#god i love color balance.....
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yiik doodle dump :3
#yiik#yiik: a postmodern rpg#rory mancer#chondra unkrich#claudio unkrich#michael k#(a little)#alex eggleston#(even less)#fanart#doodle#artists on tumblr#bright colors#saturated colors#yiik iv releases in three days QUICK START YIIKPOSTING#also i think this is the first time my watermark actually FUCKS (positive) with the drawing#god i love color balance.....#undescribed
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2/10 - Naga's birthday coincides with me watching the finale of this show. I miss him already 🐍
#super sentai#uchuu sentai kyuranger#naga ray#kyuranger balance#BN team#AAAAAAAAAAA AA AA A AAAAAAA AA AAAAAAAAAAAA A A A A AAAAAAAA#the show was pretty good#i put it on one beautiful afternoon and i watched 20 entire episodes in a single sitting absolutely unable to move#THEY MAKE ME SOOO SICK OH MY GOD I HATE THEM I HATE THEM I HATE THEM#I PUT DOWN MY STYLUS FOR ONE SECOND TO BURY MY HEAD IN MY HANDS#so if youre wondering hey this looks kinda messy then its because I CANT LOOK AT THEM FOR PROLONGED PERIODS OF TIME#they are a combo meal do not seperate#i have chat logs of messages just talking about bn. my sketchbook is infected with bn. agepoyo dance got stuck in my head#somewhere there is a video of me saying 'IM GOING TO [colorful threat]' over the scene in naga's brain. you know the one#happy stinger saturday to those that celebrate. peace love kaitou bn dan. good night. agepoyo uei
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Adventures in The World of Steel Drywall.
#fire emblem#feh#THIS IS IT. AND. I THINK IT'LL BE BEST/FUNNIEST. TO MAYBE LET IT SPEAK FOR ITSELF#on the main post. anyway.#this IS inspired by a dif post i'll rb but it's a gif of two furries one about to pin the other to the wall#AND THE WALL. JUST. BREAKS. THEY FALL THROUGH IT.#and it just left SUCH an impression on me like. suit of armor is a type of fursuit.#in the way that if you were to attempt to pin an armored swordsman against drywall#you would likely have the same result.#LIKE. THAT'S ONE HALF OF THE JOKE HERE. other half of the joke is just. THE JUXTAPOSITION. LOOK AT THEM.#i don't even HAVE to say more. hell i already said most of my piece about it separate post. just. Look At Them.#one more piece actually i really had to think and Consider. what color i wanted moe's slides to be#what i was picturing in my mind. mostly black w white stripes across the band. you know the ones.#the Balance def fits but i worried it would get lost in the sauce. too much black on the fit maybe#i experimented w brown and green until. epiphany. the camo. return of moe wearing camo in modern settings.#IT'S SO FUNNY TO ME. ESP BC THE GREEN IS SO DARK. IT'S..? ALMOST SUBTLE??????#but Just Enough to make you go. oh for the love of God. what are you WEARING‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️#moe is just. wears a stupid comically 'masculine' outfit in such a way that just pisses you off.#fe alfonse#moe tag#summoner oc#my art
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absolutely obsessed w/the idea that fluttershy is taller than twilight. giant lanky pegasus and her tiny alicorn girlfriend
#spacie spoinks#a literal god should NOT be this teeny#ohhhggg my gioddddd#i get twishy brainrot once every couple of months#and twilight will obviously outgrow her since she's an alicorn but man.#oooo and like imagine when twilight is finally taller what a bittersweet moment that would be#fluttershy: omg babe you're so tall now looks like you'll be the one doing the swaddling from now on ^_^#twilight: heh yeah (dying inside b/c she can no longer be smothered by her girlfriends size) ((totally not tearing up at all))#shes being so strong abt it#b/c fluttershy deserves ta feel the way twilight did when she was swaddled!! safe. secure. loved.#but man. does she really miss being the short one#they'd find a good balance tho :]#they care each other so much#she is the small spoon 2 me#even when she's huge fluttershy will still be big spoon#fellas is it strange 2 think abt colorful horses being sapphic 2gether#mlp#my brain.#twishy
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hello jess beloved..... made a little thing for phantom pain bc i saw this pose reference and immediately i think of jiejie and dain hehe
jiejie's pov? ;D
.............rin?? (。_°)☆
KSNE39E3VKVNVKNVRIK RIN WHAT THE FCK I THOUGHT THIS WAS GOING TO BE ONE OF OUR USUAL INTERACTIONS HOLD UP WHY IS THERE AN IMAGE OH SHIT IT'S FAN ART RIN WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?? I LOVE IT SO MUCH BUT RIN?? RIN??!!
*clears throat* Thank you so much for your fan art of Phantom Pain!! I rlly appreciate it, and my comments are in the tags <3
#RIN GET OVER HERE BEFORE I LOVINGLY TACKLE YOU#you were right about the pose fitting dainsleif and lucille (my name for demon! reader). i love that it fits dain as a broken darling <3#his smile. his lil blush. his downward gaze. the way he fully leans into lucille's touch. the feathers all around him!!#i like the red tint you used for the feathers. details. and background gradient. smth smth color symbolism and yandere vibes <3#fun fact for those reading the tags:: rin told me the flowers are roses and cherry blossoms with a red/blue tint#god i just love how you colored it!! you did such a good job at balancing the reds + blues and now i'm curious if you associated red with#lucille?? bc if you did. it would add another layer to the fact that this fan art is mostly red :0#moving on. i adore the accessories for lucille!! i love details like that and i think it rlly adds to your interpretation of her character#in my imagination she always wears jewelry so i was nodding at the 'bracelets' on both wrists AND IS THAT A RING ON HER RIGHT HAND?? <3#i love the snake 'bracelet' mixed with the flowers. religious imagery lesgo!! oh no dain is falling for lucille's temptation--#but it's fine right?? i mean look at dainsleif now he's happy happy!! the same hands that brutally kill angels/sinners hold his#face with so much warmth and gentleness. so is it a sin for him to believe in his tragic fate??#fnfkfnkfrfnkfrnk once again thank you so much. this rlly made my night :'3#asks#feedback#fan art#meimeimeirin
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i like overthink everything now it makes me feel so dumb. i used 2 be able to just talk 2 ppl but nowadays every single thing im like Is that actually going to make them hate me. Yes probably. and then i just dont respond which makes ppl hate me. this is how it is
#ive been overthinking 1 light and casual mildly funny response to something but im worried itll come off as disrespectful and dismissive And#make me seem stupid and uncaring all at the same time. and also be seen as insulting. but like idt itd be insulting right like. im not#saying what it is so ig for all you guys know im like I mean if i say All your shit suck ball and i hateit kys. <- thats not the thing i was#going to say#like it doesnt matter now the window for response is closed now but i feel stupid bc i shouldve just said it it was light and casual. im so#bad at keeping convos gojng im convinced im not going to survive. In like a light and casual way like in a He will not make it through the#winter joke way. dw. im not going to do anything bc i had One failed interaction. if i was going to do anythjng itd be bc of the 8000000#other failed interactions. But im not. anyways. it just makes me feel so useless 😭 like i want to respond i want to talk to ppl so bad but#i feel like i mess things up Irreparably every time i speak OR i take too LONG overthinking my response and then i just cant respond bc its#been too long and then its been 3 years and the only messages ive ever sent r my intro message and 1 message 2 years ago that nobody#responded to at all. or the conversation stopped immediately after. and like i used to be better at this i was lkke. talkative in a couple#muts servers like. i talked 2 ppl daily in those servers and i had fun and like. I was an important part of the group and i felt like it#but i just feel like such an outsider for Everything and its literally my