#and if i can understand the flat shapes needed then i can wrap my head around it a lot better too

[hollowedskin]

So I made this jumper a few months ago, (it's the first thing I've ever crocheted with a pattern) and it ended up a little too short for me to be comfortable wearing.

I had decided to undo the whole thing to salvage the yarn, but got one of my best friends to try it on first just in case, and they LOVED it, and it looks so good on them too! So it belongs to them now.

I was actually really disappointed when I decided to frog the whole thing, because I was pretty attached to it by the end, i learned a lot and it gave me the confidence to try more patterns, so I'm super happy that my first jumper is actually going to be worn and loved after all.

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024: October 3rd

Day 3: Sixty-nine // Public Sex // Pet Play

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy/post partum baby body, new mom!reader, slight voyeurism, horny Frankie, face sitting, oral (male and female receiving), mentions of anilingus, cum swallowing

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Fuck baby, c’mere.” You can hear the lust dripping from his voice, making you smirk slightly, the ego boost is something that you need right now when you haven’t been feeling the sexiest. Motherhood sometimes takes it out of you. Instead of lingerie, you live in leggings and faded Army t-shirts that are riddled with spit up stains. You turn around to see Frankie on the bed, naked and completely hard for you, his dark eyes greedily drinking in your own nude body. 

You hadn’t expected him to be in the bedroom when you got out of the shower, but it’s obvious he’s been waiting on you. Waiting and anticipating. You bite your lip, eyes sliding down the slightly less in shape physique of your husband. Despite his own hang ups, he’s only grown sexier in your eyes, through the best shape of his life in the military to the now softer build. He’s still strong, still capable and that makes him even more appealing. 

“I take it you want something?” You tease, eyeing his cock as it twitches. He’s always been able to make you laugh or moan by flexing his cock when he’s hard. 

“I want you to come sit on my face.” He snorts, patting his cheek and smirking at you. “Then if you want, you can sit on my cock.” 

It’s a tempting offer, but you shake your head. “If you’re licking my pussy, then I want to be sucking your cock.” You counter, making the momentary frown when you shake your head immediately turn into a quick nod and a beaming grin. “Deal.” He grunts, pushing down the bed so that you can get into position. 

His hands are greedy, pulling you back and making you gasp and giggle when you nearly fall flat on your face when he throws you off balance. Making you slap his thigh and huff as you look over your shoulder, halfway across his body. “You ass.” You huff, making him chuckle. 

“No, your ass.” He groans, reaching for your hips again and grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing it. “I love it.” He has always been an ass man and he never misses an opportunity to touch it. 

Getting into position is never sexy. There’s almost small grunts and adjustments to where your legs are comfortable and not pressing against the headboard. You apologize a couple of times when Frankie grunts, his shoulder taking your knee a little harder than anticipated. Finally hovering over his face, even though it always makes you self conscious in the beginning. 

It doesn’t bother Francisco. His eyes are focused on you and his cock is twitching and already starting to dribble just a little bit of precum, pooling around the foreskin and beaded up gorgeously. 

“Fuck, look at that pussy.” He never fails to make you feel like he could live off your cunt. Always wanting to eat you out, never making you feel like it’s a chore to him. For him it’s a reward, a gift you give him when you let him devour you and makes you soak the bottom of his chin and mouth. 

In the same way, you love sucking Frankie’s cock. Hearing the moans and the slightly desperate whine that you can pull from him as you swallow his length down and drip when he forgets to stay still and chokes you slightly. 

Your fingers wrap around his length, smiling when you feel his pulse in your hand and wiggle your hips back as you lean down. Rolling the protective skin that covers the head and revealing the sensitive skin, already flush with need and begging for your attention. 

The first lick is always a tease, both of you groaning and your own hips push back insistently when his warm breath washes over your wet folds, his own chuckle a little smug because he knows that if he holds out, you will be begging for his tongue. Not that he would ever deny you, he’s too greedy for your taste, for the warm musk of your cunt to fill his senses and thoughts. 

Your tongue is fluttering around the head of his cock, lapping at the beads of precum when he takes his first sample of your cunt, making your eyes roll back at the wet heat and moan against him. His own grunt of approval is one you always listen for, even when you’ve just stepped out of the shower. That’s just your own personal issues, something that he scoffs at every time he wants to go down on you when you are hot and sweaty. He doesn’t give a shit. 

Once it’s begun, both of you quickly descend into madness. Every flick of his tongue pushes your own need to make him moan, your throat opening and taking him deeper. Loving how he chokes into your folds when you swallow around him. 

The sounds are low, vibrating around you both as they are muffled by the tasks you are eagerly partaking in. Frankie is thick and it always makes your jaw ache to blow him, but there is no way you will give up. You love how he fills your throat and blocks the air as he twitches. The subtle gasps that he tries to hide by pushing his tongue inside you when he feels your moans vibrate around him. 

You both love to give pleasure to the other, making this the ultimate indulgence. It becomes a race, to see who can make the other break again. Once your jaw stops popping every time you take him deep into your mouth, you increase the pace. Greedy as you bob your head and reach down to roll his balls gently in your fingers and make him keen in pleasure. 

Frankie is filthy when he eats your pussy. Sloppy and thorough. There is no part of your sex that he won’t shower in attention. Licking you from the top of your clit right up to your puckered hole, he licks and flicks his tongue against the spots that have your grinding back onto him. Wanting you to smother him with your cunt and if he dies, well, he would just die happy. 

Rocking on his face, both at the encouragement of his hands as he guides you and from your eagerness to suck his cock down, you both rocket the other towards orgasm, increasing the pressure around his length and bucking back when he sucks your clit into his mouth. 

Muffled curses can barely be heard, but each one of you feels them, adding to the knotting coil in your belly when Frankie pulls his mouth away from your clit long enough to moan your name before he is diving back into you. 

Years together has given you the keys to making sure the other cums. Knowing how he reacts and what he loves, where he knows your body just as intimately. Your jaw goes slack when he pushes his fingers deep inside you and presses them just right, your toes curling and your hips rolling back. Only to pull off his cock with a pop and spit on it to wrap your hand around the base and start to pump him while you gobble him down again. 

You feel like you are losing your mind. So close to cumming while trying to make sure that he is worked up to that peak. Feeling him get even harder every time you swallow him down, the strength of his hands nearly bruising as he holds you in the best position to attack your cunt. 

It’s coiling in your belly, tight and explosive, only taking one more flick of his tongue before you are keening around his cock. Body shaking and you absorb every pleased moan as you soak his face. 

Frankie is the type that only lets go after you’ve been satisfied so the pulling down of his hips is the only warning you get before he starts to flood your mouth. Ropes of his salty seed fill your mouth, making you gulp down as much as you can as it spills out the sides of your mouth. Throbbing wonderfully on your tongue and muffling your whines as his continues to take you apart with every pass through your sensitive folds. 

Neither one of you stops until the other is squirming away, both panting when you pull away and there is that brief second before the post orgasm giggles begin. Shifting off of him and turning around to see his wet, smiling face and despite the taste of him still lingering on your tongue, leaning into kiss him. Curling into his body and snuggling against him right as the baby starts to cry. “Fuck.” Frankie chuckles. “At least we got it in.” He snorts, amused by that fact and relaxed. He’s always happy when you both get to pleasure each other with a sixty-nine.

[multixnichols]

Hiya would you possibly do a Nicky x reader where they have both just got out of prison and they are living together. And Nicky goes out with some old friends and they offer her heroin and it like triggers her in a way so she goes home and starts to have a panic attack and the reader has to calm her down and then they end it by cuddling on the sofa. Thank you ☺️☺️☺️

it's been so long since i wrote anything but i hope you enjoy this and thank you for sending a request <3

—nicky x fem!reader, all fluff, english is not my first language so there might be some bad english too

She's been at home for thirteen minutes. And she's quiet. Unusually quiet. See, Nicky is not one to usually dwell on things, despite everything she's been through she always tries to talk with you when something bothers her. But now she's just sitting on the sofa, staring blankly at the tv.

"Since when do you watch 'Keeping Up With the Kardashians', Nichols?" you say humorously, settling next to her.

It takes her a moment to lift her gaze at you, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. And then she smiles, but it's not her usual cocky smile, it looks strained.

"Ah, y'know, sometimes i like watching people with real problems. It's good for the heart." comes her raspy voice as she scoots closer and wraps her arm around your shoulders, her body warm as the smell of her conditioner washes over you.

That earns a quiet laugh from you, your hand resting affectionately on her thigh.

You study her face for a moment, deciding that something is definitely off. She looks pretty today, her blonde hair a wild mane as always, the dark makeup around her eyes and those shapely lips you get to kiss every day. But her eyes look almost sad.

"How was the meeting with your friends?" you say softly and all you receive is silence.

Nicky's eyes glaze over, her breaths coming a little faster which she tries to hide by letting out a soft sigh. Though her attempts fall flat because now you can also see her hands trembling.

She doesn't say anything, just presses herself tighter against you to ground herself.

"Talk to me." you encourage softly.

You know the answer before she even says it. Nicky is not the kind of person to panic over nothing, not usually. And she was very hesitant to go out with her old friends in the first place considering how their friendship was always fuelled by drugs. But with your support she decided it wouldn't hurt to at least give it a shot.

Which she regrets now.

"They proposed me heroin." she murmurs, so quietly, that you have to strain your ears to actually hear her.

Instead of speaking you move to wrap your arms around her, because if there's something you learned with time is that sometimes Nicky doesn't need words but a simple touch to soothe her.

"It was– fuck, it was so hard. But i didn't take it. I swear i didn't. I thought i will but–"

"Okay." you cut her explanation quickly because she doesn't need to explain herself. You understand. You know she has enough self-restraint to not fall onto that hole again.

Her face softens as if relieved you believe her. As if she expected you to argue with her, accuse her. Nicky's not used to this kind of trust. Noone ever trusted and cared for her like you do.

"Now take a deep breath for me, okay? I'm proud of you" she quickly listents to you, taking in a shaky breath, her eyes clearing once more as a small smile grows on her face.

But it's not your voice or your gentle encouragment that eases her growing panic. No, her thoughts are on somethong else entirely.

You're proud of her.

Nicky let's out a relieved laugh, the light coming back to her eyes as she moves to lovingly pinch your cheek.

"Proud of me, eh?" comes her teasing, but also very much delighted, tone "Didn't know you were such a simp."

You laugh again, swatting her hand away from your cheek playfully, before bringing her down to lay on the sofa, her head resting against your chest.

"Man, i can't believe i get to sleep in those tits." she rasps out, her hand slipping under your t-shirt to squeeze at the soft skin of your waist, her nose intentionally burried in between your breasts.

Nicky's eyes close and she let's out a happy sigh, simply cherishing your presence.

She got seriously scared today but it's all right in the world if you're there to support her.

—

[bloatedandalone04]

➪the one where you’re the other ghostface and ethan accidentally hurts you. (requested)

Warnings: established relationship, death, mentions of death, blood, mentions of blood, descriptions of injuries, near death experience, knives, guns, swearing, all that fun stuff

Word Count: 2.9k | Ethan Masterlist

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“It’s getting late and I have that test tomorrow morning, so I’m going to go get some sleep,” Ethan announced to Chad and Tara, his form rising from the couch and his eyes meeting yours. “Are you staying here tonight?” He asked you, the two of you sharing a knowing look before you nodded.

“As long as you don’t hog the sheets like you always do,” you tease, grabbing his hand as he holds it out to you. 

“In my own bed?” He laughs, lacing your fingers together as he tugs you up from the couch as well. “I would never.”

Tara, who had been watching with a small smile, just shook her head. “Goodnight, guys,” she said as she nuzzled closer to Chad, his arm wrapped around her shoulder as they continued to watch the movie.

“Night,” you call back as Ethan pulls you over to his room. Once you were behind the closed door, he gave you a boyish grin as he tugged on your other hand and pulled you over to his bed. He falls back on top of the covers, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you on top of him. “I kinda feel bad. Tara and Chad have become so close, it’s sad to think about how things will end between them.”

Ethan shrugged, his fingers tracing various shapes on the skin of your hips. “Yeah, but think about how good it’ll feel when we can finally move on and start over once they’re gone,”

You give him a look, pressing your palms flat against his chest as you lean down just slightly. “You mean once we kill them,” 

He smirks at your correction. “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts,” his hands gently caress your sides as his brown eyes stare into yours. “Not that you aren’t allowed to, but I think we have a pretty good plan here. My family won’t be happy with us bailing.”

Your heart swelled at that; if you were to bail on the plan, he would as well. He didn’t have to, he could stay and finish what his brother started beside his family, but he made it known that if you were to back out, then he’d be backing out right with you. 

Shaking your head, you move off of him and sit back on the end of the bed. “I’m not having second thoughts, don’t worry,” at the quiet tone you were using, Ethan sat up with his back against the headboard and gave you his full attention. “I’m just a bit worried about what might happen if things were to go wrong.”

He reached over and took your hand in his, his eyes never leaving yours. “We have a good plan, one that will work,” he assured you, his thumb stroking over your knuckles. “We’re going to lock them in the theater and take them out one by one. With Quinn still in hiding, there’s only going to be three of us, so we’ll have to take out the strongest first.”

“Chad,” you nod in understanding before adding, “Then Kirby. She’s got the skills and experience for this kind of thing, so she needs to be taken care of next.”

“Right,” he confirmed. “Once they’re out of the picture, only Tara and Sam will be left. This will work, we just have to look out for each other.”

You smile at him, leaning over and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before lacing your fingers together. “Everything will work out,”

-

Everything, in fact, did not work out.

Here you stood with Ethan, the two of you hiding out behind the curtain as his dad prepares for the big reveal. Quinn was already back at her apartment, most likely packing for when her family returned and they would have to flee the city once news got out of the killings. 

She got her last stab in with Mindy on the subway and took the next one all the way back, knowing that the attention would be on her at the hospital and the events that will take place at the theater, so she’d be able to slip in and out of her former apartment with no one around to see her. Since she had ‘died’, it was too risky for her to take part in the final act. 

It had been decided that as soon as the deed was done, the four of you would relocate and start over. 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t beyond ready for this chapter of your life to be over with. 

“Are you ready for this?” Ethan asks as he holds Mrs Loomis’ mask in his hand. 

Gripping Stu’s mask, you nod up at him and try to ignore the unsettled nerves that lingered in your bones. “I’m ready for this to be over,” you answer and feel a bit better after he gives you a reassuring smile. 

Ethan’s free hand reaches for yours and you wish you could feel his skin on yours rather than the fabric of the gloves you both were wearing. “This is it,” he says quietly. “After this, it’s you and me.”

You nod and give him a tight smile. “You and me,” 

Stepping towards him, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him against you. His arms wrap around your middle and his chin rests on the top of your head.

After a few seconds of embracing each other you step back and the two of you put your masks on. As soon as your face is covered you become nervous again and feel a heavy weight sitting down on your shoulders.

You couldn’t help but fear that something was going to go wrong.

Ethan gives your hand a squeeze before creeping out from behind the curtain. You wait until he’s made his way behind the benches and cuts off the sister’s escape route before jumping down from the stage.

