#gave up on the colouring it is what it is

[miapotterismyfav]

Innocence

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Summary: Sirius Black thought he had Y/N all figured out—until one offhand comment sends his world into a tailspin and unearths far more than he bargained for.

Matching: Siriusxfem!reader, Remusxfem!reader

Previous part, next part

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Chapter Two: Fact Confirming Mission Only

The library was too quiet for how loud Sirius felt.

He stormed through the rows like a one-man battalion, scanning tables, ears ringing with the words “Remus”, “gone”, and “wearing his jumper”. Marlene’s voice had echoed like a ghost all the way from the cupboard. And now, here Remus Lupin sat. Calm. Reading. Annotating a textbook like he wasn’t a traitor to all that was holy and good.

Sirius slammed his bag on the table.

Remus didn’t flinch. “Afternoon.”

“You,” Sirius said through gritted teeth, “have some explaining to do.”

Remus looked up slowly, quill poised mid-air. “Are you here about the chocolate frogs? Because I already told Peter I didn’t eat them.”

Sirius leaned in. “Did you or did you not sleep with Y/N?”

There was a pause. Remus blinked. “Pardon?”

“You heard me.”

“Loud and clear. Which is impressive, since this is a library,” he added pointedly, looking around.

Sirius grabbed a chair, sat down, and hissed, “Answer the question.”

Remus sighed, very put-upon. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“That’s not a no,” Sirius whispered, eyes narrowing.

“I’m not confirming or denying anything, Padfoot.”

“So yes,” Sirius said, throwing his arms out. “It’s a yes.”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“You didn’t say no!”

“I also didn’t say I’ve snogged Rosmerta, but here we are.”

“Don’t do that thing where you get all logical and condescending, it makes me want to push you out a window.”

Remus closed his book slowly, placed his quill down like a man preparing for battle. “Are you upset because I’ve kissed someone, or because it was her?”

Sirius opened his mouth, then shut it again. “She’s not—She’s Y/N!”

“Yes,” Remus said dryly, “I’m aware. We’ve met.”

“She colour-codes her calendar by subject! She’s allergic to spontaneous fun! She turned down a dare to skinny dip in fourth year because, and I quote, ‘the lake isn’t heated.’”

Remus tilted his head. “And yet, somehow, she’s still managed to have a more interesting love life than you.”

Sirius stared at him like he’d been physically struck. “You’re—you’re dating?”

There was a pause. Remus looked away for a second too long. “We’re… talking.”

“‘Talking’?” Sirius repeated. “What is this, third year?”

Remus’s mouth twitched. “Fine. We’ve hooked up a few times. She’s… important to me.”

Sirius felt like someone had swapped out all the oxygen in the room. “Since when?”

“Since the New Year’s party,” Remus admitted. “But we’ve been… getting closer for a while.”

Sirius sat back hard, blinking. “You never said anything.”

Remus gave him a level look. “You never asked.”

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Sirius stormed out of the library in a daze, only to land himself right in the middle of lunch. He moved like a man possessed, dropping into his seat at the Gryffindor table with all the grace of a falling bookshelf.

James raised an eyebrow from across the table. “You good, mate?”

“No,” Sirius muttered, ripping a bread roll in half with unnecessary aggression.

James followed his gaze across the hall, to the Slytherin table.

Y/N sat near the middle, head tilted in laughter, her elbow nudging Regulus Black of all people—his brother—who looked unusually relaxed, even slightly smug as he passed her something under the table. A letter? A Chocolate Frog? A declaration of eternal sin?

She smiled at whatever he said, nudging him with her shoulder like they’d been doing it for years.

Sirius clenched his jaw.

“She’s probably shagging him, too,” he muttered under his breath.

James froze, halfway to a bite of roast potato. “Who?”

“Regulus,” Sirius hissed. “My own flesh and blood.”

James blinked. “You think Y/N’s shagging your brother?”

“It makes perfect sense,” Sirius said darkly. “She’s playing the long game. Infiltrate the Marauders from within. She’s already got Remus, now she’s circling Reg to get to me. By Tuesday she’ll have my Gringotts account access and the bloody map.”

“You need to lie down.”

“She’s collecting us. Like cursed trading cards.”

“She smiled at him, mate. People do that. It doesn’t mean she’s plotting the downfall of your bloodline.”

Sirius shot him a betrayed look. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“I am,” James said. “I’m seriously wondering if you’ve eaten enough today.”

Y/N laughed again—laughed—at something Regulus said, and Sirius felt his soul leave his body.

“I think I need to duel him.”

James choked. “You can’t duel your own brother over a girl you’re not dating.”

“It’s a matter of principle.”

“You don’t have principles, you have meltdowns.”

“She used to braid her hair so tight it squeaked when she turned her head,” Sirius whispered like a man remembering a past life. “She cried when I fell off my broom in first year. She saved me a seat in Potions every Monday.”

“And now she’s talking to your brother. The horror.”

“I liked it better when she was boring and safe and wore knee socks year-round.”

“She still wears knee socks, Sirius”

“Not for me, she doesn’t.”

Remus, who’d appeared behind them with a plate and a very knowing smirk, added unhelpfully, ��She wore them last night.”

Sirius let out a strangled sound and collapsed face-first onto the table.

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The Slytherin common room was blissfully quiet—aside from Regulus, who was currently trying to hex his own shoelaces into submission.

“You realise you could just untie them, right?” Y/N asked, flipping the page of her Charms notes without looking up.

“They’re cursed,” Regulus muttered, wand waving in frustration. “I can feel it.”

“You also thought the toast was cursed last week.”

“It was burnt in the shape of the Grimm.”

“It was the Ravenclaw crest, Reg. You’re not that special.”

He gave her an unimpressed glare and sat back with a defeated sigh, boots still tangled.

She smirked and tossed him a sweet from her pocket. “For the trauma.”

Regulus caught it, muttering a reluctant, “Thanks,” as she finally glanced up at him.

Despite being a Black, Reg had grown on her. Mostly because he was smart, sarcastic, and often looked like he was enduring a mental breakdown in muggle studies. Her kind of people.

The door to the common room opened and someone walked past, dropping to the lounge with a sigh. Dramatic entrance.

She blinked. Sirius.

She could feel him even before she looked.

Because of course he was here. Of course he’d found some excuse to storm down into Slytherin territory like a man on a warpath. He didn’t even acknowledge her. Just sat near the fireplace, talking loudly to a portrait about “ancient family betrayals” and “spiteful siblings.”

Y/N raised a brow at Regulus. “Is he broken?”

Reg didn’t look up from his shoelaces. “He’s been circling like a shark since breakfast. Started glaring at me halfway through my eggs.”

“Oh good,” she said dryly. “He’s added fratricide to the mood board.”

Regulus finally looked up, voice bored. “What did you do to him?”

She smiled innocently. “What makes you think I did anything?”

“Because he’s being Sirius. And you’re… you.”

She didn’t respond—just stood, stretched, and collected her things.

As she passed Sirius by the fire, she tossed him a lazy smile. “Nice of you to visit, Black. Trying to reconnect with your roots?”

He turned toward her a second too fast, expression somewhere between longing and unhinged. “I was just—”

“Don’t worry,” she said, stepping around him. “I’m sure she was worth the cupboard burn.”

His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

Before he could speak, she was already sweeping past.

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Professor Green’s lecture on inferi was starting to feel like a lullaby. Y/N’s mind drifted, only half-paying attention to the professor’s drone about the dangers of corpses rising from the dead. She'd lived long enough in Slytherin to know the dead didn’t scare her. The living were far more dangerous.

The weight on the back of her neck told her that she wasn’t being left alone. It wasn’t the eyes of the professor, nor her classmates. It was his gaze.

Sirius Black. Of course. She felt his intense stare like a physical presence.

Glancing up lazily, she caught his gaze. He was sitting back, quill in hand, tapping it rhythmically against his bottom lip. It was like he knew the exact angle that would make her stomach twist—just enough to keep her on edge.

Y/N rolled her eyes and gave him an exaggerated yawn, tapping her fingers on her desk as if to signal her growing boredom with both the lesson and his silent theatrics.

Sirius tilted his head. His lips twitched into a half-smirk. Then, in the most Sirius of moves, he flicked a piece of parchment toward her.

The note landed on her desk with an almost too-perfect timing. She unfolded it without a hint of hesitation.

“You’re looking especially… studious today.”

Her lip curled into a smile despite herself. Sirius was insufferable, but she couldn’t help but enjoy his brand of torment. She scribbled back without even lifting her head from her notes.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to distract me.”

The note was back in an instant, this time a little more hurried, as if he was genuinely trying to provoke her.

“Distract you? I was just admiring the view. Those knee socks are hot.”

Y/N froze. She glanced at the note, then at Sirius, who was now looking at her with that infamous, half-amused, half-challenging expression.

She folded the note neatly and then sent it flying across the room, straight into his hands. The corner of her mouth twitched as he uncrumpled it eagerly.

“You’re quite right. If I were wearing knee socks, you’d be the last person to notice.”

This time, Sirius’s brow furrowed, but only for a second. He looked down at the parchment and then back at her, lips pulling into a grin.

“Touché, Y/N. But just so you know, I notice everything.”

She didn’t respond immediately, her eyes scanning the rest of the class. She could feel the pull of his attention, and it was the only thing she could focus on now. It wasn’t just Sirius Black. It was the anticipation of something unspoken hanging between them.

When the next note arrived, it was the final straw.

“So, is it true? About Remus?”

She felt her pulse quicken.

A subtle flash of something flickered in her chest as she took a breath, looked over at him, and then whispered without a second thought:

“It’s not your business, Black.”

He didn’t press further, but the smile didn’t leave his lips.

The class seemed to go on forever after that, the tension between them growing with every passing second. She didn’t know what it meant—didn’t want to. She wasn’t the type to get caught up in Sirius Black’s drama.

But for the rest of the lesson, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of his gaze.

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The Black Lake sparkled under the late afternoon sun, its surface catching the light like glass. Y/N leaned back on her elbows, her green and silver tie loosened just enough to look casually disheveled, like she hadn’t tried at all (though she absolutely had). Her skirt rode a little higher when she stretched her legs out, and she didn’t bother fixing it. If people looked, let them.

Remus, sitting cross-legged beside her with a book half-forgotten in his lap, was definitely trying not to look. But his ears were pink.

“Something wrong, Lupin?” she asked, voice all honey and bite.

Remus blinked, like he’d just realised he was staring. “No—no, not at all. You’re just very distracting when you’re smug.”

She grinned. “I’m always smug.”

He gave a small, helpless laugh and glanced down at the book again, but his eyes didn’t move with the text.

Y/N let the breeze sweep through her hair as she plucked a blade of grass and twirled it between her fingers. “You know,” she mused, “I used to be terrified of talking to you.”

Remus looked up, startled. “Me?”

“Mm-hmm.” She smiled, a little wickedly. “You were quiet. Bookish. Serious. Intimidating.”

He snorted. “I was intimidating? You’re the one who had half the school convinced you had basilisk blood by third year.”

“That was an accident. I told one first-year he should watch where he’s going before he ends up cursed and the rumour just... grew.”

“I don’t know. I think you liked it.”

“I loved it,” she admitted with a smirk. “People didn’t bother me. Until fifth year. When everyone suddenly wanted to.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “Including you lot.”

Remus blushed again. “Right. Well. That’s not entirely inaccurate.”

She bumped her shoulder into his. “Don’t worry. You’re the only one who ever tried talking to me like I wasn’t a dare.”

He went quiet at that, and when she looked over, he was already looking at her with that soft, unreadable expression of his. She swallowed, but didn’t look away. Not until someone’s voice echoed across the lawn.

“Y/N!”

She turned lazily to see a seventh-year Ravenclaw boy jogging toward them, looking sun-kissed and cocky. He threw himself dramatically onto the grass in front of her, ignoring Remus completely.

“Thought I’d find you out here. You coming to Slughorn’s party tonight? Rumour is there’s firewhisky and a game of truth-or-dare that might end in someone skinny-dipping in the Prefects’ bath.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Is that an invitation or a threat?”