fault bc i cant just like. Talk. The explosion. bc im always like#im gonna try im gonna do it this time im gonna get it back im going to finally be Good connor and im going to fix it all and make a Good#solid friend group and ill find HEALTHY LOVE and i wont selfsabotage and ill move out and have a job and ill balance it well and ill start#all my hobbies and ill have a great routine and be so loveable and on top of it and not stressed and content and happy and roll with the#punches and then theres a single hiccup and im like Well fuckinf whatever im going to be an unemployed hermit forever and im going to die b4#im 25 anyways so Who cares and also im digging a little hole for myself. and its like. AUGHH ik i just have to persevere and overcome but#even saying that feels so stupid its not fucking hard its Talking to ppl. like. i literally if ive ever said a word to you i had to think#avt it and strategize how to respond right even for like. like. it makes it sound like its not genuine it is#like for example i want to say hey i love your art! but then i freak out and im like thats not normal thats like a rly generic comment they#hear that all the time theyll thjnk im being polite and my brains like hrmmm rewrite Your art changed my life. It shaped me. Ill never be#the same. Nad im like ok too far overcorrected go back and the sentence generator is like Your art has colors 💯 like. GOD. WHY IS IT SO#difficult. and then usually i either just dont say anythinf and feel awful abt it 4ever OR i send it on anon and then i spend like 15#minutes ibsessively slightly tweaking the apelling and capitalization and punctuation to make sure it doesnt seem like its me just in case#it Is the worst possible thing to say but then i see the response and itll be like AWWW TYSM :] THIS MEANS A LOT or whathaveyou and i feel#stupid bc i couldve just Told them this to their face and it wouldve been a good positive interaction we had. but instead i had 2 hide and#tyoe entirely differently so they couldnt sniff me from my typing style. and it soesnt even feel like the thanks is actually 4 me bc i#tweaked the message sm. and it still makes me happy that the oersons hapoy but its like. that couldve been a nice mutual interaction#like not that i need a personal ty i compliment ppl when i Want to compliment ppl and when its genuine yk. i dont do it so i get mutualpoint
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It is bird wife hours >:)
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Aaahhh her evolution is so fun, I love to draw her 🥹 every time I draw her, I feel like her face gets more detailed. It's weird looking back at the first two drawings bcs I guess she just looks so plain?
I'll always have a fondness for that second most recent one on the bottom left. I like the one I just drew cause I've def improved. But ah there's just smth about her stylistically. Just soooooo bird like and slavic looking, as she should. But very nice to see how much I've improved in a year and half or so. And the first one is from 2019 I think 💀
#drawing this made me wanna start doing more creative linework ahhhhh#i think ive gotten to a point where i focus more on the style of the painting rather then the lineart#and tbh ive always balancing btwn those two#bcs id rather paint over amth sketchy than die over lineart 😭#but it was fun adding thicker lines at the very end. very nice for emphasis and style#anyways shes kinda a comfort character for me#very fun face to draw and i really like her overall design#always interesting to see how ive improved and what ive changed since the last drawing of her#my beloved slavic bird god <3#also yaayyyyy get to shade with different colors than normal#ah man i always just end up drawing portraits of my ocs#i love their faces 😭😭😭😭#catie.art.
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had a hell of a time (good) bit ago watching elemental and feeling things including enjoying a film, great ride, i love a metaphor & anything vignettey (just living life, alongside but also including the [this is about the metaphor] threads), i do love it when a couple of fun people have an enriching dynamic that they enjoy and huaaaghwgh (good) & i liked the premise metaphor exactly as is for what it is for what it did with it & i liked overlaps & resonances w/other experiences i saw ppl perceive. i liked the way i was going oh my god that painting looks the way i feel b/c like navigating a complementary dynamic where what's holding one person back is what helps the other person along, vice versa, no interaction or relationship that develops by like having some [theoretically your trait/quality/behavior] contained in the other person, rather it being an interaction within yourself, such that i was going "i have this interaction Within Myself, right now, in life currently like always and the past years but also past months especially really, it's ongoing, i'm going Oh Goddamn Omg" scintillating to see it externalized as a conversation imagined by others. and also still different / more capacious on both ends than "wow Exactly that." feeling things going ohh my god. music is going for it so Noticeably. hot air balloon scene And track changing me with an immediate Resonance
easier when having fun but i was also like continually so hype gasping about intrigued about pointing at art direction decisions & execution and one especial element i was sooo noting was the use of Color b/c it's Really colorful like rainbow palette nigh constant noticeable saturation, And it was atmospheric, always readily visibly parsed, varying in styles but cohesive. the backgrounds babey, with obvious priority for working with a vivacious orange and/or blue. oh and the related use of Light like different visuals for different glows and just different effects and waugh....i collected mostly a bunch of bgs to point at often for that "look at the color design & atmosphere" but also so much more & foreground things big time too. semitransparent characters like bitch. the physics of fluid dynamics. optics like refraction like my God. i'm mclosing it and that these effects would be sooo prohibitively intensive w/o computer but it's so impressive w/computer and that Stylistic Decisions were made all over, it's clearly not ever simply just "oh this is what it'd 'realistically' look like if uhhh someone was made of fire or water" even as realism Based effects were employed for style and fun and our lives. the use of of course 2D animation / art conventions for style and effect and fun & our lives!!! maybe ember a bit too but wade has a whole like 2D style profile so the [curved droplet] shape always faces the camera, how are we doing that it's so cool & i love to see it. not to mention being transparent but also like clearly not!! first time i've properly thought about how inside of mouth 3D animation has Ever worked lmao
cut so i can go on & on (^ that's brevity up there lol) & post mostly various backgrounds to gesticulate at what i notice abt the use of color like oh my god. and some other things. laughed, cried, lived & loved like for real lol
oh my god
and like immediate intro theme going "oh my god blue and orange making Purple (magenta, pink) oh my god we're doing Additive Light with that holy shit yes"
so extra [!!!] about city nighttime shots especially. and the details of all the building designs, it's all the shit like i haven't even sat and Studied any given shot for all small elements like that but that you know they're There so that it looks this complex and "realistic" like you know the attention & effort is there & you get the Overall Effect baby. also the way purple/green are employed to contrast with blue/orange often. the Glows here, the Bluer upper half and the Oranger lower half that both also have some purplishness to them, the Green bridge breaking it up / spanning this