You successfully block the other exit and shake your knife in a mocking manner. Bailey shoots Kirby just as she was about to shoot you and that’s how you found yourself standing to his right while Ethan stood to his left. 

The bad feeling from before came back full swing as you waited for the reveal. You weren’t exactly comfortable revealing yourself to the sisters, but in the end it wouldn’t matter. They would be dead within the hour and wouldn’t be able to tell anyone about your identity, anyway. 

Still, your heart beat loudly in your ears as you couldn’t seem to shake off the feeling that something wasn’t right. 

After watching Ethan pull the mask off and berate Sam on her family, you knew that you were next. 

Just as Tara questioned if you were Mindy, you pull the mask off and smile at the shocked look that the youngest sister wore. “Y/n?” She asked in disbelief. “What the fuck?”

“Sorry,” you shrug and toss the mask somewhere beside you. “It turns out that you’d do a lot for the person you love. Even kill.”

Ethan looked over at you and proudly smirked at your words, his eyes full of love, lust and admiration. He held off on professing his love for you as it wasn’t the time nor place for it, but he sent you a cheeky look in response to your words. 

“Are you serious?” Sam scoffed. “You became a killer for him?”

You narrow your eyes at her words, not liking what she was insinuating about your boyfriend. “What can I say? I’m in love,” you simply answer before adding, “You should know all about that, you dated his brother.”

Chaos broke out after that.

Tara began swinging bricks at you while Sam went for Ethan. You both dodged their attacks easily, but neither one of you saw Kirby stagger her way over to you. Ethan raised his hand to stab Sam when the agent threw herself at him. He stumbled forward and unknowingly gave the eldest Carpenter the chance to slip away. 

At the same time, Tara pushed you towards him and you didn’t have enough time to react before the knife he was holding pierced through the skin of your abdomen. You let out a surprised cry of pain and tightly grip his forearm, your wide eyes meeting his panicked ones. 

You stumble backwards and release your grip on him. As you fall to your knees, Ethan’s hands chase after you and he kneels down in front of you. “Fuck,” he cursed as he looked at the knife sticking out of your stomach. “Fuck, baby, I’m so sorry.”

Shaking your head, you press your hand to the area below the knife, feeling your glove dampen with blood. “Ethan, behind you,” Bailey called out just as Kirby stood back up. Running on pure adrenaline, Ethan pulled the knife from you and turned around, his heart breaking at the loud cry you let out. He buried it in the agent’s side and didn’t bother to watch her drop before he was looking back at you. 

You share a look before he grabs your arm and wraps it around his shoulder as his other hand grips the back of your thigh. He picks you up bridal style and carries you behind the stage, deciding that his dad was more than capable of finishing the job that you and him had started. 

Once you are out of immediate danger, Ethan gently sets you on the ground before sinking to his knees next to you. Now that the wound was open and no longer had the knife to stop the flow of blood, he quickly pressed his hand to your stomach, wincing at the sharp inhale from you. “Fuck, Ethan,”

“I know, I know,” he says as he tries not to panic at the feeling of your blood seeping into his glove. “I’m so sorry, I- fuck, I didn’t mean to. You know I didn’t mean to, right? I’d never hurt you, I- fuck.”

You don’t answer him as you grip his hand tightly, a searing jolt of pain ripping through your whole body when you shift slightly.

“Are you okay?” He asked desperately and you stopped moving to raise your brow at him.

“Am I okay? Are you seriously asking me that right now?” 

“That’s not what I meant, obviously you’re not okay, I just fucking stabbed you,” he says more to himself, but you heard him as clear as day. 

“Yeah, I’m aware,” you say, sucking a breath in through your teeth. 

“I mean, are you feeling dizzy or tired or anything that could lead to you passing out?” He asked as he used his free hand to pull your body onto his lap with no effort at all. His strength still surprised you sometimes. “Fuck, please don’t pass out on me.”

In all honesty, he’d be happy if you were to pass out, at least then you’d be out of pain for the time being. In reality, he didn’t want to think of you dying on him. 

He realized just how real of a possibility that was when he looked back at your face, his expression dropping when he saw how pale you had gotten. “Hey,” he said sternly and pressed harder against your wound, feeling like his heart was about to beat right out of his chest at how loud it was in his ears. “Stay with me, okay? I need you to keep your eyes open and, fuck….just stay with me. We have plans, remember? We’re supposed to get out of this city and never look back. It’s supposed to be you and me.”

“You and me,” you mumbled in response, leaning your head against his chest as you grinned up at him. He was beyond horrified when he caught sight of the blood that stained your teeth. “I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah? Then I need you to keep your eyes open, okay?” He looked around for something to cover your wound but ultimately ended up ripping the fabric of your robe and using it as a makeshift cloth. He pressed it to your stomach before covering it with his hand again. “I need you to stick to your promise.”

Even though he didn’t stick to his - the one where he promised he would never hurt you.

“I’m trying,” you murmur. “I’m tired.”

Ethan felt his heart deflate at your words. “I know you are,” he said just as quietly, brushing your hair from your face so he could see you clearly. “I know you are, baby, but I need you to stay awake.”

You felt your eyes beginning to close and quickly shift again so you could jolt yourself back into consciousness. Pulling your gloves off, you toss them aside and reach up to caress the side of his face, needing to feel his skin on yours more than anything at the moment. “I love you,” you whisper, grimacing at the bloodied handprint you left on his face. “You know that?”

He caught your hand as it fell, his fingers quickly lacing with yours. “I know,” he nodded once, his grip on you tightening when he felt your body begin to relax against him. “I love you, too. More than anything else in the whole world. That’s why I need you to stay with me. We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us, angel. We’re going to live together one day, get married, and grow old together. We promised each other that.”

You smile weakly at him, the taste of metal taking over your taste buds. “Some promises aren’t made to be kept,” you mumble and press your cheek to his shoulder as you feel your body begin to betray itself. The corners of your eyes darken before fading to black completely, your tense muscles relaxing as your head tilted forward. 

“Y/n,” he calls out quietly, his face heating up when you don’t answer him. “Y/n, please, talk to me. Keep talking to me, please. I-I can’t…I can’t do this without you.”

Your body went limp in his arms in response to his desperate pleads and heartbroken sobs that left his lips.

-

Six months.

That’s how long it’s been since every single news site in New York got word of the death of The Carpenter sisters as well as the remaining Woodsboro survivors, Mindy, Chad and Kirby. 

The Bailey family stuck to their plan and fled shortly after the plan was executed and carried out, settling in a small town in San Diego and returning to their normal lives. 

Wayne transferred to the local police station and became consumed by his job, desperately trying to fill in the hole in his heart that hadn’t been fully filled because of the death of his first born. Slaughtering his son’s killer only got him so far. 

Quinn enrolled in a university across town and continued her ‘sex positive’ ways, still unable to commit herself to just one guy. 

Ethan rented out the apartment above the restaurant he had gotten a part time job at. The manager was nice enough and gave him a discount on the rent, as well as free rein of whatever he wanted in the pantry.  

That’s where he is now. He tossed the notepad onto the kitchen counter and made his way through the decent sized apartment, fully intent on staying in for the rest of the night. 

He kicked his shoes off before falling onto the bed, not bothering to change into more comfortable clothes as he moved to lay on his back. The room was mostly silent, the only sound coming from the hum of the AC unit by the window.

Looking over at his nightstand, his eyes land on the framed picture of the two of you, the large grin on your face making one form on his as he observes the photo. 

You are so beautiful. 

That was his first thought when he met you, his first thought when he saw you all dressed up for your first date, and his first thought when he heard the bathroom door open and watched as you stepped through the doorway. “Hi,” you say softly as if to not disturb the peaceful quietness. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Ethan grins as you make your way over to him and climb onto the bed. “I thought you might be in bed,” he replied as you moved to straddle him, his hands instinctively moving to hold your waist. “You’re usually asleep by ten.”

You glance at the clock that hung on the wall, the time reading 10:45 PM. You shrug and place your hands on his chest. “You know I can’t fall asleep without you,” you murmur and lean down to brush your lips against his. “I need to feel your arms around me to be able to have sweet dreams.”

Ethan only shook his head in response, a lazy smile on his lips as he moved to place a proper kiss to your mouth. You kiss back before brushing your nose against his and moving to lay down next to him. 

“How was your day?” You ask as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you against his chest. 

“It was fine, another slow shift,” he answers and places a kiss to the top of your head. “How was yours?”

“Boring,” you say quietly. “I missed you.”

Ethan smiled to himself at your words, holding you a bit closer to him as he mumbled, “I missed you, too,”

-

heh, fakeout

[littledollll]

You can in fact get me something I desire my lovely, can I request a Larissa x fem reader fic? Your agere inagines are so cute and I was wondering if you'd write a caregiver Larissa fic, I feel like she'd be the sweetest ever and would constantly bring her little snacks and sit them on her knee, if you're comfortable with it, maybe reader is having a bit of a meltdown and needs some help calming down? ...and some snacks ofcs

Mommas here

Larissa Weems x little!reader

A/n: IVE BEEN WAITING!! Cg Larissa brainrot.

Warnings: snacks/eating, little anxiety, idk what else

You didn’t understand why you felt this way, a random pressure on your chest making your heart speed up and your mind run rampant and your breathing quicken. You started around looking for a distraction, something to get you out of this horrid feeling, it didn’t work. You needed her.

As you made your way into her office quietly you resisted the urge to run to her. What if she was too busy? Or simply didn’t want to deal with whatever you had? You quietly approached her, anxiously waiting for her to look up and take you into her arms.

The second she saw you Larissa knew something was wrong, not only did you usually try not to “bother” her at work, you looked about to cry, “Whats wrong, precious?” She immediately ushered you closer and pull you into a hug.

“I d-don’t know, I-“ talking started crying, words felt too heavy but you wanted to somehow explain, you didn’t know how. You simply clung to her as she drew patterns on your back. It was distracting, soothing and after a moment of your silence Larissa allowed herself to talk.

“Don’t force yourself to explain if you can’t. We’re okay my little darling, I want you to try and follow my breathing, focus on my hand as well.” She pulled you into her lap and you wrapped around her instantly, making her chuckle and kiss your temple.

Your cries turned into sniffles, and you rubbed your eyes hiding into her chest. “Mommas here, little one, it’s alright. Maybe we can try to talk later and figure out what happened to my precious little one, yeah?”

Her sweet words made you feel shy, “her precious little one” you giggled as you replayed them. “What’s got you so giddy all of a sudden?” Larissa’s smile was evident through her voice. “momma” simple enough reply, she responded with an exaggerated gasp. “Momma made her baby this happy? Oh my, what an honor!”

Giggling, you turned to face her desk, grabbing random things to fidget with. “Anything but the papers, darling.” You gave her a nod, grabbing one of her pens and taking her hand, laying it flat on the desk. You drew little shapes, the sun, some clouds, basically anything you could think off and was simple enough, Larissa allowed you.

“These are wonderful, my love! how about we get you something to eat and then you can go right back to drawing, little one?” You practically squealed at the mention of snacks, she allowed you to pick what you wanted from her stash. You happily munched on your food, completely oblivious to Larissa’s adoring gaze.

“Very good sweetheart, how about you stay with momma for the rest of the day?” She said as she played with your hair. “No bother?” You paused for a second, looking at her for confirmation, she gave you a reassuring smile.

“Of course not, my love. In fact it can get a little lonely here without you.” “I stay?” She nodded, stealing a piece of your snack making you gasp, offended. “How dares! my snack.” You huffed, crossing your arms. “Careful you don’t wanna drop it!”

“I’m very very sorry little one, I’ll get my own snack.” You shook your head offering yours. “Share!” She tilted her head at you. “Oh you wanna share? Thank you sweetheart.” “Mhm mhm, me n momma shares” Larissa kissed your cheek, holding you close. “I’ve got the sweetest little love ever, don’t I?” You very proudly nodded.

“I’m very very sorry little one, I’ll get my own snack.” You shook your head offering yours. “Share!” She tilted her head at you. “Oh you wanna share? Thank you sweetheart.” “Mhm mhm, me n momma shares” Larissa kissed your cheek, holding you close. “I’ve got the sweetest little love ever, don’t I?” You very proudly nodded.

“I’m very very sorry little one, I’ll get my own snack.” You shook your head offering yours. “Share!” She tilted her head at you. “Oh you wanna share? Thank you sweetheart.” “Mhm mhm, me n momma shares” Larissa kissed your cheek, holding you close. “I’ve got the sweetest little love ever, don’t I?” You very proudly nodded.

“I’m very very sorry little one, I’ll get my own snack.” You shook your head offering yours. “Share!” She tilted her head at you. “Oh you wanna share? Thank you sweetheart.” “Mhm mhm, me n momma shares” Larissa kissed your cheek, holding you close. “I’ve got the sweetest little love ever, don’t I?” You very proudly nodded.

“I’m very very sorry little one, I’ll get my own snack.” You shook your head offering yours. “Share!” She tilted her head at you. “Oh you wanna share? Thank you sweetheart.” “Mhm mhm, me n momma shares” Larissa kissed your cheek, holding you close. “I’ve got the sweetest little love ever, don’t I?” You very proudly nodded.

“I’m very very sorry little one, I’ll get my own snack.” You shook your head offering yours. “Share!” She tilted her head at you. “Oh you wanna share? Thank you sweetheart.” “Mhm mhm, me n momma shares” Larissa kissed your cheek, holding you close. “I’ve got the sweetest little love ever, don’t I?” You very proudly nodded.

[novelyst]

Skyrim Female Head UV: The Definitive Post

We begin as like a cooking blog's recipe, with a sort of vaguely related yet unnecessary anecdote. I've been thinking about putting modding stuff up on this blog, lately. I used to run into the problem on Discord where I'd be like: man, I'm spamming this channel, who even cares about this stuff anyway? So I made my own dev thread in which to spam these posts. As more and more people started joining, though, and still not replying to anything I wrote, I ran into the same issue where I've now become hesitant to post whatever I want in my own dev thread for fear that people will find it annoying. Silly, I know, but I figure that this here, tumblr, is the option with which I cannot go wrong, right? So long story short: this might turn into a mostly modding blog now.

I'm about to do an explanation of UV mapping as an introduction to this post, for those who know very, very, little about it. Many of you reading this may already be modellers or texturers who don't need this dumbed down, so you are welcome to skip to the big red UV map if you wish.

Without further ado: this is Nur.

Nur is what I would call a 'chatterbox', but she was made in the same way as any paper fortune teller. One thing that you should note about her: she is three-dimensional. I have power over Nur's state of being, and I can unfold her.

Unfolded Nur looks very different. We can see that her mouth, usually a triangular bipyramid minus a couple of faces, is now four separate triangles. We could also conceivably understand this as a '2D' version of Nur. It's flat, but it has all of the colour information that ends up on the surface of her 3D self; the area painted red is the 'mouth' part, the top squares on the left and right are the upper part of the 'face'.