“Only if you pick dare.” He winked.

She grinned, all teeth. “Then I guess I’ll be picking truth.”

“Boring,” the boy groaned, flopping back.

Y/N turned back to Remus, already dismissing the boy with a roll of her eyes. “See what I mean?”

Remus smiled, bemused. “You’re very popular.”

“I’m very bored,” she corrected, voice low. “Except with you.”

That made Remus flush again, but he didn’t look away this time. “Glad I’m keeping up.”

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Tag list

@bache3

@amatoanima

[regretismyconstantcompanion]

Albus crouched in the grass beside a cream coloured goat with one ear slightly torn and an impressive beard. He scratched behind her ears with a slow, rhythmic fondness, the kind of affection that came from long practice and quiet routine.

“There now, Clementine,” Albus murmured to the goat, his voice barely above a whisper. “Do you feel better now? All you wanted was a few scratches hmm? And you can’t hate me. Not really. You’d starve if you did, and you’re much too clever for that, aren’t you?”

The goat, Clementine, gave a soft huff and nuzzled at his sleeve, nosing toward the grain bag tucked under his arm. Albus chuckled under his breath and gave her another pat, his hand lingering for a moment on the space between her horns.

“You’re one of the only ones I can be sure of,” he continued quietly, not noticing Harry had arrived. “You don’t ask for more than food, shelter, a bit of kindness. And you don’t care about the rest.”

He lingered there for another moment, head bowed slightly, lost in the comfort of the creature’s simple presence. But then he felt it - that faint prickle on the back of his neck, the quiet presence that wasn’t a goat. His fingers itched to reach for his wand but he realised there was no threat in the gaze. He turned, slowly, and saw Harry standing a few paces away.

But then Albus turned, and his expression wasn’t stern or cold. It was tired, yes, but not unkind. There was no satisfaction in watching Harry squirm. Only a quiet sadness that still clung to the edges of his features.

“I know that version of me must have seemed unshakeable,” Albus said, his voice gentle but worn. “Perhaps he even was. But I assure you, Harry… I am trying. And your frustration, though not pleasant, was not unearned.”

He rose with care, brushing hay and dust from his sleeves. There was no rush to his steps as he crossed the uneven stone path, only the slow, deliberate movement of someone who bore weight that couldn’t be seen.

There was something markedly different in the way he moved now. Not the graceful confidence Harry had always known in the elder Dumbledore, but a man who bore the memory of defeat in his spine and the echo of loneliness in his shoulders.

“You were right,” Albus admitted, voice low, as he stopped before him. “About many things. I have been hiding. Not only from him, but from myself. From the man I once hoped I would become.” He turned his gaze to the horizon for a moment, quiet, before speaking again.

“There’s no Dumbledores Army here. Most who once stood with me are gone, or hiding, or simply trying to survive in the pieces of the world left untouched. Those I could protect, I bought time for. Time bought with silence, and surrender. I gave up the fight to keep them breathing. Aberforth. Newt. Others. That was the cost.” He looked back at Harry, his expression caught between resignation and self-reproach.

“And now,” he continued, “I live here, in the Muggle world. I tend my goats. I mend my fence. I plant herbs I rarely use. I read when I can concentrate, and sometimes I write things I never send. I speak to creatures who cannot answer me and hold conversations with ghosts that aren’t there. I have no idea what I am meant to do with myself here. This was certainly never something I ever imagined.” Albus took a breath, slow and deliberate, then stepped a little closer, meeting Harry’s eyes with a quiet steadiness.

“But I am grateful,” he said, “that you care enough to be frustrated. That you came out here, despite what I said—or didn’t say or do. And even more so that you returned to say this.” His voice softened, that familiar tone of reassurance threading through it, even worn thin as it was. “I forgive you, of course. There was never any question.”

From the open window of the house, a faint trill cut through the still air. Fawkes, still watching from his perch just inside, his fiery feathers catching the light. Albus glanced that way, his expression unreadable for a moment, and then returned his gaze to Harry, offering a faint but genuine smile.

“Thank you,” he said softly, “for not giving up on me.” He hesitated for just a beat, then added, with a trace of humility, “If I have anything left to offer the world, Harry… perhaps it begins with not turning away from those who still believe I have anything left to offer.”

Albus Dumbledore was sitting on the couch, staring into the fireplace that was across from him. The crackling of the flames was the only sound breaking the silence in the cottage that was nestled in the Scottish Highlands. It was isolated, miles away from even the nearest village. He had chosen it for that very reason, desperate for solitude even if it wasn't something that had been forced upon him. He had lost the duel against Grindelwald. He had known that had always been a possibility. There were equals after all and had known each other painfully well. They had spent that summer duelling, friendly but pushing each others boundaries. They had grown and changed and become more powerful but their tendencies had lingered. The fight had lasted well over an hour but in the end, Gellert had just gotten the better of him and managed to disarm him and send him flying backwards. His only minor consolation was the fight had left them both panting and injured. But it had been clear who the winner was. There was no backing out of the agreement they had made. His time in Nurmengard had been brief. A chance to recover from the duel before Gellert gave him an ultimatum. He could remain free if he agreed to leave Hogwarts and retreat from the Wizarding World. Albus had already known he would leave the school, for certainly he had lost that right when he had failed his students and the Wizarding World as a whole. He had agreed, knowing Gellert wasn't giving him a choice and not agreeing would result in either his death or being imprisoned in Nurmengard forever or the deaths of those he cared about. And so here he was, over a year after the duel. Staring into the fire, sitting beside a cup of tea that had long gone cold. Books had been removed from the overflowing bookshelves, scattered around the room. Some had been read, some he hadn't even yet opened. Plain parchment piled up on the desk. Few knew where he was and so letters came rarely. He had picked some of the fruit and vegetables he grew in a small garden he tended to. Perhaps he would make some jams and chutneys if he could find the strength and motivation. It came sometimes, mixed in with the heavy weight of despair that seemed to fill his waking hours. He had failed. He had let down the wizarding world and now he banished just beyond the world he loved so much. He knew what was happening there, of course. He did his best to learn of Gellerts ongoing plans and rise to power. Without him there, there was nothing to stop him. He knew the few Ministries that still existed moved against him but it wouldn't take much for them to fall. Everything would be lost then and Albus knew he was powerless to stop it. @johamfated

[feelfreetopleasemexo]

First time reader and Bakugo fuck, fluff or full smut upt o you

“Are you sure I look alright? It’s a pretty big night….” You ask Ochaco as she lays on your bed on her tummy, with her legs kicking behind her. You’re standing there showing off your new bra and pants set to her, twisting and turning, trying to feel somewhat comfortable in your skin that now felt like an oversized body bag. You had been umming and ahing between the red set and the yellow one. Ochaco had said that both complimented your lager chest beautifully, but that you needed to pick the set that made you feel the most comfortable.

“Will he even notice the colour? Im sure he’ll love whatever you choose.” She giggles as she watches you bend over slightly and arch your back, then tumble to the floor.

“What if he doesn’t even care, or worse yet, what if he LAUGHS at me? The one and only time I make him laugh and it’s cause im standing there in my undies trying to be sexy. I don’t think I can do this, im too nervous.” You stare into your full length mirror and pick apart your every flaw, as Ochaco sighs and tries to offer words of conformation that you do indeed look hot, he definitely won’t laugh, and that you’ll be absolutely fine.

“Oh crap, it’s 8 o’clock already! You gotta get going, he’s gonna be more pissed than usual if you’re late! Chuck your comfies on and get your ass going cutie! You’ve got this! I think the film ends at 10, so we should all be back around 10.30/11 I think. “ Ochaco had convinced everyone to go out to the movies, which meant you and katsuki could have your first night alone together. You knew you loved your best friend but this….this was marriage material. Every single time you guys had even kissed for too long, someone always had to get one of your attention by knocking on the door, come crashing in, emergencies seemed endless when you two had any alone time together. So this, this meant it was the big night. The night you both finally lost your virginities. No knocking, no random background noises interrupting, no stupid rambling from denki at the end of your bed completely oblivious that katsukis hand was up your shirt….nothing could get in the way. Except maybe your own nerves.

As you hugged her goodbye, she gave you a cheerful look and kissed the top of your head,

“You’ve got this, it’s just Bakugo. He’s not some scary beast, you asked him out after all, what’s more scary than that?!” She giggled, waving goodbye and set off to meet everyone at the entrance, and unraveled her marvellous lie about you being poorly and Bakugo being angry that he had to stay back to take care of you. As you heard her chatting away to everyone, you took a deep breath and knocked on his dorm door.

“Why’re you knocking? Cm’in you idiot.” He shouted from over the top of his drum set. You slowly walked in and saw him finishing up a set on his electric drum set, headphone half off to hear for your knocking. You’d stared at him countless times on his drum set, shirtless, and always fell into a love sick daze as he pounded away, but this time, you felt almost too nervous to even look at him. As he stood up and chucked his headphones ontop of the set, you stood awkwardly in his doorway, stiff and uneasy,

“Whatcha doing weirdo? You look like youve got a stick up your ass. Come ere!” His face angry as always, but you had learnt to decipher his sweetness over time, as he outstretched his arms for a cuddle. You walked over slowly and placed your head on his chest, not in your usual loving embrace which usually nearly knocks him over, but in a very shy, timid way.

“Why you being weird? Scared im gonna fuck you or something now we’re alone or what?” His usual teasing caused a smirk to slap across your face but this time you only let out a small laugh, then buried your head into his chest. Even though his body leaked fiery heat from it, you could feel that your face was even hotter as embarrassment scolded you. He could tell something was bothering you because after all, he always noticed, always kept his eyes on any little shift in you.

“Look, babe, I know Ochaco got everyone to fuck off out so we could be alone, but that doesn’t automatically mean we have to have mad sex across the whole building. If you wanna try it we can, if not we can watch some dumb movies and if you’re good to me, I might even let you do that shitty face mask thing you’re always asking to do….” Your eyes perked up to meet his, relief washed over your body as you kissed the end of his nose. You wanted to have sex, Christ, it was all you could think about anytime his body was even in the same room as you, but now it had actually come to the time, you couldnt think of anything scarier. Hell, you’d even prefer to argue with mr aizawa right now. As he cuddled your head into his chest and stroked your hair, you let out a deep sigh and snuggled into him, squeezing your arms around him like you usually did.

“Right, so, about the fucking….” You bucked back as your cheeks and tops of your ears immediately turned a flushed pink, as he started laughing at you with his stupid low growl. You slapped his chest and walked over to his bed, where you resumed your usual spot, curled up so he could climb in behind you and spoon you. You grabbed the stuffed all might cat teddy you made him keep on his bed and settled in, shifting your ass slightly so you were more comfortable ontop of his duvet, and patted behind you to summon him over. His wiped the sweat from his forehead, turned the music channel on and climbed into his assigned seat. As he cradled his legs around yours and put his arm under your lifted head so you could rest it on his biceps, he lifted your shirt slightly and started tracing swirls on your back. After a few moments, he grabs your hips and pulled them into him slightly, so you could feel his pelvis against your ass, making you suddenly very aware of his dick poking you. Usually when he did this, you’d push your ass back hard, make him jump then turn around and make out with him as he touched himself. This time? You stayed completely still. He pushed his boner into you again, hoping that maybe you didn’t feel it the first time, but again you didn’t move.

“What’s up your ass? You’re acting weird….” He pulls you onto your back and leans over you slightly, terrified to force you into anything, but knowing you needed to look into his eyes so you’d fold and confess your sins to him.

“Okay okay….” You let out a deep sigh and brace yourself, “ im terrified of fucking you. What if I get it wrong? What if you realise your gay, what if I make a weird noise and you end up hating me, what if we start and everyone comes back and bursts through the door and sees us naked together and everyone laughs and I die from embarrassment and you have to tell my family what happened and….” He interrupts your rambling with a soft, passionate kiss. He reaches his hand under your ear slightly and gently rubs the side of your face with his thumb. This always shut you up.