the colors in closeups even. first of all the expressions styles are after my own heart & got it, and i'm sure i'll go on & on more there. pull mouths down do the m upper lip n lower lip lines combo, you know what i mean, i Love it. wavy flowy design vs more triangular / ending in peaks/corners design for your water vs fire aesthetiques. i think that's [heat creating refraction in the air] effect like lord. the pink blue purple here. the slight shadow framing the pic for better contrast, the pink / glow around ember, wade slightly Glows from within too, the constant wave refraction there. okay obsessed again with both sorta transparent and fluid Figures like you've got the outermost layers. you've got the Inside. you've got the silhouettes and the lines that are "drawn," reddish outlines of flame shapes and constant highlight "outlines" for water so it never "realistically" blends in with everything / just Is clear and is impossible to easily parse. that those silhouettes are constantly Flowing and responding to motion / pressure as well. i can only imagine. oh and the colors again that the Glow for fire is often a Soft gradient, but there's this like, slightly convex polygonal style of "glow" / Light in backgrounds a lot and it works great for style and contrast with the important Soft Glow from fire and even also water, again the slight inner glow there too. and again the mutual [pull mouths down] expressiveness lol so much fun. the Elasticity is fantastic, same with like 2D style Movement like invoking a smear frame for example like fuck yes it's about What Works it's about style & effect & what things like lighting color faces can do that aren't just aiming for "be peak realistic" like clearly it isn't. note the sharper line of shadow in the upper corner with a deeper blue. we framing
oh this one was to point out "look at how you can see the full spectrum rainbow in the wave surface light refraction oh my fucking god" not to mention of course In Motion the shapes, the effect, some bubbles and flow for flare and seeing that constant Light Outline, the cyan leaning aqua that's put in along with the overall slight blue not b/c it's "realistic" but b/c it's what works baby the artistic design choices fuck like hell. and only when i took this one frame was it like oh my fucking god look at these split second flame shames flowing off of ember there above her head especially. all the more stylization required for fire without it being like, "realistically" mostly transparent, overly bright, not very strongly delineated / silhouetted....the shape, color, flow of flames on the "inside," outermost breaking off shapes & "outline" as well augh god. and look at the purples in the background's left side
AUGH the night city backgrounds. pottery burn haha yeah the blue orange AND purple my god!!!! it's thematic ([blue + orange = purple] b/w the blue & orange characters) and it fucks like hell holy shit!!!!!
meanwhile the green & purple here with One orange element getting to stand out / not that much blue either, but more ultramarine style than aquamarine, and LOOK AT THE MOON!!! the surface!!! check out that Polygonal glow around it and the green/purple there too!!!
and the use of bokeh. immaculate, not holding back, after my heart. the Purple/Pink additive light properties coming into play!! her reflection is more simply orange(tm) sometimes and i would presume it tends purpler when we are getting [emotionally connecting / recognition of the self through the other] but oh my god heaving overhead like a hero this additive light blue+orange=purple ingenious and stylistically fucking like hell choice. and again their "outlines" working so well while also retaining enough softness/fluidity to be part of them as a whole. everything is so cool
there's the mouth shape i was talking about. you see the slight m upper lip simply n lower lip and resultant (idk like a video game controller?) shape lol. flexible expressive asymmetry. the closeup transparency of [can always see the other side of shirt collar]. green bg for contrast while also incorporating the orange glow. the full spectrum rainbow refraction just also an immaculate and probably characterfully relevant lmao as a bonus. also hell of cute moments wauugh yes, fun, dying thanks
the additive light!!! (how magenta/purple/pink the reflection of Orange is off the Blue like employing what's realistic in another context for what fucks aesthetically & carries symbolism. like wade wouldn't Realistically be constantly [surface wave refractions] but it fucks like hell. also wouldn't be someone made of fire or water but it fucks like hell & embodies a central metaphorical layer to the literal material). also look at that curtain from deep purplish red to deep bluer purple!!! the line of bright blue!!! the glow in the Background with sharper polygonal lines / corners to contrast with the visual effects of glows elsewhere!!! wade default =3 as [wavy featured] and inherent =3 vs ember's more flame tipped => (not pictured)
ohh this one for rainbow color / out of focus usage and b/c it's like how the semi transparency but only So Much + constant outline of Highlights / constant inner glow and visible infusion of like aquamarine / bright turquoise cerulean color helps a water guy stay perfectly Visible / parsable. also besides ember being green, an effect subtly pictured at any given point: like cinders continually rising off fire but depicted so much like Sparkles :') there's so much colors and highlights and choices after my own sensibilities out here like i love a shoulder swoop design that flows right into the arms from the neck from the head. and that's exactly what we get precisely b/c it has so much flow!!! ember's like whole head Flaring out from her neck, terminal points like tips, or sources, of flames. Styles
the bokeh!! the blues and pinks and purples!!!
ouuwaah
UGH obviously in motion the like arcing falling curtains of water, the shimmering....the purple into pink into dusky orange!!! the little bit of contribution of the turquoise light aaa wahooo, ofc what the bridge adds in Composition for this & that previous shot
lmao this is b/c Wavy Scribble Squiggle Mouth again the design choices after my own heart. the constant extra wobbliness to Mouth Outline obviously works great to emphasize [water design] but it also works great b/c i love it
every shot of the background with this beach is gongious like jesus christ. the closeup of sand is like that looks amazing and So soft. look at the wavy swoopy shapiness of the clouds, look at the [in this shot] faintly detectable Polygonal outlines of Glow from the sun. feel free to look at that water like i said every shot of this, wrow. tasked with Pretty Beach Sunset and coming through big time
expressive design contrast, glow contrasts, refracting, silhouettes, those flame shapes breaking off again epic hot wheels style fuck yes....and the bg!!! look at the purple to muted purple pink sky, the atmospheric distancing on layers of buildings that goes from blue to purple!! the dimmer purple / blue / teal on the ground in the foreground here UGH the COLOR USE
ooh i was so Noticing the like, full ultramarine blue here, like it's been used Before in any night environments but the way here it's brighter, making it like "okay yeah night but more Lit Up. also the visual variety of [water curtain] textures there, the area of Pink, the Yellow that hasn't previously shown up too much but might be saved for associations with tension / "danger" lol. also love the "straightup a pool" designs lol wish i was swimming
oh the orange + blue = purple on display here / translating Outlines
amazing sequence and again look at the Purple shadows the Blues the Oranges the Greens!!!! aughhh again like So colorful and so bright but also ofc dimmed, atmospheric, balanced, waughhh!!!
oh my god what can i say. "bisexuality" for one but and also fr like the pink of the sky vs deep purple, lighter with more blue in the water, the streak of oranger light, pink atmospheric haze....augh!!!
speaking of "and then really vivid striking colors in another overall palette we haven't seen before" the teal & golden yellow for this shot was new & noticeable. the yellow of problems, but not too bad lol, looking at that Contrast with the blue on the outer pool edge there. i wanna take a swim yippee....but fr like holding some colors more in reservation, finding new combinations, as Ever how bright the bgs are but atmospheric, non overwhelming of other elements, i Love it
bokeh!!!! colors!!!!!!!
