#Mimic Wednesdays

[alumthedragon]

Worldbuilding Wednesday Prompt 3:

Talk about a dragon in your clan who isn't a dragon. What kind of creature are they? What kinds of relationships do they have with the actual dragons in your clan?

[redhotarsenic]

Please play Neon White if you haven’t yet btw <3

[kathegoose]

wet mimic wednesday💧💧💧💧💧💧

wet mimic wednesday💧💧💧💧💧💧💧💧💧💧💧

good morning

[totallynotmimic1]

its mimic wednesday

Oh ueah,,,,

[nortedwayfinder]

Getting your cover blown speedrun any%

yall have no clue how bad i want mimic to take the place of one of the brothers for a bit just so we can see how long it takes the other one to figure it out

[loserlvrss]

｡ ｡ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐘 ( 김.𝐒𝐖 )─────더보이즈

( 八月 ). ──you get partnered up with the one athlete everyone at your school is obsessed with 김선우 &fem!rea. ⟡ one shot, smut warn. language, unprotected sex, dirty talk, spitting, biting wc : 5034THOU ++( 𝒸𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓈𝓂𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒, 𝒶𝓉𝒽𝓁𝑒𝓉𝑒 𝓍 𝓃𝑒𝓇𝒹 )

노트 i got carried away mb gang

The harsh ultra-violet rays warmed your skin, sending a gentle goosebump-ridden pattern over it. You looked out ahead, watching as the soccer team practiced hard—almost daily now (only taking a break on Wednesdays). A breeze passed through the air, weaving its way all around your body, which was wearing the school’s uniform loosely. You sighed, looking up to the wave of lustrously-green trees against the clear-blue sky. 

Your body was relaxed, leaning ever-so-slightly back against the bleacher behind you. Your hand came up when a particularly bright ray shined through the dark leaves of late spring and you blocked it. Then, just as you were about to let it fall back down, your attention caught on one particular member of the team, when a shout of victory wafted into your ears: Kim Sunwoo. 

He was the main character of your daydreams, racing heartbeats, and physical ache. You knew it was stupid to be caught in his grasp, like the rest of the school was. You knew you weren’t special in the way you’d look at him longingly—so desperate for any kind of appraisal from the athlete. 

However, unlike the rest of the female (and male) population, you were contemptuous with your delusion over him. Even if it was an unrequited love, you were closer with yourself—and schooling—in its result. Your parents definitely weren’t complaining with your top-student status and class president tasks.

It seemed like a win-win, but still, you sometimes caught yourself wishing for more in the loneliness of the night, when your mind was the best at focusing on things it shouldn’t. You’d imagine things you’d rather keep in the depths of your archives. Secrets you were prepared to take to the grave: everyone loved Sunwoo, but no one knew you did as well.

The prejudice was that you were too caught up in said studies to even look up, especially not in his direction. You had only a couple of friends, ones you truly trusted with your life, and even they had no clue about your feelings for the soccer player.

You watched his celebration, a fist pumped into the air and a bright smile that caused a blush to litter your cheeks. In moments like these, you were glad he really had no idea you existed when you weren't standing right in front of him. He high-fived the team members, walking over to the sidelines and throwing a small towel over his shoulder. 

It was honestly a little pathetic the way you couldn't peel your eyes from the way his muscles strained against the spandex of the shirt, or the way the sweat would roll down his perfectly sun-kissed skin. The softness of the genuine smile that pressed against his mouth and up into his eyes, the ones that flirted so effortlessly with his slow and cool mannerisms. 

Genuinely, when he looked so good, it made it hard for you to not drift off into another fantasy, one where he’d walk up to you and sweep you off your feet like a prince in a fairytale…and, he always looked this good. 

You huffed out a breath, one you weren’t even sure if you were holding or not, and crossed your legs over one-another. You narrowed your eyes (in some weird attempt at zooming in), swearing you could see the man of your dreams—and reality—walking in your direction. 

He flashed a devilish smile, you weren’t convinced was meant for you, breaking from the teammates he’d been walking with. his eyes met yours, and for a moment you thought you were asleep—or dead. 

frankly, you think this scenario would suit a chuckle from the athlete who watched your eyes go wide as he further approached.

he took a long drink from the bottle in his hand, holding said eye contact as he lightly swallowed. you mimicked him with a dry throat, admiring how his adamsapple bobbed with each gulp. 

he straddled the bench, setting his things between his open thighs. “y/n?” he asked as he raked a hand through his sweaty hair. you couldn’t look away, like a must-watch thriller that you’d spent your hard earned money on. you could feel the way your heart rattled your ribcage, just aching to escape and feel his against it. 

an audible hum left your lips in reply. you could feel the heat that radiated your features and spread throughout your body. and, you knew, despite opposition, that he could see its pink shade.  

the one-sided tension was suffocating. you shifted uncomfortably—or maybe in some desperate attempt to ease the ache—and clasped your hands together. then, once again, he smiled at you. your heart didn’t know whether to shatter or melt in the presence, which you’ve only been able to see up close a couple of times. 

“your place or mine?” 

you wouldn’t have believed the way your eyes could grow three-sizes larger than they already had previously. 

“w-what?” you choked out. 

he chuckled at your flustered state. “ms. park posted the partners for the group-projects.” he stated matter-of-factly. “and, guess what class president?” you all but asked what; gulping loudly, tensing your legs together, as well as your fingers and lips. “we’re partnered.” 

you wanted to play it cool, but the excitement at the revelation was fast-approaching. you’d never had the opportunity to see him outside of school—and granted, it was still over school-work but, a win was still a win in your book. 

“o-oh!” you ragged out along with a shaky breath. “right, i was waiting until after practice to ask you about it.”

you lied.

you had no idea that the groups were announced. you just spent your free-time on this bench pretending to do work often enough that it seemed reliable.

his eyebrows rose, like he could see right through your antics. it was honestly a little intimidating; or maybe that’s not exactly the right word to describe the feeling hot-spotted in you.

he glanced back at the field momentarily, watching the rest of his teammates leave the outlined grass. “whatever you say, class president, but i knew exactly where to find you… except on wednesdays.” the undertone was something you couldn’t read, just out of your depth, but still plunged you further into curiosity. “we’ll go to my place then, and i’ll shower while you get started. how’s that sound? practice is done anyways.”

you wanted to protest his offer, but there was something intoxicating about seeing his room and smelling the cologne that lingered in the air. the shampoo and body wash that would waft out to you. you’d dreamt about it, and simply, you wanted to see if it was anything like the picture you painted in your head.

“i can just meet you later—you can shower in peace.” you started to pull the phone from the bag at your side, opening it, and holding it in his direction. “maybe, in like two hours?”

he took hold of the machinery. “what’s the fun in that? you could’ve joined me if you got too bored.”

you laughed painfully, shifting once again at the heat between your thighs. you wanted to accept the offer more than anything, however you know you shouldn’t.

but, what was the fun in that?

“a shame.” he chuckled lightly, holding the phone back out to you after inputting his number and texting himself the address. “i’ll see you then, y/n.”

it was the exact house number you were now staring at, eyes shifting between the text on your screen and the apartment door. it had been a little over two-hours, you having to hype yourself up before you left. and you had decided to relax by taking a bath as well, getting a little carried away with your imagination—which ultimately caused you to be late as well—but, you didn’t think delinquent-athlete, sunwoo, would care all too much.

“you could’ve knocked,” you hadn’t realized the door was now open, revealing the dimly lit (because the curtains were closed and it was approaching 6pm) living space. “or called.”

“s-sorry. i wasn’t sure if this was the right place.” you watched as he moved aside, creating just enough room for you to brush past him, giving you an oh-so desired smell of his cologne.

you cursed yourself for getting so worked up over the little things he’d do, but now you were finding it hard to believe that that wasn’t his intention. he kept you coming back for more, and you were always eager.

“do you want any water?” he asked, watching your frame stand awkwardly in his living room. “my rooms over there, i have a couple of things for you.”

you choked again. “f-for me?”

he laughed. “to use on the poster, y/n.” and he mumbled something after that you weren’t able to catch.

your head panned as he walked to the kitchen, ears listening to the light rattle of glass cups and running water. you plastered your hands to one another politely, scanning over the couple pictures sunwoo did have laying about; his apartment only had the necessities. the few pictures were ones of a younger girl, who you assumed to be his little sister—who he obviously loved enough to display. but you thought there must’ve been more to them, to him, and deep down you knew you’d like to find out one day; to comfort him in his time of need. to be his.

sunwoo came back, two glasses in his hands as he motioned for the closed door on your left. “you can open it, i’ve got nothing to hide from you.”

you don’t know why those words made you blush, maybe it’s because they’re from him, and anything from the athlete is enough to send you reeling.

your hand trembled as it reached to the knob. “oh, okay.” you said, trying to block it with your body. “i was thinking we could start with reading the book a little bit more, to familiarize ourselves with the data before making the final draft. that’s if you don’t mind?”

the door swung against its hinges, making the site of a dark, but minimalistic room meet your view. you took in the smell of cologne, but it didn’t seem to be overpowering like he had just sprayed it around carelessly. his bed was neatly made, black sheets and black pillows placed meticulously: as if a house keeper had been around to do it for him.

he placed the glasses against the wood of his nightstand, a charger and lamp being the only other decor on it.

he pressed the lamp and illuminated the room just a little more. “not confident, class president?”

“that’s not it,” you blurted out, his brows knit and arms crossed as he awaited your explanation. you could barely look in his direction, biting your tongue to not say: i just get flustered enough to forget around you.

“i, uh, it’s just that… nevermind. let’s begin!”

he huffed out another laugh, his actions too fast for you to process as his hands met your shoulders, pushing you to sit on his bed.

your eyes seemed to be in a perpetually widened state, but you found it telling that you put up no protest. the bag on your back made it into your lap, and you unzipped it, taking out multiple pens, markers and whatnot to make a decent poster. sunwoo had grabbed a paper, putting it on the floor and holding out his book for you to take. your hands brushed as you accepted it, and it sent a shiver up your spine.

you began to lay a couple of your class-taken notes onto his bedding, and sunwoo made his way around to the other side. he plopped down onto his stomach, making you bounce slightly.

“you know, class prez, people think you’re scary. you’re always studying, you barely look up, and when you do it’s to tell people off because they’re interrupting said studying.” you tried to read over the notes, but found it hard to ignore the harmonies within his voice. and that your leisure-clothes were getting too warm around your skin. “but they don’t know you, i guess. you’re smart but i bet you know how to have, at least, a little fun, don’t you? and, it’s no secret the school thinks your looks are top-tear. it’s just a shame you reject everyone that asks you out. it’s a waste of your time, i presume. anyways, that’s enough. let’s get started, shall we?”