“Listen you idiot. I don’t actually care if we do or not. Don’t get me wrong, I really fucking want to, but not if it’s gotten you acting like this. If we have to wait a year then we have to wait a year, if it happens tonight it happens tonight. Stop being a prick and just go with the flow. Im not going to hurt you, in case you may have forgotten, you’re not the only virgin here….” Suddenly his words calmed you, you had a tendency to get in your own head at the best of times , but this was a whole new level. You breathed him in and decided to let your mind ease. You’d been dating for 6 months and you knew he wasn’t going to push you to do anything you didn’t want to, hell, he made sure you were always the one making the first move. The first kiss, the first undershirt touch, everything.

You decided to let your body tell you what it wanted to do, as you embraced his lips. Soft, delicate lips pressed against yours, he was an aggressive asshole most of the time, but when it came to you, he was nothing but tended, soft, as if his callused hands could shatter you at the lightest squeeze. He wrapped you up in his arms, completely encapsulating you, as you moved your hands from his chest down to his waist band. The deeper you kissed, the harder he pulled you into him. His kisses less controlled and sloppier now, you could feel the heat rising from him, his passion, his excitement. As you reached under his waist band, you could feel his breath grow hotter, felt him start to pant into your open mouth. As you grabbed his dick and started moving your hand in an up and down motion, he bit your lip, letting an excited sigh leave his mouth. He then traced his fingers down your side slowly and reached into your pants, his fingers warm and thick, placing only one to begin with at your entrance. As he glided it in, you winced slightly and he immediately pulled back, almost completely out of your pants. You give him a reassuring chuckle and push your hips slightly back into his hand as he carries on. You start to jerk your hand faster as he thrusts his fingers in and out to match your tempo. You start to pant and arch your back as you feel the sickeningly sweet warmth rise from your stomach. He starts biting at your neck, his canines breaking the skin slightly as he sucked, pulling you closer to him. He pulls your hand away and reaches over you for his bedside draw, pulling out a condom.

“Im not saying we have to use it, I just don’t want to get too carried away and forget okay smart ass.” You laughed and ripped it open with your teeth, staring into his crimson eyes, now wide and slightly intimidated. You pass it to him as he sleeves it onto his throbbing cock, and as he looks back up at you he whispers in his low, gruff voice,

“You sure about this? I don’t wanna do an…”

“Fuck me.” You interrupt abruptly, smirking at him as you bite your bottom lip. That was more than enough for him to throw you under him as he climbed in between your legs, claiming you as his own. As he guides himself to your sopping wet pussy, he hesitates slightly.

“I love you, you damn nerd.”

This was the first time he’d ever said it, and of course he had to try to play it off as an insult. You grab his face and kiss all around it,

“I love you too,” you say between kisses, “now show me why you’re the strongest, the best, why you’re the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, baby.” As you see a fire ignite behind his eyes, he guided himself into you. You both inhale sharply as he enters slowly, with each inch delving deeper, the harder you both panted. You claw at his back as if pulling him closer to you grounded you in your euphoria. Sweat dripped from his forehead, now pressed against yours, and as it trickled down your temple, you felt your heads almost head butting each others from the motion of his thrusts. He then suddenly stops, a jerking motion as if he’d just pulled his back confused you, until you look at his face and see his eyes clenched shut, his mouth hanging open and quick exhales escape him. Did he just fucking cum? After a few seconds he looks down at you and everts his gaze. He tries his best to carry on thrusting, but with each thrust he winces slightly, so you stop him.

“Baby don….”

“Don’t you dare fucking say it. Give me a minute.” His cheeks flush red under the blonde spikes covering his eyes. You reach your hand up to grab his face as he pulls away and gets off of you. As you sit up slightly he tries to hide the now completely full, almost spilling over condom and mutters that the damn thing must be broken,

“There is no way this is right, how the fuck can it feel that good with this bin bag between us?! I thought it was meant to feel shittier with one of these one…” he scrambles over you to find another, “stay there, maybe i have to try another one,” you can see the frustration and embarrassment beaming off his body as he tries to rectify his poor performance.

“Baby, it’s a compliment. I feel so good you couldnt help but cum? That’s literally the best out come to me.” He sits back, lowering the condom into his lap as he slowly lets his stare meet yours.

“Wait what….dont fuck with me. Don’t try to make me feel better, and if you DARE FUCKING TELL ANYON…” you interrupt him with a kiss, holding his face. His anger dissipates as he sinks slightly into your hands,

“I felt so good you couldnt help yourself….i made the great fucking Bakugo cum after 10 minutes?! I can die a happy woman now.”

“You really think it was 10 minutes….” He softens his gaze, looking to you for comfort and confirmation. Although you knew it was likely a minuet or two, you had to help the poor guy out. You loved to tease him as much as he teased me, but this felt beyond cruel to joke about.

“Im assuming it was a bit longer but, I can’t really be held accountable for my time keeping skills when I’m literally in my element, now can I …” you kiss the end of his nose as a smirk crawls across his face. You pull his head onto your chest as you lay back down, and start to play with his hair as both your panting slowed. He cuddles into your chest with his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him as if he truly thought that loosening his grip meant you slipped away from him. After a few seconds you heard gentle snores escaping his mouth, and a slick of his dribble creeping slowly onto your side. You laid your head back and laughed to yourself, internally thankful for everything that had lead up to this moment, and how you couldnt WAIT to tell Ochaco exactly what had happened.

[phoenixortheflame]

Bound: Fucking Feelings — an anthology of works by @its-the-allure

Typeset by: @sits-bound (stay tuned for typeset details from sits)

Bound by: me, @phoenixortheflame

What can I say about this bind except it was made for a beautiful human for whom I owe a lot to.

I met @its-the-allure on Reddit of all places. One post led to another and she ended up beta-reading my WIP. This is notable not only because I was new to Drarry and didn't have any fandom friends, but also because I'd never written fiction before in my life. Like truly, not a word of it.

If you've had the pleasure of Allure reading your work, you know she is a generous and delightful beta, and her enthusiasm gave me the confidence to start posting my work.

Not long after I started writing, Allure did too, and I had the immense privilege of beta-reading for her, too. In less than a year she published tens of thousands of words, including the 90s chatroom epistolary Come As You Are, which I see rec'd literally ALL THE TIME (seriously, it's amazing and if you haven't already read it, you definitely should).

A few months into binding I told Allure I'd bind her an anthology of her works for her birthday. Well, that day came and went a couple months ago, but — in my defense! — I was making four copies of 22 Cards, OUR FAVOURITE FUCKING SERIES, so I know she forgives me.

The anthology is called Fucking Feelings because this is the tagline we came up for Allure's work. There are feelings — and there's fucking.

The dust jacket is inspired by Melanie Martinez's album cover for Cry Baby. And the back table of contents is supposed to imitate a chatroom, with each work represented by a DM from the person whose POV the story is from. (If you look closely you'll even see a forwarded message, because that one is actually a Pansmione fic).

Throughout the cover design and also the typeset (all credit to @sits-bound for that part of it) are fun little nods to everyone's favourite messaging app, Discord.

As always, Allure gets her own bio and a Praise For section with comments from some of her favourite people (shout out @faiell, @citrusses, @pocket-lin, @slyssnakes, and of course peu).

Happy birthday, Allure — I hope you love it, babe!

Materials and bind details

Book cloth is Verona in Amped Indigo

HTV is Cricut brand Everyday Iron-On in Blush

Endbands are Trebizond is a 3-ply silk filament thread using DAS's Two Colour Front Bead Headband tutorial here

Marbled paper from The Paper Place

Dust jacket is printed on 48-lb glossy photo paper (13" x 19") and covered with soft-touch laminate

HTV and dust jacket designs all done in Canva

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Steadfast 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, obsession, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: King!Bucky Barnes (Medieval AU)

A Knights, Kings, and Knaves Story

Summary: you serve Duke Rogers, but when his friend, the king, takes an interest, you find your work in turmoil.

Note: I’ve wanted to do medieval drabbles for years. I bit the bullet and now we’re all doomed. I was torn on whether to make this one Stucky however… I think Steve deserves a wifey in his own installment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The king slows as a structure rises before you. A house with banners hung on the stucco wall. The windows are open to the roiling heat that has your cloaks rolled up with the saddle bags. Your bodies boil with the warmth rippling off the puffing horse's coat.

Figures emerge at your approach, alerted by the heavy clop of hooves. They wear colourful robes, the fabric thin enough that the sun does not affect them. You could turn to dust in the rippling air.

The king slides down and you stay abreast as he leads the horse. He greets the people with an open palm. They are wary but not unwelcoming.

"Where do you fare from?" A tall woman with grey ringlets demands.

"Far and away. But I come invited." He reaches to the purse on his belt. The one you think's been rubbing on you for a while. "A friend of mine gave me this."

He holds up a medallion. A man steps closer and puts out his hand. The king presses it into his palm.

"There is coin in my purse too," King Bucky declares. "I hope to find hospitality on our way to the capital."

"It isn't far," the woman says as others emerge from the houses. Skinny adolescents with beads in their hair. You can't help but admire the intricacy of their braids. "Not a half-days ride."

"Yes, it wouldn't be," the king agrees. "But I cannot appear as I am." He takes out coins from his purse. "And I would ask a favour. A messenger to be sent. I would call for a familiar face."

"You ask a lot," the lady girds.

"I will pay more than I ask. Be it coin or otherwise." He intones.

You stay on the horse, slumped and sweaty.

"The woman looks worn," she says. "She needs rest."

"She does," the king assures. "You will treat her kindly."

The man hands back the medallion, "and you will let King T'Challa know that we did." He nears the horse and takes the reins. "I am Mihe. My wife, Alle. And our children; Uma, Ebomoh, and Kwobo."

"Very honoured to make your acquaintance. This is Pip, she calls me Poppet."

The woman narrows her eyes. "Yes, welcome. You must be hungry."

"Painfully," King Bucky turns and helps you down. "You will eat," he guides you to the woman. "And I will speak with Mihe about this message."

"Yes...Poppet," you nearly slip. He lets you go and you turn to Alle.

"Come," she waves you on, "you would require some robes, as well. Uma, you will find some."

You are ushered into the house where it is cooler. She sits you on a bench and sifts through a chest. She takes a bowl and fills it from a large pot on a table.

"Thank you," you say quietly.

"Your man takes care. He looks at you with concern. We would not let him down."

"My... oh..." you don't argue. It is better not to say too much. That's what the king bid.

"Eat," she hands you the bowl. You accept it with another gratitude. You are rather starving.

👑

Alle and her daughters help you bathe. You are thankful for the luxury. Like at home, you find a river and they give you oils to rub into your skin. They smell rich and ease the dryness of your flesh.

You pull on the silken robes they gave you. You cannot stop thanking them. They are generous.

You walk back to their house as the sun meets its apex. You've been there two days already. You expect you will leave soon.

The king awaits you. He has a stick in hand as he bats away the one in Kwobo's. He has been sparring with the boy on and off. You can see he holds back.

"Very good," the king praises his adversary. "You will be a great warrior."

The king wears lighter clothes as well, draped from one shoulder across his chest and swept around his waist. He still wears his stained boots and the chain around his neck bearing a wolf's tooth.

"Like his father," Alle assures.

As if her words have power, a horn blows and draws your attention. Mihe waves the horn from the distance, not alone as he left you. There is another ride.

"He returns," Alle puts her hands together. "As if he has heard me longing for him."

You turn and watch them approach. King Bucky stands near, the end of his stick pushed into the dirt. You recognise the duke as he comes near. He wears a doublet despite the heat.

Duke Rogers dismounts and his hair falls forward in his face. He flicks it away with a sigh. He marches up to meet his king.

"Your highness."

"Poppet," the king grins. Alle and her daughters share a look.

Rogers pauses and tilts his head at you. "Pip, is that you?"

"My lord," you bow your head. "It is good to see you well."

"As you," he agrees and his eyes dart back to the king. "Why do you call me here? You are needed in the capital."

The king laughs, "I am on my way."

Rogers is not amused. You know the look well.

"The others await you."

"The others can keep waiting. I need only you." The king insists.

"What are you up to?" Rogers growls.

