your mouth in that one?

Optimus: ...

Bumblebee: *squinting at a photo* W-Where you trying to size up a statue?

Optimus: I wasn't always a Prime.

Ratchet: Who could have guessed.

Optimus: You weren't always and honorable medic either Ratchet.

Once again taking his place by the projector, Optimus plugged back in and began airing out all of Ratchet's past escapades for all to see, the children practically forgotten in the midst of the silent battle going on. The Prime quickly began cycling through dozens of photos of Ratchet high as a kite doing stupid scrap like pole dancing, screaming at mecha, and throwing things. And before the medic could process that, Optimus pulled out even more of him competing in street races, competing in drinking contests, and even a video of him swearing up a storm at everyone and everything while drunk. Ratchet could do nothing but silently offline internally as he watched his dark history get replayed.

Bulkhead: So... a party ambulance?

Ratchet: Shut up.

Arcee: I should be asking you what's humming doc.

Ratchet: I was young and dumb. Weren't we all at one point?

Bumblebee: Young and dumb usually points toward breaking someone's window or accidentally trespassing, not getting stoned, drunk, and then doing incriminating things.

Ratchet: ...

It only got worse from there as Ratchet pulled up the pictures he had acquired from Bulkhead and Arcee's files on their own little misadventures as younglings. The children were completely forgotten as the team became focused on airing each other's dirty laundry for all to see. And the children had no problem with that as they watched the dark past's of their favorite Autobots gets shown around like contraband reading material.

[sunnibits]

artsy-feely rambling under the cut :) 🌻🧡

of course I can’t find the post now but a while back I posted about an artist I met on my trip to Italy who really moved me. he was an older gentleman selling paintings, and we had a very heartwarming conversation together in which I complimented his work, and just from the way I spoke about it he recognized me as a fellow artist. so, we sort of just bridged this gap of age and language as complete strangers as he explained his technique to me and we basically just nerded out about art together. it was just such a meaningful encounter to me in a way I can’t explain, and I bought one of his paintings so I would remember it, but it’s just been sitting packaged in my room for a while and I hadn’t put it up yet.

anyways, I just put it up in my dorm yesterday, and I wanted to finally post a picture of it because I had been meaning to show you guys for ages but never got around to it!!

this is the painting I purchased from him - it’s just one of his smaller ones because I couldn’t afford the big paintings, but I love it dearly and you can still see the technique that caught my eye in the first place, which was his use of neons!!

I’ve never seen anyone use neons like that before, and I just find it so fucking smart and fascinating, it’s such a simple thing but I think it’s fucking genius. usually I would say it would be hard to use neon paints in this particular style of traditional landscape painting without it looking cheap or out of place, but he uses them in juuuuust the right way to add this absolutely STUNNING light and warmth to his pieces!!!!!!

I took some closer detail pics to show you guys so you can see what I’m talking about; look at those messy little dabs of orange highlights on the flowers that make them look illuminated in the setting sun!! look at the hints of peachy neon in the sky to give that illusion of sunlight shining through the clouds!! the tiniest little touches of bright green and yellow on the trees to give the same effect!!!!!!!

it’s messy, and impressionistic, and imperfect, and so simple, but it comes together as such a vivid warm picture, and I’m fucking obsessed with it as a concept. I desperately wish I had taken pictures of his other art so I could show you just how fucking cool his larger pieces were, but at the very least I have this little reminder to keep with me :)

anyways, I fucking love art, I love being an artist, I love connecting with other artists regardless of age or culture or background or expression, and I think this dude’s paintings are fucking sick as hell and wanted to share it with everyone <3

[fitgirlfemdom]

After reading the other guy's post that you published and your own about small dick humiliation, I wanted to tell my own story, and I hope you'll like it. Part of it is similar to the other guy. In my early 30s, I was a gym rat, and while I wasn't bulking up, I was lean at 160-165 lbs, and I was just shy of 5 inches. I started dating a girl and then a storm hit that knocked out power for close to two weeks, and between those two things, my gym days were over. Once my routine got throw out of wack, I never recovered. I'm in my early 40s now and weigh around 210-215 lbs (I've been in that range for a few years now), and I've lost nearly an inch of length. I'm barely over 4 inches now. Between the weight gain and the loss of length, sex sucks. It's a huge part of why I turned to gooning.