bokeh!!!!!! colors!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
fucking roy g biv like yes gorgeous. nice tree evocative bridge. composition. lots of lights and colors but the distribution being so balanced, but organic, broken up in all the right ways and all encompassing....the bright orange lights in shadowed blue/purple buildings in the upper left corner, leading down to the path of lights across the center of everything....ugh incredible great
out of focus bg, the lights, the purples, the blue/Green, look at everything on the right side ugh lovely, the slight Shapes of glows, can see that arc in the right side as well, the emotional relevance of all the colors and glows as this bg dims / desaturates a second later
and so similarly here, the Purple, the Glows....like the use of both the perfect balance of soft edges/borders but no sacrifice in clarity
oh and i suppose there's then any amount of spoilers following but like, in part only b/c i point them out as as much but also like. it's about the journey lmfao you see two screenshots, containing some information, well you've seen it all
and to pad that out i'll also note without screenshots about it like bringing in a very like Clear for Compositional Effect sort of Danger Yellow again twice over, with the harshest like chartreuse leaning yellow yet for it, v much a color that it'd just take more effort to fit into a palette / would have to be kind of the color centerpiece, vs the orange/blue/purple here
(but also not to say yellow was never used otherwise....some perfectly harmless golds, paler lighting like just Daytime vibe, constant presence w/fire of course. so the Particulars of a hazard yellow are all the more notable)
the COLORS....look at that orange that pink red the pink reflections the Purples....the just deep slightly slightly purple red in the bg and how like smoothed over / Immediate that background is to just make everything close & present!! the flame textures going!!! water textures going!!! cinders as points of light!! the colors the orange purple pink blue UGHH it's amazing they're really off the shits with it in every scene
spoilers they do kiss about it and i was like smacking hand to forehead like oh my god and they did another "breaking out a new Light thing" when we've glowed and refracted within and without, lit up or dimmed, sparkled, reflected, used further styles in environmental lighting....answer was Lens Flare rainbow refracting glow like goddamn!!! and again like putting In the purple, but also the blue, the orange, the out & out more cerulean / aquamarine that is not gonna simply come from elsewhere in the environment. nice commitment to also having someone smile into a kiss lmao we've all been like i Will make this work. i'm still just like ugh the focus on and variety of Light too, the backgrounds' like soft polygon/hexagon glow "fields," straightforward soft/even gradient glows, wave pattern refraction, refraction also separating light into rainbows, remember water is a lens, stylized light of fire, bokeh, additive color mixing....holding on to & breaking out Cinematic LENS FLARE is fr like ohhh my god they're just fucking On It, got this, here's another effect for you
i also have a gif b/c i couldn't note anyone's fluid dynamics / flowing / Interacting physics enough, and little moments giving that some extra flair are a delight, but holy shit a highlight i'm instantly obsessed with forever, now if there's something and nobody pours themself, i'm out
oh we sloshing!! all the water physics going on here to fantastic effect but also all working within the confines of "and it's some guy." immaculate joke 5 sec later around the "i am Not an inspector" line just What a delight. the vision....the manifestation of effort, craft....i'm not kidding at all i'm like okay forever treasuring [pours yourself] clip and if someone doesn't get it it's like it's called joie de vivre, panache, taking all kinds. some sloshheads out here
again i had a delightful time at the cinema (figuratively. i didn't go anywhere. though i did go "oh fuck re: even the idea of seeing plenty of this in theater format" like i was going oh Shit at visuals and music and every damn thing enough already, can only imagine) i was like bitch i love ppl living life vignettesquely with the emotional arcs aids of metaphor, symbolism. i love the styles and designs and i love paying attention to details and going damn how they'd do that, i love technical shit, noting techniques that are centered around 2D derived visuals, about aesthetic effect & visual purpose....i was going "oh my god same. lately, always, ongoing. oh my god it's me always crying at everything, but also never at anything, and also just sometimes at some things. it's me with the Temper it's me with one like everyone else but not about to let it out at all / not be making room for anyone else's. me like 'just powering through like arghhh' me like 'that, but [a puddle]' liable to spontaneously interact with randos by just doing your own thing, also [dying] and beloathed at that, going with the flow trying to carpe diem it, having these conversations and navigations like just as one person lmao, and also ofc it's different" lol like oh damn okay. and twentysomethings popular with the nebkids like wow in real life....and just having a great time entirely straightforwardly and expecting as much but also being increasingly delighted and surprised and going "wow my aesthetique sensibilities piqued" and going "wow okay a journey" and like Gasp at details and loving the overall effects and little moments and shots and entire deal. did weep repeatedly, when you slosh, when you soggy....delighted a lot, along for the ride having fun for the whole way, so much abt [bummed 20somethings who are nevertheless very vivacious Feeling Things, including About feeling things] and the way that's given sooo much space, Saturating things even, maybe with light & color....i liked it a bunch, [aaaaaa], great time, thinking about feeling things and feeling about it and about thinking about it & so on & so forth too like man hang on a second. and the soundtrack. and the character designs Overall there did i mention?? so cute & fun. wobbly wavy shivery tapering having Flow in the lines / shapes of silhouettes in different ways just like flow in [fluid dynamics] of flame or water in different ways. there's a lot i can say but i just mostly did the backgrounds / color / lighting noncomprehensive slideshow lol. i was very engaged like oh wahoo yippee aaa then mfs let's go and keep going
#i'm big on like rainbow lot of color constant saturation....Yet; Atmosphere / skilled balance in application/usage#i don't have the restraint (or like full knowledge / experience lol) to Use it myself but i Love when i see it used lol. Very colorful here#and i had thoughts & feelings & a good time so that made it easier to be like oh whee AND look at that background. mf we sloshing#nonzero spoilers via largely contextless static images; many wide shots / environments; really doesn't matter much#but i guess if you're like ''i specifically want to know Nothing at All'' like well then there are images in there#like 65% me going ''and look at that purple. oh my God the green blue & blue green. Orange''#b/c like wrow....#pixar elemental#films to whisper to myself like omg. like me. right now#btw it's kind of long post inside there. but For Me; typically so lol#can't say shit in thirty tags!! esp when i had a great time i liked it i was like oh my god#can't even say that shit in regular text which is why i mostly talk about colorful backgrounds lmfao. and even Then!! and so on so forth#and hand over heart like omg when by yourself you're a bit too much; but together; you're a bit too much together ;w;#like wow just like me; me; & still me!!! and not caring about what's all ''too much'' like it's about the me & me actually thanks#(and ofc the premise / central metaphor/conflict there as is; vulnerable cultural identity that needs to be maintained but uh oh)#speaking of uh oh look who's underway in the tags!! i'm heading myself off now lmao. time for half past 3 am Night Sandwich
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td
answered / ic. starters. / ic. open. / ic. headcanons / ooc. meta / ooc. my edits / ooc.
musings / wise men have interpreted dreams and the gods have laughed. ch. study / i know always that i am an outsider. a stranger in this century and among those who are still men. visage / oh he did look like a deity – the perfect balance of danger and charm. he was at the same time fascinating and inaccessible. likes / he breathed in hard. the stench of blood filled his lungs. only now for the first time could he truly appreciate it. desires / the only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it. aesthetic / strength and victory… What he would never praise himself for but whose loss was his most obsessive fear. ship inspo / love will have its sacrifices. no sacrifice without blood. wardrobe / black and red. the only colors that exist.