The king's cheeks dimple bigger. "Well, you would bear witness to my union and you will be sure that me and my new bride have our grand entrance."

You blink as the king takes your hand in his. Your brow furrows as your eyes meet the Duke's. His mouth falls open.

"Bucky," he forgets all pretense. "No."

The king scoffs. "You will have the paperwork drawn up. I hardly doubt anyone would recognise dear Pip. You hardly did."

"Why?" the duke pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Wouldn't you say I'm past due?" The king brings your knuckles up to kiss them as you stand in shock. Certainly, he is only teasing his friend as he always does.

[pukefactory]

haiii haii I've been loving like, LOVING ur writing and i want to request some headcanons of hoarder alex x reader!!! (romantic ofc)

any, give me any!!! and my. life is yours!!!!

ur amazing btw🫶🫶🫶🩷💥

-🩷💛🩵

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Rat ting for being so nice, my colourful Anon!

- SAINT RUNE

─── ⋆⋅ WASTE UNDER THE BRIDGE ⋅⋆ ──

⛧° Summary: A Compilation Of Romantic Headcanons Featuring Hoarder Alex X Reader

⛧° Character(s): Hoarder Alex (ENA: Dream BBQ)

⛧° Genre: Headcanons, SFW

⛧° Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

⛧° Image Credits: @JoelG

⋆˙⟡ You find out he collects things not for their value, but because they once made someone feel something. He won’t tell you directly—it slips out one day while he’s ranting about “emotional tax” and how he “had to steal that cracked teacup because it was blushing when someone held it wrong.” When you realize he keeps your chewed pencil stub in a silk pouch next to a rusted brooch that “smelled like grief,” you understand he’s been hoarding you, too. He denies it. Loudly. Red-faced. Clutching his bag like a saint clutches a relic. But the pouch smells like your shampoo.

⋆˙⟡ Dates are spontaneous disasters. One time, you suggest a picnic. Hoarder Alex agrees—after packing his entire collection of expired coupons, bent nails, and a taxidermy lizard named Ernesto. He calls this his Emergency Emotional Buffer Kit. You end up sitting on a pile of newspapers from 1992 while he screams at the clouds about a dream he had where you left him for a lampshade. He swears it’s a premonition. You swear you like him. He turns pink and shushes you like he’s protecting a national secret.

⋆˙⟡ He absolutely does not get jealous. That’s ridiculous. He’s above that. Except when someone breathes within 10 feet of you. Then he’s clenching his trash bag like it’s a weapon and whispering things like “They’re mine, thief. Back off before I tax your aura.” You try not to laugh. You fail. He makes a wounded noise and calls you a heartless scoundrel. You kiss his snout and he forgets what he was mad about. (Until tomorrow. When he remembers. And sulks. With purpose.)

⋆˙⟡ He can’t sleep unless you’re holding onto something of his. A shoelace. A cassette tape. Once, he gave you a chipped tooth in a velvet box and whispered, “This… was from a duel. You may keep it. Just… sleep with it close.” You ask what the duel was about. He says “tax evasion” and refuses to elaborate. The tooth smells like peppermint and regret. You keep it on your nightstand anyway.

⋆˙⟡ When he’s sad, he talks to the things. You once caught him lecturing a crushed soda can about heartbreak. “They said they liked the way I yelled at traffic, and now—now they’re reading poetry to the park bench! The bench!” You step out of hiding and hand him a warm drink. He stares. Then mutters, “Stupid… beautiful… altruistic harpy…” before shuffling into your arms like a guilty, growling dog. You hold him until he stops mumbling.

⋆˙⟡ He has written at least seven dramatic farewell letters to you, each time he thinks you’re going to leave him. One is 18 pages long and includes a eulogy for himself written in third-person. You once tried to throw one away. He gasped like you’d burned down the Louvre and then recited the entire thing aloud. With tears. You now keep them all in a little binder labeled: “For When Alex is Feeling Theatrical.” He calls this treason. But he lets you do it.

⋆˙⟡ He made you a gift once. It was a sculpture of your silhouette—made entirely from melted lighters and bottle caps. It somehow looked… perfect. “I made it from the objects that looked at me wrong after I met you,” he says, grinning like a madman. “Now they’ll never forget you.” You’re not sure whether to kiss him or call a priest. You do both. He blushes for four hours.

⋆˙⟡ Hoarder Alex has a list of every nice thing you’ve ever said to him. It’s stored in a moldy journal marked CONFESSIONS AND UNPAID DEBTS. Occasionally, he’ll flip it open dramatically and reread them aloud when he’s feeling insecure. “June 3rd, you said I looked ‘chaotically charming.’ That was a lie, wasn’t it?! Don’t comfort me. It was a pity compliment.” You cradle his face and say it again. He screams into your shoulder like you stabbed him with love. You didn’t. Yet.

⋆˙⟡ Every time you touch him gently, he twitches like it’s the first time someone’s done that without trying to steal his stuff. You once brushed a leaf out of his ponytail and he went silent for a full minute. Then said, in a whisper, “That was illegal.” You said, “What?” He said, “You just vandalised my soul.” Then asked if you’d do it again.

⋆˙⟡ When you’re sad, he doesn’t comfort you in the traditional sense. No. He rants at the world on your behalf. “WHO HURT YOU?! I’LL STEAL THEIR DOORFRAME! I’LL PETITION THE SKY FOR A PERSONAL THUNDERSTRIKE!” Then he brings you something ridiculous—like a bent fork or a glitter-covered napkin—and says, “This reminded me of your anger. It deserves to be hoarded.” It always makes you laugh. Which he counts as a personal victory. His ears twitch. His chest swells. He says, “You’re welcome.” As if he didn’t just gift you a cursed spoon.

[obscuraimagines]

i love your work!!! do you have ao3? also i was wondering if you could do one where reader is the one who catches kodiak when they ran away after lottie killed edwin. thank you

A/N: Thank you Anon, that’s so kind!!! And thank you so much for this request! I was trying to make it different from the Bite Me Reader and it ended up going in a really unexpected direction. I hope you enjoy it!

This prompted me to set up a new AO3 account here under the name SilvaObscura. (This sideblog is actually my first time writing smut and the first fanfic I’ve written in years, so I wanted a fresh start lmao.) 

Summary: Set during Croak. Desperate for rescue, you pray to the Wilderness to let you find Kodiak first. The Wilderness grants your wish. It expects something in return. 

Content: Smut, drugged sex (both parties), dubcon/dubious consent, sex pollen elements, hallucinations, ambiguous supernatural elements, ambiguous rational explanation. Intended for readers over 18. Mature content under the cut.

You sing and the Wilderness sings back. 

It’s like the sound rises up from the ground and through you, borrowing your voice to make audible what has always been there. You feel the note vibrating through you, filling you until you feel your edges blurring. Bitterness lingers on your tongue from the tea Lottie gave you. Everything feels heightened: colours are brighter, the dark is darker, the world shimmers like a mirage. You’re no longer a girl: you’re a creature of sound and darkness. The firelight, the trees, the ground beneath your toes all feel as much a part of you as your physical body. You feel a surge of euphoria so strong it lifts you out of yourself. You can feel the Wilderness take notice of you: it’s like a quiet place opens inside your mind, a listening presence inviting you to speak into it. You focus your whole being into one word. Rescue.

Kodiak appears suddenly and silently, like a vision. You stop mid-spin, staggered by your own momentum, a wordless song dying in your throat. The Wilderness spoke to Lottie, then Travis and Akilah. Now it’s speaking to you. He’s limned in firelight, the one bright thing in the darkness, as though he’s the only thing that’s real. Your world sharpens to a pinpoint. He’s here for you: the answer to your prayer. 

You walk towards him. It feels like being in a dream: time stretches, dilates. Your body feels heavy but you feel light, as though the rest of you is somewhere else. You’re barely aware of your teammates dancing around you except as obstacles. The Wilderness howls and you feel your own blood rising to meet it, every fibre of you taut and expectant. You feel his gaze lock on to you as though it’s a physical charge, the intensity almost too much to bear. He’s staring at you with the same mixture of fear and wonder you think must be reflected on your own face. 

You reach out and touch him. You were half expecting your hand to pass through him like smoke. Instead, your palm splays across the muscle of his chest. He grabs your wrist hard: his reflexes are so fast you barely see him move. He doesn’t seem to know what to do when you don’t resist him. You feel his heartbeat trapped beneath your palm. 

You barely notice the others’ singing taper off into silence. Then the screaming starts: it’s ugly, discordant, nothing like what came before. You feel the vision fade but he’s still there, as though he followed you out of it. You only register the presence of the other two strangers when you see Lottie bury an axe in the other man’s head. 

Suddenly everyone’s shouting. You turn to Kodiak but he shoves you so hard you fall backwards. An arrow tears the air above your head; behind you someone howls in pain. Kodiak and the strange woman run. Panic strikes you. It isn’t supposed to happen like this. 

You take off after him, knowing it’s hopeless. You’ll never get to him before the others: Shuana is too fast, Lottie too surefooted, Taissa too strong. You sprint into the darkness, muttering desperate pleas as your lungs burn: please let me find him first, please don’t let them hurt him. I’ll do anything, give you anything, please.

You see a white shape between the trees, crowned in antlers, her face veiled. You veer sideways to avoid her but a tree root snags your ankle, sending you pitching towards the forest floor. You throw a hand out to catch yourself and a sharp stone slices through your palm. 

“Lottie?” you gasp. But it’s not Lottie. It’s not Shauna either. The eyes that meet yours through the veil are ancient, inhuman. She holds a hand out to you, the palm slick with blood, and you’re too stunned to do anything but reach out to take it. 

The second your fingers brush hers, the world lurches sideways. You’re on your feet again, running. You can’t remember how you got here. Your senses are so sharp it’s almost painful: everything is too much. In the near distance, you hear your teammates’ hunting cries and closer the sound of someone running. Kodiak. Your body takes over, surging forwards. You catch him at the exact point in his stride to knock him off balance, tackling him to the ground. 

He rolls, pinning you underneath him. There’s a hunting knife pressed in a cold line against the soft skin of your throat. 

“What the fuck is happening?” he hisses. “Who are you?”

“I can hide you,” you blurt. “Please. I want to go home.”

Kodiak angles the knife, the tip pressing against your pulse point. “Why should I believe you?”

Your teammates call to each other, closer now. They’re all around you, closing in. You glance around to get your bearings and realise where you are. Of course the Wilderness would guide you here. 

“You can’t get away from them. Please. There’s a cave…”

Kodiak gets up, yanking you after him. He pins you against him with one arm, the flat edge of the hunting knife pressed against your throat like a warning. 

The cave seems more sinister at night: an endless swallowing mouth cut into the mountainside. You feel a clawing panic as you hear one of their birdcalls, less than a hundred yards away. Kodiak drags you inside, throws you down behind a boulder, covers your body with his. His hand is over your mouth, the knife jabbed against your ribs, his weight crushing you into the dirt. You feel him hold his breath and you bite down on your lip, willing yourself to be quiet. 

Your hear running outside the cave and brace yourself. Then it’s gone. You sag with relief. Above you, Kodiak lets out a long, silent breath. 

“I know who you are,” you tell him, once it’s safe to speak. You’re deeper inside the cave, sitting on the ground with a burning torch jammed in the dirt between you. You’d found a stack of unlit ones ready down here, left by Ben maybe, or by Lottie. Kodiak says you’re his hostage but, except for some rough handling dragging you down here, he hasn’t really hurt you. There’s a shallow scrape on your side where he pressed too hard with the knife. “Kodiak. The Wilderness told–”

“No shit. It’s written on my shirt.” Kodiak cuts you off, irritated. You can’t make much out in this light but it doesn’t matter: the Wilderness wouldn’t send him to lie to you. “Who the fuck are you?”

You try to explain haltingly about your team, the plane crash. 

“That plane went down over a year ago.” Kodiak interrupts you, his head from side to side. “If there were survivors, they would have starved.”