“w-why?” you asked in such a hushed breath that sunwoo barely heard it. and if he lived with anyone else, or if a car or plane went by at the perfect time, he wouldn’t have. “why is that a shame?”

“because you are beautiful, y/n.”

fuck your clothes, your skin was getting too hot against you. your breath was labored, and now the words on the paper were congregating. you couldn’t focus with sunwoo next to you, and that’s exactly what you feared.

why’d you have to ask? curiosity did kill the cat.

the way you shifted didn’t go unnoticed by the athlete and he let out a chuckle that should just be his signature at this point.

he sat up now, burning his eyes into the side of your head. “what’s wrong, y/n?” he asked, but you refused to look away from the notes, even if you couldn’t get your mind to read them. “has no one ever called you that before?”

you bit your lip, thumbs ripping at the skin around the nail. truthfully, yes, one person has called you that, but it didn’t feel the same as when he did it. sunwoo made your heart beat out of your chest, breath leave your lungs so fast it made you lightheaded. he made you weak in the knees, like you were just jelly to begin with, melting in the sun.

you felt a soft hand reach across you, taking the farthest cheek within his palm and focusing your vision towards himself.

his skin felt like fire against you, but even this smallest touch made you crave more, made you need him in a more than innocent way. and, you were starting to believe his intentions were exactly the same as yours.

your eyes finally focused at the feeling on his hand sliding to rest against the side of your neck, as if he was caressing it, running his thumb over your windpipe gently.

you’d never seen sunwoo so close to your face, but you had imagined it, and it was nothing in comparison. he was beyond beautiful, a sight to see: tan skin untainted by pores and blemishes, soft features like his lips that contradicted, but complimented shaper ones such as his eyes and nose. he was the perfect harmony in your opinion, the perfect—

“god, y/n. i must be crazy.” he broke you from your admiration, breath hitting your lips. “would you treat me any different from the guys who have asked you out in the past?”

god, yes.

your stomach was beyond knots now, the whole damn zoo being let loose. your hands were gripping the sheets at the anticipation that seemed to be agonizing enough to kill you where you sat. in reality, sunwoo wasn’t even doing anything, but he had you at his fingertips, and you weren’t convinced you couldn’t pass out right now.

“fuck, maybe i am crazy…” his eyes flicked to your lips momentarily. “do you want this? i know i’d be interrupting your studying, class president.”

and you don’t know where your confidence came from, but the way you closed the gap was desperate. however, sunwoo put up no protest, and quickly gained control over the situation.

his other palm pulled you by your cheek to deepen the kiss. well, that was until he had enough of the angle you were sat at and gripped your thigh to fully get you onto his bed.

he was a good kisser, a great one in fact, and it made you crave his lips in other places to experience the full effect.

now he was pushing your body by your lower back, trying to get you as close to him a possible, and as if you could read minds, you threw your leg over him to straddle his lap.

he broke the kiss. “good girl.” he said before reconnecting with the skin on your neck, and smiling against it when he heard you whine quietly. you could feel him growing hard underneath you, and wondered if he’d take this all the way, wondered if he wanted you like that. “you do want this, don’t you?”

inside your head you couldn’t help thinking that maybe you weren’t desirable, maybe he was only doing this to prove a point: that the whole school was within his grasp. maybe it was to brag tomorrow, as locker room chatter before soccer practice, because why would sunwoo like you outside of your delusions?

his arms caged you against him, stoping all minor movements and actions. he looked into your eyes, and for a moment it’s like the world had ceased. the only thing you could hear was the thumping within your own chest and the echoes of your doubts.

“do you want me, sunwoo?”

he kissed your lips gently—almost lovingly—before stating. “more than anything right now.”

and you wanted to ask if it was only right now that he wanted you, but you couldn’t will that to leave your lips, as his eyes locked onto your own, mixing like watercolor.

you’d wanted him to want you for a long time, so you hoped it wasn’t only now that he felt the same.

“are you okay?”

your palms now laid against his cheeks, biting your bottom lip, half-nervously and half from feeling his hands curve where the seams of your thighs met the underside of your ass. you pulled him quickly back to you, breaking away only to mumble a quiet yes before being fully taken over by your lust.

he flipped you over quickly, and you found comfort between his soft pillows and blanket. he pushed your thighs apart, slotting himself in between to attach back on your already swollen lips.

his voice came out in a hushed tone, only for you. “class prez, has anyone had you like this? have they seen how perfect you look with messy hair and puffy lips? i bet you’d look so cute crying, wouldn’t you?” you whimpered at the words—the thought—you wanted him to think you were cute, attractive in any way, it was human nature after all; and everything about this was primal. “how far do you want me to go?”

your voice was once again barely audible over your own heartbeat. “whatever you want.”

“yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

you were beginning—ignoring all previous warnings—to feel overwhelmed, his tongue sending you into overdrive. you didn’t know what to do as you felt him ghost his lips on your collar bone, then down over your chest, eventually landing at your stomach. he pushed the fabric up, latching down onto your hip bone, which had you shifting to get any sort of friction on your core.

all his minuscule teasing was actually beginning to feel painful, but he got the hint. you knew he would.

sunwoo grabbed at the waistband on your pants, looking up to you for reassurance, but you just lifted your hips to make it easier for him. he chuckled, pulling both of the fabrics blocking you from him down.

you heard him mumble something along the lines of pretty as he placed open-mouth kisses against your inner thighs.

one thing about sunwoo is that he left you no room to feel self-conscious or embarrassed. he knew how to love you right, (you didn’t want to know why that was) and was determined to show you that.

you might not have believed this was something more than locker-room chatter, but now…

you moaned when he finally attached to your aching clit, sucking gently before alternating between kissing and licking at your slit. your hand covered your mouth out of embarrassment at the sounds that you couldn’t stop from making. truthfully, the last (and only) guy you were with didn’t even make you finish, so you didn’t have to worry about being too loud—or god forbid, annoying.

but, sunwoo hated that you weren’t letting him hear how good he was doing. he wanted the praise just at much as you did, nonetheless he let you continue. he’d let you until you were completely at his mercy, malleable under his touch. he’d let you because that made you comfortable.

and, to be honest, it still fueled his ego.

“c-close,” you managed to mumble through your fingers, eyes squeezed shut and head lulled back. “woo, please?”

and that fact that you had asked him almost made him cum untouched. so, you were his? he thought to himself, before he groaned into your pussy at the feeling of your fingers attaching to his hair, only adding to your pleasure.

the hands squeezing your plush thighs pulled you closer to his face, close enough to suffocate, but he’d die a happy man.

he continued to eat you out like a starved man, only bedrudgingly pulling away right before you had the chance to properly orgasm.

“w-wait!” you tried to push him back, frantically searching for the edge you were just about to topple off. “w-wh—sunwoo, fuck, d-don’t stop. please.”

tears were pricking your eyes out of frustration—the whole thing being so emotionally and vulnerably charged, you weren’t sure you could hold them back. then, shivers were sent throughout your shaking body as he soothed over your sides and stomach with his hands, lips back to their spot on your thighs.

he propped himself up, staring down at the godly figure he never truly thought you’d let him see. and after a minute, you got embarrassed at the strong gaze on your glistening core; your knees coming together.

his fingers slotted between them, pulling your legs apart. “don’t hide from me, baby. you’re so beautiful—god, all for me, right?”

you whined, quickly sitting up and reaching out for anything he’d give you.

sunwoo kissed your lips again, keeping you at his level with a hand on the small of your back and one gripping the hem of your shirt. you were dizzy from the taste of yourself on him, sunwoo only breaking apart to get the fabric up, and fully over your head. he took off your bra and suddenly the realization that you were fully naked in front of the prized soccer captain, while he was fully clothed, sunk in.

you whined again, too drunk off him to formulate anything coherent. he laughed at how desperately you were pawing at his sweats. “what’s wrong?”

you looked up at him. “fuck me?” and if your eyes weren’t the definition of puppy-dog, he didn’t know what was.

he smiled, grabbing your wrist. “patience, baby. i’ll give you what you want.”

you fell back again, opting to obey him because you were honestly too far gone to come up with anything else to do.

and he did, taking off his sweats, along with the rest of his clothes and pressing his body to yours. his lips were connected back to you and you clawed at his shoulders—anything to ground yourself—while his held your torso down firmly.

he looked between your bodies as he lined himself with your entrance. your head was thrown back, and he pressed a chaste kiss to the middle of your neck before mumbling. “you are pretty when you cry, y/n.” and pushing in slowly.

the stretch only burned for a minute until you moaned almost embarrassingly loud with each shallow thrust. a hand instinctively come up to hide them away. but, that only lasted so long until sunwoo intertwined his fingers with yours, pushing them into the bed on either side of your head.

“don’t hide them, baby,” he sighed against your lips. “please.”

and, whether you wanted to or not, you didn’t have a choice. the noises fell freely from your lips into his shoulder, as he sucked and nipped at your neck again.

“i-is it good?” you could barely hear him, your ears ringing with pleasure; was it good? is he stupid?

you choked on a chuckle, feeling him angle himself just perfectly inside you to brush against your g-spot. “holy fuck,”

“right there, baby?” he did it again, taking notes and storing them away in the back of his mind. your head lulled back again, and he watched your face contort, mouth falling open. “does it feel good?” you couldn’t reply, his thrusts only getting harder after that.

you could feel the band in your stomach tightening, and you feared you wouldn’t even be able to tell him you were getting so close, so fast—too fast.

but, somewhere deep-down, he already knew.

“fuck, you feel so good, y/n.” he sighed, lips ghosting over yours. “i must be the luckiest man in the world, right?” it was rhetorical, but even if you felt the need to answer, all that was coming out of your mouth was moans, groans, and mewls. “perfect body—fuck—perfect personality, perfect pussy, perfect fucking mouth,” he grabbed your chin, your free hand now going to clutch into the skin on his arm. his eyes met your tear-filled, and blurry ones. “open your mouth,”

there was a fire within you when you did as he said, mouth falling open. he spat on your tongue, and you didn’t know whether you came right then or just flat-out died.

“swallow it,” he said—no, demanded—almost making it an impossible task by putting his fingers into your mouth, pushing them to the back of your throat, and making you gag around him. he felt you clench harder at the act. “gonna fuck this throat one day, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

you would.

but, he was spewing heated words into a brick wall. “you’re mine, right?” he asked, taking his saliva-covered fingers from your mouth and bringing them between your bodies.

the moment his fingers landed on your clit, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. the hand that was still intertwined with his was losing circulation from how hard your were gripping it, and the other was scratching his perfect skin hard enough to bleed.

no one had ever made you feel so cold, yet so fucking warm at the same time. nothing you've ever experienced has been as intense and kim sunwoo; the delinquent soccer player. you feared no one could ever make you feel like this again.

so, of course you were his.