As far as my size, I've always known that I'm on the smaller side, but it didn't become a kink for me until OCT or NOV of last year. I actually used to post cum tributes for years, and never once got a negative comment on my size. Anyway, I was chatting with this girl on Discord and one of the things we bonded over was exhibitionism/public nudity. It's something I've never been into doing myself, but seeing girls engage in it is super hot, and she would tell me about some stuff that she's done, or we'd watch stuff together. One day, we're chatting, and I mention that I'm in my backyard. She asks for proof, so I send her a pic of my yard, and she tells me to strip. I was immediately turned on and there's a small area of my yard where I could get away with it without having to worry about any neighbors seeing me, so I recorded me stripping. My heart was beating like a jackhammer and I sent the video. Her first comment is, "damn, you have a small cock." I was absolutely crushed, and it broke something inside me. I wasn't expecting her to tell me it was the hottest thing she had ever seen, but I guess I was expecting a little bit of validation. "Nice job," or "I can't believe you actually did it," something like that.

Since then, small penis/dick/cock humiliation has become a major kink for me. I've had dozens of girls online degrade me after I send them a pic or video. I've gotten everything from laughter to mean comments to poor ratings. I have a few regulars that I chat with that are absolutely brutal towards me, and I love it. I reblog captions and use the #small dick humiliation hashtag on my blog. You mentioned in your post about a guy that jerks off with only two fingers, and I do that now. A couple of different girls have encouraged me to do it, and it feels so humiliating and looks so pathetic when I send them videos. At this point, two of my biggest fantasies are to experience SPH in a group chat, and IRL.

You had said that you wished more of your inbox messages were like that other guy, so I hope this fits that.

YES!!! MORE SMALL DICK INBOXES!!!

yes, for some reason, some of us girls find guys jerking off with only two fingers really hot in a pathetic way. it's mainly because it's how we play with our clits, and seeing a guy do it is like watching him wear heels and put on makeup--its so emasculating. i love it.

right now, all i need is a small dick <4in gooner on his knees jerking his little cock while trying his best not to "nnnghhh" and cum in 30 seconds in front of me. i need a pathetic gooner like that begging me to let him cum and calling me mommy while he does it. also i need a zero sugar smirnoff ice. preferably pink lemonade flavor. and maybe a cigarette.

imagine sending your pathetic dick pic to a girl and she adds you to a gc with all her friends, just so they can clown on you for being a degenerate pervert. imagine them sending audio messages, laughing and making jokes at your expense, asking with slight curiosity if you can even fuck anything with that. them asking if companies make condoms in that size, and if you're even fertile. imagine them thinking that's not enough, and forcing you to meet up with them IRL, lest they leak your unsavory pictures online. you get locked in chastity and forced to pleasure these girls for the rest of the night, whether that be through your mouth or your hands, while they spit and laugh at your pitiful dick.

that gives me an idea for a new post. AGHHH thank you for this

[softpascalito]

Pedro Pascal Kinktober Day Twentyone

Lingerie - Javi Gutierrez/F!Reader

Summary: Javi usually gets the movie memorabilia he loves so much for his birthday. This year, he gets something infinitely better.

Relationships: Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader

WC: 2100

Tags/Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Established Relationship, Birthday Sex, Birthday Cake, Lingerie, Kissing, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Idiots in Love, Vaginal Fingering, p in v sex, i will protect javi g with my life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff

AO3 LINK

notes: first time writing for this babe but jesus christ i ADORE him. he deserves the world.

(also sorry this is late i had to stare at pic of pedro pascal at snl for roughly 5 hours this morning).

_________________________________________

The sun was barely peeking through the curtains when your alarm rang, making you roll over to stop the beeping noise of it. With a small sigh you sat up when suddenly you felt a movement next to you and a soft mumble escaped the figure that was half buried under the colorful sheets, limbs entangled with yours.

His arm reached out to try and pull you back in with a protest, wrapping around your lower stomach as you rubbed your eyes. “I have to get up, baby,” you whispered quietly into the sheets but the arm didn't release you. Instead, another noise of protest came from under the moving sheets before Javis head peeked out.

He blinked up at you, his eyes barely open as he spoke, “Stay in bed. With me.”

You smiled a bit at his demand, reaching out to place a hand in his hair and comb through the messy, long curls with your fingers. “Good morning, birthday boy,” you mumbled, taking in the sight that you would never get tired of: Waking up next to Javi. “We can cuddle tonight,” you promised softly.