“We nearly did.” You stare at your feet, avoiding his gaze. You feel unclean, branded. The memory of the last time you hunted a person rises in you, refusing to be denied: the relief of no longer feeling like yourself, the way your whole being sharpened down to a single point, the overwhelming guilt and grief when it all came back. “We learned to hunt.”

“I noticed.” Kodiak grabs the torch, shoves the lit end so close to you you feel the heat on your face. His face is half in shadow but you think you see him studying you, taking in your deerskin cape, the lean muscle of your bare legs, your tattered converse, your wild grown-out hair. “How would some girls’ soccer team–”

“I can prove it.” You shove your cloak over your shoulder and then jerk back as Kodiak jabs the torch at you threateningly. You hold your hands up in surrender, your back pressed to the cave wall. “Look.”

He shifts his weight, leaning in to read the faded Yellowjackets on your practice shirt. The torch isn’t giving much light so he has to lean in, pulling the fabric away from you so he can read it. 

“You’ve been out here a whole year?” When he speaks, his voice is softer. He’s looking at you differently but it’s hard to read his expression. “How did you survive the winter?”

“Some of us didn’t.”

Kodiak seems to realise he’s still holding your shirt. His fingers brush your breast as he lets go. Despite yourself you shiver. It’s been a long time since anyone touched you. It hits you then that he’s a strange man and you’re alone with him. 

Kodiak is tall – easily over 6ft – and powerfully built. After living for so long among malnourished girls, his physical presence is overwhelming. The flickering amber light plays over his scars: a neat line curving upwards from one eyebrow, a mess of scar tissue half hidden by his collar. 

He’s studying you back and you try not to think about how you must look to him, half wild in ragged clothes and skins you helped hunt. You wish he could see you as you had been before the crash. You thought you were so grown up back then: nearly nineteen, almost graduated, college mapped out in front of you. Back when everything about you was still measured in potential. 

“We shouldn’t stay here too long,” you tell him. You’re afraid of him looking too long, seeing too much. “It’s not safe.”

Kodiak scoffs. Whatever fragile understanding existed between you breaks. “Safer than outside.” 

“There’s some kind of… I don’t know…natural gas or something.” You scramble for a version of the truth he’ll believe. “It makes you see things. That’s why the others are afraid to come here.”

“Or,” Kodiak says. “You’re trying to lead me into a trap.”

“I wouldn’t do that. I swear. I just want to go home.” You feel your face fall. “I don’t know why Lottie… did that. I’m– I’m sorry. About your friend.”

Kodiak is no longer listening to you. He goes still, staring at something past your shoulder. He’s outlined by the faint light coming from the cave entrance behind him. 

“I thought you said this was as far as it went?”

“It is.”

“Then what’s that?”

You turn and see light flickering against the stone, too bright to be cast from your torch. 

“I don’t know.”

Kodiak gets up, jerking you to your feet by your elbow and pushing you in front of him. You feel the knife cold against the back of your neck. “Lead the way.”

There’s no way anyone could have got past without you seeing them. You’re not even sure there should be anywhere for them to be. You creep forwards, until you reach a narrow fissure in the rock. You turn to Kodiak, pleadingly but of course it’s no good. He doesn’t trust you; there’s no way you’re going to convince him that the cave has rearranged itself. You squeeze through the fissure, letting out a whimper when your hand touches something soft. Kodiak hisses at you to keep going and you push aside what turns out to be some kind of pelt and stumble into a circular chamber you’ve never seen before.  

The pelt half covering the entrance behind you is bearskin; huge and glossy with dark fur. It makes you uneasy: you’d cut up the skin of the bear Lottie killed into smaller pieces for easier tanning. Someone other than your teammates must have put it here. Anything that helps you keep warm is precious out here. It makes no sense to abandon something so valuable underground.  

You’re so distracted by the pelt that it takes you a second to pay attention to the source of the light. There’s a low stone slab against one wall that’s bright with lit candles. They turn the air soft, golden, gently flickering around the edges. You edge towards the altar (the word arises unbidden in your thoughts), scenting a trap. You burned nearly all the candles last winter and the fire took the precious few you had left. There’s no way for your teammates to have brought them here and no way anyone else would have lit them and left them to burn in the dark. They’re clustered around a stag skull with huge, branching antlers. In front of it lies something dark and shrivelled, perhaps a heart. Suddenly the candle flames flicker and burn brighter. You feel a presence at your back.

“We shouldn’t be here.” Your voice sounds small, faraway somehow. Every instinct you have is screaming danger.

You turn to face Kodiak, only to realise it’s not him. 

The Antler Queen stands in front of you, her face rendered blank by her veil. She’s silent but you feel knowing settle on you: you’re exactly where she wants you to be. You see her face contort through the veil, mouth stretched wide as a pit. When she speaks to you, it’s in the voice of the Wilderness: the scream of the forest, the crackle of wildfire, the roar of the wind through the trees. The force of it hits you like a sledgehammer.

You stagger away blindly, clapping your hands over your ears. You collide with something. You cry out but your scream sounds hoarse and thin in the sudden silence.

Kodiak catches you around the waist, one hand splaying across your stomach. 

“Where did you go?” his voice is thick, slurred. His jaw presses against your temple as he speaks, his beard rasping against your skin. “What’ did you do to me?”

You crane your neck to face him: his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide. 

“It’s the cave.” You struggle, trying to pull him towards the exit. He’s too strong. “We have to get out of here.”

“Did you drug me?” Kodiak tries to shake you but he’s clumsy, uncoordinated. Instead his hand slides under your shirt. His skin is fever-hot. You feel an electric thrill you through you where his bare skin touches yours, so intense it’s almost painful. Kodiak’s breathing hitches: you feel his breath hot on your check, the sharp rise and fall of his chest pressed against your side. “Hurts…when I’m not touching you.”

You feel heat spreading through you. The longing to touch his bare skin is almost overwhelming. You wrench yourself out of his grip and he stumbles. 

You glance backwards: he’s dazed, feverish. You can’t abandon him: not when he’s your only chance of rescue. You grab him by the sleeve and pull him after you, careful not to touch his skin, as you pull aside the bear pelt covering the entrance. 

There’s nothing behind it but solid rock. You struggle with it and Kodiak pulls it free from the cave wall, tossing it on the floor behind you. He presses a palm to the now solid rock, leaning on it unsteadily.

You run your hands over the wall, unable to believe the evidence of your eyes. You keep muttering no no no like a litany, the sound blending together until it barely sounds like words anymore. You lurch drunkenly, your limbs oddly leaden; there’s a roaring in your ears and your chest is tight. It’s getting harder and harder to think. “The way out was here. It can’t just be gone.”

You begin to circle the walls, running your palms over the rough stone. Kodiak covers your hands with his, holding them still, his chest pressed against your back. “Don’t leave.”

Heat flares where he touches you and the awful constricting pressure lessens. You let out a strangled moan. 

At that sound, whatever control Kodiak has left snaps. 

He spins you to face him so hard you lose your footing and fall into his chest. You barely have time to steady yourself before his arms are around you. Your back slams into the cave wall with the force of his kiss. It’s messy at first: urgent, breathless, your teeth crashing into his. Then you throw an arm around his neck to anchor yourself and he tilts your jaw upwards and suddenly everything makes sense. The feverish pain you feel doesn’t lessen but it stops being pain. Touching him feels like gorging yourself after starving.

You whimper when he breaks the kiss. He presses the side of his face to yours, unable to stop touching you, speaking directly into your ear. 

“It’s not enough.” His voice is rougher, deeper. The sound vibrates through you, leaving you needy, desperate. His hand trails downwards from your breast, settling on the button of your shorts. “I need more. Need you.”

You nod breathlessly. You fumble with the ties of your cloak until Kodiak gets impatient and snaps them. The heavy furs fall to the ground at your feet. You both pull at your clothes, wanting to feel as much of each other’s skin as possible. Kodiak pulls you to him, pushing you down onto the bear pelt. The fur is sleek against your bare skin. You’ve shed most of your clothes, down to your sports bra and unbuttoned shorts. You wrestle out of your sports bra, tossing it aside, while Kodiak sheds his own clothes. He looks golden in the candlelight, the hard planes of his muscles thrown into sharp relief. 

Kodiak tugs at your shorts and you lift your hips to let him slide them down your legs. Your underwear comes away too, leaving you bare for him. 

You feel him line himself up against you. He’s bigger than you expected. You tense. You try to tell yourself that it’s okay, that the first time hurts for everyone, that it’s only pain. 

Kodiak draws back. He seems a little more in control of himself now; but only a little. “You good?”

“Fine.”

“Is this… have you done this before?”

You shake your head. “Just do it. I’ll manage.”

“If I do that I’m going to hurt you.” 

You go rigid at his words, bracing yourself. Instead he trails rough, open-mouthed kisses down your chest. He palms at your breast with one hand, taking the other into his mouth and tugging a nipple between his teeth. You writhe under him, trying to clamp your thighs together, desperate for friction. Instead, Kodiak pins you down and takes his time teasing you. Then, just as the force of your own desire becomes agonising, he hikes your leg over his shoulder, kissing down your inner thigh. He stops to suck a lovebite into your skin, his beard rough against your skin, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin. 

When you feel his mouth on you, you cry out. Instinctively you cram a hand over your mouth, conditioned by a year of living in close quarters with no privacy. Kodiak pulls up and looks up at you. The sight of him between your thighs makes something twist pleasantly inside you. 

“Don’t you dare,” he tells you. “I want to hear you.”

You nod, breathless, grabbing fistfuls of the bearskin to keep your hands still. His mouth is hot against you, his tongue slick and velvety. It’s so much better than anything you’ve been able to do for yourself out here, so much better than the adolescent fumblings with long-forgotten highschool boyfriends back home. You’re almost afraid of how much you want him, the power he has over you. You shift under him, unsure if you want more or less, until Kodiak grips your hips between his hands and holds you still, so you’re at his mercy. The cave amplifies your cries, echoes your own ragged breathing back at you.  You come hard, the orgasm slamming into you.

Even as you come back to yourself, you can feel your desire begin to build again until wanting him is almost painful. Kodiak works his way up your body, nuzzling at your neck. 

“I need to be inside you,” he tells you, his voice almost a growl. You can feel him hard against you but this time you’re not afraid: you’re slick and aching for him. You nod and he begins to ease into you.

“I need you to fuck me,” you breathe.

Kodiak slams into you, as though he can’t control himself. It hurts a little but the pain is overshadowed by an overwhelming feeling of rightness. 

“I was trying to be gentle,” he chides you. You can feel him straining, trying to hold himself back, giving you time. 

“You can be a little rough.” 

“Only a little?” Kodiak breathes the words against your ear as he starts to thrust into you. Despite your words you gasp and cling to him, your nails biting into his shoulders. “You have no idea. How rough. I want to be.”

He punctuates the words with thrusts, grinding his hips against yours in a way that makes you see sparks. 

It’s hard and fast and sweaty after that. You wrap your legs around his waist as he thrusts hard into you, whispering absolute filth into your ear. He tells you how tight you are, how well you’re taking him, how good you feel. You feel yourself clench around him and the sensation is enough to tip him over the edge so he spills inside you. 

Afterwards, you’re both out of breath, his forehead resting against yours, his lips a hair’s breadth from yours. You close the distance between you with a kiss and he returns it lazily, keeping you pinned under him. You can already feel the tide of desire rising in you again. 

“I don’t think we’re done yet.” Kodiak pulls away but barely. His body is moulded to yours, your breasts pressing against his chest with every ragged breath. His face is so close to yours that your noses brush, you feel his breath against your swollen lips. He slides a hand up your thigh, fingers dipping inside you, smirking at the moan he draws out of you. 

He takes pleasure in playing with you until he’s ready to go again. You try to grind against his hand, whimpering, needy but he’s merciless, bringing you right to the edge and keeping you there. 

“Maybe I want to play with you a while longer,” he teases when you beg him to let you come. He kisses you long and slow, proving to you that you’ll take whatever he chooses to give. “Maybe I like you all helpless and pleading.”

You let out a low whine and he kisses you again, chuckling against your mouth. 

“I’ll fuck you if you ask nicely.”