Now, if we were to make a 3D mesh of Nur, we could use something like the second image for her texture and tell the computer which area of it should be shown on the surface of a given polygon. We'd do this by giving every point two dimensional coordinates, instead of inventing some kind of new format where every voxel in 3D space is assigned a colour—after all, it's only the surface that matters, right? This process of giving 3D vertices 2D-coordinates on a texture is called UV mapping. What you should really take away from this is the UV map holds the information of how to wrap a texture on to a mesh.

And, since all vertices already have X, Y, and Z coordinates, (and W is used for something else,) their two-dimensional texture coordinates are U and V.

Now, UV maps can be different from a piece of paper you fold in a few ways. What you mainly need to remember is that in UV Maps, we aren't bound by angles, length, or area – the lines making up a UV map are 'stretchy'. This mapping allows, then, for you to 'stretch' the texture over the surface of the mesh.

Now that everyone is (hopefully) on the same page, let's move on to the subject of the post!

This is the UV map of the female head mesh in Skyrim. Right away, a few weird quirks are going to stand out about it.

It is not truly vertically symmetrical along any X-coordinate.

It is kinda symmetrical along a line a short ways to the left of the centre.

Even along that line, the eye sockets are not symmetrical.

The symmetry along that central line starts falling apart towards the boundaries of the image, where there is not really very much symmetry whatsoever and what there is seems to fold more along the actual central vertical axis.

Now, if none of that stuff stood out immediately to you, or you are having trouble seeing it, that's absolutely fine! This image here should help to clarify the things I just mentioned.

The white line in the middle highlights the true centre of the image, from which (as you can see) the UV of the mesh's 'central line' is offset. The sort of lens-shapes either side of it trace the UV map's eye sockets, which are quite different.

Now, is all of this stuff fine? I mean, kind of. No, it's not really a good UV map (there are serious issues, for example, at the back of the scalp) and the symmetry problems all suck for working with it as a texture, but it's still useable and, for a high-poly to low-poly workflow, won't really impact things all that much for the creator. Painting on to the mesh, baking from a sculpt – all these will suffer for a worse UV map, but are still essentially the same process as with a different UV. The game's textures were made for this UV map, and Bethesda seem to have been able to manage fine with it.

Credit to Bethesda Game Studios. A section of the 'FemaleHead_MSN.dds'.

The issues come in more for people working on a 2D level. Making textures in photoshop? Painting some tintmasks? Then these things are going to annoy you, especially those darned eye sockets. So, is there a better way?

A Better Way

Sorry, that section header is kind of misleading. There's an extent to which this is subjective but, honestly, I don't think there really is a better way. I firmly believe that you can't fix Bethesda's UV because it's not broken. A little annoying to work with? Sure. But it wasn't meant to be another way, and it works with the textures provided by the game. There is nothing to fix.

On the 15th of March of 2012, Enhanced Character Edit (ECE) was published on Nexus Mods, in its description claiming thus:

Fixed asymmetry head mesh for Female.

Enhanced Character Edit had not 'fixed' issue of the off-centre axis of symmetry. What it had done was make the eye socket on the right symmetrical to the one on the left in the UV map. Behold, the ECE head mesh with the vanilla game's texture.

On the left: the ECE head mesh with the vanilla textures. On the right: the vanilla head mesh with the vanilla textures, as Todd intended.

ECE needed its own textures, made for the 'symmetrical' eye socket UV. There were already existing texture sets made this way (even reflecting the same eye; I suppose people preferred the left side), so it wasn't too great a problem—ECE was providing a fix for existing mods, really!

Except, well, it's a little more complicated than that. You can change the mesh, and the textures along with it, which works. This only affects the player character, however—generated face data for NPCs must be regenerated or, in the case of NPC overhauls, manually changed by the user, a thing few users actually know how to do. Pretty soon, though, people were using ECE in their character creation, and then for the NPC overhauls that they put on Nexus. Skin mods were being made specifically with use of this head mesh in mind, like SG Female Textures Renewal, which actually includes ECE as a requirement for this reason.

So everything is great and we can just use ECE, right? Sure, we have to regenerate all of our NPCs' faces which requires the creation kit and a lot of time, but that's workable. Well, not quite. Some mods have mismatched diffuse maps and normal maps when it comes to eye sockets, like Tempered Skins, which has ECE's eye sockets in its diffuse, but bases its normal maps mostly off of vanilla, including keeping its asymmetry. Mods like Mature Skin don't even use the ECE sockets, which means that those textures will look wrong on NPC overhauls based on the ECE head meshes. This issue ends up happening both ways, too—users of ECE-based textures have an even worse issue when using a mismatched mesh, to the extent that Enhanced Female Head Mesh was created, a mod that solves an issue that isn't in the base game. The ECE sockets are that ubiquitous.

Credit to DomainWolf. A comparison image from the mod Enhanced Female Head Mesh, showing the issue that ECE-based textures have when using the vanilla mesh.

Incidentally, this user has also created tintmask mods. Many of the textures included in those would have to be manually edited in order for them to look right on the vanilla head mesh.

We can see that the effects of ECE's change ripple outward without ever really becoming understood by the common modder. When installing High Poly Head, users are presented with the option of Symmetrical Eyes (Female). The average user probably doesn't know what this means, let alone whether the texture that they're using is based on ECE. If they choose the wrong option, many won't think to go back to the FOMOD. ECE itself has been far surpassed in popularity by RaceMenu on SSE—how many people would think to install it for its head mesh alone? Even Enhanced Female Head Mesh, which is specifically mesh-only and for SSE has only ~25 k downloads as of writing. Popular skin mods with symmetrical eye sockets have millions.

This whole thing impacts almost all modders. Most of them know barely anything about it. So, this stubborn ass who refuses to use the 'fixed' eyes and manually converts all of their NPC mods by painstakingly fixing things in NIFSkope wanted to write a post aggregating everything they knew about the subject, endeavouring to maybe improve people's awareness of it.

If you read all of this, thanks! I'm honestly surprised at how long it got. I hope you enjoyed my writing.

Hello, future me here. If you read this before this message was added, please note what I had earlier said about ECE not working on SSE was wrong. I have updated the previous sentence to reflect this information.

[toonietoon36]

The Copycat

Written by Toonie, a gift for @sweettoothstomp

Disclaimer: this is an oc based story including The Copycat, created by my dear friend, and my own toontown self insert Toonie. This is written in the point of view of Toonie, recounting events.

----------------------------------------------------------

Things never were quite the same after the disappearance of Copycat, they were always such a pleasant cog to converse with. Their abilities were unmatched compared to other advance cogs, the ability to disguise themselves as anything and anyone- cog or toon -was quite the feat! However ever since they disappeared into seemingly thin air any discussion about them has been unpleasant to say the least.

Brian keeps bringing up how the task if they were to be found is to hard reset the copycat to restore them to their designated purposes. I think that to be cruel and unjust, however the words of lawfulness fall flat as a boardbot. Everyone seems to agree that resetting them is the best course of action to keep our guards high and our eyes on the toons in case they were to attack again without warning. Having a cog that can take the form of a toon is quite useful when keeping tabs on the toon population, however being able to do so without Copycat is near impossible since none of us could ever perfectly replicate a disguise of such magnitude.

I wish I knew where they had gotten to, I miss seeing my dear friend and college. Our shared interactions were never stale and sometimes the mirror trick was quite fun. I still remember the first time they had shifted into me and gave me quite the fright, back when my hair was still long.

Through the pondering and remembering of the boardbot the door creaked slightly at the entry of the managers lounge. A small, grey and whiskered face peered in cautiously as it surveyed the area only jumping with surprise when its eyes locked with the greyish-blue ones of the cog staring directly back at them.

Toonie stood up quick and stared down at the toon with shock before grabbing them roughly by the scruff of the neck to drag them into the empty lounge, slamming the door shut behind them. With the speed of a whip the imposing cog turned to face the toon.

"YOU!" their voice a stern thrum "What the heck are you doing here?! I knew I recognized those eyes the moment we made eye contact!"

The dazed feline shook their head to steady themselves before rubbing their arm anxiously. Quietly their form stretched abnormally before taking a completely new shape, one of originality. Not long Copycat stood opposed to the slightly taller cog.

"I... I came to see you-! I missed you. I-"

"ARE YOU NUTS?!" The abrupt interruption caused them to jump. "Do you have any idea how risky this is?! Ever since you went walkabouts everyones been making plans for your return!"

Toonie's fingers tangled themselves in their hair as they tried to get a grip on their anxieties. Their feet beginning to pace back and forth.

"What plans? A return party?" The oblivious feline cog tried to lighten the situation much to the dismay of their coworker

Toonie's eyes relocked with Copycats as panic and almost anger flooded them.

"No! They want to reset you! Hard reset."

Just the mere utterment of hard resetting brought fear to anyone, the feline was no exception to this. The synthetic hairs on the back of their neck stood on edge as their tail wrapped around their leg nervously.

"Good cogs... If anyone here finds you you'll be in so much shit.."

"This was a bad idea."

"No doyee! You could of left a note under my door or something! But... I'm glad I got to see you again at least. I've missed talking to you." Toonie let out a solemn sigh as they lowered their hands from their hair. "But you really need to go before someone else comes in here."

A strangled and shaky breath left Copycat as they nodded, understanding what needed to be done. Their form returned to that of a grey cat toon before looking up to their friend. The cog got on a knee and held out their arms which were soon filled by the toon. Their embrace short and saddening.

"I'll lead you outside. But we have to be quick before someone shows up, last time I saw Mary around was when she was leaving for patrol, she could be back anytime now."

Thankfully the escape route was easy and swift, when outside of the boardbot headquarters Toonie ruffled the cats fuzzy head as a goodbye.

"Now get out of here before you're reset, or worse, scrapped"

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[lottiezilla]

🤍💌 (can i pls have an excerpt for the WIP if i promise to stop sending sad lottienat edits in bookclub)

uuhhHHH idk i guess "Down By The Lake", i just had so many lottielee feels and hadn't slept in like over 30 hours and that's what my mind produced LMFAO

and hhmmmmmm...i guess i can do that for you :P but also never stop i live to cry over lottienat

Natalie looks from Jackie to Lottie, to Laura Lee. “Someone tell me what the fuck is going on, right now.”

This time, it’s Lottie who speaks, and it surprises everyone in the circle. “It’s in all of us,” she repeats, sounding giddy. Her voice turns suddenly dark despite the smile still plastered on her face. “Even him, even you.” 

Natalie takes a step backwards and Laura Lee watches as fear overtakes her as well. She doesn’t understand why they’re all afraid of Lottie-- the taller girl would never hurt any of them. This obviously wasn’t her. Something was happening to her but Laura Lee wasn’t going to let it take her away. Lottie was special, Lottie was chosen. She was holy and Laura Lee would bow at her feet if it meant proving to everyone else that she was no one to balk at, no one to fear.

“Nat,” Laura Lee says, finally releasing Lottie. That was, apparently, a mistake. The girl races forward, towards Natalie, too fast for anyone around them to register, especially Natalie herself. Lottie’s hand snags Natalie’s wrist and tugs the smaller girl into her, wrapping her free arm around Natalie’s waist to hold her in place.

“He isn’t important,” Lottie says to Natalie, who is struggling her hardest to keep the anger on her face. No one else moves. “We don’t need him. It doesn’t need him.” Natalie jerks against Lottie’s grip but the taller girl is much stronger than her. “You don’t need him.”

That’s apparently the last straw. Natalie is instantly sobered up and she shoves Lottie roughly, causing the taller girl to let go of her and stumble backwards, falling onto her ass. Lottie erupts in loud giggles again. 

“That’s enough of your weird bullshit, Lottie!” Natalie cries out, rounding on the girl. Laura Lee moves, then, too, and stands between the other blonde girl and the brunette on the ground. “Move,” Natalie growls, fists curling. 

Laura Lee shakes her head, stands up taller, jutting her chin out. She’s taller than Natalie, but only by a little bit. Still, she gazes at her down the bridge of her nose. “Leave it, Natalie,” she tells her, and it’s the strongest and most present Laura Lee has felt in weeks. “You wouldn’t understand what’s going on with her.” 

Natalie looks like she wants to shove Laura Lee, too, but her eyes flick so quickly to her burns before returning to her gaze that Laura Lee almost thinks she imagined it. But she didn’t. Natalie grits her teeth as hard as she is gritting her fists. “Whatever it is you think you know is going on,” she says, then, low enough to where Laura Lee is pretty sure only she and Lottie can hear her clearly, “you don’t. You might be Lottie’s knight in shining armor out here, but some of us cared before she became--” Natalie gestures wildly at the laughing girl on the ground-- “this.”

And because it’s Natalie and she can’t just leave well enough alone, she makes sure to bump Laura Lee’s shoulder as she strides off in the direction Jackie had pointed out Travis left in.

Things don’t feel any better than they had a moment ago, but Laura Lee lets out a long breath, sinking to her knees beside Lottie. “Lottie,” she says, reaching out for her. She feels as if she’s losing her and she sees Jackie marching off in the corner of her eye as Shauna stands like a statue next to the stump that was now an altar. “Lottie…come back to bed with me, please.”

Lottie just laughs some more, laying flat on her back and spreading her limbs out to form a star shape. “She’ll see,” Lottie says, that grin pulling onto her face, crooked and drunk, “she’ll see I’m right. Soon enough.” She’s nodding to herself as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Soon enough.”

[neritat]

Develop & Adjust Project Phase

This week I split my time between refining the model and learning about applying texture and colour using a UV map. I was also mindful of my work set-up and looked to practice optimal positioning to avoid exacerbating my wrist and hand issues.

Refining model

I experimented with sculpting techniques to reshape the model but found this problematic in that I had less control over the shaping process so ended up abandoning this and returning to “hard surface” modelling techniques.

Applying colour & texturing

I met with my client RK this week to review the model as well as go through her process for texturing mainly using images and texture painting in photoshop. We looked at the properties I’d need for texturing for the head, antennae and eyes and getting gradation and depth to the colouring. The UV map works a bit like a pattern for clothing in that it is the 2D pattern laid out flat that then wraps around the model.

The image below shows using a reference image on the left and placing the UV map for the head over the image to colour the head. Although the image is glossy, it has a matt appearance on the model.

The second image below shows using a painted over image on the left to capture a range of colours which the UV map can be arranged on to achieve the colour results needed. The greater the amount of detail needed then the larger the map for that part needs to be. Mapping the entire ant head and all its elements onto a single image can also help keep the file size small. In this image below the head on the model appears glossy which was achieved by adjusting the material properties after the texture/colour map had been applied.

We also looked at how to layout the UV map, where to place “seams” or cuts in the design. Seams can show up so need to be either hidden or made seamless so it doesn’t interrupt the surface pattern. We also worked through some clean up of aspects of the model which included some speedy ways to select, orient and adjust the model’s mesh.

We looked at some of RK's plant models for examples of how she had put the colour mapping into practice using images, photoshop editing and adapting the UV maps. RK reiterated that playing with the model and software are key to embedding learning and understanding how to get the best out of the tools and project.