#answered / ic.#starters. / ic.#open. / ic.#headcanons / ooc.#meta / ooc.#my edits / ooc.#musings / wise men have interpreted dreams and the gods have laughed.#ch. study / i know always that i am an outsider. a stranger in this century and among those who are still men.#visage / oh he did look like a deity – the perfect balance of danger and charm. he was at the same time fascinating and inaccessible.#likes / he breathed in hard. the stench of blood filled his lungs. only now for the first time could he truly appreciate it.#desires / the only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.#aesthetic / strength and victory… What he would never praise himself for but whose loss was his most obsessive fear.#ship inspo / love will have its sacrifices. no sacrifice without blood.#wardrobe / black and red. the only colors that exist.
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The Madness In Me
Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader
SYNOPSIS: You and Natasha get infected with an alien aphrodisiac that is supposed to induce heat cycles in many species. How will you both cope with this issue? (We all know how)
WARNINGS: SEX POLLEN, enthusiastic consent, drug-induced sex, masturbation, fingering (N!receiving) pussy eating, (r!receiving), violent sex, mutual pining, confessions of love, reader is described as agoraphobic (fear of being in unsafe, unfamiliar environments), no use of y/n
WORD COUNT: 6.1K
This was why you never left the fucking compound. This was the exact reason that you never left when Natasha asked you to come with her somewhere. You told Steve to leave you alone, made aggressive backhanded comments to Rocket, even threw things at Rhodey when he asked for an extra set of hands in the field.
You were an office person. Your job was to keep paperwork in order, make calls, and… do office shit! You weren’t meant for the field, you had no desire to explore the outside world, and you certainly weren’t created for literal space. But everybody was indisposed with other assignments and only you and Natasha were around to help Nebula with something in space.
It should have been a simple task: collect data of the tremors on the planet, run scans, and return the data back to the compound where you could ship off the readings to Carol, wherever she was out in space. The atmosphere was breathable, but lower gravity than Earth so your footsteps were heavier and you felt less balanced.
Natasha was trying not to smirk as you looked so out of your element here, kneeling into mystery colored dirt and plunging several spikes into the ground to pick up the tremor readings. You were trying to ignore her, looking forward to curling up in your bed tonight and forgetting about the terror you felt when passing through the jump point.
“Not meant for space, Nat,” You mumbled, connecting the sensor to the wires and waiting for it to turn green. Natasha knelt down next to you and gently nudged you with her arm. “I’m serious, I want to go home like, now.”
“Do you ever stop complaining?” Natasha rolled her eyes. You looked up and tried not to stare at the way her red roots were starting to overtake the blonde on her head. “We are in literal space, and you can’t stand it.”
“Maybe I’ve got minimal agoraphobia, who knows,” You sighed, running your hands through the dirt under your knees and seeing the sensor start to blink an aggressive yellow color. “Fuck sake, what now?”
“You placed the sensors incorrectly,” Nebula’s voice spoke through the comm on your chest and you flinched. “Do you need any assistance? The diagram was clearly marked—”
“No, I’ve got it Nebula,” You turned off the comm and sighed, pulling out the left most sensor and readjusting the probe so you could properly plunge it into the dirt. “God, why does she always sound disappointed in me?”
“That’s just her voice,” Natasha wiggled one of the sensors, trying to get it exactly like the diagram. She was focused on her task, and you were focused on yours… So focused that you didn’t notice your comm blinking angrily. Nebula was trying to tell you something, but you were ignoring the comm, just simply thinking that she was trying to boss you around again.
…If only you had listened to her.
Nebula was trying to warn you about the pocket of liquid your sensor was far too close to. The pressure under the surface of the dirt was high, and you pierced it just right. That was the cause of the tremors, alright.
In mere seconds, both you and Natasha were knocked down into the dirt, covered in a translucent red liquid that was far stickier than you were comfortable with. It went up your nose, down your throat, every single part of you was drenched in the fucking substance that felt like it was humming with life. Natasha was just the same, rolling over on her side and coughing aggressively in order to get the liquid free from her throat.
Your entire body hurt, and you looked up at the ship just in time to see Nebula running down the ramp of the spacecraft and approaching you and Natasha. She scowled, looking down at you and crossing her arms. “I tried to tell you to be careful.”
“Next time,” You coughed, spitting out the goop and standing off the ground. Natasha stood up with you, flicking her hands out and trying so hard to get the substance off her body but it was clear that the only way it was coming off was with a high-pressure shower. “Next time, I’m fucking staying home.”
It didn’t take long for the ship to return to Earth. But in that time, you felt like your skin was literally on fire. The heat under your clothes was almost unbearable and you practically stumbled out of the ship towards the compound where you were finding a bathroom and stripping off your sticky garments immediately.
Natasha must have been feeling the same because her face was red, not because of that sticky liquid, and was almost ripping at her shirt as she went to a separate room to take her own shower.
Your clothes sat in a pile on the floor as you stepped into the coldest shower ever, sighing with relief as the heat began to dissipate and you washed away the sticky mess that was the mystery planet gunk staining your skin. It left a red tint behind on your skin that you hated, but at least the feeling of rolling around in glue was gone.
Hands slid across your skin as you tried to make this last, basking in the cold. Your fingers trailed over your belly and then down lower, pausing and feeling your face heat up with embarrassment. There was a residual part of your body that was radiating a painful heat… and not only heat. You turned off the water to your shower and looked down, seeing your arousal literally dripping down your legs.
“What the…” You shuddered, your stomach twisting as you grabbed a towel and began drying your body off. The towel rubbed all over your skin, hands shaking like crazy as you dried your hair and then dragged the fabric between your legs. The contact against your cunt was enough to make you cry out in agony, legs shaking and knees buckling as you hit the ground and curled up. “F-f-fuck…”
This was bad. But who could you even call for this? Who could help you? This had to be a medical issue, right? This wasn’t like your ovulation week or anything, this was nearly unnatural. You’d never been so aroused and wet in your damn life.
“Friday,” You mumbled out loud to the AI that watched over the compound. If Tony could see you now, he would be laughing his ass off. “W-What’s wrong with me?”
“Just a moment,” Friday said, and you could assume she was scanning you. “Internal body temperature is 101 degrees Fahrenheit, and heart rate is 120 resting… Should I call for a medic?”
“No,” You mumbled, standing off the ground and reaching for the robe off the back of the bathroom door, sliding it over your sweaty skin and plopping onto the bathroom floor. “No, this is too embarrassing… Get Nebula, please Friday. She’s from space, she should know what’s wrong with me.”
“I have alerted Nebula. Are you alright, miss?”
“M’fine Friday,” You sighed, pulling your legs to your chest and trying to ignore the ache between your legs… was this happening to Natasha too? Oh, you shouldn’t have thought about that. The thought of Natasha Romanoff in the same state as you, on the ground with her arousal dripping down her thighs… You pulled your hand away from where it was circling your clit at an agonizing rate.