“look at me, y/n.” he whispered, kissing along your jaw gently—in contrast to the heavy and hard thrusts he kept at a steady rhythm. “c’mon, y/n, be a good girl. please.”

you felt the impending desire to now, head leveling. his forehead then came to rest against it, fighting off your urge to let it roll back again.

he pecked your lips between sentences. “mine, right?” god, he kept asking an obvious question. “be mine, okay? cum for me,” he circled your clit faster, determined to make you finish one last time. “i got you.”

his voice alone was enough to make you topple over the edge, your noises raising a couple octaves. your vision went white, body convulsing under sunwoo, who kept his eyes on your face the entire time; in awe of you. he fucked you through it of course, mumbling praises, before the overwhelming feeling of fire bloomed between you two; disguised by overstimulation.

you mewled. “woo, p-please stop.” he kissed you quiet, slowing down. but, you didn’t actually want him to stop. “h-hurts… just a little,”

his hand intertwined with yours again. “being such a good girl—taking it so well. just a little more, okay? i promise,” he sighed, feeling the way your walls clenched him in, barely letting him pull out, only causing him to thrust harder. “almost there, y/n, where do you want it?”

your legs caged him against you. “fill me up, please.” and you weren’t above begging for it, especially not in a state of post-euphoria. “cum in me.”

he threw his head back momentarily, fighting off a strong urge to start a second round. how in gods name did he get so lucky? he thought to himself, bringing his forehead back to yours.

he locked eyes onto you. “yeah?” you nodded slightly, eyes full of tears you didn’t know if you’d shed. “gonna be so good and take it all?”

you moaned when he started grinding against you, your clit being stimulated by his pubic-bone.

“could fuck you forever.” he admitted. “do you want me to?”

you spewed out a quiet yes, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was being serious—maybe he was. you were too far gone to even begin guessing.

he kissed you again, desperately fighting your tongue with his. he continued to kiss down your jaw and into your neck, leaving glistening marks in his wake. he sucked on your collarbone, finding a sweet-spot you didn’t even know you had, and biting down for a second. your mouth fell open in a silent scream, an orgasm you didn’t even know was there, washing over you.

sunwoo just kept forcing you to learn about yourself—you guess, it’s a good thing you’ve always been known for studying, isn’t it?

your intense orgasm triggered his, a soft groan leaving his lips as uneven thrusts made sure you both were fully satisfied.

you felt fuzzy, brain completely melted under his touch. your heavy breathing mixed with his, his body fully collapsing from exhaustion. however, his weight wasn’t enough to suffocate you, so you let him stay where he was, breaking your hand from his and threading it into his damp hair.

the silence was loud—heartbeats intertwined—as you both came down, the reality about to set in.

would he push you away after this? did he even mea—

“i meant it, by the way.” your eyebrows creased. you weren’t even sure if you had imagined that. and, if you didn’t feel the rumbling of his chest on yours as he spoke, you might’ve believed it was only in your head. “be mine, okay?”

little did he know, you already were.

you whispered out a reply. “okay.”

© loserlvrss 2024 / 25. 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱.

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[tealgoat]

Fritters part 1! Dialogue by @wonder-of-the-stars !!!

Silly lil comic notes under line break

Page 1

-Added loops to loops speech bubbles because it's funny

-Odile's loops, do in fact, start on a Wednesday lolol

-The lil sketchy marks around Loop's neck and wrists are meant to imply a gradient/ they're in a weird it's clothes but also still skin phase.

Page 2

Loops hands out pose is supposed to mimic some of odile's in game sprites

Page 3

-Can you tell I've been reading dungeon meshi

-Fun fact I just used the initial thumbnail sketch I did for the fritters instead of cleaning up the sketch, I think it makes food look more natural/ better (in my style at least!!)

Page 4

-Tilted triangle panel was inspired by wonder! Thank you wonder

-Even angry loops still partially doing odile's hand pose

-Last 2 odile panels can be connected

-Random thing but I was struggling with that odile pose so much I just traced an old pic I did of loop lol (hey accidental parallels or whatever)

-This ones silly but with the last panel I thought it might be fun to have the gem Odile changes into a star post game in the frame- it's "something different" lol foreshadowing

Page 5

-I wanted to frame it as loop not directly being shown giving the peppers back/ still having the bag- do they give it back to her off screen? Let the peppers just sit there tauntingly refusing to eat them? Do they eat them when she leaves? Up to you!

-Loops pose is directly referencing one of their in game poses

Page 6

-Another in game pose

-Time has passed! This is the same day

[riahlynn101]

Mimic Wednesdays #9: "Ever Again."

I don't have much to say this week, except I hope you all enjoy <33

Trigger warnings: Implied kidnapping, captivity, implied/referenced past child abuse, childhood trauma, memory loss, and whatever The Mimic and Gregory's relationship can be classified as (father-son? Brothers? One-sided-friendship? Mentor-mentee? Captor-Captee? All of the above? A risk to national security?)

See you all next week :D!!

@gregorysarmy

(Story 2 of 14) - Next week: what if Gregory was David's half-brother.

--

A sing-song voice calls out, “nighty-night!” 

Gregory dives forward, narrowly avoiding being captured. The thing - whatever it is - laughs, floating out of sight. The constant cat-and-mouse between each generator has his heart pounding. 

But he doesn’t have time for this. Both because that thing is steadily growing bolder, and because he’s leaving as soon as the main doors open. 

He breathes a sigh of relief, spotting the second-to-last generator. He flicks the switch, running away before that thing can track him down. 

One more. 

When he snatched up the security badge - just like Freddy told him - he hadn’t expected the lights to go off. The only warning he had was the sun animatronic freaking out about the lights, and then it fell over. After that, it’s a blur of running, ducking, recharging his flashlight, and hiding (when necessary, of course).

If that thing didn’t have murderous intention in its eyes everytime it swooped down to try and catch him, Gregory would have thought this is fun. He’s always been great at winning games, especially hide and seek and tag. 

This one, however, is a bit different. 

For one thing, he doesn’t remember being dive bombed from the sky. 

For another, his “playmate” doesn’t seem particularly concerned for his safety or general wellbeing. 

A fear exists inside Gregory (piled on top of the others) that maybe there isn’t a last generator, or a way out.

Maybe Freddy just told him that for comfort, like a parent telling a child they only have to get one shot when it’s actually two. 

Maybe Freddy told him that, because, in reality, nowhere in the Pizzaplex is safe. And Gregory - for all his smarts - will be stuck running around and around until either he’s caught, or the doors open.

I’m never leaving, Gregory thinks to himself, running towards the bridge connecting the two playscapes.  I’ll be stuck here forever.

He pushes those thoughts away. It feels so unlike him, and thinking like that won’t help him find the last generator any faster. 

“One more, one more, one more,” he repeats under his breath like a mantra. It shouldn’t be this hard to find a large piece of machinery in two playscapes, and perhaps it wouldn’t be, in the light. But in the dark, being chased and taunted, it’s hard to catch your breath, let alone plan ahead more than five seconds. 

He spares a glance at his Fazwatch. Freddy promised that he would be waiting outside.

Gregory hopes, more than finding the last generator, that that’s true. That he isn’t lying. 

He needs someone right now. 

Anyone.

“Naughty boy. Naughty boy.”

Anyone but that.

He backtracks, a little, shining his flashlight into corners. The last generator remains out of reach, hidden somewhere Gregory can’t find.

He steps back onto the bridge, shining his flashlight over the playscape one last time. Before Gregory can process what happened, he’s hoisted into the air, and his flashlight clatters on the floor below. 

He screams, at least he thinks he does. It’s hard to focus on anything when Satan himself is staring into your very soul. 

He’s reminded of his own morality. Blood rushes through his ears, matching the frantic rhythm of Gregory’s heart. A drop from this height would mean a broken neck, if he’s lucky. 

In a soft but still grating voice, it says, “nighty-night. Sleep. Sleep.” 

For a moment, Gregory misses the sun animatronic. But then he remembers being carried by his armpits, like a misbehaving toddler, and the feeling is gone. 

“Let me go!” Gregory yells, struggling.

Suddenly, the drop doesn’t seem that far. Surely, he’s made of tougher stuff than flesh and bone. “Freddy! Freddy! Help me!” 

The daycare doors open slowly, dramatically, like whoever’s doing it is purposely leaving Gregory on the edge of his seat. 

He knows before he sees her that it isn’t Freddy. That doesn’t stop him from calling out for help. The moon animatronic shushes him, which only fuels Gregory to scream louder. 

It remains close to the ceiling, holding Gregory in its arms. Right now, he doesn’t care. The only thing keeping him from becoming another Faz-Ent. victim is distance. 

The rabbit lady he’s been running from this entire time (Or had he been running from Vanessa? It wouldn’t surprise him if the rabbit lady and Vanessa were one and the same. It certainly doesn’t make him feel any better that he’s going to be killed by the security guard and not some rando) skips through the open door. 

She spins around, stopping a few feet below them. Even behind a mask, Gregory can feel her staring, watching with some unreadable emotion (amusement? Sadistic joy?) He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t want to know. Gregory shudders. 

Of course, because his luck has always been thin and sparse, the moon animatronic  holding onto him starts descending from way up high. 

“Nuh…no….please….” he begs. 

It wasn’t so bad being held way up high. 

Gregory will happily take all the naps in the world, as long as this thing won’t give him up to her. 

Truth be told, he has no idea why he’s so frightened of her. She hasn’t done anything to him. All Gregory knows is that his brain feels weird around her, like tv static is buzzing around in his head, filling space. 

The moon animatronic lands gracefully in front of the rabbit lady, placing Gregory on his feet. He’s shoved forward. He trips over his feet and scrapes his hands. The rabbit lady pulls him up by the arm. 

Some small part of him, the part of him that believes everything will turn out okay, believes Freddy’s going to break down the door any minute and stop this. That he’ll be saved from…

Now that he really thinks about it, Gregory has no idea what her intentions are. Though, considering she’s flouncing through a Faz-Ent location with a bunny suit on, he’s not feeling too hot about his odds in getting out alive. 

“Are you having fun yet?” She asks, almost playful. Grabbing Gregory by his wrist, she forces him to spin in circles. By the time she stops, dropping his arm, he’s beyond dizzy. 

“We need to go,” she says after a moment of watching Gregory stumble from side to side. “He’s waiting.”

“Who?” Gregory silently prays it’s Freddy, because the alternative is another freak, or worse, an employee. Unless the rabbit lady really is Vanessa, then he gets a two-for-one deal. 

“That’s for me to know, and for you to find out.”

She grabs him by the arm again, locking one part of a pair of handcuffs around his wrist. The other part is locked around her wrist, tying them together. He’s dragged from the daycare, struggling and tugging on the handcuffs all the while. 