“And if it's my birthday wish to just stay in bed with you all day?” He grumbled, his voice a little rougher than usual after just waking up.

“I promise it will be worth it if you let me pick up your present first, okay?” You said gently, your hand still massaging his head as he seemed to relax a little, “When I come back and that is still your birthday wish, I promise that's what we'll do.”

Another small, but softer grumble came from his throat as he nodded and you could see his eyes already beginning to close again. You leaned down, placing your lips on his head and pressing a long kiss into his hair before gently disentangling yourself from him and getting up.

The sun had fully risen by the time you were on your way back from the small town on the island, having picked up everything for Javi's birthday. A soft breeze blew around your hair as you took in the surroundings, the cliffs and forests to one side and the wide open sea to the other. A small cake box was placed on the passenger's seat, buckled in so that it wouldn't fall over. Beside it was a smaller bag in pale blue, wrapped expertly with a matching bow. You had opted for something different for Javi's birthday, something other than the usual movie memorabilia. There was a funny feeling as you imagined his possible reactions, ranging from excitement to plain disappointment. You hoped it wouldn't be the latter.

He was still in bed when you came into the room, though he was properly awake now, spread out under the covers and reading a book. You had a feeling that he'd been waiting for your return because by the time you had closed the door behind yourself, he had already sat up and put his reading material aside, watching you eagerly.

With a smile in his direction, you set down the items you were carrying to move and open the large blinds of the door that led towards the balcony, allowing a stunning view of the water below you, sparkling in the morning sun. Fresh sea air filled the room and the curtains moved softly in the breeze as you placed the tray you had brought on the bed. It wasn't a particularly large breakfast, that would no doubt follow later, but it was what you always did for Javi on his birthday and he had come to love your little tradition.

A small piece of cake for each of you as well as a bottle of champagne to share and start the day off right.

“That looks amazing, mi amor,” he hummed as he scooched over to make some more space for you. You climbed onto the bed with him, your hand immediately finding his as the other handed him a glass of the sparkling liquid and then took your own. The glasses met with a small clinking sound- and without either of you looking at them, instead focused on each other.

“Happy Birthday, Javi,” you said before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. He didn't let you get away with just that, pulling you closer to kiss you properly, lips parting as you molded together so perfectly.

Eventually, you did manage to actually drink the champagne and you put your glass down as you remembered something, “Oh, hold on.”

From your pocket, you fished a box of matches and a small candle, quickly sticking it into Javi's piece of cake. He watched the way you concentrated as you lighted it, your tongue sticking out a tiny bit and it reminded him that there would be no start to a birthday he'd prefer over this.

“Go on, make a wish,” you urged, eyes darting between him and the candle.

Javi shook his head, his eyes soft, “I don't have any, I-”

“Come on, you have to have a birthday wish. Something you want,” you tried, watching the first drop of wax run down the candle.

“I have everything I want right here,” Javi whispered, his gaze fixed on you and you bit your lip to keep yourself from crying at the way he looked so soft and vulnerable and honest.

It took you a moment to find your voice again, your thumb absentmindedly running over his hand, “Then just wish that we can stay in this bed all day.”

He smirked a little at that and this time it was he who pressed the quick kiss to your lips before turning to the candle. You watched as he closed his eyes, paused for a moment and then blew, the fire dying down after just a moment.

After the cake and more kisses and caresses, you were leaning back against the headrest, Javis head in your lap as you lazily stroked his hair.

“So, when do you want your present?” You asked gently, looking down at him. He perked up a little at the mention of a present and you knew that he secretly enjoyed getting them as much as giving them.

“Can I have it now?” He asked a little sheepishly, round brown eyes looking up at you as he spoke. A small smile played around your lips as you nodded and he sat up, allowing you to move off the bed.

You returned with the soft blue bag you had picked up earlier, handing it to him before sitting down, anxious to see his reaction, “Happy Birthday.”

Javi smiled at you before looking over the bag, clearly trying to find an indication of what was inside before beginning to open the skillfully tied bow at the top. It fell away smoothly, allowing him to fully open the gift bag and his eyes widened a little as he looked inside, reaching into it to pull out a set of clothes in a soft, blue fabric that matched the color of the waves outside.