Finally, it was agreed that although the model needs further refining to reach a suitable level for scientific use, that it was important to focus on this next stage of colouring and texturing a model to round out my skill set in modelling. Further refinement of the model can be done at a later stage and will go beyond this project - RK advised that a number of iterations are usually needed to achieve a highly refined model that incorporates feedback following reviews from experts in the field. We discussed some options to try out with the colouring and the intention for this next week will be to experiment with the colouring.

[clawsextended]

“baby, you are my favorite person in the fucking world. i think sometimes it crushes me flat that you don’t know that. —bryce wayne, i hate everybody, but i love you.”

the little flick at the collar makes her giggle softly in a way she can barely contain. it’s strange and musical and light and it floats, oh, it floats, through and into the bat’s shapely ears. she flushes a rose pink with delight, entirely demure, immensely moved and yet standing in one place. she can’t express the way her skin sings with it, buzzing and buzzing. she’s aching to feel it, the familiar, necessitated press of skin, the desperate warmth she so inherently seeks out. she needs the bat with a need that can’t be expressed in words. every touch of affection is ecstatically received even in her silence.

“i wish you got it, y’know? like. i wish you could see the bat the way i do. as a hero, yeah, but who gives a fuck about that? as my hero. i’d be dead without you. a thousand times over. because you stopped it from happening, because you stopped me from being an asshole. because — you texted me, or you called me, or my kid mentioned you and suddenly you were all that mattered, right next to her next breath.

you’ve believed in me when i couldn’t give a fuck about myself. without you, i’d be fucking roadkill. bane would be picking my bone marrow out of his teeth. i’d be splattered across innumerable walls. you’ve kept me alive.

and sometimes…? you’ll get a soda with me. you won’t flip shit when i steal the bike — i do always fill the tank and rotate the tires — and i put it right back. fuck, sometimes you’ll pass it right by and you won’t even mention it. i’d say i wish i knew you as a kid, but it wouldn’t have gone nicely. i was a… uniquely hateful child.”

to put it mildly. shoulders laden with muscle wrapped around the bat’s tremendously slender frame, somehow both those things, selina will never know, shrug uncaringly. she’s only ever that little girl with the bloody knees, but she knows her too well — she is enormously guilty of that murder, that becoming she’s been through to be who she is. to live.

but all things have consequences. the cat’s paying them, but in this moment it dissipates. it floats up and away from her now, effusive as her giggle earlier, as the bubbles in a bath. her troubles are ephemeral in this intimacy. she breathes out quietly with another calm hum, ever nuzzling unconsciously.

she finds herself calming down in degrees, in platforms. every second takes her down and down and down until she can finally be something close to dare she think peaceful. she shakes her head, entirely canine as equally as she is feline. her voice is soft.

“i don’t want this to mean we have to fight.”

whispered murmur is quieter and quieter, sincere, too, and she absolutely can’t help it. it pours out of her like a hemorrhage. she clings, effective as she can be, that little girl entirely capable, now, of seeing the other in an absolute way. she doesn’t shrink from the closeness, the intimacy.

she doesn’t see a reason to. she’s been desperate for it for an age.

“i need you to get that. i don’t want to fight. I don’t want to argue or yell at you. fuck, i don’t want to be mean to you. like, i can be upset, option a—“

she holds up a hand, one short, blunt, coral painted nail shining glossy and neat (if not nestled beside tiny red drops of dried blood that paint the beds of each cuticle, ten tiny rubies, almost as spotless as her polish) as she raises them. an arm easily raises beneath the bat’s hold to crook digits in view. speaks plainly, again, eyes tremendous and brown and blinking almost metronomically.

“—or option b—“

she raises a second slender finger, the pads of it worn finely to sand, slate-smooth and empty. she erases herself on purpose, did long ago.

“—i understand your point of view, i accept your apology, we figure the fuck out why it happened and understand neither of us wanted shit to go down how it did. but we’re both livewires, it’s bound to happen. like i said, it’s all in how you handle it.”

she has had an awful lot happen in a short span of time. or, relatively short. long…? she struggles to perceive it. but she’s pretty fucking exhausted after therapy, meds, adjustment to meds— oh, and having her head put in a reverse bear-trap and her throat slit when she fucking survived it. that, too.

she cannot win.

unless she forces herself to, which she will do.

“I’m cool with whatever. just… help me out. stick with me. lend me your cape. talk when you need it. listen when i need it. love my kid.

let me help you when i can. and just… honestly, i could use all the patience in the world. i. uh. am embarrassingly full of apologies.”

“that’s — that’s always kind of the problem, anyway.”

that rueful smile crosses her face. it almost finds itself as though it was never meant to leave, as though that burdensome sorrow always finds itself balanced on the bow of her lips. maybe it always sucks — she doesn’t have another word for it. it sucks.

she has two oscars sitting on her bedside table and she doesn’t think it’ll ever hurt less when somebody falls for it. there’s something she feels that’s almost hateful, and then it becomes almost hurt, and eventually it’s a dull ache, a beat.

the cat isn’t real. the cat is a figment, an awful creature that’s been crafted for the purpose of survival. dreadful, awful, violent survival. the beast been created to be nothing but that — an animal, something more suited to a habitat than a home. the cat bites and claws and snarls, selina’s most precise rage made violently, flagrantly visceral. a pile of guts is more equivalent to the feline than the elegant dresses she wears, the sleek suit not near as simple or symmetrical as she.

it’s an act, a play in only one part that takes place on a stage that never stops whirling. every single moment in that suit she yearns to be seen for it — she wants, more than anything, to be made whole in another’s eyes. she thinks she could be real that way, the real kind of real.

“yeah. selina kyle is an illegitimate orphan who didn’t grow up anywhere. i don’t know what to do with your life. you didn’t leave daphne or the cat with all this, you left selina with it.

….and i appreciate that. but… i can’t do all this by myself.

i just felt… not real. like i just… wasn’t a person. to you. and i felt myself fade. i just… stopped.”

and now she’s starting again. like she’s been wound up yet again, like she’s been created anew, like this is a new her over and over. but she listens, accepts these gestures with enormous greed and covetously consumes them all on her own. avarice is the language she speaks with fluency and she relearns it with eager ease.

disappointment lingers like dewdrops on a cold morning but she shakes them away easily.

it’s really the genuine intent that counts, she reminds herself. she softly, softly, softly kisses a cheek with overflowing fondness. she lingers there to press her nose against, to hide almost shyly in the bat’s shadow.

—the squeeze alarms her. she blinks, taken aback in some faint delirium, some brief respite she’d wandered off on and, heady with that, had lost her own head. she’s surprised — bryce takes her hands away and selina returns them, gently tugging wrists to link behind her neck, to hold her there comfortably. she reaches up to swipe a strand of black carefully behind an ear, to whisper,

“yeah. don’t know if you know this, but i’m great at disrupting plans. i can’t even plan for me. you think i know what i’m saying..? i don’t. i’m just… being honest.”

she doesn’t lie in her personal life. but there’s an expression she affords bryce — a more aware creature, one not quite as bereft as selina, might cover the flat blink. might take some initiative to try to soften the thing. but she doesn’t, and brown eyes blink again, frightfully glassy in the most comical way. her eyebrow lifts.

“do you… do you think i didn’t fall in love with batwoman? like… do you think i don’t love you when you’re the bat? you think that wasn’t the first you i fell in love with? come the fuck on, you know me better.”

a knuckle gently digs into the hinge of the other’s jaw, a joking little gesture that insists she remember who she’s talking to. bryce had insisted it — they’re the bat and the cat, after all — and selina will reiterate that fact. they’re maybe the only two people who can understand each other.

she can’t pretend she doesn’t want to be seen. the idea hurts. so she won’t entertain it, fuck that. no. she’ll do what she wants.

she’s entirely unafraid to take that on. meekness isn’t (often) in her vocabulary.

“i’m still eight. every fucking day. i wake up and for a second there’s blood all over my knees. holly sleeps in my bed and i think she’s me for a second. i wake up and i start to choke until i reorient myself. it’s a fuck of a thing, but it hasn’t gone away yet, so. at risk of being morbid, it beats the alternative.”

she laughs like the hinge of a rusty gate, burying her face into the juncture of a shoulder. the rough, razor laugh racks her body and she apologizes. sometimes she sees herself outside herself and all she wants to do is shake herself by the shoulders, scream in her own face.

“—sorry. jesus. that… wasn’t on purpose. —i don’t want you to change. i just want you to be here with me, too. bryce. batwoman. all of you, both of you. i know you hate it, but you’re really a hero.

like, genuine article.

and when you left… i don’t know. it hurt in a way i can’t just make sense out of it. when i don’t have answers, when i’m alone it just—“

she swallows again. harder.

“—it gets hard to try to be logical. which pisses me off. which makes me worse at everything else. Repeat, ad nauseum until — let’s go with now, optimistically.”

oh, would that she could be anyone else.

[rosyvvoods]

I'm not usually the person to make and post headcanons but I was thinking about how the crew from Cold War all sleep so <3 I hope you enjoy HDJDGDJDH

Forgive the lack of a read more here I wanted to post this but am at work on mobile so I can't add one at the moment!!! I'll add one when I can ✌😔

Woods

Moves a lot in his sleep- any time he settles he’s either on his side or he’s a starfish across the entire bed 

Doesn’t cling in the middle of the night and while the man cherishes cuddling he doesn’t like to be so entangled that he and whoever is sleeping next to him can’t untangle easily

Good nights he sleeps like a log and needs a bit of gentle rousing to wake him up- bad nights he’s the lightest sleeper anyone has ever known and often wakes up to toss and turn rather than just shifting in his sleep

Doesn’t have dreams too often but when he does they’re either ridiculously vivid and he wakes up baffled and a little disoriented, or they’re nightmares unfortunately and he doesn’t usually fall back asleep after waking up from that; sometimes he’ll even just get up altogether and make some tea or coffee 

Warm as hell and often needs only a blanket or two and maybe a top sheet otherwise he sweats like no one’s business; that being said he’s the type to sleep with a fan on and layer up with ten blankets despite kicking them all off in the middle of the night

As mentioned before the man loves to cuddle and just resonates with any kind of soft intimacy that just having physical contact with a person can bring 

It doesn’t matter who is asleep with him, shape, size, whatever, he says either lay on top of me or let me lay on top of you with my head on your chest or in the crook of your neck 

He's like a cuddly cat. He will headbutt his sleeping partner affectionately, nestle his head against them, even just press his face against whatever part of their body he can access. Also beard scritchies, both giving him scritchies under his chin idly when he's waking up and him rubbing his beard against his partner.

Mason

Sleeps best curled up on his side with his back facing a wall or whoever he’s sleeping next to (as long as he trusts them completely) 

Ever since being brainwashed he has a massive issue with sleeping with his back to an open room or to someone he’s not close with- understandably so

Actually sleeps relatively well by the time of Cold War, he’s a lighter sleeper than Woods though so make a loud noise and he’s waking up 

Preference as far as spooning is like 60% little spoon 40% big spoon- Mason isn’t too too particular but again, sleeping with someone he loves and trusts and having them curl around his back makes him more comfortable most of the time

Doesn’t move much in his sleep unless he’s having nightmares, and then he kinda thrashes around (again, understandably so) but again by the time of Cold War his nightmares are fewer and further between though they still happen

Similar to Woods he likes the comfort of casual physical touch, but he DOES enjoy someone clinging to him or him clinging to someone else; arguably, the closer the better, as it’s all about the security of it 

Surprisingly talks a lot in his sleep, though it’s mostly mumbling and murmuring and soft hums as opposed to full length sentences or even just words 

Mason is also a space heater much like Woods but he doesn’t overheat as easily and he likes having a few blankets on top of him, though he lessens that number when someone sleeps with him because their body heat combined with his is usually enough, even if that person gets cold easily

Hudson

Sleeps flat on his back with his arms at his sides or wrapped around whoever may be sleeping next to him

Hudson is like a goddamn rock when he sleeps- he falls asleep easy, doesn’t move, and doesn’t wake up super easily 

That being said when he does wake up in the middle of the night he absolutely cannot fall back asleep, so he tends to get work done or gets up to do something productive with a cup of coffee- he also makes sure to make breakfast or get stuff ready for his sleeping partner/ s/o so their mornings are a little easier

Gets cold pretty easily so he likes to have whoever he’s sleeping with as close to him as possible and also bundles up like nobody’s business- he also wears socks to bed, I don’t make the rules, it’s genuinely just because he’ll freeze to death 

Likes the weight of someone in bed next to him/laying on top of him, and while he doesn’t need it to fall asleep it sure is a major bonus 

Hudson 100% talks in his sleep, but it’s never anything important that slips out, it’s mostly just gibberish that’s funny as hell; if anyone ever alerts him to this or says they remember what he said in the middle of the night he swears them to secrecy 

Adler

Can sleep in any position and it’s kind of annoying, though he’s the MOST comfortable lying on his stomach with his arms tucked under his pillow, usually one of his legs is bent (I know there’s a name for this sleeping position but I can’t think of it oops)

He doesn’t fall asleep easily, though, and it often takes him some time to get there; he’s learned to function on little to no sleep, because he’ll have trouble falling asleep and then he only sleeps for a few hours, and then he’ll wake up and lay in bed until he feels the need to get up and do something or start his day

This is different though when he’s sleeping with someone- he doesn’t always admit it but he sleeps longer and more soundly with someone next to him (Sims still thinks it’s because of everything that happened in Vietnam and Adler keeps more people at arm's length now, so he doesn’t often let anyone get that close to him; Adler denies this entirely, but Sims is right, and he misses that safe feeling of having a bunch of people around him) 

Doesn’t like to cuddle when falling asleep, but tends to cling a little once he’s out. Even if it’s just an arm around their waist or if it progresses into him being half on top of whoever he’s sleeping with, once asleep he’s attached; if that person doesn’t sleep well like that, however, he’s easy to push off and he’ll just nestle his face against their back rather than crowd them via holding them

Has a hard time getting motivated to get up in the morning despite literally everything else about him. He’s so driven 99% of the time but when it comes to actually getting out of the comfort of bed, ESPECIALLY when he’s got someone curled up with him, he’s very grouchy and grumpy and needs to get up on his own terms (which is often why he lays in bed for a while after waking up) 

He puts off a lot of body heat but he can’t seem to keep a lick of it for himself so whoever is sleeping next to him will be nice and toasty but Adler will 100% steal all of the blankets in the middle of the night because he’s so goddamn cold; this is made better by the proximity of his sleeping partner 

Park

Outright refuses to cuddle when falling asleep with someone. She doesn’t like the feeling of having someone all over her or confining her to a certain position/spot in the bed.

Tosses and turns a lot in her sleep but usually just moves in place, flipping over and lying on her stomach or her back if she fell asleep in the opposite position. 