Gregory turns back once more. The moon animatronic stares at him, surprisingly impassive for having a forever smile etched into its face. 

The doors slam shut, sealing his fate. 

-x-x-x-

He fights all the way to the elevator, dragging his feet. The rabbit lady ignores his antics, pulling him along. 

As to be expected, Freddy is nowhere to be found. Either the rabbit lady did something, or…he lied about being on Gregory’s side. 

But he wouldn’t do that….right? 

“In here,” she says, guiding him into an elevator. It looks janky, hidden in the depths of the Pizzaplex, but Gregory is in no position to argue.

“Rabbit lady,” he starts, voice shaky, “am I-”

“Vanny,” she interrupts him.

“Hm?”

“My name is Vanny. Anyways, continue.”

“Sorry, Vanny. Am I going to die?”

Vanny sighs, placing a hand on his shoulder. She takes several seconds to answer him, staring up at the ceiling. Gregory takes note of the stitches between the head of the costume and the bodysuit. He counts seven before she answers him. 

“Yes…someday.”

The elevator jolts, creaking dangerously loud. Gregory almost tumbles to the ground, but Vanny holds on tight to his shirt collar.

“Stay with me,” she warns him. The humor in her voice is gone, and that, more than anything else so far, makes him feel like crying. 

This doesn’t feel like a game anymore. Not that it ever did, but if the one “playing” with him isn’t playing anymore, then does that mean the game is over. Does that mean he lost?

He’s guided down winding hallways. It smells like sewage and mildew and no amount of pinching his nose helps mask the scent. 

Vanny stops suddenly, squeezing his shoulder. “Stay here.” She unlocks the handcuff. “Don’t move.” She leaves him there, and he’s left to wonder what this was all for? All the running and hiding. Why would she go through all this trouble just to-

Her words echo through his head, “he’s waiting.”

There are a series of thuds, like textbooks being dropped on an old concrete floor. Gregory freezes, suddenly melted to the spot. His body tenses up more and more, the closer the sound gets. 

He sees its arm before the rest of it. A clawed metal hand connected to a long metal pole. It seems to keep going and going, and by the time it's fully in front of Gregory, it's towering over him. 

For a second, they both stare at each other. 

Gregory thinks of running, but one glance at its long legs makes him think twice. No way could he outrun it. He eyes the hands next, silently praying that it’ll make it quick. If he has to die tonight, he wants it to be swift and painless. 

The thing reaches for him, and he shuts his eyes. There’s no need to see what comes next. He doesn’t want to see what comes next. He’s sure whatever god or deity is up there would grant him the right to be a coward - just this once. 

He waits for the blow or to feel tearing or to never feel anything ever again, but to his shock Gregory feels the metal hand on his forehead, smoothing back his bangs. 

The thing chatters. It reminds Gregory of a bad connection between radio stations. That static sound that could almost be considered white noise. 

“Oh, my Gregory,” it says, scooping him up. Gregory falls limp, heart beating against his ribcage. He’s going to die, isn’t he? “You’re probably tired, aren’t you?”

Gregory can only stare at this massive thing with wide eyes. He swallows, trying to make himself talk, but it’s a fruitless effort.

“Cat got your tongue? Doesn’t matter. I know you are.” It walks further down the hall to a room exactly one door down. 

“Nuh…” he tries to formulate a response, but his body seems unwilling to give one. 

The room he’s brought to is only slightly better than the hallway. The smell of sewage and mildew isn’t as strong here. An unmade cot sits in the corner with a single blanket, pillow, and what looks like a stuffed bunny. 

There are papers hung on the walls. Each of them depicting something different. Most, if not all of them, star him and the thing carrying him, others include Vanny, and one or 

two have a familiar orange bear in them, though Freddy’s face has been slashed with what looks like several long knives.

The sight of his friend - even faceless - calms something in Gregory. There’s still hope. There has to be. This can’t be the end. 

The thing places him down on the cot. “You’ve been very naughty,” it says. Blurry memories that maybe, probably belong to Gregory flash in his mind’s eye. Memories of a woman with hair like his and a stern expression telling him something similar. “We are going to talk about this tomorrow, but it’s already late. And I’m just glad you’re home.”

Gregory does his very best to focus on his breathing. In. Hold. Out. In. Hold. Out. 

That thing leans down until they’re face to face, making it harder for Gregory to remember to breathe. It feels a little like he’s suffocating, only there’s nothing and no one doing it. It’s his own doing, and yet he can’t force himself to breathe. 

Its hand sits on his chest, pushing down. All the air Gregory’s holding is expelled, relieving him of the suffocating feeling of air. 

“There,” it says, “all better. You have to keep breathing. I can’t lose you t-” It stops itself. If Gregory wasn’t absolutely terrified of its next move, then he might have ventured to ask a follow up question of his own. “Anyways, time for bed now.”

It maneuvers Gregory like he’s little more than a rag doll, and maybe he is. He certainly feels like one, being tossed around, carried, and disregarded all night. It pulls the covers up, and it almost seems like this large, monstrous thing is tucking him in. Like….like a parent….

(Then, why does he feel scared? If this thing is always like this, then why does he want to leave so bad? What happened that made him feel this way?)

It hums - perhaps one of the thousands of songs in Faz-Ent’s library - but Gregory can’t remember the exact song. A hand brushes back his bangs once more. It leans down, and Gregory’s sure this is it. But like so many times before, he’s proven wrong. 

The feeling of something cold is pressed to his forehead, before moving on to the bunny next to him. It’s only after watching that thing press its approximation of a mouth to the bunny’s “forehead” does he realize that it was kissing him. 

“There,” it says, tucking the stuffed animal in next to Gregory. “Kisses for you and kisses for Rabbit.”

Gregory turns his head, making direct eye contact with the button eyes of the rabbit. 

A hand soothes his hair down. “Rest now.” But how can he? 

“I…I can’t,” Gregory manages to stammar out. “I’m not tired.”

It laughs, and he feels something like indignation bubble up inside him, but it could have very well been childish helplessness. It didn’t matter in the end, neither’s going to help him make it out. 

“Yes, you are,” it murmurs, tracing a clawed finger over his cheeks. It pokes his nose. “You’ve been running around like a chicken with its head cut off.”

Okay, he is, but this thing doesn’t need to know that.

Gregory nods, not agreeing, but seeing no way out of this. “Fine,” he says. 

“You say that, like you have a choice in the matter.” It boops Gregory’s nose again. “Get some sleep,” it urges, no humor in its voice. “Rest. Dream of something magical.”

It’s not much in the way of a goodnight, but he imagines it’s a kinder send off than this thing usually gives. He shuts his eyes. Maybe if he waits long enough this thing will wander off, allowing him ample time to escape. Gregory can sort of remember the way back to the elevator. 

But as he lays there, tucked into a cot, next to a stuffed bunny, he quickly realizes that this thing - whatever it is - has no plans of leaving anytime soon. 

“Oh,” it says after a long moment of silence, “did you think I was going to leave you alone after the stunt you just pulled?”

Gregory sucks in a breath, eyes squeezed shut. He doesn’t want to be awake anymore. 

“I know you’re still awake, Gregory, and I want you to know that from now on, I’m never leaving your side….

ever again.”

[magics-neptunes-things]

Open your eyes

Hi guys!

A new one, you can find the ask in here, from the prompt here :) For this one it's the number 2 and 9.

Alexia I miss you :(

Enjoy ♥

______________________________________________________________

Alexia. You’ve known her since you were a little girl. You met her when the ball she was playing with ended up in your backyard and she came looking for it, half hidden behind her father. Yours gave it back to them and the first look you exchanged with her was separated by the two pairs of legs of your fathers.

Over the years you have developed a flawless friendship, even if the life paths you have chosen are different. Alexia is a world-famous footballer, and you decided to follow your dream to become a photographer. You studied for that and you work for an agency that offers you mandates that allow you to live in a very comfortable way. And over time you have made your own customers who don't hesitate to contact you directly. Not to mention that, thanks to Alexia’s influence, the Barcelona football club calls you whenever they need official photos.

You have been present for Alexia during her career, attending her ups and downs. You were there during her various operations and Alexia convinced you to agree to participate in the report made on her, "Labor Omnia Vincit". You even gave an interview, some of which was broadcast on that occasion. The title "Childhood Friend and Photographer" made you laugh, because Alexia is much more than that to you.

The truth is, you’re completely in love with her.

You couldn't say how long, but in your opinion always even if you didn't understand the signs right away in your teenage naivety. Lost in your sexuality, you first tried to date boys, before turning to girls. Alexia never showed any signs of attraction to you, so you desperately tried to stifle your feelings for her in other people’s arms when Alexia was cooing with someone else.

It never worked out.

In fact, you’ve been single for about four years now and you’re resigned to ending up an old maid in your apartment with your two cats.

You had the misfortune to confide in Mapi about your feelings during an evening a little too alcoholic in which Alexia didn't participate, And since, she reminds you regularly that you should do something to get out of this situation. Alexia never being very clear about it, the tattooed doesn't really know what are the feelings of the blonde for you. But she told you that anyway, if Alexia has romantic feelings for you, seeing you with someone after so many years could make her react.

You don’t believe it for a second, it never has before so you don’t see why it would change today.

********

"You have to do something Y/N, it’s no longer possible" sighs Mapi.

She’s been watching you nibble the black straw of your cocktail for longs minutes, looking gloomy. Alexia has obviously caught the eye of a girl tonight, with whom she has been talking for quite a while.

"What?" You mutter mechanically in return, not listening to her at all, without leaving Alexia’s eyes.

"I feel like I’m having a drink with Wednesday from the Adams Family" complains Mapi

"Let me guess, I should "Try another girls"? "

You use your fingers to mimic quotes, making Mapi’s rolls eyes.

"Clearly. I can feel your tension from here, you need to get laid."

"Oh fuck off Maria" you sigh as you let yourself go against the backrest of your chair. "Just go with your girlfriend and leave me alone"

You finally turned your eyes away from your best friend, but that’s only because she started looking at you. I’d rather swallow your straw right away than be caught looking at her.

After raising her middle finger in your direction, Mapi actually decides to join Ingrid on the dance floor. This doesn't prevent her from fondly tapping on your shoulder when she gets up.

You sigh and decide it’s time to go home. Alexia is no longer where she was and you’re not sure your nerves will stand to see her exchanging kisses with someone else. But when you get up, you are suddenly face with young woman who looks at you with a hesitant look.

"Hi" said the young woman timidly with an uncertain air.

"Hi?"

Her timid smiles is strange, but you let her explain the reason of her sudden presence next to you.