Muscles burning, heart rate through the roof, skin crawling, stomach churning… You were in agony when Nebula came in as you were laying on the floor in nothing but the bathrobe. Sweat dripped from your face as you looked up just in time to get face-to-face with a furry creature that a long time ago would have freaked you out, but you knew Rocket when you saw him.
“The hell did I miss out on?” He looked up at Nebula who scowled before grabbing you by the arms and lifting you off the floor like you didn’t weigh a damn thing to her. Cyborg muscles, you assumed… It was comforting. Her synthetic hands were cold in comparison to your burning hot skin, and you leaned against her touch despite her seemingly indifferent to your affection.
“What’s wrong with me, Rocket?” You sobbed as Nebula sat you down on the counter while the raccoon jumped on the surface next to you and sniffed your body. The scent of the ooze still lingered on your skin, and residue was left behind in a red tint in your hair.
Rocket immediately began laughing. “Just a guess, but smells like a very damn strong dose of pohlavívan sludge.”
“In English, dammit—”
“It’s a chemical used in making stimulants to induce heats for a lot of species in the galaxy… and a very potent aphrodisiac that is sold in some alcohol on Hasbinth V,” Rocket explained as he grabbed at your face and moved your hair away.
Your pupils were dilated and just from your scent alone, Rocket knew what the problem was without a doubt. “Girl, you are horny out of your frickin’ mind—”
“WHAT?!” You shrieked, jumping up and wrapping your arms around your stomach. “I was drugged? Are you k—No, no, no, there’s an antidote, right? There’s always an antidote for—”
“Sorry sweetheart,” Rocket shook his furry head, much to your embarrassment and dismay. “Nothin’ to do but wait ‘til it stops.”
When you glanced at his crewmate, Nebula seemed to look at you with… pity? Either that, or she was uncomfortable just being in your presence. You gulped, asking the question that you didn’t want to ask. “How long?”
“Heat cycles for most species last a week… but humies don’t get them so maybe a few days less than that?” Rocket was in thought, or perhaps he was enjoying your agony far too much as you groaned and pushed your legs together and sunk down on your knees again.
If he said something else, you didn’t hear him. The only thing on your mind was the unbearable throb between your thighs and how you just wanted to touch yourself until the pain ceased finally… But apparently, you had days for this. And Nebula’s last words before she left with Rocket were the worst things you could hear. “It’s going to get worse. We’ll figure out a quarantine situation for you soon… Rocket, we need to check on Natasha; she got hit with the sludge as well.”
“Are you kidding?!” Rocket started laughing. “The assassin and the girl afraid of going outside get doused with liquid sex on the one day I’m busy? I’m not missing anything ever again.”
How could it possibly get worse?
Worse. Worse, worse, so much fucking worse.
It had only been a day for you into quarantine and you felt like you were going to rip your hair out! Your skin was crawling, your face was burning, and you simply stopped wearing anything below the waist because it would just get soaked in seconds from how bad your cunt was dripping… It was humiliating. You felt like a dog in heat.
With every spare second you had, you were touching yourself. Any thought you had was perverse, and you couldn’t stop yourself from having vulgar desires about literally every single woman within your life. You drooled over your memories with Wanda Maximoff before she disappeared into dust and how her touch always felt electric for you. Thoughts of Nebula and her cold stare as she held you down that one time was addicting.
Carol Danvers came to mind and you imagined the being of the cosmos fucking you mercilessly like the beast she was and it had you sobbing as you rutted against the bedsheets that were soaked with your juices, and your sweat.
But the thing that did it for you? Natasha… Oh, the beautiful and sweet Natasha Romanoff… The woman who was suffering just as you were on the other side of the fifth floor where you two were being kept. The thought that she was rubbing herself down on her bed or plunging her fingers into her cunt as well was the thought that had you cumming several times over.
Tears streaked your face as you bit down on your bottom lip and humped at your pillow like some sad fucking desperate teenager. Your clit was rubbed raw at this point, and your cunt was pulsing painfully, but you couldn’t stop. Every time you came, you felt a momentary reprieve of bliss and the shivers would stop, before it came right back and the cycle started all over again.
The only way you got to sleep was with the injections that Rocket brought to you. Nebula was expecting you to have adverse reactions to him when he entered your room, but you seemed to be less than indifferent to his presence. In fact, it was like that with every man that entered your room.
Steve had gone to check on you, and Rocket warned him that you were basically feral and wanted to fuck anything with a pulse, but not him. You looked up at Steve and sobbed before burying yourself under the blankets and hiding.
The opposite was the case when Nebula first entered your room after the symptoms got worse. You knew that once this was all over, you could never look at her the same after you had almost jumped on top of her.
It was the fever talking… and acting… and—Fuck, your own touch wasn’t as helpful as it was before. As the hours dragged on, you felt like your hands were going numb and your heart was practically breaking with how much pain you felt. It was with shaky hands that you reached for the injection on the table next to your ruined bed and jabbed the large needle into your leg.
A small trickle of blood oozed from the puncture wound as you injected the mixture of sedatives into your body and you felt the relief of sleep slowly approaching. The last thing you did was put the used needle down into the incinerator trash can before passing out in your mess. The syringes on your table were labeled with a single word. “SNOW”.
You were happy to rest your burning body, closing your eyes and immediately passing out, drooling on your mattress with the pillow nestled between your thighs. As the hours carried on, your scent just got stronger. You were unconscious for quite some time, but it turns out, someone else couldn’t sleep at all.
Your scent was too strong. It was driving her fucking insane. She couldn’t control herself even if she wanted to. In mere moments, the poor ex-assassin was crawling into your bed, and she didn’t care if you were asleep; she was eating your pussy.
Natasha grabbed at your body and turned you over on your back, pulling the pillow out from between your legs and practically drooling over how your wetness was sticking to the fabric before she bent down and put her entire mouth over your cunt like it was all she needed to survive.
You didn’t react for a good long while. The sedative mixture in the syringes were heavy duty stuff, and for almost forty minutes, Natasha was simply indulging herself on you like you were the most decadent snack she’s ever had and she just couldn’t get enough.
With one hand, she reached down and pressed her fingers against her clit, groaning against you as you squirmed in your sleep slightly, clearly stirring awake after the assassin’s tongue was attacking your cunt for over half an hour. She was basking in your taste, your juices smearing on her mouth and dripping onto the wet bed sheets as she dug her fingernails into your left thigh.
The pain woke you first. The way her nails bit into your skin had you squeaking in pain as you sat up and looked to see what was the culprit. And then the pleasure hit you. Holy fuck did the pleasure hit you. It was completely different from you touching yourself; Natasha was so good. She was so fucking good at this that you felt yourself close to cumming already.
“N-N-Nat!” You stuttered, a loss for words. Natasha looked up through her blonde hair messily splayed all over her damp, sweaty face as she refused to let up. Her tongue pressed flat against your hole and slowly pushed it in. The noise you made was guttural and savage. “Fuuuuuhuuuck!”