She doesn’t get cold easily but she also doesn’t put out a lot of body heat, so RIP to whoever is sleeping next to her, because she’s often colder to the touch than most- she’s used to it, and her body simply keeps all of its heat internal 

Park can absolutely sleep in any position on any semi-comfortable thing; she doesn’t need a bed to sleep well, she can fall asleep in an office chair if she must and it again, really doesn’t bother her; these are the only times she’s pretty okay with someone else curling up with her, because she’s either curled up in their lap as they sit in a chair or the other way around 

Often sleeps all through the night/doesn’t wake up easily, unless she’s having a bad dream about the event that gave her her scar or someone wakes her purposefully 

Wears socks to bed despite not getting cold, she just doesn’t like being exposed if her feet slip out from under the sheets/blanket 

Tends to have to remake the bed in the morning because with all of her movement she often yanks all of the sheets and blankets out of place 

Sims

Isn’t partial to sleeping alone or with someone else, and neither really affect his sleep; someone sleeping with him will get held throughout the night, though, as he’s a bit clingy 

Used to sleep horribly before he started seeing his “shrink”/therapist, but since then has learned some ways to help him fall asleep and keep any dreams of the war away- they still happen every now and then but they’re increasingly rare

Early to bed, early to rise! He’s pretty well rounded as far as his sleeping habits go, but when he’s pulled on board during Cold War it throws a wrench in all of that, and Adler hears about it for weeks (as he should!) 

Sleeping partners really get the best of any kind of sleeping situation- Sims likes to sleep with one or two blankets and sheets, the fan on low or medium, and he’s pretty malleable as far as what he needs to sleep soundly so whoever is asleep beside him can sleep however they want

One of the ways that he’s learned helps him sleep soundly is actually using a sleeping mask, as it blocks out any additional light and helps him relax enough to get settled in properly 

In addition if someone’s sleeping with him they’ll be in for a treat, as Sims gets only the best sheets- they’re not too scratchy or woolen, and they’re not silken enough to be staticky, but they’re just a pleasure to sleep in and he changes his bed sheets every couple of days to ensure ease of rest 

Lazar

This man sleeps like a bear in hibernation and you cannot convince me otherwise 

He’s a human radiator, he almost always starfish-es across the bed, and he’s very prone to holding people he’s sleeping with close to him; good luck to his sleeping partners, however, because Lazar also has one hell of a grip (and he’s always apologetic if whoever he’s sleeping with has issues with being held that close) 

Lazar sleeps best with a TON of pillows, and he prefers a soft, cushiony bed to just about anything else in the world 

He also prefers said beds to be plush with blankets; despite putting out so much heat he doesn’t overheat easily and he really, truly just wants to be as comfortable as possible

When not in the perfect setting however he’s more prone to poorer sleep; he moves around more and has trouble staying asleep once he gets there, but he’ll also get up and make himself some tea and snack on something before heading back to bed- it usually helps! 

Lazar loves LOVES loves being cuddled up with someone, he adores any kind of physicality someone can bring to the table and he’ll admit one of his favorite things is waking up to his sleeping partner still asleep- he just finds it very sweet and heartwarming; his second favorite thing is waking up to seeing someone doing the same to him, and know that usually after this he pulls them on top of him and wraps them up in his arms (and is like “ok, back to bed” whether they have to get up or not SDHFSHDFS)

[wri0thesley]

Could I get some Gojo face sitting please 👉🏻👈🏻🥺 Maybe with a chubby reader?

fool for love - gojo x reader (2.25k)

gojo asks you to try something, and you can never say no to him. 

(warnings: nsfw, afab reader, fem pronouns (pet names). explicitly chubby reader, mentions of worries about weight/body. cunnilingus/facesitting)

Sometimes you think it’s a good job that you and Satoru Gojo are a couple; you’re absolutely certain that nobody but you would put up with him. You’re totally convinced that you’re the only fool in the world who sees his arrogant smirk and the thrust of his chin and the cocky set of his shoulders, listens to him go on and on about himself and about his work and about his strength, and wants to kiss him instead of kill him.

You do kiss him, coincidentally. A lot. Partly because when he’s kissing you, he’s not running his mouth – partly because the taste of his lips on yours and the feel of his hands on your waist, pulling you in, is addictive. You can’t get enough of him – and luckily, it seems that he can’t get enough of you either.

So when Gojo had thrown out this suggestion, casually, as if he was asking you what you two were going to order for dinner that night (you’ve never seen Gojo make anything more complicated than a ramen cup), it had not taken you long to agree.

Faced with it, though – Gojo situated on the bed, arm stretched over his head, grin on his face – you begin to wonder if maybe it’s such a good idea.

“Don’t back out on me now,” he says, the cocky grin not leaving his face. “I’ve been dying to taste you for hours.”

You shift uncomfortably on the other side of the bed, suddenly horribly aware of the curves of your body. No matter how Gojo’s words send a thrill through you – you know from experience he’s good with his tongue – you can’t deny that you’re a little afraid.

It’s easy to forget the difference between the two of you when he’s got you pressed underneath him on the mattress, cock plunging in and out, mouth hungrily kissing every patch of skin he can get at. When Gojo looks at you with his hair falling in his face and his eyes like starlit galaxies, you feel beautiful – but you’re not sure if you’ll feel quite the same way straddling his face.

He sees the way you bite your lip, the anxiety beginning to show in your gaze – and Gojo softens. You see him like this rarely (he’s proud more than he’s caring), but he’s shown this side of him to you every so often, when something has made you draw in on yourself. One of his hands wraps around your bare shoulders, pulling you to face him.

“Hey, doll,” he says, pressing his nose against yours affectionately. “What’s got you pouting, huh?”

“I . . .” You swallow. You feel so embarrassed admitting it! Gojo has never said anything about your body beyond how much he loves having your hips to hold onto, how he loves your thighs wrapped around his waist, how soft and warm you are tangled up beside him in bed – but your insecurities always seem to flash back up at the most inopportune of moments. “I’m just . . .” You blink, biting your lip. Your voice comes out in a soft breath. “I’m worried I’ll be too heavy.”

Gojo’s eyebrows draw in. You must have seen him without anything shading his eyes a hundred times now, when the two of you are in the bedroom, but you are still knocked back by just how pretty he is – the constellations in his irises, the fan of his white eyelashes against perfect skin. The expression makes his mouth jut out, so kissable that it takes your breath away.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” he says, as if the very idea is laughable. “I could lift you over my head right now--”

He reaches for you as if he’s going to do it, arms locking about your waist – the tension breaks as he effortlessly pulls you back, your body landing on top his. He doesn’t so much as let out a ‘whumph’ of air at the sensation of your body hitting his.

“I’m the strongest, remember?” There’s more than a note of swagger in his voice; he is so very proud of that accomplishment. You suppose he has every right to be.

“I guess,” you breathe, and he makes a soft harrumphing sound before his fingers twist into your hair, pulling you close to him to kiss you.

“You guess?” He sounds mock offended against your lips. “I guess that means I’ll have to show you exactly what I mean, huh?”

A nip at your lower lip; his hands roaming your bare back, stroking the curve of your ass and hips. Everywhere Gojo’s long fingers touch leaves a trail of fire behind, like he’s branding you with the pressure of his fingertips. You imagine them leaving glowing trails behind the colour of his eyes – but the coil of heat that they’re helping stoke, low in your belly, is more red than anything else.

“How’re you gonna do that?” You breathe against the softness of his mouth. He tastes like sugar; he always does. You can’t get enough of him, dizzy and breathless. You would gorge yourself on him if you could.

“Take a seat on your throne, princess,” he grins, letting his head hit the pillows hard. His pale hair spreads out all around him like a halo as he moves a hand from your hip to tap his mouth with his fingers. “And find out.”

You guess it would shut him up. Gojo’s mouth can’t keep moving if he’s got you occupying it. And you also can’t deny that the thought of it – riding his face – is more than half of the reason your inner thighs are slick with your arousal. Still . . . what if you really are too heavy for him?

Gojo murmurs your name softly – you meet his eyes again, and you see softness and tenderness reflected in them, despite the fact that his mouth is still shaped into a cocky smirk. You know if you say no, he probably won’t push you. But . . . you don’t want to say no. You push yourself up from his chest.

He’s still wearing his underwear, and you wonder if he can sense how damp you are where you briefly straddle him – because you can certainly feel how stiff he is, the outline of his cock pressing against silken boxer shorts (yeah, of course he’s a silk underwear kind of man – you’ve seen them countless times, but just how Gojo that particular detail of him is never fails to make you smile).

“Okay,” you breathe. “I hope you’re comfy.”

Gojo’s face splits into a grin as you move yourself, your knees suddenly either side of his face, his cheeks pressing against the softness of your thighs.

“Babe,” he starts to say, “I’m absolutely the com—mmppf--”

His gloating is cut off by you sitting on his face. The whisper of his breath across your heated folds as he’d spoken had been too tempting, your sex feeling like it was pulsing in time with your heartbeat – and so, you’d given in. Using your hands as leverage on the headboard of the bed, you’d sunk fully onto your knees and muffled Gojo’s words.

Oh, God.

Your mind blanks out at first, as Gojo’s tongue goes at you hungrily. For his first hungry licks at your core, he’s voracious – he seems to want to drink you up like fine wine. Gojo does not drink – you know this very well – but if he could get drunk on your slick, you think he’d already be unable to stand up. One of the hands on the headboard goes to tangle in the fluffy strands of his pale hair instead, and he looks up at you for a moment, pausing with the flat of his tongue pressed against the throbbing bud of your clit.

The sight of his eyes between your thighs almost pushes you over the edge there and then – looking down at him feels like tumbling down a rabbit hole, like you’ll never be able to pull yourself out of their lovely depths. He makes a soft noise against your folds that has you practically vibrating, your toes curling – and you realise it’s a question.

Maybe he’s asking you what’s wrong, maybe he’s asking you if you want to stop, but your mind is all hazy from the feeling of his mouth on you. So all you do is tug at his hair and gasp, your hips rolling forward against him to try and coax his tongue into flickering across your clit like you’re longing for it to do.

“Satoru,” you whimper, voice all thin and reedy like a prayer, and Gojo does not need any more encouragement than that to return to his work.

Gojo’s hands rest on your hips and even you feel small for a second, the length of his fingers and size of his palm almost overwhelming. There’s so much power in the way he holds you – so much strength behind the casual clench of his fingers into your plush. He keeps you anchored there as he uses the flat swathe of his tongue to lap at you all at once, briefly teasing your entrance before he twirls his tongue around your clit like someone licking whipped cream off of a fancy dessert--

He’s caught you watching him do exactly that out of the corner of your eye many times before, and grinned at you widely with a hungry murmur that he’ll devour you in exactly the same way if you want him too.

Does he not need to breathe?

You lose track of how long you’ve been sat on his face for. You can’t think of anything else with the warm, wet muscle of Gojo’s tongue teasing you. He thrusts it in and out of your entrance, making your entire body jerk and your walls try and cling to him, constrict around him. He flicks his tongue so fast over the bud of your clit that you can’t understand how he does it, it can’t be human to move that fast--

All through it, the tension tight in your stomach is getting hotter and tighter and needier, like a instrument's string being tuned to its breaking point.

You can barely breathe. There’s nothing but Gojo’s insistent lapping at your core, the thrust of his tongue in and out of your channel (has Gojo’s tongue always been so long? It feels just as good inside of you as his fingers always do, but different--). Your hips are rocking and grinding against his face against your will, your fingers twisting into his hair. You’ve lost your senses completely in the chase of your release, hovering tantalisingly close--

Gojo gives your clit one final, soft lap, the barest hint of his teeth against the hood and you burst into bloom for him like a flower. The string snaps and heat floods your body, Gojo’s name escaping you in a wail. Fireworks burst into being behind your eyelids.

Gojo’s tongue follows through, coaxing you through the soft, gentle aftershocks of your orgasm even as your thighs are trembling and your grip on the headboard is beginning to loosen. If it weren’t for his hands on your hips, you would probably fall forward and hit your head on the wall, passing out – but Gojo’s assessment of his strength wasn’t for naught, and your spent body is being pulled down so your heated cheeks are pressed against Gojo’s firm chest. You blink up at him in your exhausted, pleasure-drunk state--

The entire lower half of his mouth is dripping wet, glinting with your arousal and his own drool from how hungrily his tongue was going at you. But his eyes are as sharp as ever, drinking you in like you’re the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen – as if he can’t believe that you’d ever doubt yourself.

Nobody would believe you if you told them how Gojo gets, sometimes – if you told them about the smile-softened eyes and the softer words, the way he holds you like a precious treasure that might break at any moment. He leans down and strokes some hair from your eyes, almost lazy.

“I told you I was the strongest,” he says, and even though it’s a boast, his voice and manner is so soft that you barely register it. You’re smiling up at him like a fool. Maybe it’s foolish to love him as much as you do – but if it is, you don’t want to be clever. You don’t want to be anything but his, here, in his bed, sprawled out across him, lazy and sated.

You kiss the bit of his chest directly beneath your lips lazily, needing to express your affection for this arrogant, gorgeous, irrepressible (perfect) man.

He sighs at the contact, shifting – and you’re reminded of what’s currently lying beneath his own underwear, hot and needy and thick. It’s a testament to Gojo’s willpower he hasn’t mentioned it yet.

You smile at him. One more minute of relaxing on his chest – of having your hair played with, of getting to look at him . . . and then, you’ll see to that.

Gojo’s eyes are just as gorgeous when you’re knelt between his thighs as they are when he’s trapped between yours, after all.

[feralghxuls]

dew fits so perfectly against mountain's chest

and mountains arm wrap so nicely around dew's waist

and dew doesn't mind sitting in comfortable silence with mountain, as long as they're touching. mountain likes that dew doesn't feel the need to fill the silence

and mountain doesn't ask questions when dew comes to him pissed off, smelling of burnt oak and sulfur. dew likes that he can sit beside mountain and stew in his anger and upset until mountain's mere presence takes the edge off

[my rambling turned into a ficlet under the cut]

when mountain was first summoned, he had a really hard time with the other ghouls. he didn't understand why they were so friendly, he didn't get the social cues, he didnt like the touching. dew wasn't like the others. he kept to himself, and when he didn't he was blunt and straightforward. he ignored mountain for a while, until the day he strode up to him and asked what his problem is. demanded to know why mountain was always staring at him

mountain didnt realize he was staring. he felt drawn to dew, for reasons he didn't understand. where he came from in the pit, there was no friendliness. you met other ghouls only to chase them out of your territory, or be chased yourself. dew had asked him two questions, so mountain gave him two answers: it's too loud and too bright; he stares because dew is interesting to look at.

dew had barked out a laugh and taken mountain by the elbow, dragging him down a half dozen halfways and halfway across the abbey, somewhere mountain had never been before, where the air smelled of dust and the walls were old, uncovered stone bricks, and then they were in a room, and just before dew kicked the door closed, mountain could see shapes covered by white cloth and a layer of dust. then it was dark. and quiet. quieter than anywhere in the abbey, except for two sets of lungs breathing and two hearts beating.

mountains eyes hadn't needed to see in such darkness since before he was summoned, but it only took a few seconds before he could see everything in the room as plainly as if the lights were on, but he was only looking at dew, standing in front of him. unmoving and staring right at him.

"even in the dark, you're still staring at me," dew said, tone flat. but then he laughed. it wasn't the rough, caustic laugh he'd barked out earlier, or the bitter, scathing one mountain usually hears from him. it was still rough around the edges, but it was warm. sincere.