"Um… it’s probably a little weird, but your friend over there told me you haven’t stopped looking at me all night, and you're like kind of cute so…"

You follow the direction she shows you with her head, but you figured it out before your eyes fell on Mapi. The spaniard addresses you a big smile and a sign of the hand, then a wink too exaggerated. You hold back a sigh and turn your attention to the young woman in front of you. Blonde, with some tattoos, taller than you and green eyes. You weren’t looking at her, but you see very well what Mapi wanted to do. She is unbearable.

"Were you going to go home?" continues the blonde, looking at your purse in your hand and your jacket on your shoulders.

"Um… I was, to be really honest with you"

"Would you mind staying while I offer you at least one drink? Not for long, I swear."

You hesitate for a split second, looking at her thoughtfully. She looks nice and deep down she's not responsible of you being desperately in love with your best friend. You briefly bite the inside of your lip before deciding to accept.

"Great!"

After taking your order, Erika (who just told you her name) hurries to the bar. You sit back at the table, waiting for her return and you thank her with a big smile when she's back. You realize with a certain surprise that you actually get along pretty well. Erika has an easy conversation and you catch yourself laughing at what she tells you. If you don’t notice Alexia watching you from the bar where she’s leaning, Mapi doesn’t miss that little detail. Despite Ingrid who asks her to take care of her affairs.

You’ve been talking to Erika for 30 minutes when Alexia comes to sit beside you, putting her hand on your shoulder when she sits next to you.

"Oh hi. I wondered where you’ve been" you smile at her

"At the bar" mumble Alexia.

"Hum, okay" you answer before turning to Erika. "Ale, this is Erika. Erika, this is..."

"Alexia Putellas. I know" Erika smiles in a friendly way before reaching out to Alexia.

Alexia grabs her hand and smiles, but that’s not the kind of smile you like about Alexia. It’s the same kind of smile as when she forces herself on photos, not those that make her eyes shine. You wish you could question her, but you don’t see yourself doing it when Erika is with you.

"Do you want another drink?" Erika offers, putting her hand on yours.

You accept with a smile and she smiles back before getting up from her chair to go to the bar.

"Is everything okay?" You take the opportunity to ask Alexia.

"Why wouldn’t I be okay?"

The answer surprises you, you didn't expect a question back to yours, to be completely honest. Her gaze plunges into yours and you have the impression that it pierces you. You have well understood that something bothers her and as you are about to ask her if it's in relation to the girl with whom she was talking, Mapi lets herself fall loudly in a chair beside you.

"Well then? Where’s your pretty blonde, Y/N?"

"She went back to get us a drink. Besides, wait until I take care of your case" you add pointing an accusing finger at her.

"Oh, no need to thank me, it’s all natural" grins Mapi.

"I hate you" you mumble

"Besides, if I were you, I would join her rather than let her come back to the three of us. Kind of weird to find herself with your two friends."

You also don’t see the annoyed look Alexia gives her, but you’re not sure it’s a good idea. But Mapi doesn’t give you much choice again, forcing you to get up from your chair and push you in her direction. You end up going there and Mapi doesn't wait a single second to turn in Alexia's direction.

"What was that?"

"What?" Alexia groans.

"Your behavior Ale. You were in a good mood until Y/N started talking to Erika"

Alexia answers nothing, shrugging her shoulders before crossing her arms over her chest. Now she's the one looking gloomy.

"Wait, where did she go?"

Alexia’s frenetic gaze travels through the room without being able to find you, which annoys her as much as it worries her. While she's about to get up from her chair to go looking for you, Mapi puts a hand on her arm to prevent her from doing so.

"Alexia."

"You don’t know who this girl is and you’re pushing her in her arms," Alexia abruptly says. "She’s probably not good enough for her, since when do we meet great people in nightclubs? Y/N need someone who bought her flower, take her on romantic dates and who will take care of her. That's not the kind of person you met in here."

Mapi remains silent, for so long that Alexia ends up ripping her eyes from the room to report it on the tattooed girl. Who looks at her with a perplexed look.

"I can’t tell if you’re lying to me or if you’re lying to yourself"

Although Alexia’s jaw is tight, Mapi sees her move distinctly when she looks for the right words to respond.

"I don’t know what you mean"

Mapi snorts at such bad faith, gently shaking her head. Since the captain decided to be stubborn, Mapi decides to talk the facts.

"You’re in love with her, Alexia"

Mapi’s tone is accusatory but Alexia answers nothing to it, her gaze stubbornly fixed somewhere in the room and her arms still crossed.

"Why are you reacting like this? Why is this a problem, Ale?"

"She’s my best friend, Maria. She’s known me since we were six"

"Yes, and what?"

"She’ll never look at me that way. I don’t know when my feelings have changed, but I can’t tell her."

"But why not?" Mapi almost shout

"Forget it" Alexia warns.

Mapi rolls her eyes and decides to let it go for the moment, plunging the two friends into a silence for several minutes. If Alexia remains silent, always looking for you everywhere in the establishment, so Mapi takes the opportunity to check that no one tries to approach Ingrid.

You end up coming back about thirty minutes after Alexia lost sight of you. You’re alone, but she doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or not. At any moment you'll tell them you’re going to leave with Erika.

"Where were you?" asks dryly Alexia, looking at you

"Um… in the bathroom?"

"What? With Erika?" Mapi smirks, almost jumping in her chair. "Did you sleep with her?"

"In the bathroom of a bar?"

You bow an eyebrow with a grimace and the shadow of a smile is born on Alexia’s face, despite her arms still crossed on her chest. Mapi shrugs her shoulders with an innocent face and you don’t want to know what kind of things she made in nightclub's bathroom.

"Where is she then?" insists Mapi

"She’s gone home" you shrug

"Without you? Do you even have her number? Did she kiss you at least?"

You blush and it's finally Alexia who puts an end to your ordeal. You are grateful to her, even if you don't know that it's also to put an end to hers that the Catalan decides to intervene.

"Mapi, stop. Now. I’ll go home too, I’ll take you home, Y/N?"

"With pleasure" you smile affectionately at her.

You get your jacket and purse back for good this time and say goodbye to the other girls before following Alexia to the exit.

You smile when you feel her put a hand between your shoulder blades to guide you to her car, even if you know perfectly where it's parked since you arrived together. It's in silence that you sit in her car and Alexia starts it.

"You didn’t answer Mapi’s question earlier"

Alexia’s observation makes you turn your head in her direction, whereas you were lost in the contemplation of the buildings of Barcelona by night.

"And you blushed. You kissed her?"

You sigh softly before shaking your head negatively. You’re not sure that talking to Alexia is the right thing to do, since it’s exactly because of her that things didn’t go further with Erika. When she tried to kiss you, you panicked and left.

"No" you end up answering, looking out the window with a new found passion.

You miss the relief that passes on Alexia’s face when she hear your answer. She doesn’t need to know why, just to know that nothing happened is enough for her. So it's with a little more joy that she brings you home and with a real smile that she accepts when you offer her to sleep at your home again that night.

"What about you? You didn't tell me what happened with your beautiful stranger" you point out once installed on your sofa with a bottle of water in hand and a shit telenovela on TV.

"Because there is nothing to tell. We just talked"

You just hums, leaning your head against her shoulder. You sigh with happiness when she puts her arm around your waist and you don't hesitate to cuddle up against her. If you have to keep your feelings quiet, at least you have the chance to find some physical comfort from her.

"So it wasn't because of her you were upset?"

You feel Alexia lean slightly against you and you cross her eyes when you raise your head to be able to look at her. There is something special in her eyes and you can't say what it is. It's a first in your life, you like to say that you're one of the people who knows Alexia the best.

"No" answer simply Alexia at first. "I just... I don't know. It was weird seeing you with another girl again"

You shrug, not realizing what she really mean. You are too used to silence your feelings and it has been many years since you have well integrated that Alexia sees you only as a friend.

"I’m not sure I’ll see her again anyway"

"Good. She’s probably not good enough for you"

You answer with a simple shrug again, putting your head back on her shoulder. You don’t realize that Alexia is frying her brain, trying to extricate herself from the conversation you’re in. Seeing you with someone else made her realize that it was time she tried something before it was too late. But she doesn’t know how to make you understand things without being too shocking or surprising for you.

"Maybe I should try Tinder or something" you mumble.

"Don't be stupid. You're better than that"

Alexia’s answer is dry, but you don't even react, imagining that it's only the disgust that this kind of application gives her that speaks. And not the idea of imagining you in the arms of someone else who annoys her prodigiously.

"I don’t have many other solutions left" you point out to her when you stand up to put your bottle of water on the table.

"Maybe you should just… open your eyes?"

"What do you mean, open my eyes?" you ask while arching an eyebrow.

Suddenly, Alexia decides that she's tired of this conversation that goes around again and again. That seems to lead you nowhere. She doesn't want to rush you but gently make you realize the reality of her feelings for you. But she feels like you will never understand.

So, she takes advantage of the fact that you are sitting and no longer lying against her to catch the necklace that she offered you for your birthday, using her index finger to attract you against her. Without you really understanding how, her lips are against yours and the way you feel is even better than you’ve ever imagined.

Alexia’s lips are soft, as you dreamed about it. They taste like her lip balm and not alcohol since she has not consumed it all evening. You briefly wonder if yours tastes like mojito, before this question evaporates when you feel her tongue caressing your lower lip.

From there, the kiss becomes a little more intense and you forget everything else. You’re not even sure you can identify yourself if you’ve been ask when the kiss stop so you can both breath again. You keep your eyes closed for a few seconds, to soak up as much as possible of this moment and not forget the slightest detail.

When you open your eyes, Alexia’s eyes are looking at you with a multitude of emotions. She seems to be as breathless as you. Which is probably a good news, thus testifying that you aren't the only one to be under the blow of this kiss. Moreover you don't fight yourself for long before you let your desire to start again. So you bend in her direction for a new kiss.

Alexia answers it, but takes off from you too fast for your taste. You hear her giggle softly when you whine and your lips chase hers, but you step back when you feel her hand resting on your stomach to stop you. Frowning, you look at her wondering what is more important than enjoying these new sensations.

"I just… before I go on… I mean… it’s not just like that, right? Does it mean anything to you too?" ramble Alexia.

"Of course you do" you smile softly at the blonde’s hesitation "You always meant the world to me, Ale."

"Perfect" smiled Alexia before leaning over you for a new kiss. "Now we can kiss again."

And you do. This one won’t be interrupted by thoughts of one or the other. After all, you’ll have plenty of time to discuss all this tomorrow.

[dadsbongos]

for honor. and duty.

3.2k words / warnings - forced breeding, injections, drugging, unhappy end, reader is written as a woman

summary - it's his job to carry on the bloodline, and its your job to love Satoru Gojo; thankless as both gigs are.

kinktober: day nine - breeding, aphrodisiac ~~~

Satoru was disinterested in fathering children. 