You glare at him and he brushes a finger over your clit, not hard enough to give you the release you need, hard enough to make you whimper and try to grind into his hand. 

“Please,” you manage.

He smirks down at you, the shadows turning his blue eyes almost black. “Now, I know you can do better than that.”

“I-I need you inside me.”

“Good girl.”

You’re not about to let that stand. Not when you know he needs this as badly as you do. You push Kodiak onto his back. You shouldn’t be able to do that – he’s powerfully built, easily over six foot of lean muscle – but somehow you do. Perhaps he lets you. Perhaps he wants to see where you’re going. 

“I want to be on top,” you tell him, your voice ragged. 

He looks up at you, amused. You feel the dynamic between you shift, recalibrate. 

“Sure, I’ll allow it.” He drags his eyes over you, lingering on your breasts. 

He guides you, hands curled around your hipbones, as you sink down onto him. The awful building pressure in your head releases and you let out a long, shivery sigh. He strokes his hands up your sides, almost tenderly at first, until he gets impatient and kneads at your breasts. It’s easier to take him this time; you roll your hips experimentally, rewarded when his breath hitches. He returns his hands to your hips, guiding your movements until you find your rhythm. 

Your body takes over. It’s as though something bigger than you is guiding you, watching you from behind your eyes. The cave amplifies your own sounds back at you: ragged breathing, moans, the sounds of your bodies moving together. The candles gutter and flicker, outlining the seams in the rough stone walls like branches moving in a high wind, like antlers. 

You lean down to kiss Kodiak. It’s rough, intense, his hands tangling in your hair. When you pull away he follows you up, shifting position so he’s sitting with you astride his lap. The change in angle drives him deep inside you, making you cry out and cling to him. Kodiak grasps you to him, one hand splayed across the small of your back, the other wrapped around the back of your neck, anchoring against him as he fucks you hard. You cry out, back arching, breasts pressed against him, hair tossed back. He bites down hard where your shoulder meets your neck and you understand that he’s marking you, claiming you, letting you know you’re his. Somehow that knowledge is what undoes you. You come hard. Kodiak fucks you through it, prolonging your response, until he comes too, biting your shoulder again, hard enough to draw blood. 

You collapse against him and he holds you up. He’s still inside you and you feel a delicious ache. Kodiak strokes your back, whispers meaninglessly into your ear. You enjoy the moment of respite, knowing that there’s more to come, that whatever force is guiding you both is far from finished.

It’s going to be a long night.

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reads, likes, comments and especially requests. If you enjoyed this then please do tell me (and especially tell me which parts you want to see more of.) I enjoy writing these but it’s knowing that people want to see them them that gets them edited and onto Tumblr. 

[73lesbiansinfandoms]

This one's for @indigostation who said he was back on the make Remus pregnant train, and I'm here for it. I will always be on the make Remus pregnant train.

Ok but both Lily and Remus being trans.

And Lily and James asking Remus to be their surrogate, when they decided they wanted children.

Remus and Sirius having to talk it over, but him leaving the decision to Remus.

Remus saying yes.

They don't tell anyone not even Peter, because Remus didn't need another reason to be discriminated by others.

James, Lily and Sirius, somehow managing to convince Dumbledore into letting Remus not do any missions.

When Remus starts to become noticeably pregnant, he uses magic to cover it up.

Remus having some really weird cravings and dragging Lily into trying them all with him. Because he's like 'your the one who wanted this kid, you are going to experience some aspects of it.'

Remus being stuck in Lily and James' house a lot while they all went to work so he ended up painting a mural in the babies room.

They gave all decorating decisions to Remus because he was the only one who seemed to know what was supposed to be in a babies nursery.

Harry looking exactly like James with Lily eye, except his eyes having the smallest bit of brown in them. (I head cannon Remus having the smallest bit of green in his eyes, so their eye colour sort of switched.)

[vmlnrzmp4]

some very silly and very goofy tokyo revengers headcanons i wrote back in 2022.

mikey has been in love one(1) time. it was one-sided of course. little manjiro had a crush on his kindergarten teacher. he proposed to her and even asked her to marry him but he was left heartbroken when she said she was already married.

baji has the weirdest comebacks like he’ll just call you bacteria but he's so hypocritical that he made fun of chifuyu for using ‘silly baka.’

senju suddenly had a boost of motivation to draw and when she showed her art to haru and takeomi, they burst out laughing so hard. she never drew again.

shinichiro’s alarm is so loud and so fucking annoying that wakes up everyone but him. sometimes the alarm has grandpa sano slapping him awake but mostly it has emma pouring water on his face.

it's tokyo revengers we’re talking about, hardly anyone has normal hair. speaking of which, takemitchy gave himself a haircut with a bowl on his head, cutting the excess. he was so proud but his friends made fun of him and called him a coconut the very next day.

senju was the kid that went to takeomi like “big bro, watch this!” and simply jumped and spun around, thinking she was the shit. takeomi believe that's one of the reasons why he smokes.

the kawata twins thought they were smartasses when they dyed their hair to each other’s colours on april fools day and hakkai pretended that he did not fall for it.

grandpa sano saw a cup at the store which said best brother, he thought it was cute and bought it and kept it on the dining table. the sano brothers fought over it and went completely chaos, emma threatened to break that cup if they didn't cut it out. she kept the cup to herself.

when kid mikey spotted shinichiro with a girl, he ran up to him yelling “papa! papa who's this? are you cheating on mama? mama’s waiting for you, papa. she’ll be sad, papa. papa, please don't leave us.” shinichiro went through hell trying to explain mikey’s antics just to get rejected again.

hanma thinks that he's not good with kids but sometimes, the kids actually like him. he joins the kids in making sand castles and playing soccer. he even let's the kids climb him like he's a tree.

baji‘s wallpaper is chifuyu holding up bananas beside kazutora, comparing his hair to the fruit. (got inspo from a fanart)

mikey and baji are the type to chase the scaredy ones with crabs in their hands on beach day.

a new girl at senju’s school thought senju was so handsome and even asked for her number but was heartbroken when she found out senju is a girl.

baji responded “red” when asked what his blood type was.

[elliestwoleftfingerss]

simon teaching you how to play pool when you randomly tell him you haven't played before.

you'd met the lieutenant at your local bar just a few hours prior, where he'd come and taken a seat beside you at the bar. you're too pretty to be sat alone, he thought, and he came to nurse his own drink in the seat next to yours.

you felt like you could talk to him for hours. which was what you did. he was effortless, easily carrying the conversation along without so much as a long-lasted pause. when you took a look around the bar and set your sights on the billiards table, you casually mentioned that nobody had taught you how to play.

simon took that as a challenge, picking up his glass and gesturing with his index and middle finger for you to follow him. sliding out of your seat, you walked after the man as he shouldered through the pub.

he took a few pound coins from his wallet and slotted them into the table, the sound of balls clanging music to his ears. he hunched down under the table as you gathered two pool sticks, grabbing the coloured balls and the plastic rack that was tucked underneath the wooden frame.

he arranged the black, red, and yellow balls into the rack, slowly pulling up the plastic triangle once the instruments were lined up in an even three-sided shape. he set the white ball down in its designated spot, before gathering a pool cue from you.

it was like second nature to him when he leaned over the table and lined the tip of his cue up with the white ball. his elbow came back a little before he jabbed the stick forward, sending the ball skitting toward the triangle. the collection of coloured balls immediately split, darting in various directions.

you watched on with silent amazement, leaning against your own stick as you wondered how he made it look so easy. you also couldn't help noticing the way his t-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders as he folded over, muscles rippling with the movement of his strong arms.

"your turn," his gruff voice pulled you from your not-so-innocent thoughts, and you automatically took a step forward.

noticing how you weren't quite sure where to stand, the lieutenant gave a laugh. the sound grumbled deep in his chest, rolling up his throat and sweeping over you in a warm wave.

he balanced his cue against the side of the billiards table before he approached you. "it's easy," he told you. "like this..."

simon stepped up behind you, the firm plane of his chest pressing against your back. you felt the stubble on his face tickle your cheek, and his scent - smoke, scotch, and slightly musky - overrun your senses like a drug in the system.

his large hands ran down your arms until he reached your hands, his large figure behind you pressing into your back. he guided you down over the table, whispering in your ear. "relax..."

author's note: the fuck you mean i can write something that isn't angst? i don't even KNOW where this came from bruh.

i profusely apologise that this is the only thing i've posted in months. i'm smack bang in the middle of exam season and my brain is clogged with shiiiiit (this legit came from halfway down my drafts and it isn't even finished, but we don't talk about that).

ENJOY POOKARINOS!

[hanasonma]

TWST Boys (+Faculty) running to the store for you

Riddle

- Has the shopping list in hand as soon as he steps foot in the store

- Does that thing where when you're lost but don't want to ask for help🫢

Trey

- Normally getting things on the top shelf for other people

- Not afraid to ask for help himself

- Is someone who wears the employee colour shirt and had been mistaken as manager once

Cater

- He's the 2nd quickest shopper (20min max)

- Won't call you but will go back and return an item if you got it wrong

Deuce

- Calls you multiple times, making sure he gets the right thing

- "Where is the .... eyelash glue...for my friend of course!"

Ace

- "I don't need a list I've got a great memory"-Ace (I forget my own birthday) Trappola

- He's getting something for himself with your money.

- Has tried to shoplift once but got caught and his mother was called

Leona

- Why can't you get it??

- IF he's feeling the mood, might go, Ruggie following along to help carry the bags

- Knows the best products and what not to waste your money on

Ruggie

- List? Check. Money? Check. Calculator? Check.

- This man makes bargains like no one can

- He's using your money so he defo pulling out the calculator to make sure you gave him enough

Jack

- He's pushing a trolley around

- If he doesn't know what product of an item you want he's going with his gut

Azul

- Walks in like he owns the place (he has no clue where anything is)

- Jade is making fun of him for not knowing where the elastic bands are (he has no clue himself)

Jade

- A bit suspicious that he might add mushrooms.

- Yuu had asked for a small packet of feta cheese and now Jade is coming back with rolls of it 😔

- Get ready to get out your radiation metre as he came back all soggy and wet yet won't explain why

Floyd

- You catch him in a good mood.... he's willing to go for you

- Forgets half the things you ask

- You wrote him a list but he ate it

- You're not getting your things in one piece/ or even the correct items

- You found a half eaten apple next to goose milk

Kalim

- Please don't. Jamil is on his knees begging Yuu to not ask Kalim.

- Yuu found their items in a pinata

- Although it was cute Kalim did get scolded. At least he bought everything even if it was the most expensive brands

Jamil

- Excellent as always.

- "Why should I bother with someone like you?" You then proceeded to ask Kalim which got Jamil stressed enough to agree to do it instead

- Did buy something for himself with your money. He doesn't care. You ain't the Al-Asim family.

Vil

- Knows his way around the market

- What should've been a 5 minute pit stop turned to an hour trying new products

- Ate half of your watermelon on the way home

Rook

- Please no.

- He won't shut up about being blessed to be asked by you.

- Don't worry. He knows what you need from the store.

Epel

- You full on expected him to get on a horse and ride his way to and back from the store

- Carries all the bags in one hand

- Forgot the Pineapple. Everytime. You think that he might have something against pineapple

Idia

- Sends Ortho.

- Would rather shop online for you. He's rich...sorta he could just get Ortho to give it to you.

Ortho

- Online shopping 100%

- Actually happy to help and knows what's healthy or if there is a better brand to buy

- This boy helps Yuu save money like no other bank can

Malleus

- Help this man.

- Holds his calculator out and muttering the costs out loud.

- Technically doesn't need to but he doesn't want to waste any of your money

Lilia

- GOOD LUCK.

- Actually good at memorising the items but it depends on if he wants to play a prank or not

- JK. Aww you got everything back in one piece. Wait. Why do the eggs have sharpies on them?

Silver

- You will receive 99% of everything correctly (he cannot tell the difference between different milks)

- Has been caught being suspicious as he creeps down aisle (Lilia was trying to find him to help)

Sebek

- He went there for you? No. He went for Malleus, yours is just a side quest

- Calls Lilia and ask him about where things are

- "EXCUSE ME-" "WHY ARE YOU WEARING THE EMPLOYEE SHIRT COLOUR IF YOU'RE NOT AN EMPLOYEE?"