“Is that-?” He asked, looking over at you and you gave a small nod, biting your lip, “It's- I didn't know if you'd like this. It's okay if not, I can just-”

An actual growl left his throat at that as he shook his head, pushing the bag to the side and placing the fabric in your lap. “Put it on. Please. I wanna see you in it, baby,” he whispered, his tone dropping slightly and you felt an excited lurch in your chest at his words, a grin spreading over your face. Quickly, you gathered the items and hurried to the on-suite bathroom to change.

Javi was sitting at the edge of the bed when you returned. A soft gasp left his slightly opened mouth as he took in your form, his eyes wandering over your curves and soft skin. The baby blue lingerie set that decorated your body accentuated your figure perfectly. Both pieces were see-through, giving him a sneaky view of your hard nipples as well as your lower region. The edges of the top were draped in more of the soft fabric that fell over your stomach as well as your back, reminding him of the way 17th century painters had imagined angels. Soft, gentle, stunningly pretty and above all, all his.

He automatically reached out towards you and you smiled a little more as you moved over to him, his hands on your back as soon as they could reach you. Javi pulled you down, bringing you onto his lap, all the while admiring your body.

“You look amazing, baby, I-” He paused for a moment, “Is this what you had to pick up this morning?” A small giggle escaped you as you nodded, “Told you it'd be worth it.” Another low noise came from Javis throat as he ran his hands up and down your sides, “Fuck, it was.”

He used his leverage on you to pull you in further, burying his face in your chest, his tongue occasionally lapping out to lick a stripe over your exposed chest. You wiggled slightly on his lap in return, the bulge in his briefs growing with each movement from you and each second that his eyes wandered over your body.

His right hand slowly wandered to your front and slipped into the thin panties, brushing past your clit before beginning to tease your entrance, his thick finger finding your wetness. You whimpered, eagerly pushing yourself against him and he chuckled at how impatient you were.

“You want that inside, pretty girl? Want my finger in your pretty pussy?” You practically clawed at him at that, nodding eagerly, your lips finding his ear to nibble on, “Please, Javi.” As he began to push inside, you added, “It's part of your present, after all.”

He smirked at that, licking your nipple through the thin fabric, “Got me the prettiest birthday present, you know that? So beautiful.” Your heart fluttered at the praise, every doubt that you'd had earlier wiped from your mind.

Javi began slowly working his finger in and out of you, setting a slow but steady rhythm and the sound of both your breathing filled the room, occasionally interrupted by a bird chirping outside and the steady rhythm of the waves below you. 

As the movements got faster and you felt the care being disregarded, Javi paused, running his hand over the soft fabric, “Let me take it off you first, I don't want to ruin it.” You were already panting slightly, nudging his neck with your nose.

With slightly parted lips and blown pupils, you moved your head up so that your faces were almost touching. Then, you moved your hand down, placing the string of your panties in Javi's free hand, “It's a present. It's only half the fun if you don't rip it open.”

His expression still seemed a little doubtful so you nudged him again, “I'll buy you another one for Christmas.” 

That did it. Javi lips crashed into yours as his finger left you and his hand yanked the underwear off you, a seam audibly ripping but neither of you cared. You were already fumbling with his briefs and positioned yourself above him once they were off.

You were even more impatient now, your tightness clenching around nothing without his finger and you lowered yourself onto his cock, that immediately became slick with your wetness.

Javi and you both groaned as he began to enter and his gaze searched for yours, whispering praise and words of love, something he frequently did during sex and that always made you feel like the most precious thing in the world.

“You feel so wonderful, mi amor,” he whispered as he bottomed out, stroking your back as he let you adjust to the feeling of having him inside. It was another thing you would never get tired of. Waking up by his side, feeling him buried inside- it was the most glorious way to live.

“Move, baby, please,” you mumbled back and like magic, you both set the same rhythm as you began bouncing on his cock. 

“This is-” he whispered, his voice thin from the pleasure, “This is the best birthday present you ever got me.” You opened your mouth to reply but he captured it in another kiss instead, only letting up when you both needed air. You took the chance, bringing your lips to his ear, “You haven't heard the best part yet.”

“You get to keep it all year round,” you whispered and he let out a gentle whimper at that, burying himself deep inside of you, fitting so perfectly between your walls, “I better.”