"i want to touch you," mountain said. it hadn't taken him long to pick up the language, but it still felt heavy on his tongue. english was a different story; he could only understand a few words, and knew how to say even less.

dew laughed again, a soft chuckle this time, and stepped forward. "thought you didn't like to be touched," he murmured, waiting. he stood rigid at attention like he always did; feet planted apart, arms folded sharply behind his back, but the longer mountain looked, the more he realized that his posture wasn't as tense as it appeared. there was relaxation in the muscles of his shoulders, his hands at a lower point behind his back than they were when dew stood before their Papa.

"it's too much," mountain explained. the lights burned his eyes, the sounds made his head pound, the scent of so many other ghouls and people made his nerves fray. every brush of anything against his skin was like fire.

but now, in the dimness of the room, where the only sound was dew's breathing and heartbeat and mountain's own, and dew and dust were the only scents, touch wasn't so bad. he reached out to dew, tracing his fingertips along his cheekbone, half expecting dew's head to snap to the side and teeth to sink into his skin.

dew kept still. his eyes were steady and weighted on mountain, his pupils reflecting the tiniest bit of starlight filtering in through the covered windows. his skin was soft and warm, and mountain took half a step forward, lifted his other hand to trail down the center of dew's chest while his first slid around to the back of his neck.

mountain didnt know how long he spent, gently exploring dew with his fingertips, but eventually dew asked if he could touch. mountain nodded. dew's touch was light, but purposeful as his fingers skated across mountain's skin, one hand on his shoulder while the other slid to his waist.

they spent a long time like that. touching. by the time both of dew's palms came to rest on mountain's cheeks, every inch of his skin was warm and tingling and he felt more alive in this moment than he had ever since he'd been summoned.

"I'm going to kiss you," dew said, raising himself up on his toes and pulling mountain down at the same time.

"i don't know what that is," mountain said, but whatever it was, he knew he wanted it, and he wanted it from dew.

he didn't laugh. his thumb brushed over mountain's cheekbone, and dew said, "i'll show you. stop me if you don't like it."

mountain nodded, and let dew pull him down further. their faces were very close together, close enough that mountain could count dew's eyelashes, and see the patterns in his irises, and the faint white freckles across his cheeks he'd never noticed before, and still dew was moving closer.

dew's lips brushed mountain's, a strange sensation, warm and tingling, and when mountain made no move to stop him, dew pressed his lips properly to mountain's.

mountain had never been kissed before. he'd bred and been bred, countless times, but to put your face that close to another ghoul's back in the pit was certain injury and death. there was no tenderness. this was tender. dew's mouth was soft on his own, and the kiss lasted only a second or two before he pulled away, gaze piercing into mountain's.

"that was a kiss," dew said. "do you want me to do it again?"

mountain nodded, already leaning in. he wanted more of that, more of dew's tenderness. this time, it lasted longer, and when dew's mouth began to move against mountain's, he found himself mirroring the movement. and then dew's tongue traced along mountain's lower lip, and without thinking he parted his lips and dew's tongue was in his mouth.

strange. it was all very strange, but good. it made his spine tingle, his cheeks hot, his hands tremble, his body reacting in ways he was unfamiliar with. none of this happened when he met the ghouls in the pit for breeding. he wanted more of it. he wanted this moment to last forever.

but dew pulled back before forever got there. again, his eyes bored into mountain's, his pupils blown wide and a faint flush across his cheeks.

"i like it," mountain said. "do it again."

dew's lips quirked into a crooked grin, and he dragged mountain back down.

thinking abt mountain and dew yet again

[writtenbyjenn]

I Win (Miraak x Mage!Dragonborn!Reader)

Warnings: N/A Word Count: 1344

“We don’t have to do this. We don’t have to fight!” Miraak and Y/N circled one another at the apex of Apocrypha.

“Herma-Mora is tricking you! Haven’t you heard the whispers of the seekers? The flutters in the pages?”

He fell silent for a moment. Then shook his head, as to him, it didn’t matter anyways. “There is no escape; I will take your soul and make one myself!”

“Listen,” Y/N pleaded.

“If you keep up this blasphemous talk, Hermaeus Mora will kill you himself,” Miraak said.

“His plan is to kill you. You have caused him too much trouble, Miraak. You know this.”

The pair continued circling one another, each deftly doging each other’s shouts and blows.

“How do you know about his plan? How do you even have a plan for escape?” No one in Apocrypha could know more than him. He had been there for so long.

“You see, but you refuse to listen! The walls speak, the seekers whisper… You wish to defy Herma-Mora? Escape without either of our lives being lost,” Y/N said, narrowly dodging a bout of flame.

“Impossible. Hermaeus Mora won’t allow it,”

“He can’t harm us here,” Y/N stood still and looked upwards. Miraak’s eyes followed. The sky had become dark… No, rather, Hermaeus Mora lay just beyond the arena. He couldn’t enter. There was… a barrier?

“He sees I intend to stop you, but not in the way he imagined,” Y/N’s weapon was at their side. It would be impossibly easy to strike now and end them, but Miraak was intrigued.

“You’re a mage? What spell can hold back a daedric prince as powerful as him?” Miraak looked curiously over at the dragonborn sitting in front of him.

“Your time here has made you arrogant… There is always more to learn. And Apocrypha is the holder of all knowledge. I simply asked, and the walls opened for me, leading me to the spell I needed.”

“Now, we can make a plan,” the dragonborn sat down on the floor, the sky growing ever darker as Hermaeus Mora spread himself to almost completely cover the dome shaped barrier.

“No,” Miraak said involuntarily. He didn’t like this dragonborn. He didn’t like being outdone. “What happens when I am released? I will still take over Solstheim.”

“Then I will fight you. I will not hold back. I will destroy you,” Somehow, Miraak knew their words to be true. “But you deserve a chance. The right to be free. The right to choose your path.”

It was a simple plan, really, even though it would take much effort. The barrier would stay intact, and a simple illusion spell, to make it look as though they were still fighting. They would have some time before Hermaeus Mora realized the trick. After that, a much more complicated and tiring teleportation spell to get them far enough away to complete their escape.

Y/N nearly collapsed after teleporting them to a far flung corner of Apocrypha. Miraak didn’t hesitate to help them; his escape was much more important than his pride. Stumbling forward, the pair found what they were looking for- a black book. One that had been tampered with.

Miraak flung it open and felt a strange pull as he was taken back to the physical world.

The first thing he saw was blue. The sky. He hadn’t seen it in so long…

He was laying flat on his back, the ash of Solstheim cradling him. He took it all in; the smell of the wind, the ash in the air, the clouds lazily floating across the sky.

Beside him, Y/N stirred. He hadn’t even noticed them, let alone their exhaustion from the escape. They sat up, looking over at him, waiting for him to speak.

“Why did you save me? I can do anything now. I could turn on you in an instant...” He was free now. He had the choice. He no longer had to rely on the help of some silly little dragonborn who thought they could do anything.

“No one deserves that kind of punishment, to be trapped somewhere against their own will. I made it my duty to save everyone I could, so when I heard about you, I felt compelled to help.” Y/N stated flatly.

Miraak didn’t understand, but didn’t feel as though it was his place to question them. Why save everyone? Why waste effort on strangers and civilians. It confused him. He pushed it to the back of his mind as he stood up.

“What will you do now?” Y/N asked, standing beside him.

“I will follow you. I leave no debt unpaid, and assisting in my escape was no paltry matter,” Miraak stated. It was clear from his voice that he did not like this arrangement, but it was the only thing that Miraak could think of. The world had changed very drastically from when he last saw it; there was no way he could conquer it with his lack of information.

“Then how about we make a deal…” Y/N started, “I will share my knowledge with you, and in return you share yours with me. I know everything about today’s world, and you have information I find most interesting…”

“Oh? And what information is that?” Miraak asked.

“I am very interested in hearing about your magical techniques, and how they differ from today’s… Oh! I know the perfect place we can go. Somewhere we can talk freely with another dov…” Y/N began walking, Miraak trailing behind.

The entire journey from Solstheim to Skyrim and their long trek to the Throat of the World, Y/N recounted many things to Miraak. From the history he had missed, the magic they had learned and pioneered, and their journey as a dragonborn.

Miraak was content to listen. He took this time to take it all in, to learn and to contemplate. What would his life be now? Who was he, if not a man who conquered? Was following this dragonborn the correct course of action?

As time passed, he knew the answer. Ever since he was child, he was always looked at as though he was inhuman. But even though he hid behind his mask, Y/N always treated him as a person. Even after all he had done. He had never felt so… human.

At the same time, the dragon blood that ran through the pair was not forgotten as they trained together most evenings, sharpening their voices and improving their skills.

One such training session began, and this time the focus was hand to hand combat. Weapons strewn aside in the grass, the two grappled.

Being in a forest had its advantages and disadvantages, one of such came to light. A butterfly floated down between the pair, and landed itself on Miraak’s mask, right between his eyes. Y/N laughed, a musical tone Miraak rarely heard.

Miraak felt his chest jump. Quickly pushing this feeling aside, he launched forward, “Stop laughing!”

Y/N was taken down, hands pinned beside their head, but they didn’t seem to mind as they continued their laughing fit. Miraak felt his face flush. He was equally embarrassed and enamored by their laugh. He knew he had to shut them up, and his brain, rife with the feelings he had been stowing for months, sprung into action.

Quickly flicking his mask aside, Miraak pressed his lips to theirs. Y/N’s laughter was interrupted by a sound of surprise. Leaning in and pressing their face to his, Y/N relished the feel of his lips against their own.

“Hah! The first dragonborn wins again. You shouldn’t let your guard down like that,” Miraak knew he won the brawl, thanks to his bold move.

“Oh, shut up,” Y/N retorted, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer for a sweet kiss.

The next thing he knew, Miraak was flat on his back.

“And actually, I win,” Y/N smiled sweetly and laughed again. Miraak lunged towards them once again.

(If you liked it please send me requests!!!)

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

An Absolute Mess

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader Rating: T Notes: Based off of this ask. Point of view switches between Sherlock and the Reader. Reader is Mrs. Hudson’s niece. Length: 3.1K Warnings: Fluff; Sherlock Being Sherlock™ Summary: Your Aunt Martha had written you a… Moderately frantic letter asking you for help. She was an older woman with a couple of lodgers at 221B Baker Street. 

It started with his pipe, you see. Sherlock couldn’t find his pipe.

This was probably the result of his flat being an absolute mess. Typically it didn’t get this out of hand, but his last case had been something of a whirlwind. There were books laid open, notes atop them, jackets strewn across the back of chairs, plates with half-finished meals left unattended. Typically, Mrs. Hudson did a bit of housekeeping to keep his flat in order. So where was his pipe? “Mrs. HUDSON!”

-- 

Your Aunt Martha had written you a… Moderately frantic letter asking you for help. She was an older woman with a couple of lodgers at 221B Baker Street. She did a bit of light housekeeping for an extra fee, but apparently one of her tenants needed more than a little housekeeping. Aunt Martha had a small room that she could give you to stay in while she caught up with her duties - so long as you focused on that one particular tenant: Sherlock Holmes. 

-- 

“Mrs. Hudson!” You didn’t answer to that call - you were a Hudson, you weren’t Mrs. Hudson. “Mrs. Hudson? Mrs. Huds--” There was a pause behind you. You straightened up, turning to face the man that had stopped in the doorway. “I am not taking on new clients at present, and any inquiries must first be made by mail.”  “I’m not a client, Mr. Holmes. I’m here to help you. You’ve left quite the mess.” “You’re not Mrs. Hudson.” You raised a brow. “Well done, Mr. Holmes. She warned me that you were a sharp one. I’m her niece.” You strode forward as you introduced yourself, holding your hand out for him to shake. He was hesitant before he shook it, eyes narrowing. “I’ll just go and confirm this with her, then, if you don’t mind,” He watched you for any signs of deception - any flinch, any hesitance. As you weren’t lying, though, you had none to show. “Not at all,” You shook your head, “And when you’re back, you can tell me where you like to keep your pipe.” You reached into your apron pocket, procuring the piece. Sherlock looked down at it before he reached out, plucking it from your hand. “I’ll take that, thank you.” 

--

During the first couple of weeks of your time with Mr. Holmes, you couldn’t quite understand how his flat had come to be quite so messy. He seemed to keep to himself, for the most part; he rarely had company, and when he did, they were clients that hardly touched the tea and sandwiches that you brought. 

You weren’t sure why your Aunt Martha begged you to stay on, even as you packed at the end of the second week. “It’s in good shape now, Aunt Martha, it’ll hardly be an issue,” You laughed as you did up your coat. “No, my dear, you do not understand - he’s started a case just this week.” “And so he has, but only a day ago. What kind of damage could the man have possibly done within a day?” You asked, “Now I’ll just run upstairs and say goodbye to Mr. Holmes.” 

You hurried up the steps and found the flat that you’d left in quite a tidy state the night before in absolute chaos - nearly every surface had something on it: books, or plates, or clothing of some kind. It was as if you’d done nothing at all those past two weeks. You sighed, unbuttoning your coat and hanging it over the back of a chair. “Why are you leaving that there?” You heard Sherlock ask. “It’s a wonder that you should notice that, considering the fact that it looks like a tempest has blown through here--” “Where’s my pipe?” You heard Sherlock mumble. You glanced over at him as he began to rifle around in the mess that he’d left. “Could’ve sworn--” You rolled your eyes, lifting away a discarded napkin and spotting the missing object. You picked it up and cleared your throat, holding it out to him. “Do me a favor and sit in one spot while I work away at this mess, please,” You said, nodding toward Sherlock’s chair, where your jacket was hanging.

-- Sherlock watched you begin to neaten the ‘mess’ he’d managed to make over the last day. “Leave the books where they are,” He ordered before stepping over to his armchair and settling into it. He watched you for a few moments before he leaned back in his seat, tucking his pipe into his waistcoat pocket and steepling his fingers in contemplation, brow furrowing. He’d smelled sulfur at the crime scene...Sulfur… Almonds and hyacinths-- His brow furrowed and he turned his head, taking a whiff from your coat. Almonds and hyacinths - a pleasing scent-- “Put those down,” Sherlock snapped as he spotted you lifting a short stack of open books. He watched you stalk toward him and jolted as you dropped the stack into his lap. Sherlock watched you retreat before he glanced down at the books. “... I needed them, so thank you,” He added, not wanting you to think you’d gotten the better of him. -- He couldn’t see you roll your eyes at that, but you did. In the coming weeks and months, you’d roll your eyes at Sherlock Holmes quite a bit. But you found yourself smiling quite a bit, too. Because for all of his gruffness and eccentricities, he could be… Quite funny. And on the odd occasion, he could be sweet. You’d found that out when you’d fallen ill. Alright, fallen ill was a touch dramatic - you’d caught a cold.

It happened while Sherlock was in the middle of a case. Sometimes when he was working, when something was troubling him about it, he tended to pace about the room, just above where you slept; if he didn’t sleep, nor did you. The first night that he had started pacing, you’d gone upstairs with the intention of telling him off. You’d wound up staying half the night listening to the man talk through the facts of the case. 