Sam

- He's got it all saved for you

- He hasn't stepped foot in an actual store in over 5 years, using his own shop.

Mr.Trein

- If be had the time he would.

- On the occasion he was free he'd be happy to go. Maybe you should come along and meet his daughters while there. They were going to meet up there anyway.

Crewel

- Doesn't call you and gets things 100% accurate

- Pays for the items that involve proper nutrition as he knows Crowely ain't paying you shit

Vargas

- Say goodbye to all the snacks and sugar you wanted.

- He might make an exception and sneak a chocolate bar in there but he's full on rewriting your list

Crowely

- Run.

- Honestly almost got arrested for stealing. Said he didn't but then won't stop when the employees asked him too

[freezerbnuuy]

Sims Story Writers - Questions to Ask your Own Characters

I had this as a page on my blog, but it's a bit hidden there, so here we are. I don't think I've written this in post form yet. It’s time to sit your character down and get to know them better, or it's time to build upon a premade Sim! You can pick and choose what’s the most relevant to your story, characters and to you as a writer. It’s up to you how much detail you fill this in with. you might want to answer these from the first-person perspective of the character. You might not.

This is intended for you to answer about your own characters, but I can't tell you what to do : P You could turn it into a Simblr Ask Game of sorts - you could always reblog it and tag it asking your followers to pick a character and a specific bullet point for you to answer. It might be a more fun challenge because other people will likely ask questions you haven't thought about to keep you on your toes.

You have my permission to copy and paste the questions on these, filled-in with information about your character, on your SimLit Wordpress or Blogspot blog, Tumblr, or equivalent. If you do this please link back to these questions in blank so other people can fill them out if they want!

BASICS

Name

Age

Gender

Pronouns

Sexual attraction

Romantic attraction

Place of Birth

Place of Current Residence

Height

Weight

Eye Colour

Hair Colour

Skin Colour

any illnesses or conditions

Any neurodivergence

Race/Ethnicity

Occult (if applicable)

Up to 3 defining visual features

In-game traits (if relevant)

In-game Likes and Dislikes (if relevant)

In-game aspiration (if relevant)

FAVOURITES / LEAST FAVOURITES (this might cross over with some later topics)

Colour

Pattern

Person 

Animal

Type of music

Famous Person

Food

Place

Scent

TV show

Book

Film

Word

Video game

Things to do

Personality trait (in self)

Personality trait (in others)

School subjects

Topics in general

IDENTITY

Birth name

Current name

Why they chose their name / why their parents chose their name

How they feel about their name

Any nicknames and their possible origins

Occult type (if applicable)

How they feel about their identity (proud? ashamed? etc)

Anything they are currently still trying to figure out about their identity

How others treat them because of their identity

How their identity has changed or shaped their worldview (generally)

AESTHETIC

How you’d describe their overall ‘vibe’ or style 

Favourite outfits / items of clothing

Anything they wear that has sentimental value or other significance

Do they like how they look? What would they change if they could, if anything? 

Do they wear what they wear just because they like how it looks, or is there more depth to it? 

How others perceive them upon first impression just by looking at them 

How they’d like others to perceive them when they look at them 

Do they dress for comfort or to look good or both? 

Rough physical description

Anything about their appearance that particularly stands out

FAMILY

Parents

Any siblings

Partners

Children

Extended family of any kind

What their relationship is like with their… - parents - children - partner/s - sibling/s - extended family

pets

who they’ve kept in touch with

if they don’t have kids, do they want them? 

The family member they’re closest to

Anything they’re hiding from their family

CHARACTER’S CHILDREN (if applicable)

Biological or adopted- if biological, and if character gave birth to the child, how character coped with the pregnancy

How they feel about parenthood

How they feel about their children

What they struggle with as a parent the most

Their favourite thing about being a parent

Do they want more children?

If their children are grown up, what would they have done differently as a parent now with what they’ve learned raising those children?

How confident they are in their parenting skills

Lax or strict parenting style 

How their children see them  

Best memories of spending time with their children

Favourite things to do with their children

PERSONALITY

Three personality traits that sum them up

How they would describe their personality

How others would describe their personality

How their personality changed as they were growing up

What personality traits would they like to work on? (getting rid of a personality trait, or trying to nurture / develop a desired trait)

How do you currently envision your character developing within your story?

Flaws - how do these flaws affect their life / plot / interactions with others? - do they admit to these flaws, or deny them?

Generally, do other people like or dislike them? 

Their favourite traits in others

Their least favourite traits in others

Their favourite trait of theirs

Their least favourite trait of theirs 

Emotion first, or reason first?

How well they deal with criticism

How well they deal with change

How well they deal with bad news

GENERAL BACKGROUND

Where they were born

Where they lived growing up

Where they live now

How they feel about all 3 of these - how have the places they lived influenced them in the present?

 People of importance they grew up with - why are these people still significant to them? 

any significant memories - why are they significant? - how has it affected who they are now?  

How culture where they’re from is different from where they live now

EDUCATION

What primary school / elementary school was like (if applicable)

What middle school was like (if applicable)

What high school was like was like (if applicable)

What Sixth Form / College was like (if applicable)

What University was like (if applicable)

If they dropped out of a certain point in their education, what led to this happening?

If the above aren’t applicable, how were they educated?

Any favourite teachers?

Subjects they excelled in

Subjects they struggled with

Any significant memories from schooling?

Any awards they earned during their schooling

Best friends from school years

How well-behaved they were

How often they got into trouble with teachers / headmaster

Grades earned or other qualifications

Do they miss their school years?

How did others in general treat them? Were they popular?

What important lessons did school teach them? (if anything? : P )

OCCUPATION 

What they do for work - do they enjoy this job? - do they hope to stay in it long-term, or are they looking for something else?

Do they get on with colleagues?

How their boss feels about them

How they feel about their boss 

How happy they are with their pay

Previous occupations - why did they leave? 

Dream occupation

SPEECH AND SOCIAL LIFE

Accent

Any mottos / favourite words /recurring phrases

Manner of speech - are they blunt, or are they vague? Friendly, or seemingly cold? 

How much they like talking with others

What do they get self-conscious about regarding their speech if anything?

How much social interaction do they need to not feel lonely?

How they talk to: - friends - family - work colleagues - authority figures

Any words or phrases they hate

If they go out, where they like to go 

FRIENDS (human or otherwise!)

Significant friends in the past - do they still keep in touch? 

Current friends

How they feel about their friends

How their friends feel about them

Favourite thing about friend/s

Least favourite thing about friend/s

Anything they are hiding from their friend/s 

Important must-have qualities in a friend from them

What would cause them to break off a friendship 

Do they want more friends / less friends? 

ROMANCE (if applicable)

How they show people that they love them

How quickly they fall in love with someone

What are they attracted to in others?

Long term love or short term?

How serious a 'relationship’ do they want? 

How long does it take them to build trust with a potential partner?

Do they date a lot? How do these dates often go? 

What would cause them to break up with a lover

If they’ve ever cheated / been cheated on

How did they meet their partner (if they have one)

How long they’ve been with their partner/s

Any break-ups they’ve had - how did they deal with them? does it still hurt them to think about?

How they like others to show them that they are loved 

if they show public displays of affection

HOBBIES 

Favourite hobby

Where they began with their favourite hobby, how they got into it

Any hobbies they want to learn, if they could

Any hobbies they stopped doing- and why if applicable 

How talented they see themselves at the hobby

How talented others see them at the hobby

For fun or for profit? 

Are they happy with their experience level, or do they want to get better?

BELIEFS (GENERAL, SOCIOPOLITICAL)

What they consider to be moral

What they consider to be immoral

The worst thing they think someone could do 

The best thing they think someone could do 

Any other thing they strongly stand for or against

What is more important to them- progress and change, or tradition and the 'old ways’

What changes they think need to be made socio-politically (or what they think needs to stay the same) to improve their town, country, planet etc.

Do they trust authority figures (police, government, royalty etc) 

Any prejudices against others - what is their attempted 'reasoning’ for these prejudices if any?

How others see them for their beliefs - have they caused any friction between them and their friends / family?

Do they avoid the news / media? Do they trust it?

BELIEFS (SPIRITUAL, METAPHYSICAL , SUPERSTITIOUS)

Any religions or spiritual paths they follow - any rules they must adhere to as a result of their path - any significant celebratory days - any sacred objects, people, or places

Any metaphysical situations, rituals practiced, or creatures they believe in etc. - any encounters they’ve had with them? 

Are they happy with their beliefs? - If not, do they want to leave their path or change to another one? - anything they used to believe in that they no longer believe in?

GENERAL MENTAL HEALTH / COPING METHODS

What they do to reduce stress - Do they enjoy it, or is it doing harm to them? - Do they wish to seek help for it?

How well they cope with stress generally 

If they go to therapy, how they are finding it - is it helping them?

What would be the most relaxing place / situation for them to be in 

common stressors in their life right now

How they act when they are too stressed out

General mental health - how well do they look after their mental health? - how accepting are they of help? 

what would need to change for them to be in a better place 

How they are feeling at the start of the story, in general 

NEURODIVERGENCE (if applicable)

How it affects them in general (behavioural, psychological etc)

Is it something that they try to 'mask’ from other people?

Do others perceive them differently because of it? Do people judge them for it? 

What their family and friends are like about it (supportive or not, etc)

MEDICAL (PHYSICAL AND MENTAL)

Any illnesses or medical conditions

How they affect their daily life

What accommodations they have / what they need

What they take or do to help ease the symptoms of these illnesses

Do they get sick often? 

Do they worry about their health a lot? 

What their family and friends are like about any medical conditions (supportive or not, etc)

TRAVEL 

The places they’ve been to that are significant - any memories from there that stand out?

Where they’d like to go

If they like travelling - do they travel local or global?  

POWERS , ABILITIES 

Any special powers or abilities they have

How much of a strain do these powers have on the body and mind?

What limits are there to the power/ability?

How do people react when they find out they have these powers?

What happens if they overuse these powers/abilities?

Any powers/abilities they’d like to have  (For both characters with and without supernatural abilities)

Can they pass these powers down through generations?

Do they like having these powers/abilities or not? 

PAST

Any recurring memories / flashbacks

Their biggest regrets from the past, and how they’d change it if they could

People / places / things they miss the most from their past

Anything else particularly nostalgic

FUTURE 

Where they want to be… - in their working life - in their social life - in their romantic life

Where they want to live 

What they hope to achieve

[zakalwe-the-ninth]

Ooh, maybe Sybil and Nanny?

Thanks for the prompt! Love these two ☺️

Common Ground (Sam/Sybil, 2.1k words, Teen & up, humour but with a small warning for mention of child loss)

Sybil meets Nanny Ogg at a party; the Duchess of Ankh can talk to anyone, and Nanny can always lower the tone…

Sybil sipped a glass of wine, as beside her the King of Lancre waffled on about the challenges of introducing a democratic parliament to a kingdom of people that believed every man apart from themselves was an idiot. She wondered privately why he was bothering, but suspected if she asked he wouldn’t understand the question.

Across the great hall of the castle she could see Sam engaged in conversation with Shawn Ogg. She was sure she’d seen the boy cleaning the privies earlier, but now the lad was wearing a guard uniform and seemed to be watching, fascinated, as her husband showcased a fighting move she’d once heard him refer to as The Nutcracker. She winced sympathetically as the young man went slightly pale.

Verence had continued talking while she was distracted, however, and appeared to be patiently awaiting a response to a question she had completely lost track of.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, your majesty; what were you saying?”

The king blinked. “Ah, simply that I understand Ankh-Morpork did away with kings some time ago?”

Sybil waved a hand vaguely. “Oh, yes. The last one was awful. Thankfully a relative of my husband chopped off the man’s head. And various other bits, I understand.”

“Ah.” Verence glanced across the room towards Sam, who was still talking to Shawn and appeared now to be explaining the principles behind an effective throat punch in a fairly demonstrative fashion. “Er. A very distant relative, was it?”