Natasha didn’t stop even for a second. In fact, her own hand abandoned her pussy and she forgot about her own pleasure for a moment, the thought of your release in her mouth taking over her entire being. Her green irises were almost overtaken by her blown out pupils. She had tunnel vision. You were at the end. And she ignored the ache in her jaw as she felt your thighs tremble in her hands.
You met her fiery gaze and she saw a small string of drool drip from your lips and she latched her lips around your clit, sucking and making your eyes roll all the way back in your head. That was your final stretch.
Your body arched off the bed and you let out a shriek of euphoria, reaching down and grabbing at her short blonde hair, fingers curling in Natasha’s locks as she felt your taste flood over her tongue. She was in heaven. You had never seen Natasha like this before, and you were upset that it had taken this long for her to eat your pussy like she was a woman starved.
The trembles of your climax began to slowly wear off as you panted, heart racing as you saw Natasha slowly sit up from the bed, your arousal dripping from her lips and her hair a downright mess. She smelled so good, and looked even better. Her skin was glistening as she collapsed on top of you, her arms caging you into the mattress.
“What are you doing to me?” Natasha panted, but there was no bite in her voice. The tone of her commanding words had your knees weakening again as you reached up and tangled your fingers in her hair.
“What you do to me,” You said, leaning up a little as you teased the assassin with the promise of a kiss. Your lips were centimeters apart as her mouth hovered and she pressed a single kiss to your nose. Both of you couldn’t stop your heavy breaths as she saw how your eyes were just as dilated, knowing that this was the sludge forcing her hands… And yet, this feels so, so right.
“Pretty girl,” Natasha teased, her tongue licking at your bottom lip as you whimpered, your knee slipping between her legs and pressing up against her core. The sound she made was enough to have you climbing the walls. The teasing was over as you reached for the back of her neck and pulled her down.
It was unlike you to feel dominant in your life… Your short list of lovers could attest to that; you were always the submissive type in the relationship. And yet, the aphrodisiac working in your body was screaming to take control. Fingers twitched as you fought your natural instincts for the ones forced into your brain by the drug.
The kiss was broken when your hands dug into Natasha’s ass, nails biting her skin as she gasped and looked into your eyes. Her heart pounded in her ears as she rolled her hips, grinding her slicked pussy down against your thigh.
“Y-You know,” You panted, guiding her hips into your leg and shivering at how warm her cunt was on your skin. You wanted nothing more than to fuck the assassin senseless. “This is… j-just that sludge, right?”
Natasha laughed, tossing her head back for a second as her sweat dripped off her nose. “Is it though, sweetheart?”
You stopped. Your body seemed to shudder all over as you rested both hands on her hips. “Nat, what are you–”
“Later,” She begged, her fingers sliding across your body and pausing to grip at your breasts, squeezing and kneading at the flesh enough for your eyes to roll back in your head. “We’ll talk later… Right now, I need you.”
How could you say no to that?
Your fingers grabbed the back of her thighs and in seconds, Natasha was on her back on the bed with you grabbing at her wrists, holding them above her head into the pillow. That beautiful blonde hair with the red roots peeking through was splayed across your sheets. Her skin was glistening with sweat, chest rising and falling rapidly with every hard breath she took.
Natasha Romanoff was the most beautiful woman you have ever seen in your entire life.
“Fuck,” You said. You couldn’t think of anything else to say. You dropped down and your lips pressed into hers, hands releasing her wrists as they curled into the bedsheets and you put your knee right back to where it was before.
Natasha whimpered, her hips bucking up to meet your leg as it felt like shocks going all over her body. In her normal state, this friction wouldn’t have been enough to get her off, but with the drug making everything more sensitive, Natasha swore she could cum just like this. But you weren’t satisfied with it.
Your right hand slid down from the sheets, caressing over her body and raking your nails over her flat abdomen before sneaking between her legs. The kiss broke as she spread her thighs apart for your fingers. When they came in contact with her cunt, Natasha let out the most unhinged noise of pleasure you’ve ever heard in your entire life.
You wanted to hear more. Your fingers circled around her clit and Natasha bit her lip, something in her fighting the noises she wanted to make. You weren’t having it as you bent down and kissed the woman’s neck.
“Come on, Widow,” You teased, your fingers rubbing at her in tight circles and making her even wetter, if that was at all possible because she was already dripping. “Walls are soundproof… Give me all you’ve got.”
When your teeth sunk into her neck and you slipped your middle finger into her slick pussy, Natasha was past holding herself back. Her entire spine arched off the bed and she gasped, her eyes rolling back and her body reacting to your touch in the most delicious way possible.
She was so sexy, so fearless, so everything you admired in a woman and now all of your infatuation for the audacious assassin was coming to a point. You had always loved Natasha, and now you were able to show her. You could actually show her how you felt. Without the sludge drug going through your body, you would never have the confidence to even touch this woman, let alone kiss her.
Things between you two had always been flirty, even before the attack that wiped out half of the universe. Natasha would walk by your office and smile at you, and you would blush before going back to your job. Maybe you would see her outside of your office when she was walking with Steve or Sam. She could smell your shampoo when you walked by and the smell of vanilla was always one of her favorites.
She liked your fearlessness, even if you were simply afraid of field work. You took the job with the stipulation that you wouldn’t have to do field work, and your place would be behind a desk forever. And then, half of the organization vanished. Your work was forced to change and you didn’t have a choice but to sign your new contract and adapt.
Much to Natasha’s pleasure, you were more active outside of your office. And there were many times when you would go with her outside of the compound… And then you went to space. You and her went to space. Natasha and you went into outer space, got hit with pohlavívan sludge, and now because of one off-world assignment, you two were about to fuck like rabbits in heat.
The Widow looked down, watching your wrist flex as you pushed another finger into her cunt and she saw stars behind her eyes, her inner walls squeezing your digits and making you pant with pleasure. It was like you could feel what she was feeling, your heart skipping beats as the scent of her arousal was flooding your senses and clouding everything you once knew.
“Ohmygod,” Natasha cried out. Her eyes were watering as she held the sheets, lifting up her right leg and resting her calf on your shoulder. A growl left your throat as you doubled down and started moving your fingers faster, stretching her around them and feeling her warmth and wetness soak you from the wrist down. “Fuck, fuck that’s it… D-Don’t stop…”
“Never,” You whispered, leaning down and pressing your nose against her cheek. Her moans and whines drowned your senses, encouraging your movements.
The blonde couldn’t hold it back even if she tried. Never before has she been able to cum so quickly before. Her eyes crossed and rolled all the way back in her head as she reached up for your shoulders and dug her nails in, screaming with blistering gratification. You gave a breathy laugh before it faded into a groan, feeling her nails scrape across your back.
Natasha created a puddle under her, staining the mattress and ruining the sheets even more than you could have done on your own. You gasped, resting your head against her shoulder as you breathed her in, basking in her aftershocks and gently rubbing at her clit with your thumb as you continued to stroke her inner walls with your fingertips.
The moment carried on for at least a minute before both of you were snapped out of your stupor at a soft beeping sound.
“What the hell is–” Natasha said, looking around the room for a second before her question was answered.