[penguinmerchant]

Fool in the Moon binding

All right, time for a successful binding post, how about that? This was for @arahir's amazing work, Fool in the Moon. As you can probably tell by the rest of my feed right now I'm a little obsessed with Trigun at the moment (it's okay, it's normal, I feel normal things about all of these people, I'm not obsessing and listening to the soundtrack 24 hours a day, I haven't watched the whole thing twice in two weeks, all of my targeted ads on my computer aren't about plants right now, I'm fine) and suffice to say this story was just an emotional gut punch. It's so good, you guys. Go read it.

Anyway. The binding.

This was my first time using holofoil vinyl, and it turned out AMAZING. Look how pretty it is. And the color change in the light is just crazy.

Here's the back. Sorry I don't know how to make a gif, or I would totally show you guys how it shimmers and ripples. At certain angles it's green, blue, purple, orange, sometimes you can get it to be all of those at once, it's a really neat effect.

Also, I love the effect it gives when you open the book up (hard to do once it's bound with the textblock, but doable. This picture was taken before I cased in).

You have to squint your eyes a little but it's supposed to be reminiscent of Vash's sunglasses, and the way (spoilers? maybe?) his face looks when the plant lines come out. I think it's just the super neatest thing.

Here's the endpapers and the title page:

Isn't the title page just the coolest?

And here's a pic of some section breaks:

I just made them with the draw tool in Libreoffice, I wanted it to reflect the lines of the endpapers and maybe (?) look like dunes. Either way I think it turned out really great. I kind of maybe wish that I could have incorporated some of Wolfwood's imagery into this, but the design pretty much made itself and I'm super happy with it. Plus at the end of the day everything is about Vash, isn't it? He's Vash the Stampede! (I'm not crying YOU'RE crying!)

Anyway, I figured out the reason my previous book was so crooked was because my guillotine is messed up. It can't cut straight (which is...kind of the point) but it does okay on smaller works like this. So this one cased in very nicely. I used the 5 mm gutters again, and duo bookcloth (magpie I want to say?). The cricut vinyl came in a sample pack and unfortunately didn't come with a name (the sample pack was called Berry something), but it's very similar to Siser's Rainbow Pearl HTV, which is what I used for my copy. Once again the siser was a pain to use, with little bits flying off everywhere and wanting to wrinkle underneath the iron. I don't know why I keep buying that brand. But it worked in the end, and the effect of the holofoil is so cool I'll probably use it again. Endpapers are from Mulberry paper, I love those guys so much.

Let me know what you think! And if you have any questions please feel free to ask, I could talk about bookbinding stuff all day!

[quills-of-freedom]

Cock Canons ~

Reiner - Porco - Bertolt - Levi - Hange

Detailed descriptions of their junk, including pictures and links to buy one if you so wish... Lovehoney is NOT a sponsor. Although they should. I'd be happy to endorse sex toys.

Warnings: Well, Peni. 18+ only

Reiner Braun 💥

Reiner has a monster cock. It’s at least 9" and its girthy too. It slightly curves at the top, rendering it impossible to not have an orgasm while he’s inside of you, as his fat head prods at your G-Spot over and over.

Reiner’s cock has that clean salty taste. He showers often with all of the training he does so it’s never unpleasant to have in your mouth.

When it’s errect the veins are pretty protruding; having to keep such a large muscle supplied with plenty of blood as he fucks you into the other world.

His balls a large but not overly so. The skin around them is pretty tight and he likes to shave them because he doesn’t like the feeling of being over-grown. And he loves it when you sensually suck on them.

[ This ] is the closest pic I could find of what Reiner’s cock would look like. It would be a slighter darker shade but the heads shade of pink is pretty spot on.

His pre cum is super sweet, like corn syrup or something delightful.

His cum is more salty but still not bad. It’s extremely thick and ropey. This cock, with all of his testosterone, breeding kinks and his natural pheromones, is just designed to impregnate.

Porco Galliard 🥵

Porco’s precious penis is shorter than Reiner’s but just as - if not more - girthy.

It’s more rounded at the top and oh so deliciously fat. Like his neck.

Porco also showers as often as he can, as he’s always pushing himself during training so his dick is usually nice and clean.

It’s still a fucking weapon so his also has a strong appearance of veins as it requires a lot of blood flow.

Porco has a hard time dealing with intense feelings of lust, often losing control and letting himself getting too fired up, so you’d better make sure the safety is on for this gun, pal.