She gave him a bright grin. “Not really, no.”

“Hm,” he said vaguely, and Sybil watched several thoughts pass fleetingly across his face. He was opening his mouth to give voice to one of them when they were interrupted by a woman dressed all in black and with a face like a wizened apple.

“Wotcha, your majesty.” The woman plonked herself in front of Verence, a bottle in one hand and turkey drumstick in the other, and Sybil noticed how the king seemed almost to brace himself before he greeted her.

“Oh. Hello, Nanny. Um, have you seen the queen, anywhere? I just need to go and…” He took a half step backwards and made a show of looking around the room before he trailed off hopelessly.

The apple-faced woman grinned. “Magrat? She took your boy upstairs to clean up. Poor bairn fell in the midden.”

“Oh, gods.” Verence started to walk off, before apparently remembering he was the king and turning back to the two women. “Oh, so sorry…I’ve forgotten my manners…um, Nanny, this is Her Grace, Lady Sybil Vimes, Duchess of Ankh. Your grace, this is…er. Mrs Gytha Ogg. We call her Nanny. She’s one of our very, um, esteemed witches.” He made a vague gesture towards them both. “I’m sure you’ll have lots to discuss, but please do excuse me…” 

The pair stared after him as he navigated through the crowd, then turned back to each other. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs Ogg,” Sybil said, putting on her most diplomatic smile. “Lovely party, isn’t it?”

Nanny eyeballed her from beneath a pointy black hat that also, Sybil now noted, had a garish assortment of wax fruits adorning the brim. 

“Aye, not bad, I suppose. Grub’s alright, anyway.” She waved the turkey leg as emphasis, then carried on. “Duchess, eh? We don’t get many of them around here. Is that higher or lower than an Earl?” 

“Oh.” Sybil felt her cheeks start to colour. “Higher. But please, call me Sybil.” 

Nanny took a swig from the bottle and swallowed it with a satisfied noise. “Righto. And you can call me Nanny. You just here for the party?”

“Yes. Lord Vetinari couldn’t make it, unfortunately, so Sam and I attended to represent the city.”

Nanny considered this. “Vetinari? That’s the tall fella, isn’t it? Dresses like a witch and looks like he needs a damned good meal? Or maybe just a damned good seeing to.” She grinned, lewdly.

A loud giggle erupted from Sybil before she had a chance to run it through her diplomatic filter, and she covered her mouth in embarrassment and glanced down at the glass in her hand. “Oh dear. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that second drink.” She raised an eyebrow at Nanny. “But yes. That’s Havelock. You sound like you’ve met him?”

Nanny had a glint in her eye, now. “Oh, yes, I’ve met ‘im. Me and Esme went to the opera a few years back, and he was there too. He told me how they’d served up my Carrot and Oyster Pie at the palace, once.”

Sybil stared at her, eyes wide. “That was your recipe?! Goodness, that pie caused some ructions.” She thought back to the night in question; she hadn’t been at the palace for the dinner, but Sam certainly had been, right up until the point he’d run home and dived straight into a cold bath, anyway. She glanced across at him and smiled fondly at the memory.

“Yep. That’s me.” Nanny was watching her, and now she followed her gaze. “That your husband, with our Shawn?”

“Oh, Shawn Ogg, of course; I should have realised. And yes, that’s Sam.” She paused as they watched him. “Shawn is a lovely boy; a real credit to you. I’m afraid I’m not sure exactly what Sam’s showing him, though…”

That wasn’t entirely true; she had once seen Sam use that particular move on a very drunk lord who had gotten overly friendly with her at a party. Rumour had it the man had moved to Omnia to become a priest after his encounter with the Duke of Ankh.

But Nanny was preening in the way of proud parents everywhere when complimented on their children. “He’s a good lad, Shawn. Doesn’t always have both oars in the water, mind, but he tries. He keeps things ticking over up here, anyway.”

“Yes, I can certainly see that.” Sybil took another sip of her wine. “Do you have other children?”

Nanny continued to stare fondly at Shawn. “Oh, yes. I had fifteen of the buggers. But I’ve buried a few of ‘em over the years, ‘o course.”

Sybil felt herself momentarily lost for words, which was rather unexpected, since a lifetime of social obligations had left her with an extremely high boredom threshold and - usually - an endless reserve of polite small talk. But she was hit by the sudden image of Young Sam sleeping soundly upstairs, and felt an ache deep in her chest that seemed to rob her of speech.

“Oh, good heavens, I am so sorry,” she finally said, with naked sincerity.

Nanny shrugged, still watching the two men. “Life’s hard ‘round these parts. There’s nothing to be gained from moping about it.” She frowned slightly, and turned back to Sybil. “How old’s your bairn?”

“Nearly one.” Sybil felt the ache start to ease somewhat. “He’s upstairs with the nanny.”

“I reckoned as much.” Nanny saw Sybil’s questioning look and smiled. “You looked for him, when I mentioned about mine that I’d lost. Mothers do that.” She nodded back towards Sam and Shawn. “Your man, there. He a good dad?”

“Oh, yes.” She hesitated briefly, then added, “He tries his best, certainly. And he’s lovely with him. But…busy, you know. Work takes a lot of him.” Sybil wondered if it was the wine making her talk so openly, but suspected it was simply that Nanny gave off the kind of vibe that suggested she had known you all of your life; it was more effort not to talk to her.

The other woman narrowed her eyes a little. “I had a husband like that. Mind, the other two were so lazy they’d have paid someone to wipe their arses for ‘em if they could, and that weren’t any better.” She took a bite of the turkey leg and chewed it thoughtfully, then said, “You told him you’d like him around more?”

Sybil frowned. “Sam’s job is very important. He’s trying to make the city better. I won’t have him feel guilty for that just to make my life easier.”

The stripped turkey leg was discarded onto an empty platter carried by a passing waitress, and now Nanny fished about inside a pocket and pulled out a pipe. She cast a glance around, but in the absence of any handy flat surfaces she tucked the bottle between her knees while she lit the pipe. “Well,” she said, as she shook out the match and retrieved the bottle, “that’s all well and good for you, if you’re willing; I dare say plenty of women are happier with their men out from under their feet. But it ain’t a decision you’re making just for you, anymore, is it?”

Sybil hesitated. “No. I suppose not.”

Nanny puffed the pipe and looked her up and down appraisingly. “You’ll not have any more?”

“No. I suppose I might have liked another, but I’ve been told another birth would simply be too risky. Besides, neither of us are getting any younger.”

“Ha. I always say age is a state of mind, but when it comes to babbies…well, they takes a toll on a body.” Nanny stared out across the room, to where a severe looking woman also dressed in black was scowling at the crowd from the shadows. “One’s fine, though. Sometimes more’n one just makes things… complicated. And that can turn pretty nasty.” 

Sybil followed her gaze. “Who’s that?”

“Oh, that’s just Esme.” Nanny grinned again. “I s’pose I should go and grab her before she forgets it's a party and starts cursin’ folk for havin’ fun.”

“Of course, Mrs - Nanny. It’s been very nice chatting.” Sybil hesitated, and then looked over at where Sam was now talking to a man with a furious-looking bird perched on his wrist. She nibbled her lower lip, and dropped her voice. “Um…before you go…?”

The witch raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“...Do you think I could perhaps get the recipe for that pie…?”

Nanny took the pipe from her mouth and cackled. “Ha! I tell you what, Your Ladyship, I’ll have Shawn bring you up a copy of my book before you leave. I dare say there’s a few recipes in there you and your man might enjoy.” She gave the woman beside her a conspiratorial nudge with an elbow, and Sybil blushed pinkly. “You might want to be careful though, if you’re serious about not wanting any more little surprises. Although I can give you something to help with that, too, if you’re interested.”

Sybil blinked. “Oh, that won’t be necessary, thank you. But the book would be, um, gratefully received. It’s very kind of you.”

“Well, when you get to a certain age you needs all the help you can get, am I right?” Nanny peered into her bottle and then tipped the rest of the contents into Sybil’s empty glass, giving her a wink as she did. “Enjoy the rest of your night, Your Ladyship.”

Nanny wandered off, elbowing her way across the hall towards the woman she’d called Esme. Sybil peered down into the glass and took a cautious sniff; she’d thought it must be wine, by the way the woman was swigging it, but the haze of liquor emanating from it made her nose burn and her eyes water. 

Sam appeared beside her a second later, a handkerchief wrapped tightly around his finger and a faint bloom of red seeping through it. 

“Hello, dear,” she said as she swilled the liquid around thoughtfully in the glass. “Have you been making friends?” 

Her husband scowled. “I got bitten by a bird.”

“I can see that. That was a Lancre Crowhawk, Sam; frankly you’re lucky you still have both your thumbs.”

“Oh? Well, your sympathy is appreciated as ever, dear.” 

Sybil finally took a careful sip from her glass and immediately started coughing. The bit she managed to swallow seemed to have an instant effect, however; she suspected the alcohol may have bypassed her stomach and burned its way directly into her bloodstream on the way down. 

“Wstgl!!” she said.

Sam raised an concerned eyebrow. “You alright, there?” His wife managed a vague nod, and he looked at her with some skepticism. “Didn’t Verence warn us against accepting anything off the witches, when we arrived?”

Sybil had pulled a fan out of a pocket and was wafting it briskly in front of her face as she caught her breath again. “She was drinking it like it was water! Good gods, Sam. I can’t feel my knees!” She swayed a little

Her husband snorted, and grabbed her elbow to steady her. “Ha! I don’t miss those days. This is probably a good excuse to leave, though?” 

Sybil, insofar as she was capable of any coherent thought currently, believed he sounded rather hopeful.

“Yes, alright. You might need to help me up  the stairs, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll give you a damned piggyback up them, if it means getting out of these tights.” 

Sybil grinned at him. “Well,” she said, as she slipped her arm through his and allowed herself to be guided gently out through the heaving hall, “on that note, just wait until I tell you what else Mrs Ogg is giving me…”

[oldperedur]

Cliff and his wife Sandra live in a bungalow a little way out of town. It’s small, but they’ve got a nice garden at the back.

All you can see of Sandra in this picture is her legs; the rest of her is obscured by Cliff’s naked rear view. The other woman in the picture is their next door neighbour, Pam. It’s obvious from the colour of Cliff’s bottom, that he’s just been soundly spanked.

What happened was that Pam caught him having a crafty pee behind a bush, out in the garden, where he thought he wouldn’t be seen.

His excuse was that his and Sandra’s only loo was occupied at the time by Sandra’s niece Wendy and he was desperate for a leak.

That cut no ice with Pam, however.

She claimed to have been really upset by the sight of Cliff relieving himself so close to her own boundary fence, so she reported him to Sandra, at once.

Sandra apologised profusely on her husband’s behalf and promised to deal severely with him.

“You can choose which implement I’m going to use, as well; if you like.” She said.

This idea appealed to Pam, who promptly cheered up, after her unsettling experience in the garden. So, Sandra sent Cliff to fetch a selection of her punishment tools. He returned with an armful of plimsols, crops, paddles and canes.

Pam chose a lovely, polished wooden paddle with holes drilled into it.

“Good choice, Pam!” Sandra exclaimed. “That one really stings. He’s not going to sit comfortably for a day or two, after this! It makes a nice, satisfying ‘splat’ when it hits his bum, too.”

Sandra told Cliff to strip off and get over her knees. She gave him eighteen hefty thwacks across his bare bottom, by the end of which, he was snivelling and begging to be let off any more punishment.

In the picture, Cliff, who’s been rubbing his very sore buttocks, is about to kneel in front of Pam, to plead for her forgiveness and to promise never to wee outside in his garden again.

The reason Pam is seen giggling at this point, is that Cliff’s cock may not be very big, but it’s obviously erect. She realises he must have acquired a taste for this sort of treatment and she makes a mental note to find another reason to complain about him to Sandra, very soon.

“Next time,” she tells herself, “I’d like to see him caned.”

[isabellaofparma]

I could've said anything else, any other words.

[hinamie]

newest issue of first years fashion just dropped