It was a wonder: you had heard of the man’s intellectual prowess, but to hear him unpick a knot that he was working on was fascinating. You’d asked questions, interrupted him -- and he’d allowed it. He hadn’t bickered or told you to leave, despite the fact that you’d barged into his flat well past the hour that it was socially acceptable (though you’d grasped by then that Sherlock cared little for social convention). You’d managed to sneak back into your room before your Aunt Martha could get up and find out that you’d been in a man’s rooms, unchaperoned, well past midnight. It had been...Thrilling, but you’d told yourself that it wouldn’t happen again. Then it did -- again, and again. But-- Well, your cold had kept you in bed one night. Your ears were clogged, and your head ached. You hadn’t heard Sherlock’s pacing. He’d found something (the fire poker, you later found out), and banged it on the floor three times to rouse you. You’d pulled your aching body out of bed and out of your drafty little room, which Sherlock had visited exactly once before to ask you where he’d left his pipe (the man could never find the bloody thing, it seemed). You’d wrapped yourself tightly in your robe and gone up the stairs. Sherlock had been waiting in the doorway, brow furrowed in frustration as he waited for you. But then, when he caught sight of you, his face shifted - that furrowed brow dropped to something softer, and his frown lifted to a pout. “What on earth are you doing out of bed?” He asked, even as you shifted on your feet, shivering and sniffling in front of him. “You knocked,” You told him, “Did you figure it out who-- the-- the burglar was?” You tried to ask, but Sherlock was whisking you inside and steering you toward his armchair beside the fire. He’d managed to not completely ruin the way you’d left the flat just a few hours ago, while he’d been out. You sank into the seat, shivering even as he covered you over with a blanket. You frowned a little, watching him. “Did you?” You pressed. “What?” He asked. “The burglar,” You reminded him. “Never mind that.” “But I want to know,” You pouted at him. Sherlock hesitated before he began to tell you about the case. It was a little more difficult for you to keep up with his thoughts than usual, but you managed, asking the odd question. But Sherlock’s voice was so warm, and calming that you drifted off in that arm chair. -- You woke up in a bed. It wasn’t your bed. It was a bed. It took you a few moments to realize that you were in a room that you had cleaned before. Sherlock’s bedroom. You blinked dumbly, looking around the room and spotting a note with your name on it sitting on the bedside table. You reached out, picking it up and opening it. You fell asleep in the armchair. I told Mrs. Hudson that you went out for an early morning walk and asked her to stay out of the flat. 

        -S.H.

You read the note over a couple of times, feeling your stomach fluttering. The man must’ve carried you to his bed. Where on earth had he slept?

Had he slept at all? You shook your head, getting out of bed and looking around. You needed to wash the sheets - and the blanket that Sherlock had tucked you under the night before. It was the least you could do. -- “Where’s my--” “If you’re about to ask for your pipe, Mr. Holmes, I may have to insist on your carrying it with you at all times,” You said, crossing your arms and watching Sherlock. He rose a brow, stepping closer to you. “If you would let me finish my question, Miss Hudson,” He said, even as he walked closer, “I was going to ask where my dressing gown is.” “I suspect it’s in your bedroom, where it ought to be.” “Helpful as always, Miss Hudson,” He stepped past you, shoulder brushing yours. You felt your cheeks warm at the slight contact. “I do what I can, Mr. Holmes,” Was your mumbled retort.

--

“Have you something to tell me?” Mycroft asked. “Hm?” Sherlock didn’t turn away from his paper as Mycroft stared him down. “Something regarding a young lady, perhaps?” Sherlock frowned, lowering the paper. “What on earth are you talking about?” “You smell quite… Floral.” Sherlock frowned, raising his arm to his nose and taking a whiff. Almonds and hyacinths. “My housekeeper,” He passed off, raising his paper again. “Oh,” Mycroft frowned, clearly displeased by the lack of gossip, “Mrs...Houston, was it?” “Hudson. Miss,” Sherlock corrected, tone clipped as he turned the page of his paper. “Your landlady?” “Her niece.” “Ah… Young?” “I suppose.” “Attractive?” Apparently that had reinvigorated Mycroft's interest in the topic. “What on earth does that matter?” Sherlock turned from his paper and found Mycroft carefully distracted by his own. “It doesn’t, of course. I was simply asking.” “Curious question.” “One which you’ve chosen not to answer.” “... I haven’t noticed.”

That was a lie. Sherlock had noticed. Sherlock noticed quite a bit about you - your little quirks and interests, how you took your tea. He’d also seen the little looks that you gave him when you were quite certain that he wasn’t looking - eye rolls and secret smiles, looks of fondness, and longing. He’d seen them from other young ladies, but you’d never made any advances or hints toward him. You did scold him when he came home late, or when he hadn’t eaten that day; you didn’t put up with his grumbling or his snapping at you. And you were clever. He’d set up his chessboard in his sitting room, and the two of you had been playing for weeks. Never sitting down with one another, never together. He’d come home one night, and a white pawn had been moved. He hadn’t done it himself, he was sure. The flat was clean, however, so you’d clearly been in that day. Sherlock had gone about his evening, ignoring the chessboard. The next morning, before he’d left for the day, he’d moved a black pawn. When he’d returned home, the white pawn had been moved again. You had kept the pieces faithfully; you never moved or touched his, save to take one for the game. As much as he hated to admit it, you were winning. You were smart. You challenged him. You were lovely. 

-- 

Sherlock had been… Odd lately. He’d been much more quiet around you, and had backed away from the teasing nature that had emerged once the two of you had grown closer. It couldn’t have been a case - he hadn’t mentioned anything to you, hadn’t seen any clients. He’d even stopped playing your chess game. You hadn’t won, nor had he. You still came up to clean the flat, but lately, there wasn’t much to clean.

That morning, when you went up to clean, the place was as spotless as you’d left it the day before. You frowned, looking around. If Sherlock was keeping things tidy himself, he certainly didn’t need you around anymore. You sighed quietly, a sinking feeling in your stomach. You would need to leave Baker Street. There had been a day, months before, where you had been excited at the prospect; now, you were dismayed. You’d become… Really very fond of Sherlock Holmes. The feelings were stronger than fondness, if you were being frank with yourself, but you were afraid of voicing any stronger feelings to even yourself. “Miss Hudson?” You jumped at the sound of his voice and looked up as Sherlock came out of his bedroom. “Mr. Holmes,” You greeted, nodding to him. You cleared your throat, taking a couple of steps back, “I’m sorry, I-- I should be on my way.” “Whatever for?” “Well…” You looked around pointedly, “There isn’t anything for me to do here.” “I was hoping we could finish our game,” Sherlock gestured to the chessboard on the table. Your brows rose. “Oh.” “If you’ve nothing else to do, that is.” “No,” You shook your head, untying your apron, “I’ve the time now-- so long as you’re not occupied.” “I am not.” “Let me just go and put this away, then,” You held your apron up before turning and hurrying down the stairs. You tucked your apron away before you turned to the small mirror that was hung on your wall, smoothing back your hair and giving your cheeks a pinch. Not that it mattered, of course, Sherlock wouldn’t notice, surely, but… Well, there was something curious about the fact that he had kept the flat tidy in order for the two of you to finish your game. He’d never mentioned it to you outright before. Perhaps he simply wanted the game over with? --

“Tell me something,” He requested, even as he kept his focus on the board in front of him, “Should I manage to keep the flat tidy of my own volition, what will you do?” Your brow furrowed a little. What on earth had that to do with chess? “Well… I’d return home, I suppose,” You said after a few moments. Sherlock raised his eyes to you before turning back to the board. “And what would you do there?” “There’s a school nearby. I help there if I’m needed.” “What else?” “Why are you asking, Mr. Holmes?” “Because, Miss Hudson,” He reached out, moving his knight before leaning back in his seat, “I need to know just how messy I shall have to be to keep you at Baker Street.” You watched him for a moment. You’d had Sherlock tease you before -- had seen a sparkle in his eye, a twitch in his lip, and had savored those moments. But there was no hint of teasing now. “Well, at least moderately, I should imagine,” You answered, lowering your eyes to the board and surveying it for your next move, “If my Aunt Martha can manage the duties herself, then she won’t need me and she’ll send me home.” “And if I asked you to stay?” “What should you want me around for, Mr. Holmes? You’ve managed to keep your flat clean for an entire night. I daresay you might be able to find your pipe yourself,” You retorted, moving your bishop. You took his knight, setting it aside before adding, “Check.”  Sherlock shifted in his seat, brow arching at where you’d set his knight aside. “And suppose that what I’m speaking of is a little more… Involved than a missing pipe.” “How involved?” “Where else am I meant to find such a knowledgeable and reliable sounding board? Besides... I’m not sure what I’d do without the scent of almonds and hyacinths around, Miss Hudson.” Sherlock’s voice was much more quiet, and you felt your heart speed up in your chest. You always dabbed a little of your favorite perfume on your wrists in your morning, behind your ears and on the hollow of your throat. You didn’t think-- at least you didn’t realize that Sherlock had ever taken notice. You swallowed thickly. “I… I could give you the name of the shop where you could procure a bottle for yourself,” You offered. Sherlock’s lips did quirk then, a little, and he shook his head. “It’s much less the perfume that concerns me and more the wearer,” he murmured before he reached down, shifting his rook and adding, “Checkmate.” You looked down to find that he was correct. You let out a shaky sigh. “Well played, Mr. Holmes,” You nodded to him. He hummed. “You haven’t happened to see my pipe, have you?” He asked. You rolled your eyes. “I truly believe that’s the only reason you want me around,” You admitted, rising out of your chair and crossing to his desk, “I told you yesterday that I had put it--” You opened the drawer and looked down at the object for a moment before you frowned, spotting a band on it that you’d never seen before - silver, and glinting. You lifted the pipe out of the drawer, eyes on what you had realized was a ring. You heard Sherlock came closer, shivered as you felt him crowd up behind you. “I should be very pleased if you stay at Baker Street, Miss Hudson,” He murmured, “And I shall do my best not to make an absolute mess of this.” Tag list: @fantasticcopeaglepasta​

[redhoodieone]

You’re so Lucky!

A/N: Hey y’all! Here’s another sexy story that was a request from the amazing @jasontoddslut! Enjoy my peeps!

Warnings: Language, Bad Relationship with Ex-Boyfriend, Smut, Voyeurism, and Jason’s Goddamn Dirty Mouth!!!!!

It was bound to happen. She couldn’t deny this was going to happen sooner rather than later. If she believed they that they could get through their issues and be happy like they once were, then she’s a real fucking idiot.

Gabi still couldn’t believe it though. One minute she was trying to calm Bobby down and the next, he’s screaming at her and telling her to get the fuck out of his apartment. He was in a bad mood to begin with. He’s a mechanic and he’s always tired when he gets home. He was expecting dinner to be ready and maybe have his loving girlfriend of three years rub his back since his shoulder pain is getting worse.

But no. Gabi made the mistake of asking Bobby where he was tonight as soon as he got home.

What set him off was her telling him to calm down. She should have known though.

You should NEVER. EVER. Tell an easily angry guy to calm down.

Because that’s like telling fire to not burn people. Or telling a baby to not cry.

She should have known better though. It’s no surprise Bobby’s into some serious shady shit that the low life Gothamites meet up sometimes at night in casinos or nightclubs. She knows they do illegal shit like selling drugs, ordering weapons from other countries, and maybe even kidnapping young women and children.

And Bobby had participated in the ordering weapons category.

How Gabi found out is another story: she knows for damn sure that Bobby once brought home fifteen state of the art total militia AK-47 guns. Bobby had foolishly asked Gabi to go get some important documents from his huge safe; totally forgetting the weapons were in there about five months prior.

Why would a normal mechanic need such weapons?

Gabi had decided to never bring it up. Bobby would either deny or lie about it. His temper had been getting worse right about then and she knew better.

But he wasn’t always like this. Oh, no. Bobby was a funny, laid back, and loving type who worshipped the ground Gabi walked on before they even started dating. But after two years of living with each other, things changed.

Simple as that. Things changed.

Gabi always wondered how things could just...change. So easily. The fact that it could happen in the blink of an eye frightens her sometimes.

Just like Bobby’s hidden anger. She never knew a hilarious and sweet guy could have the rage of a bull.

Bobby never hit her though. He always made sure to slam his fist against the wall beside her head, though. He was the type to yell and belittle Gabi as if she was a little girl.

But she wasn’t a little girl. She was a 23-year-old woman who moved in with her boyfriend so fast that she began to understand why her parents and friends disapproved of her choices and relationship.

I just had to learn the hard way, Gabi thought to herself.

She doesn’t know why she’s trying to think of sayings that relate to this experience. The point is, Gabi knows she seriously fucked. With Bobby only giving her ten minutes to pack whatever truly mattered to her, she had to hurry the fuck up.

The moment she made it outside the apartment building, all Gabi could do is replay her questions that she asked Bobby.

Where were you tonight?

Were you with someone?

What did you do?

Why can’t you tell me what you did?

Are you hiding something from me?

Are you getting into dangerous things?

No wonder Bobby kicked her out. Gabi should have never put her nose in his business. And now, she’s practically homeless. She knows it would be embarrassing as hell to go back to her parents’ house because of what they told her before getting involved with Bobby. She also knows her friends would treat her horribly, with the “I told you so” stares and lectures. Gabi was certainly running out of options just as the rain began to fall.

There was one person she could go to, who would never turn her away.

However, Gabi hasn’t spoken to this person in about a year because of her relationship with Bobby as well as this person’s own relationship with their significant other.

But Gabi knew Y/N was a good person, a good friend. She was a sweet person, with a big warm heart and she would never turn her away.

With nowhere else to go, Gabi walked alone in the rain all the way down to high class side of Gotham.

By the time Gabi gets to the high-class penthouses, she has to call Y/N to let her inside. Of course, Y/N excitedly tells her to come up, and Gabi immediately starts to feel somehow relieved that Y/N hasn’t changed at all.

As Gabi finally makes it to the correct floor, she sees Y/N waiting by the door, where Gabi assumes is where Y/N lives. Y/N is wearing a red and black flannel pajama pants and a thin black tank top. Gabi also notices Y/N’s barefoot, and her hair’s in a messy bun.

She must have just woken up. I’m so sorry, Y/N, Gabi thinks to herself.

But none of that matters when Y/N meets Gabi halfway in the hall where they collide in a tight, warm-hearted embrace.  Y/N smells like a woodsy, musky cologne, most likely from whoever she’s seeing with now. Maybe they were snuggling up against with each other until Gabi had called and asked if she could come over.

“Come inside. You must be freezing!” Y/N says, releasing Gabi from her hug and pulling her arm towards the front door.

Gabi follows on shaky legs, completely overwhelmed by seeing her longtime best friend. Y/N giggles and leads Gabi inside the penthouse. Gabi instantly is hit by the aroma of vanilla and musk, the smell of intimacy and seduction.  Her eyes take in the red and black walls and décor, some exquisite art pieces, and the big space that is more comfortable and warmer than most homes she’s ever seen.