The closest pic to Porco’s junk is [ this ]. But longer and more girthy. His balls are also larger than that.

Porco Galliard is an absolute animal in bed once he’s within his comfort zone with you, and this dick can deal a lot of damage.

His cum is sweeter than Reiner’s but is just as thick.

Bertoldt Hover 🌭

Bertoldt’s banging baton his like him; long, slender and timid. But awaken it and… My god you’ll be sorry. Once this man gets fired up and slips into the mists of madness, there’s is no stopping him.

Bertoldt’s cock loves attention; start stroking it or touching it in any way, it won’t be long until every shy fiber in this boys being turns to cinders and ashes.

There’s a few pictures I found that’s pretty accurate. Let me know which one you like the best for this beast boy.

[ here ] , [ here ] and [ here ] .

Bert’s cum tastes the best out of anyone in this list. It’s almost like salt water taffy or sweet and salted popcorn.

His balls are tight, slightly smaller than his fellow warriors but that really doesn’t mean a thing. He will still absolutely ruin you with ease. Once he sees the red curtain he’s sure to perform well.

His cock is the twitchiest of the bunch. When it’s errect it can not stop still, almost like it’s trying to hurl itself into your hand or any part of you, really.

Levi Ackerman

Oh boy.

O—h boy.

Levi Ackerman is one with his cock. It’s like it has its own consciousness and they meld into one. He knows just how to use it, what to do next to push you to the next level of ecstasy.

Levi’s dick is big and thick. Deliciously thick. He’s definitely packing down there. It’s got a nice shape to it to, and the closest pic i could find to do it any justice is [ this one here ] (except bigger)

If he’s not on an expedition, Levi’s hygiene practices are second to none. It’s always a pleasure to have him in your mouth.

His jet black pubic hairs are trimmed nice and neatly into a cosy little landing strip, beckoning you to descend onto the rolled out welcome mat.

Levi is short because of his malnutrition as a child. But that did not effect the growth of his manhood. It’s a nice clue to how well built he would have been, had circumstances been different.

He can go again and again and again with short intervals. He truly is one of the king’s of sex in this universe.

Hange Zoë

Hange has a wide range of strap-ons and dildos she likes to use on her partner whether she’s being Dom or Sub.

When she’s feeling particularly dominating she likes to unleash [ this ] onto your poor, unsuspecting booty.

It vibrates and her womanhood is very sensitive, so when she’s unleashing this on you, she’s pretty much constantly cuming.

It helps that she has the sight of you being absolutely destroyed by her device .

Hange is loud during sex so with her repeating orgasms, you’d better prepare yourself for Levi to complain about the noise when she’s using it.

She’s a squirter so sex gets very fuckin messy when she’s using this.

She has a name for it too; “Titania”

[abiiors]

idk if youre taking reqs so only if you are ❤️ can you write a little something of ross getting a sexy pic from his s/o? xx

it seems, i only have two emotions rn -- sad and horny. anyway, have some phone sex 😌

minors dni!!

ten minutes to go. 

that’s what the stage tech whispers to them while ross stands at the side, watching their opening act serenade the crowd. she’s good, really good. one of the indie artists their label picked up along the way. unfortunately, she’s not good enough to keep his attention on her when his phone dings in his pocket. 

or it could just have to do with the fact that it’s not the usual ding. it’s the special one he has set just for you. to his dismay, it’s not a call, only a text. but he steps away from the lights to properly look at it. 

it’s an innocent enough notification. 

[attachment: one image]

but his heart speeds up as he clicks on it. knowing you, he knows that the photo is going to be anything but innocent. and oh how right he is…

his breath hitches when he sees the sexy black number, lacy and translucent, deep enough to show almost your entire boobs to him but it cuts off right as he gets to the good part. that, however, is nowhere near as scandalous as the lower half of the photo. because your panties are clearly not on you. no. they are right next to you. and the photo cuts off just above where your hand is buried suggestively between your thighs. 

the second text comes five seconds after the first one. good luck, my darling. i miss you xx

before he knows it, he’s hitting the call button and making his way hurriedly to find some quiet, secluded dressing room. 

“you little minx,” he breathes down the line as soon as you pick up. he’s already half hard in his trousers, and your breathy, seductive giggle doesn’t help matters. ross can’t help but palm himself lightly at the sound. 