While he loved teaching, and teasing Megumi throughout the years was a joy, raising an entire person from scratch? An unnecessary addition to his plate he would rather be without. Besides, he was only scratching at his late 20s, why should he rush into having babies?

His feelings were not hidden, either. Everything about Satoru screamed childfree. Most respected the decision; for the Gojo clan to be written into history with Satoru as the cataclysmic final bang -- the sole pillar maintaining his clan’s status in the big three. It would be an honor and a pleasure, were he humble enough to silently accept both.

But Satoru loves whining.

“Too bad the Six Eyes and Limitless will be totally lost to time when I die…” he pouts every time he says it. Purely to gloat that not only does he have both, but he will be the last one in history, “If only someone could take them off my hands, huh?”

Maybe he should’ve just shut his mouth.

… 

“Why don’t you donate, then?” Shoko snarks one random Wednesday, finally fed up with Satoru’s haughty huffs this particular lunch break, “I’m sure your swimmers wouldn’t be unwelcome if they could make another special grade.”

“Gross, Sho,” you gag, then pointing at the man, “Don’t respond to that.”

Predictably, you’re ignored, “But who would be worthy, Shoko? Huh?” Satoru snickers when you gag even louder, “It’d have to be another sorcerer, you know? Can’t just put a super baby in any ole lady.”

“I’m sure you could find someone for a good price,” Shoko leans onto her palm, “Some high up clan girl. A Zen’in? It’d make her life better by getting out of that place, I bet.”

“Can we not talk about this while I’m eating, please?” you gesture to your lunch, though you hardly have the appetite for it now anyway. 

“You can say you’re jealous,” Satoru teases into your ear, laying his head on your shoulder. There’s no warmth of skin to feel, and if you closed your eyes the weight wouldn’t be reasonable for a human head either -- much lighter. Airier. As if he isn’t there at all.

“I’m not jealous of not being your incubator, Gojo.”

“Harsh!” he dramatically clutches over his heart, sucking in a breath like he’d been stabbed, “What happened to first name privileges?”

“Revoked,” you flick his head knowing it’ll never land. Knowing he’ll never feel you.

Shoko simpers, long nails tapping against the creaky break room table. When you shoot over a quizzical glance, those nails stretch over her lips; covering so you alone can make out what she mouths: ‘jealous’. 

You mimic the motion to mouth back: ‘fuck you’.

“Hey,” Satoru wraps both arms around you (no warmth, no weight), “Secrets among friends is asking for trouble.”

“Donating out soldier serum is asking for trouble,” Shoto snickers.

“You suggested it!” 

You roll your eyes at the pair, hoping this was the last you would hear of Satoru’s semen stumper, “Well, I’d love to stick around, but you two are disgusting.”

“Boo,” Shoko wads up the shrink of her microwave meal and tosses it at your head.

“Boo!” Satoru echoes the sentiments louder, fingers clinging to your uniform until his long arms can stretch no further.

“Yeah, whatever!” you holler back, “As if the higher ups will even let you just donate!”

Those traditional old heads will want a “proper” heir, and there is no way Satoru would get suckered into that.

It’s part of why loving him is so difficult.

Because loving Satoru means having to share him: always. He is overwhelmingly busy between his work as a sorcerer and his passion as a mentor. Your love for him will forever be yours to own, but Satoru himself could never be.

Perhaps that’s what Suguru realized when he tried years ago, when Satoru was always gone and the space between them only grew. Perhaps that’s why he decided to close Satoru out completely.

“You actually gonna donate sperm?” Shoko returns her tired gaze to her friend, quirking a brow when he laughs and shakes out his phone.

“Nah, the geezers just keep pestering me,” he mimics a flapping mouth with his hand, “Blah, blah spreading the genes- blah, blah good of the clan. As if they care about the good of the clan.”

“They might,” she snorts, clapping a hand over her mouth to hide a grin.

Both of them know full well otherwise.

“I’m just gonna tell them,” he re-pockets his phone, purposefully ignoring the buzzing call of Gakuganji, “Face to face this time, so they can’t ignore it.”

“Ooh, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“What’re you gonna say, big man?”

Satoru smiles bright, all cocky and sure and cool, “‘There is no way that you bags of bones will ever convince me to have kids.’”

. . .

A cold, soaked cotton pad is swiped over the triangle of your inner elbow, disinfecting the area before introducing a syringe.

You once asked Satoru why he bothered remaining a sorcerer under Jujutsu Tech when he obviously hates the higher-ups. His response, of course, was lackluster and chock full of holes (“Nobody else can do what I do,” he rolls his hand laxly, “Also, it's the only thing that doesn’t make me so bored I contemplate blowing my brains out.”).

You remember rolling your eyes with a single word reply, deeply unimpressed with his typical lack of tact (“Inspiring.”). Similarly, you remember thinking that you wanted to stay by his side, despite his annoying insensitivity.

When you got the panicked call from Shoko, you considered it a test. The universe cruelly examining your dedication. Ever the fool, you sped for the address she spat over the phone to prove yourself.

Now, you can’t even have the shame of reconsideration.

The bedroom has a camera in the far right corner, on the wall opposite a large observation mirror. Men in white coats pace back and forth, scribbling notes and judging every exact twinge in Satoru’s muscles. Satoru is positioned on a king bed with white sheets, hands latched behind his back in solid shackles with a radiant lock.

“He’s not hurt, right?”

“No,” the lead man steadies a needle to the sterilized juncture, “We never want to hurt Gojo,” his eyes flick up to the pinch in your face as the needle punctures your skin, “Or you.”

“He looks miserable…”

Three doctors turn to you, glaring. The man administering a blue, gluey serum into your veins sighs loudly, “Yes, well… you will be, too…”

The doctor folding your discarded clothes on the left scoffs, shaking his head.

Sometimes you spend so much time with Satoru that you forget how mean men can be.

“It should begin taking effect in just minutes,” the man steps back, letting one of his many assistants undo your tethers, “Mostly an additive,” he clarifies, “You don’t really need it, your stamina doesn’t matter much to us here. You can head in for him now.”

Your stamina may not matter to them, but you’d personally like to be awake as long as possible for this.

“Did you tell him it was me?”

Your question is ignored. So you step through the men and creep into the other room. Casting a curious glance over your shoulder to confirm the study window only reflects yourself. And Satoru.

Satoru.

Satoru.

The name is saccharine sweet in your mind. His head twists in your direction, blindfold gone and eyes comically wide. His eyes are dimmer than usual, though that isn’t very surprising when you were explicitly told the drug dampened cursed energy.

Your eyes rake over his body -- red and writhing and naked. Satoru’s gaze falls from your face to your chest to between your thighs, eyes widening further. You know he’s had partners before (lots of them, in fact), so the shock is unwarranted. Unless, of course, it’s because it’s you and not the random woman from a high up clan he assumed it’d be.

A stern voice breaks out from the far right corner of the room.

“He is willing.”

You gnaw your bottom lip anxiously, squinting through harsh overhead lights to the two-way mirror over your shoulder. Then, your eyes return to Satoru, knelt on the mattress and bare -sans the stocks cuffed around his wrist.

“Satoru…?” your face boils, gut fairing no better. Veins direct gutters for the goopy blue in your system, and it's pumping fast.

He copies your quiet, uttering your name through the still observation room, “You?”

“Is it…” you crawl onto the bed, convinced that his skin on yours could cure the overwhelming swelter in the room, “Am I okay?”

He nods limply, hair falling into crystalline eyes, “It’s you.”

Bright fluorescents dim to a more bearable, faint glow. Swallowing the last of your reservations with the swell in your throat, you turn your back to Satoru -- both knees firm on the plush mattress. 

Though his chest beats in sporadic, panicked breaths, Satoru’s lean hips are still -- perfect for reaching between your thighs and grasping his stood cock. He clenches his angel eyes shut to your flesh, but the waves and dips of your cursed energy stubbornly persist in his vision. He sees the wavering as your lust grows, he knows his is the same. Worse, even. So swallowed up in his belly by enforced desire that a stable flow is impossible to maintain.

Satoru is easy in your grasp, slipping inside you with whimpered pleas and huffs. You curve him into you, backing onto Satoru until your soft flesh is flush with his. Heat tickles up your spine, chilling at your neck and causing a rabid shiver all down your shoulders. 

Leaning forward onto your elbows, you slip over Satoru’s cock -- sliding along him with manufactured fervor (if you focus hard enough, you can still feel the needle incision stretch in your arm). 

The stocks rattle as Satoru jerks forward with a thick groan, hips now eager to pap, pap pap! onto yours. Bonds creak, splinters wailing in protest of his strength as he claws out to reach you. Satoru throws his head back, every sensitive nerve set ablaze just by the warmth and squeeze of your cunt.

His shortburst thrusts don’t dig far enough even though you’re kissing hips every time -- he feels overstimulated and yet unfulfilled. He needs to have both hands bound on your hips -squeezing the flesh on your bones and flipping and bending and making you keen under his lithe fingers.

He cannot discern if the need is driven by drooly chemical injection or longstanding affection, and he isn’t bothering himself with the question now. 

“Wanna touch,” he mumbles pathetically, red in the face and sweat beading down his forehead, white bangs slick to the skin, “Need it…” he gasps as you arch, stretching one of your legs to curl around his thigh, “Need to touch!"

As if spontaneously occurring to the crew that Satoru is pleading with them, the leading man jingles over with his key. He looks at the sedation team for extra assurance before unlocking Satoru’s stocks. 

Once the bonds clatter to the floor, Satoru is raking his nails across your body -- thighs, stomach, back, anywhere he can reach he’s eagerly clawing. Pulling and pushing before he collapses over you, his chest scorching your back. He stretches his neck to press his cheek to yours, lips loose and babbling,

“So good, so good, love how you feel -- wanna fuck you,” his brain must be falling through his lips because he seems to forget he’s already fucking you, “Wanna fuck you, wanna fuck you, wanna fuck you,” he lays sloppy kisses over your shoulder, teething at the sensitive bone, “Gonna let me cum in you, pretty girl? Yeah? Gonna make me a daddy, yeah?”

Hanging one arm below, he swirls the soft pads of his fingers over your clit -- soaked with the syrup his cock fucks free. His large hand expands over the pouch of your tummy to snugly press his thumb into your doughy skin; thumping where he’s battering your insides.

“Feel me there, mama? S’wet ‘n’ desperate, you want me bad,” he giggles deliriously, humping at your sex in plasticine frenzy before twitching to completion.

Satoru thinks he could go all day.