“Welcome, mi casa es tu casa! Seriously Gabi, babe, make yourself at home. There’s absolutely no rush to leave. You leave when you’re ready, okay?” Y/N says seriously.

“Are you absolutely sure? I really don’t want to impose or put you and your boyfriend out,” Gabi confesses.

Y/N leads Gabi to the long, cherry red couch that is facing a huge flat screen TV. Gabi sets down her duffle bag and takes a seat next to Y/N on the couch.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Jay and I insist you stay here until you figure out what you want to do, okay?” Y/N says, before she turns around to get comfortable to face Gabi.

A vanilla candle is lit on the coffee table. Gabi’s cheeks flush in embarrassment. “I didn’t...interrupt something, did I?”

“Oh, no, you didn’t! I was just setting the mood in the living room to be more...comfy,” Y/N admits, with a chuckle. “Jason just got home a few minutes ago and is taking a shower. He should be done by now.”

As if on cue, they hear someone walking down the hall and towards the living room. He stops near the couch. There in all his glory, well half-naked glory, stands Jason Todd, God’s greatest creation of man...at least that’s what both girls were thinking.

“Gabi, this is Jason, my boyfriend,” Y/N proudly introduces Jason to Gabi. “Jay, this is Gabi, my best friend in the whole wide world.”

Still dripping wet and fresh out of the shower, Jason at least has a white towel wrapped around his waist; hiding his goods that Gabi wanted to see so desperately. He’s really tall, must be 6’2 or something close to that. She takes note that Jason is all man: there’s absolutely nothing that screams “boy”. Gabi inhales hard when she watches his large hand run through his soaked dark hair. The other hand holds the towel tightly around his hips.

“Hi,” Jason smirks at Gabi. She notices his eyes are green, almost like emeralds. He smiles at her, even his white teeth are perfect. “So, you’re Gabi. Y/N’s told me a lot about you.”

“She-she has?” Gabi chokes out. Why is it so hot in here? Why can’t she speak?

Her eyes zero in on the droplets of water running down his strong as fuck built chiseled chest and perfectly sculpted abs that she really wants to lick and bite his skin.

Holy fuck...

Gabi scolds herself for thinking such inappropriate thoughts about her best friend’s boyfriend. Even though Gabi’s never fantasized Bobby this kind of way, she realizes Y/N’s lucked out. Bobby wasn’t in shape or even remotely attractive like Jason.

“Of course, she has. You’re one of her best friends, and I’m happy to finally meet you. I would go over there to shake your hand and properly greet you, but I’m uh...not exactly dressed yet,” Jason chuckles, and almost seems shy now. “I’m gonna go get dressed real quick so we can talk.”

You don’t have to. You can stay the way you are. You can even drop the towel, Gabi thinks improperly.

Y/N smiles softly at Jason as they watch him leave. True to his word, Jason returned in a pair of black sweatpants and a white t-shirt and took a seat next to Y/N. Throughout their comfortable and pleasant conversation, Gabi truly sees the way Jason cares about her best friend. Midway through their talk about what happened to Bobby, Jason clearly was paying attention and rubbed caressed Y/N’s thigh when Gabi recounted the latest scary fight with Bobby. Whenever Y/N looked shocked or worried, Jason made sure to calm her down through touches, forehead kisses, and whispers words along the lines of love, probably.

It almost makes Gabi jealous. Y/N’s life is clearly so much better than what Gabi had going on for herself. Jason seems like the perfect gentleman; always does and says the right thing. Gabi’s never seen a man pay so much attention to a woman before. Not only did he offer Gabi his advice and opinions on getting a better and more affordable apartment on their street, but Jason even voiced his hatred for Bobby, and even went on to criticize the man for treating women so poorly. He even made a joke about finding the man and breaking his legs; making Gabi and Y/N laugh their asses off and making the energy around them fun again.

But for some reason, Gabi couldn’t help but notice that Jason wasn’t laughing as hard as she and Y/N were. It almost seemed like Jason was serious about breaking Bobby’s legs, but Jason wouldn’t do that. She was sure of it.

He wouldn’t, would he?

By the time midnight came, the three of them stood up and decided to go to bed. Jason even surprised Gabi by giving her a hug and telling her that she can stay in their guest bedroom for however long as she wants and needs.

“I’m serious, kid. Don’t even worry about it. You mean so much to Y/N, and so therefore, you mean a lot to me, too,” Jason had said as he pulled back from their hug.

Gabi was speechless to say the least. She didn’t want the hug to end. He felt so good in her arms and he smelled so fucking good.

But it was bedtime now, and once Y/N and Jason had shown Gabi the guest bedroom, they went off to bed to let Gabi get comfortable. It wasn’t long for Gabi to quickly clean herself up and put on some plain pajama shorts with a tank top. As soon as she turned off the light, she was amazed by how big and comfortable the bed was. She figured it must be new and is probably the first person to sleep in here. In just a few minutes, exhaustion took over and Gabi fell into a deep sleep.

Her throat was dry. That’s what awoke Gabi at two in the morning and made her climb out of bed and go search for a bottle of water. She made sure to tiptoe out of the room and walk slowly and quietly to the kitchen.

As soon as Gabi made it to the end of the hallway, she stops dead in her tracks when she hears moaning. A woman moaning.

Her mind registers that it’s Y/N moaning. But why is she moaning in the living room?

Curiosity forces Gabi to peek out into the living room and see what’s going on, despite the logical part in her mind is screaming at her to have some respect for her best friend and her boyfriend.

But being a pervert outweighs being a prude.

Gabi is utterly shocked to her core when she sees her best friend straddling Jason’s lap. On the red couch where they sat a couple of hours ago, Gabi sees Y/N and Jason making out heavily. She couldn’t unsee it; she wants to keep watching them.

Gabi even sees the vanilla candle is lit again, after Jason had blown it out before they all went to bed.

But all Gabi could see is Jason’s fingertips digging hard into Y/N’s exposed flesh from where her tank top is pushed up above her bare tits. Y/N shamelessly moans in between the evident delicious kisses, and grinds against Jason’s apparent bulge.

Gabi quickly notices an isolated leather recliner that’s against the wall near the hallway. She throws herself down, sinks into the chair and watches the practically live porno show in front of her.

Jason pulls back from the deep kiss, revealing his red, swollen lips from where Y/N’s been biting and sucking since the beginning. He rests his head back against the couch and looks up with hazy, lustful eyes as Y/N grins down at him. She bites her bottom lip and pulls up her tank top, removing her top completely from her body.  

“Fuck...what the hell are you doing to me, sweetheart?” Jason asks breathlessly. He runs his hands up Y/N’s back and moves them to her front where he reaches for both her tits.

“I’m slowly...and softly killing you,” Y/N says, closing her eyes and moans when Jason gently grabs both her tits in his hands; her breasts fill his hands perfectly.

“I’d say...” he says, before sighing contently when switches from pinching her nipples to squeezing her tits before he sits up straighter and pulls Y/N’s body closer to lick and suck her sensitive nipples.

“Oh, fuck...oh Jay...feels so good,” Y/N moans louder than before. She whimpers and continues to rub herself against him. “I need to cum...please make me cum, Jay...”

Jason pulls back from her chest and gazes into Y/N’s eyes. “You wanna cum, doll? Do you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, please...I need you so bad!”

“No, I don’t think you need to cum,” Jason teases, before he pulls off his own t-shirt. “Now, I’m going to take off the rest of your clothes, but if you touch your pussy, I ain’t going to fuck you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” Y/N snaps. Her cheeks are flushed from being aroused.

Jason smirks at Y/N’s frustration.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, sweetheart. I’m going to check how wet you are,” Jason explains, as he raises Y/N off his lap to pull down her pajama pants and panties; leaving her completely bare on his lap. “If you’re soaking wet, then I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll be feeling me for days. But if I have to make you wet, then that means I get to do whatever I want to this pussy.”

“But-”

Jason runs his hand up Y/N’s thigh until his fingers glide over her bare pussy. His fingers gently push inside her, he can feel the wetness, but wants to see it for himself.

“Stand up and put your pussy in my face,” he demands.

“What?”

“I want to taste your delicious pussy right now. Don’t make me get up and literally put you on my shoulders to eat you out,” Jason threatens.

Y/N slowly moves to stand up carefully on the couch. Her legs are shaking, but Jason quickly grabs her to hold her steady. He doesn’t waste any time, and he dives into her pussy as if he’s a starving man.

“Oh fuck!” Y/N cries out.

Jason’s tongue on her clit is what she wants the most right now. He squeezes her thigh and flicks his tongue side to side until Y/N fears she’s either going to fall back or fall over him.

Y/N notices one of Jason’s pull up bars is above her. How convenient.

She grabs a hold of the bar to hold herself up just as he decides to slip a finger inside her. Holding herself up allows him to remove a hand from her thigh. He takes the opportunity to slip another finger inside and pumps them in and out fast.

Y/N’s body trembles when Jason curls his fingers and strokes the sensitive wall that he’s mastered so well. He can tell she’s close. She must have been excited earlier when they planned to stay in last minute. He manages to look up at her and he can see she’s barely holding on.

“You’re so close aren’t you, babe? You taste so fucking good that I want you to cum on my face. I want you to be my dirty girl tonight,” Jason says as he finger-fucks her harder and faster than before. “Are you going to be my dirty girl tonight?

“Yes! Fuck yes! Just-just make me cum, please!” Y/N cries out desperately, needing the push that Jason could only give her.

“You are my dirty girl. You love it when I make you cum with just my fingers and mouth. But I bet you want my cock right after, huh?” Jason asks, chuckling darkly when Y/N’s eyes roll back when he speeds up his fingers inside her. “You wanna ride me, don’t you?”

“Yes-yes I do...” she’s panting now.

“Okay, I want you to cum in my face and then quickly get on my lap and ride me. Fast, slow, hard, whatever, you pick. I just want to feel your warm, tight pussy around my dick, okay?” Jason says, quickly shoving his sweatpants and boxers down to his feet. “Fuck...give me your pretty, tasty pussy, sweetheart!”

And then Jason finally gives in. He pulls both her thighs to bring her pussy to his face. Y/N whimpers when he licks all around her wetness, and he hums in approval when he feels her hand stroking his scalp and pulling his hair, while she continues holding herself up with only one hand now.

The vibration from his humming helps her reach her release. He continues to thrust his fingers inside her and sucks her clit until she gushes in his face.

Y/N manages to silent most of her orgasm, but it didn’t help when Jason continued to lick and suck at her clit to swallow most of her juices. Once her body relaxes, she lets go of the pull up bar and drops down to the couch. Y/N quickly straddles Jason’s lap until her pussy is hovering above his hard cock.

“Spit on my cock, doll. Get it nice and wet,” Jason says, as he watches Y/N spit in her hand and stroke his thick cock until he’s nice and ready for her. “How are you going to ride me, sweetheart?”

Y/N slowly looks up into Jason’s dilated, misty eyes. “Deep. Hard. And fast,” she says.

Jason swallows hard but is able to quickly smirk up at Y/N before she takes full control. “Then ride me, sweetheart. Fuck yourself on my cock like the dirty girl you really are.”

Y/N finally lowers herself onto Jason’s cock, all logic and common sense flies out the window. Whenever his cock was deep inside her, they both tend to lose themselves and the world around them. Because whenever they were connected emotionally and physically in their bubble, nothing else fucking matters in the world.

When Jason fills her up completely, they both release a content sigh. They usually take their time in the beginning, mostly because of their fears whenever Jason leaves to work as Red Hood. But since they’re both so horny and want to cum sooner, they’ll have to just take their time during round two.

“Fuck me, sweetheart. Fuck yourself silly on my dick,” Jason moans, but he and Y/N laugh at the “silly” part, when he realizes that’s not very sexy.

But Y/N understands and slowly lifts herself up his lap until just the tip of Jason’s cock is inside her. She keeps a steady pace, lifting herself and lowering herself, until their rhythm flows. Within seconds, Jason helps her by holding her hips tightly and thrusting his hips in time with hers.

“Your cock is so big inside me, Jay. You fill me up so good,” Y/N moans and rides him a little faster; wanting the head of his cock to rub hard and relentlessly against her g-spot. She guides one of his hands off her waist to move towards her pussy, encouraging him to rub her clit. “I wanna cum again, Jay.”

“Yeah? You like ridin’ my big cock, you dirty girl? You want me to fill your pussy with my cum?” Jason asks, watching Y/N’s tits bounce while she rides his cock faster than before. He can’t help himself, he uses a free hand to pinch her nipple and leans in to bite and suck her breasts, until he puts his hand back to her hip to guide her thrusts. “You want me to fill you up with my cum?”

“Yes! Yes, please!” Y/N begs.

“Okay, my dirty girl. I’ll give you what you want.”

Well, Jason knows now that this is going to end fast, but he refuses to let it end without Y/N cumming hard again. He squeezes her hip with one hand and the other hand rubs her clit fast in messy circles. He begins to pull her down to meet his thrusts, fucking her harder and faster with everything he’s got. The squelching sound from his cock fucking up into her wet pussy becomes more noticeable, especially when their skin-on-skin slapping gets louder and harsher that echoes in the living room.

“Fuck...Y/N, you’re getting so tight. You feel so fucking good baby,” Jason pants hard, completely sweating and keeping his fast and erratic pace to get them to their releases. “Fuckin’ cum on my big cock, sweetheart. I wanna feel you cum so bad. Please cum for me, again.”

Y/N keeps her eyes on Jason just as her orgasm hits her hard; she squeezes and gushes around his cock, she calls out his name. Jason thrusts harder in her three more times, as he finally cums hard inside Y/N, calls out her name as quietly as he could. Y/N collapses against Jason’s chest, despite being hot and sweaty, but he doesn’t mind. He wraps both arms around her and holds her while they regain their breaths and can function normal again.

Y/N doesn’t see the loving smile Jason gives her as he kisses her forehead. “I love you,” he whispers, and hugs her tighter.

She looks up at him and smiles. “I love you, too.”

Before Y/N can lie her head against Jason’s chest again, she notices Gabi sitting and watching them. Y/N jumps up and covers her breasts with her arms, causing Jason to jump in panic and turn around to see what’s going on.

“Gabi! What-what the hell are you doing there?!” Y/N cries out in embarrassment. She can feel her cheeks are getting red again.

Gabi slowly gets up from the chair and makes her wave into the kitchen. She finds bottled water in the refrigerator, takes one, and goes back into the living room where Jason and Y/N are still frozen in fear.

“I-I was thirsty,” Gabi answers, even though she knows it sounds like a lame answer. She walks backwards until she reaches the hall. “And-and then I saw you guys, and then I couldn’t stop watching. I’m sorry, Y/N...Jason...”

But before Gabi leaves, she points a finger at Jason and smiles. She even chuckles. “But-but in my defense...he’s really sexy! He’s fucking gorgeous, Y/N, and you’re one lucky bitch! You’re so lucky!”

But Gabi is right about that.

Y/N is lucky...because she has Jason.