“hi,” you speak into the phone, mischief dancing in your tone. “just wanted to wish you good luck before the show.”

he hums, leaning against a wall in the dark quiet room, “and you usually call to do that…”

“well, i was a little busy…”

he can practically imagine you twirling a strand of hair around your finger, one long fingernail combing through your soft hair. he’s been dying to touch them again, dying to feel your fingernails scratch on his back while you moan and scream his name over and over again. 

“what were you doing?” he asks. and then, shamelessly unzips his trousers. 

he’s painfully hard by now, aching and desperate to feel you around him. but since you are currently in another country, he has no other option but to touch himself like a sixteen year old boy. the thought of you doing just the same drives him insane. 

“nothing. just wondering how it would feel to have you here right now… to feel your fingers instead of mine.”

he hears your breath quiver on the last words. it’s almost enough to drive him crazy.

wrapping a hand around the base of his cock, he lets your uneven breathing wash over him. this is so irresponsible, so reckless. he only has nine minutes, for fucks sake…

but ross can’t help himself, not when it comes to you. 

“thumb on your clit,” he says, “just like i do. you want to feel good, don’t you?”

he can practically picture you nodding, forgetting that he can’t see. he can picture your thumb on your clit, smaller and softer than his fingers but enough to make you moan softly. 

“i w-want to feel good,” you gasp. 

the risk of the situation makes it even hotter. anyone can walk in on him right now, anyone can hear the filthy words and sounds that come out of his mouth. he can feel it as he pumps himself, relishing and groaning, imagining that it’s your hand instead. 

“you’re dripping wet for me right now, aren’t you love? getting off on my voice,” he teases. beads on precum bubble up his tip and he spreads them over his length, imagining your wetness on his cock. he remembers it too well, knows that it’s been too long since he’s felt it. 

“ross, i need…” you trail off, half a sentence ending in a moan, as you lose your train of thought. that always happens when he rubs circles on your clit. that's what happening now as you do the same.

“i know baby,” he grounds out, lightheaded from how good it feels, how good you sound. “just three more weeks now before i fuck you till you can’t remember your own name. is that what you want?”

“yes,” you breathe into the phone, “my fingers don–don’t feel like yours do.”

he knows they don’t. some primal, male part of him relishes in the fact that no one can fuck you as well as he does. his cock throbs in his hand, his body is ready for a release, so desperate now that your moans have become erratic on the phone. but he misses the wet, filthy and obscene sounds when you’re both close to cumming. he misses all the ways you cry out for him. 

“fuck, fuck, i’m going to cum,” you cry out into the phone, “please.”

ross hisses, fisting himself hard now, he’s close too, he can feel it. all your moans go straight to his dick bringing him closer and closer to the edge. and to hear you so hot and bothered, to imagine your slick dripping down your hand as you think of him and cry out for him does unspeakable things to him. 

“go on darling,” he hisses, struggling to keep his voice down, “let go for me.”

it’s a shame he can’t see the face you make when you orgasm—mouth slack, eyes rolling to the back of your as you arch your back off the bed. he can imagine your legs trembling as you gush on your hand, clenching around your own fingers, whimpering at the way it feels. it’s too much for him.

with a strangled grunt he cums into his own hand. hard and hot, semen spilling down his hand, wet and sticky, almost how you would feel. his knees go weak, the phone almost slips from his hand when he remembers how you taste. 

he has tasted you so often that he can recall it perfectly now, almost make himself delude into thinking that he can feel it lingering on his tongue. 

“did that feel good ross?” you ask, panting and barely able to get the words out. “it felt so good for me, your voice…fuck, baby it was so hot.”

it takes him a few more seconds to recover, breathing heavily, as he tries to find some tissues for himself—a half empty box, lying on the cluttered table. 

“shit, love,” he laughs, lightheaded from the sensation, from your voice, “shit, how am i supposed to go perform now, huh?”

you giggle in response and almost as if on cue, he notices another incoming call, this time from adam, then he notices the time and a slew of curses fly from his mouth. 

“three more weeks,” you say, “now go and smash it out there. i’m watching the livestream. who knows,” you click your tongue, “maybe i’ll go for a round two…”

ross laughs, zipping himself up again and hoping that the others can’t tell what he was up to, shit, a minute before the show. 

“three more weeks,” he says and hopes that muscle memory is enough to get him through the show. 