Thick arms tied around your waist, keeping your chest bare to his with both knees crimped over Satoru’s shoulders. His overconfidence proves itself as he thrusts up into you, lips pressing wetly onto yours while drooling out affectionate slurs,

“Best girl, pretty and hot and so fuckin’ wet for me, aren’t you? You love me, sweet girl? I think you do- know you do.”

Satoru stills only when more cum is pumped into your womb, pitiful mewls bobbing the apple of his throat.

You’re nodding with a heavy crown, forehead thumping into his sweaty collarbones and biting cresents in his biceps with your nails, “Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh - love you, ‘Toru! Love you so much…!”

Nuzzling along your flaming cheek, Satoru wriggles you loose just to flip you around to kneel in the sheets.

“I’m tired,” he muses, fingers dancing in the baby hairs at the base of your neck, “How about you do something, princess?”

You groan and pout, but don’t disobey.

Your knees are tingling and arms shaking as you twist to nestle against Satoru. Stretching back, you splay your palms over his broad chest to balance over his standing cock; then reach between your spread legs to grasp his erection. Skin soft and warm in your palm, he whimpers at the contact and throws his head back into the plush white pillow. Snowy hair tousled against the case, hips twitching up in you.

His cock bumps against your clit in his desperation and the sensation makes you clamp your knees around his waist tighter. You’re all heavy breaths and whines by the time you finally sink base-down. His cock feels hot and thick inside you, you’re not sure if it's all the eyes or whatever they stuck in your arm or the fact you’re with Satoru but your entire body is simmering.

Satoru’s hands unwind from the sheets to cling around your hips, forcefully rocking you down on him: as if to grind both your bones into paste. Cool air catches in the back of his swollen throat, your cunt wet and swallowing him back in as he tries slipping out. He lifts his head -jaw limping open and drool pooling around his raw-bitten lips- just to watch as he lifts and drops you over his cock.

Clumsily, he jerks his knees up and feet flat on the bed as the lava scorching through his veins inspires him to fuck you faster. Sweat beading and swamping all along his hairline and joints, leaving his skin sticky and sucking against yours with every thrust. Satoru’s fingers squeeze harshly around the fat of your hips, marking the skin with plum stains in the shape of his hand. If a baby isn’t enough, then these bruises surely will be bountiful evidence of your tryst.

Suddenly, Satoru sits up fully, lips pressing into your shoulder before he stabs into bone and flesh with his teeth. His arms swiftly move to curl around your waist, flushing your back to his chest as he pumps into you. One of his hands finds your breast, squishing the swells by the handful, and the other hand swooping to toy with your clit. He works slow circles into quicker swishes, thrusts speeding as the heat climbs and climbs from where he’s inside you up to your necks. Suffocating. Enveloping. 

Ragged breaths pull with terrible effort from both you and Satoru. Wet slaps of skin and syrupy squelching echoing in the otherwise still room. Oddly, the sound is far from grotesque, instead spurring another sweetened gush around Satoru. The dirty, primal nature far overshadows the lurking men in white coats around the edges of the room.

You can almost pretend you’re wrapped around Satoru for real pleasure rather than duty.

Again, Satoru sloppily mouths at your skin, from the bend in your shoulder along your neck and unto the softness of your jaw. Arms clenching around your waist until you’re practically immobile in his embrace, bouncing along his cock only because he puppeteers you to do so. 

Satoru moans hotly against the slope of your neck, licking the sweat off your skin just because he can. You lean into the coolness of Satoru’s tongue as your gut swirls and tightens before you’re seizing in the man’s grasp. His gaping mouth is pressed against your collarbone, slobber inking across your tit and down your arm. He hugs you tighter and soaks in full the clench of your orgasm, continuing to lathe his fingers over your clit until you’re jerking and huffing in overstimulation.

You think you hear him muttering (you hope you hear him muttering), “Thank you, thank you, thank you...”

The unbearable heat is replaced by normal, merely uncomfortable heat. Satoru cuddles you against him still as he plugs you with his cum.

Soft murmurs float back into your ears, men stretching necks to gaze at the both of you and whisper amongst themselves. Satoru lazily drags the sheets high over your chest and settles back against the steely headboard. 

He yelps, back arching and eyes wide, sitting upright from the board.

“What…?” you groan, exhaustion overtaking you -- limbs numb and strewn out uselessly.

“It’s cold,” he grumbles into your ear, yawning and laying against the metal headboard again (this time prepared for the stinging temperature change), “Be nice to me.”

Weakly, you make a sound of protest from the back of your throat. Brain too fried to form words.

Satoru caresses his fingers gently over your stomach, gaze fluttering to the labcoats stiffly remaining in the room. They put much effort into avoiding his stare, heads kept low and ducking behind their collars. Rolling onto his side, Satoru keeps you caged in his arms while shielding you from the mens’ stares. 

He soothes his nails along the bulb of your cheek, six eyes searing through every layer of skin and muscle down to the beating of your heart. He knows, of course, that it beats for him.

Which makes him feel sick, beneath exasperated euphoria, because he knows why you’re here.

He knows the only way to give it back is with a baby neither of you really want.

[kathegoose]

now... make the towel fall

context you're not going to see anything interesting i don't even draw his mimicloaca that defined

[madebycloud]

Melting

wednesday addams x fem!reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you went trick or treating with your girlfriend. warnings/themes: fluff, soft!wednesday (ooc eheh), halloween, trick-or-treating, making out words: 1.8k

'Tis the witching season! 

The whole neighborhood is in a festive mood, with ghouls and ghosts lurking around, kids dressed up as their favorite or the scariest characters. 

Now, there's someone who couldn't care less about all the hoopla. 

You know Wednesday doesn't like to be all sunshine and rainbows, but secretly, you've always wished she would let her guard down and have some fun. 

“It's overrated,” she scoffs. But if there's one thing that can sway her, it's you. 

The nostalgia. You missed those carefree days when your only worry was scoring as much candy as possible in one night. And now you have the perfect opportunity to go back to your child self and relive those memories. 

“Pleeeeeeaaaaase Wednesday,” you whine, dropping to your knees and clasping your hands in front of her. 

She doesn't bat an eye. She just continues to write, her fingers moving across the typewriter. 

“Please baby, please love, please,” you try again, pulling out all the stops—cute silly nicknames, puppy dog eyes that you know she secretly adores. “It'll be super fun.” 

Finally, she stops writing. She lifts her head and turns to face you. She pauses for a long moment, considering your plea. “Fine. But only on one condition,” she starts. “I know it's important to you—so I'll indulge your request. This is just a one-time thing. We won't be making this a habit.” 

“Just... once?” 

“Just once,” she repeats. 

You think for a moment. “...okay.” You nod. “But I'll choose the costume.” 

She raises an eyebrow. “Fine, no funny business. Let's make this quick and clean, understood?” 

“Understood.” You grin.

—

“Hey there, Mario!” you exclaim with an exaggerated Italian accent while waving your hands around, trying to mimic how he does it. “It's-a-me, Luigi, your lovable sidekick!” 

“It's-a-me, Luigi? I don't know which I hate more—my ridiculous costume or your ridiculous sense of humor.”

Her eyes narrow as she looks down at the garish plumber's costume she's forced to wear. She even has to wear a fake mustache. “I can't believe I let you convince me to wear this ridiculous costume.”

You shrug nonchalantly, ignoring the daggers she's sending your way. “Don't worry, no one will recognize you as Wednesday with this get-up.” You wink, but she's having none of it. “Besides, this is just a 'one-time' thing, right?”

She groans. “Just make sure you carry this, you have a stronger arm.” With a huff, she hands you the pumpkin. “After all, you're the one who suggested this fiasco, so the least you could do is carry the stupid thing.”

Her hand snakes around your wrist. Her grip is so tight you can feel it even through your gloves. 

You both made your way to Jericho, the streets were alive with kids in crazy costumes running around, laughing and shouting as they made their way to different houses. The streets are lined with jack-o'-lanterns and spider webs. 

Suddenly, you spot a house that looks amazing. There are a few children waiting outside, excitedly chattering as they anticipate a chance to fill their buckets with candy.

“Let's try that one,” you say, pointing to the house. “They look like they're giving out some good treats.”

Wednesday just nods and crosses her arms, not seeming interested in going with you to get candies. “I'll just stay here,” she insists.

“Are you sure?” you ask, pausing to look at her for a moment.

She simply nods, waiting for you to get your candies. You give her a smile and head towards the house. You ring the doorbell and wait for someone to answer. A woman with a warm smile opens the door.

“Trick or treat!” you say, holding your pumpkin out.

However, the woman looks at you with disdain. “Aren't you a little too old for this?”

The smile slips from your face as you realize what she means. But before you can say anything else, she closes the door in your face. You stand there, stunned, staring at the closed door. 

That was rude.

You return to Wednesday, shoulders slumping as you hold up your empty pumpkin.

She looks at you, raising an eyebrow, as if to ask what happened.

You scratch the back of your neck and frown. She can almost see the smoke coming out of your ears. “She... she said I was too old for this.”

You can tell she's angry at the way you were treated, and you secretly hope she doesn't plan on getting back at the woman for her rudeness. She can't believe the audacity of that woman, as if there's an age limit for having fun.

Still, you don't let the incident put a damper on the rest of your night.

“It's fine, there's still a lot of houses we can try again,” you say, grabbing her arms and looking around for another house to approach.

But people keep telling you that you're too old for Halloween and refuse to give you candy.

Wednesday senses your disappointment and starts coming up with elaborate plans to avenge the people who have denied you treats. She seems determined to make them pay for their deeds, yet you keep trying to convince her to just move on and keep searching for sweets.

Just as you were about to give up, you came across a house with the porch light off, but you could hear giggling coming from inside. 

This time, Wednesday joins you in trick-or-treating.

Together, you knock on the door and a person in a ghost costume stands in the doorway, holding a bowl of candy. 

“Trick or treat,” you say, holding out your pumpkin for a sweet.

Wednesday's stare serves as a warning to the person not to disappoint you or suffer the consequences.

The man hesitates before finally grabbing a handful of candy from the bowl and thrusting it into your pumpkin, his hands shaking with fear.

You thank them, and Wednesday gives you a smile as you walk away. “See? Things aren't so bad after all.”

Wednesday rolls her eyes. “Let's just keep going,” she says, before pushing you forward towards the next house.

—

You were walking back from trick-or-treating, your pumpkin filled to the brim with sweets and goodies. 

“Let's go back,” Wednesday mumbles. Her hand slips into your biceps, yet she hardly even notices.

You nod, prepared to return home. However, before you can leave, you hear a voice from behind you. 

“Wednesday Addams?!” the boy says in shock, recognizing her beneath the Mario costume. 

“Oh, for Christ's sake,” Wednesday mutters. She can't believe someone recognized her in this stupid, ridiculous Mario costume. She can swear in her life that she's never felt so stupid.

You turn to see a boy dressed in a brightly colored insect costume, his antennae bobbing as he waves at both of you. “Hey Eugene!” 

Wednesday narrows her eyes. “What are you doing here, Eugene?”

“I came to get some candy!” He replies eagerly, his eyes sparkling, but then his eyes widen. “Wait... is that really you... Wednesday?” he asks, taking a step forward. 

Wednesday clenches her jaw and you stifle a laugh, amused by her reaction. You offer Eugene some candy from your pumpkin, and he excitedly accepts it, thanking you.

“Eugene, can you take a picture of us?” you request, handing him your phone. 

Wednesday snaps her head in your direction, her eyebrows furrowing as she glares at you. She's just about lost it. She swore in her mind that she will never take a picture wearing this ridiculous costume.

You flung your arm around her and gave a peace sign as Eugene held up your phone. You chuckle and give Wednesday's waist a reassuring squeeze.

“Three, two...”

Wednesday knows she will be miserable. But she looks at your smile and realizes that, despite her aversion to the costume, she doesn't want to ruin your fun. So she reluctantly struck a peace sign, hoping that no one would recognize her under that ridiculous mustache.

“One!” the flash flickers, and the photo is captured. 

She can't deny the warmth in her chest as she watches the picture saved to your phone.

—

Your feet are starting to feel tired after walking so much. Eager to rest your legs, the two of you make your way over to a nearby bench, tucked away amidst the shadows of the trees. 

Wednesday is now holding the pumpkin-shaped basket full of sweets while you gaze up at the stars in the sky. She pulls out one of the candies and pops it into her mouth.

“Taste good?” You turn to look at her. 

“Tastes like poison,” she teases before popping it into her mouth.

You can't help but stare at her lips. Why did her lips look like they were begging to be kissed?

“Do you want one?” Wednesday asks, seemingly reading your thoughts. 

You're too stunned to speak, but a soft “yes” managed to escape your lips. 

Smile curves on her lips, as if she knew exactly what she's doing. She offers the candy before you swallow it whole, savoring the sweetness on your tongue. 

A glance at her lips and then back at her eyes tells her everything she needs to know.

Before you knew it, Wednesday leans in to share the sweet with you, her lips soft and supple on yours, the taste of candy still lingering on your tongue.

When you finally pull away, you're left weak in the knees and breathless.

Wednesday's lips parted slightly, her breath brushing against your cheek. You lean in again, but she stops you with a hand on your chest.

“One condition,” she whispers.

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

“I get to choose the costume next year.”

“We're going to trick or treat again next year?” you ask, grinning. “Fine,” you concede, “your choice of costume next year then.”

With Wednesday's permission granted, you lean in for another kiss, this time lingering even longer than before.

But you pull away, teasing her. “Wait.”

“What now?”

“Well, I was thinking we could dress up as Remy and his human companion, Alfredo from Ratatouille.”

Her eyes narrow, annoyed at your ridiculous choice.

“Okay, I admit, that was a terrible idea, but what about SpongeBob and Patrick? or I can go as Squidward, and we can be rivals instead,” you suggest, desperate to find a costume she'll actually like.

You can see the corner of her lips twitching up into a smile. “You did not just suggest that.”

“Oh yes I did.”

“I'm not dressing up as a rat with a chef's hat next year, that's for sure. And you're not going to make me dress up as a sponge either.”

You smirk. “Maybe not, but I'll still find a way to make you dress up as something ridi—”

Before you finish your sentence, Wednesday's lips are on yours once more, drowning out your words. Her fingers glide down your jaw as she draws you in closer.

“That's it,” she whispers between kisses. “You're stuck with me now.”

And you wouldn't want it any other way.

note: me

[pineonthehillside]

The first completed artwork (collab) this year was a birthday present for a friend from the ichthyological institute,- a big fan of toads on every Wednesday. Month later. A reworking of Tsukioka Yoshitoshi's engraving, "Kintaro Riding the Carp". My friend drew the fish herself, which helped a lot. It was my first time trying to mimic watercolor digitally.

[ornii]

Yoo can i request a wenclair x male reader who is a streamer but no one knows about it in the school until Enid saw a fan of reader ask him for a picture

Tier 3 Sub!

Enid Stares hard and intently at the Computer screen as she watches a streamer who rarely shows his face, Wednesday peers into the room.

“You’ve been staring at that computer screen for four hours, as little as I care about your wellbeing it is.. odd for you.” Wednesday started. Enid turned to her, smiling.

“This guys voice is, so beautiful! I can’t see his face though..” Wednesday shook her head.

“I never understood the obsession of others though a screen, and his voice most likely isn’t even—“ Wednesday droned on, until the Streamer saw a request.

“What songs can you mimic?” Good question, I’ve been working on the pitch for d4vd, like this” he clears his throat and effortlessly hits the right notes.

“Watch the sunrise along the coast / As we're both getting old / I can't describe what I'm feeling / And all I know is we're going home / So, please don't let me go / Don't let me go~

And if it's right, I don't care how long it takes / As long as I'm with you, I've got a smile on my face / Save your tears, it'll be okay / All I know is you're here with me~ “

“I still gotta work on the pitch.” He awkwardly laughs, Wednesday and Enid are both now staring at the screen. He gets another request from Enid this time.

“Oh, WolfiutUwU2012. Asks if I play and instruments, I do! Let me show if I can.” He adjusts his camera to focus on the wall, as a black guitar was on the shelf, Wednesday noticed the wall and door nearby. It was a boys dorm, and the window showed the Quad at a downward angle.

“I know that room..”

“You know his room?!”

(Y/n) was enjoying his stream as per usual, until there was a scary and frantic knock at his door, “sorry guys gimmie a sec.” He stood up and walked to the door, but not before muting the stream. He opened the door and Wednesday stood there, he tilted his head a bit. “Uh.. Hello?” He said.

“Sing for me again.” She spoke so calmly, which just made (Y/n) uncomfortable. “I-I’m sorry?..”

“Save your tears, I don’t know how but your infectious voice wracked my brain..” Wednesday stepped closer, making (Y/n) retreat back. Enid finally catches up to Wednesday and grabbed her friend by the shoulder

“I am so sorry about—“ Enid looks (Y/n) in the eyes and immediately stopped talking, he looked was carved out of marble by a sculptor, a god.

“My.. friend..” Enid blinked a few times and (Y/n) gave an awkward smile.

“So.. you guys like the stream.”

“Very much.” Wednesday said, “your voice is like a soothing poison in my ears, wallowing me into a enteral slumber.”

“…” (y/n) looked at Enid for help.

“She means she likes it.. sorry for bursting in your room! We’ll leave you alone now! Btw gonna be a tier three sub!” Enid pulls Wednesday out and slams the door shut. (Y/n) shook off his creepy and unironically hilarious that interaction was, he went back to his chair and sat down, the camera aimed slightly down to his chest.

“Sorry about that…” he said, many question marks and “what happened” floods his stream and he laughs. “I met.. two really cool people. Both of them were really cute too..”

He didn’t have to hide his smile, and was having the time of his life, maybe this new streaming thing does have more benefits than he expected.

[masterofthecygnetsignet]

Theory about the structure and timeline of Sunrise on the Reaping: Given that Suzanne Collins is known for the present tense, the fast pacing, and the immediacy and visceralness of her writing, what if the book supposedly about Haymitch's games isn't even about Haymitch's games at all?

What if it's one of those stories told in the same style as Long Way Down by Jason Reynolds, with a highly intense story that unfolds and ends in a matter of mere minutes or hours, told as the time is tracked ever so incrementally? Or, the plot could even occur in a singular, decisive, whirlwind day with so many determining moments. Basically, the story could be anything with a very narrow, elapsed timespan, like Dead Wednesday by Jerry Spinelli, and that could allude to Collins' general themes of war (and the "fog of war" affecting or obscuring humans' rational judgment). The book could potentially be about how people lose sight of the bigger picture in the midst of all the smaller ongoings, how they lose sight of the forest for the trees, like how the tributes had been entranced by the deceptively decadent, lush Cornucopia that particular year of the Quarter Quell. Haymitch, like Katniss, does have the specific ability of seeing through all the puffery, frivolity, and superficiality of the substanceless Capitol after all. Perhaps, the plot could mimic that game's facade, seemingly all flash, no substance, but with a lot beneath to pick apart, the machinery of it all?

Essentially, my question is: what if all of the plot's events happen before the reaping, on that very morning. What if none of the book covers the games themselves, but the politics and what it takes, on the Gamemakers' end, to orchestrate a truly modern version of the games, as compared to the more primitive arena, seen in TBOSAS?

[nerdallwritey]

Wip Wednesday!

Thank you to @vividiana, @khywren, @xxnashiraxx, and @kalmiaphlox for the tags!

I'd say I'm very close to finishing part 6 of Beauty and the Bard, so here's another preview to hold you over until I'm actually done :)

You raised your goblet to mimic Jaheira’s and went to take a sip, but were instead met with the back of Astarion’s hand. Your mouth crushed against his skin. “You did not seriously just take a sip from a drink given to you by a stranger,” he said in horrified disbelief.  “I was trying to,” you offered Jaheira an apologetic smile. “I wasn’t expecting to kiss the back of your hand,” you said through clenched teeth.  Astarion took the goblet from you. “Give me that.” Karlach had been just about to take a sip, but thought better of it and watched Astarion.  He sniffed the contents of the goblet. “Klauthgrass,” he said with a wrinkle of his nose.  “It doesn’t spoil the taste,” Jaheira offered, “if that’s what you’re wondering.” Astarion rolled his eyes and shoved the goblet back into your hand, training his own hands above his sheathed daggers. “She’s trying to feed you a truth serum.” “Astarion,” you said calmly, as if soothing a startled animal, “it’s okay.” You set the goblet down and reached for both of his hands, pulling them away from his daggers. “She just wants to protect her people. You can respect that, can’t you, my love?” “Ah,” Jaheira nodded. “‘My love.’ It is admirable that the cub wants to protect his mate.”  “She’s not-” Astarion sputtered. “We’re just-” He groaned loudly. “I don’t trust you,” he pointed an accusatory finger at the Harper.  “Oh no,” her tone was flat again. “How ever shall I sleep tonight.” Before Astarion could protest more, you took a sip of the drink.  He gasped. “Darling, what do you think you’re doing?” “Building trust,” you said, smiling at Jaheira. Her features echoed your own and she took a sip as well.  “Ah, what the hells,” Karlach said. “Bottoms up!” She downed her own goblet. “You’re all idiots and I hope you die,” Astarion crossed his arms. 

No pressure tagging: @arzen9, @astarioffsimpmain, @davenswitcher, and @obsessedwhyyes if you guys have anything you want to share!!