[rockmiyabideusexmachina]

2024 Megaman Valentine's Day/White Day Contest Results!

Hopefully this post won't feel too rushed; it certainly is rare for me to get contest results posted before 2 days have passed. Once again, I thank everyone who drew something for this year's event, as well as those who helped spread the word. Even with a smaller turnout, you guys still made it really hard on me to choose winners. All your art is deserving of praise! I wish I could afford to give you all some prize money! While I am posting this right now a little late into the evening in my time zone, I will be sending all the winners a message about your prize winnings soon enough, later tonight. If you don't see something right away, just know my message is on the way, within the next few hours. After the break, you will see all the pics and this year's winners!

As usual, after each entrant’s name, there will be a link to their entry, too, just in case the inserted images don’t load for you. With a smaller turnout this year, everything has been uploaded into a single imgbox gallery folder. Should be alphabetical by alias for each category, with the first 7 images for Cat. 1, and the last 4 images in Cat. 2.

[Full entry gallery]

CATEGORY 1 (Talent): Black and White Day

For this category, participants were tasked with creating an image celebrating White Day, with the requirement that their art mimic the "rubber hose" art style from around the 1920's. All entries needed to use a black and white or monochrome palette. 1.) HikariLux [Entry] [GB Alternate] $175 Winner!

A cute scene with Rock presenting Alia with a ring that was made even better by adding an alternate original Gameboy palette pixel version of the same art. That added creativity made an adorable pic stand out even more, to give two different retro vibes to your art.

2.) @eulogysinger [Entry] $100 Winner!

As an overall scene, your piece felt the most like it was screencapped straight out of a 20's cartoon, so I give you your props on getting your style to match so well! You can feel the movement with the curve in the Big Snakey's necks as Snake Man slides on down to Toad with his candy bouquet gift.

3.) @sylviidaee [Entry] $75 Winner!

Sure, because of all the Axess storyboard posts I've been doing lately, this trio is probably in my mind more lately. But animating your piece to give it that added life, as the guys bonk each other with their gifts for Mariko, helped boost your entry into the top 3! LOL at the fish crying when Masa gets bonked. And again, style-wise, great job pulling off the rubber hose look.

And the rest of the wonderful entries in alphabetical order by alias: Kaitlin.EXE [Entry]

Y'arr, that Pirate Man be takin' the girl and a pricey pearl wit 'em. But I bet once Diveye the Sailor Man eats his seaweed, that Pirate has a few punches coming to him. Retro Splashy's design is so cute! Totally a fun scene and creative takes on all three.

Komito [Entry]

Like a vintage Norman Rock(man)well painting, the diner scene truly gives off the retro vibes, from the checkboard floor to Big Boy waiter Rock in the background. Love the touch of Splashy's straw curving into a heart shape as she longingly stares at Blues.

@wennastudio [Entry]

I get the vibe of Axl imitating Porky Pig here, saying "That's All Folks!" to end the episode, as he pops out before the fades out. And since you are alphabetically last, it makes your piece even more fitting to close out this category's pics with this cute piece!

CATEGORY 2 (Humor): Showing Some Skins

For this category, entries needed to contain a character wearing an out-of-place holiday-themed skin or outfit that was not Valentine's Day-related, while in a Valentine's Day scene or setting. Being the humor category, the more it makes us laugh, the better! 1.) @aurantia-ignis [Entry] $175 Winner!

🎵Zero the Snowman was a jolly, happy soul...but are YOU happy, Ciel? I love how Zero took White Day this literally to don this amusing snowman outfit. And out of all the entries for this category, you pulled off the absurdly humorous costume the best.

2.) @drewblossom [Entry] $100 Winner!

It might just be a simple party hat, but I mean, Bass isn't wrong. Subtle, but I was amused! The heart shaped speech bubble was a nice touch to help sell the dialogue's punch line as well.

3.) AbilityField [Entry] $75 Winner!

Clever way to show the rush in changing between events, as RiCO is in part Valentine's skin and part Celebration skin dress that are digitally switching. ViA has it much easier throwing on a coat. It's always easier for the guys to get ready, as they say.

4.) Miralie [Entry]

While Zero and Iris are dressed for the day, X's date does sort of have that Halloween vibe to her, as a witch. While Axl is clearly enjoying Singles Awareness Day...or doing his best Stuart Smalley impression by giving his Daily Affirmation that he's good enough, he's smart enough, and doggone it, Reploids like him.