“Warning, heart rate levels dangerously high,” FRIDAY spoke over the intercom in your room, a blush turning your entire face red. “Wounds detected. Shall I call for assistance, miss?”
“No!!” Both you and Natasha screamed, silencing the AI in the walls instantly. You never wanted anybody to see Natasha the way you are seeing her right now. Very carefully, your fingers slipped free from her cunt and she gasped, her nose going into your neck as she wrapped both arms around you and whimpered.
“Shhh… Shhh, I got you, Nat,” You cooed sweetly, not really sure where this confidence came from. Was it actually the drug making you like this, or were you always capable of this deep down? “Just breathe baby, that’s it… Just breathe for me…”
Natasha’s heart calmed down gradually. You waited patiently for her to pull back away from your shoulder and when she did, you smiled, pushing her blonde hair away from her eyes and seeing that her climax had given both of you a momentary reprise from the stupid aphrodisiac that would be taking effect again in no time.
“There you are,” You said, rubbing your thumb over her cheek. “You okay,mílaja?”
Natasha blushed at you speaking Russian, chuckling as she reached up with both hands and held your cheeks. “Never better, detka.”
You rubbed your nose against hers teasingly as a shiver raced down your spine, feeling an odd sensation of wetness on your back. You reached over your shoulder and felt something warm and wet coat your fingertips. When you pulled them back, blood coated your fingertips. Damn, she cut pretty deep huh?
“Jesus,” You cursed, raising a brow as Natasha frowned and immediately began to fuss at the wound she caused. When she managed to wiggle out from underneath you, she saw the lines from her fingernails going down your back and a small amount of blood trickled from the wounds and streaked your skin.
“M’sorry,” Natasha leaned down and gently kissed your shoulder, wishing she could have held it together and not have caused you harm. “We should… we should get cleaned up, huh?”
“Yeah,” You agreed, slowly crawling off of the mattress and cursing at how wet the sheets and fabric were under your hands. “We… really fucked this bed up.”
“Don’t worry,” Natasha smirked, reaching for your hand and pulling your body against her own. Your spine pressed into her chest as she leaned forward, her lips ghosting on the shell of your ear and making you shiver. “There’s lots of other places in your room we can ruin too… We’ve got nothing but time.”
It was like her words reactivated the arousal in you. The momentary reprieve ended as your pupils widened and overtook your eyes again as you leaned into her hands, grabbing at her ass from behind you and breathing heavily. “Shower?”
“Shower. Now.”
The two days continued just like this. You two couldn’t keep your hands off of each other the entire time. The sludge had made it so your stamina was nearly limitless and you could continue without needing a breather or a break. Natasha was resilient and strong, and she was able to handle anything you threw at her.
True to her words, you two fucked on every single surface of the room. The showers, the bathroom sink, the kitchen sink, the bed, the floors, the couch, the reclining chair, even in the closet. The room reeked of sex and it felt like you could never get enough of Natasha grinding against your face.
Your favorite thing quickly became eating her out while she was standing up. You liked how her knees would wobble as she got close and she had to grab the surface she was leaning against in order to not collapse on the floor.
Natasha found her favorite position. She loved sliding her own slicked cunt against yours, juices mixing together as she held you down and fucked herself against you like it was her fucking birthright. You made the cutest sounds when she dominated and she couldn’t get enough of it.
With both of you breathing in that small window of clarity after another earth shattering orgasm, Natasha reached for the remaining two syringes on the nightstand, offering one to you as she panted and tears streaked her face.
“Need to stop,” Natasha panted, ripping the cover off the needle as she looked in your eyes and inserted the sedative into her arm. You nodded quickly, following her and injecting yourself with the SNOW. She used the last of her strength to incinerate the used needles before collapsing next to you on the floor, legs tangled in the wet blankets as your body curled around her own.
It was ten full hours later before both of you woke up. Sunlight streaked through the window as you slowly began to blink, attempting to wake up and come back to reality. For a second, you felt fine… and then it all hit you at once.
Your head was pounding. It felt like a hangover times ten. Your entire body was sore and screaming, muscles aching and your stomach growling with ferocity as you rolled over and pushed your entire face into the wet pillow behind your head.
“Fuck,” You cursed, wanting it to stop already. It wasn’t until you heard a similar groan that you opened your eyes and saw Natasha looking just as ragged as you, if not worse. Deep, dark circles were under her eyes. Her hair was a total mess, and her neck was littered with bruises and bite marks. You flushed, remembering that you were the one to leave those marks.
“Goddammit,” Natasha groaned, rolling onto her side as she faced you and rubbed her whole hand across her face. It wasn’t until you saw her eyes that the realization set in… The drug was out of your system. Her irises were normal. She wasn’t trying to jump you the second you woke up.
You two were fine now… Oh shit, you two were fine now… You two fucked nonstop for three days!
“FRIDAY,” You said, voice hoarse and cracking. “Are we okay?”
A second passed before a beep went off. “All traces of pohlavívan sludge have been removed from your systems. Vital signs, stable.”
You breathed a sigh of relief as you flopped on the ground and reached out for Natasha’s hand. To your surprise, she didn’t refuse your touch. In fact, she scooted closer and pressed her forehead against yours, breathing you in like your presence could cure her aches and pains.
“Are you okay?” She asked, reaching out with her other hand and pushing your hair out of your eyes. You smiled, nodding a little as you lifted up her hand and kissed over her knuckles. The moment was sweet and you were happy to live in it.
“We uhm,” You swallowed hard. “Should we… talk about this or…”
Natasha rolled her eyes before she leaned forward and captured your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. Your eyes widened. This was way different than before. There was no drug working through your systems to force your hands; Natasha was kissing you and meaning it this time. You melted and returned the kiss, resting a hand on her cheek and relaxing visibly.
When the kiss broke, the assassin smiled warmly and rubbed her thumb across your cheekbone. “I love you… and this isn’t the drug talking this time, detka… I really love you.”
You thought you were going to cry. “I love you too, Natasha… Fuck, I love you so much it’s sickening.”
She rolled her eyes before scooting even closer and wrapping her arms around your body and shoving her entire face into your chest. You both reeked and were covered in sweat and cum, but you still couldn’t stop touching each other no matter what…
It was a sweet moment.
And then the door opened and you reacted on instinct. Without a second thought, you were grabbing at the bedsheet and wrapping it around yourself and Natasha who looked up and saw two people entering the bedroom, and a much shorter, furrier creature slipping between the other two to approach both of you on the floor.
“Steve, you could fuckin’ knock you know!” You shouted at Captain America who immediately looked away from the scene and tried to hide the redness on his cheeks.
Rocket ran on all fours towards you as he looked at your eyes and sniffed your skin. “Drug’s completely dissolved. I’m impressed humie… Didn’t think you’d make it through this shit.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Natasha said in an accusatory tone as Nebula stepped around the mess of the room, seeing that you used all of the sedative syringes and blew through the water supply that would normally last a normal human a week, but it barely lasted three days with you and Natasha.
“Lesser humans would not have been able to keep up with the sludge working through their systems,” Nebula spoke. “Many that have ingested the substance did not survive. Their hearts stopped.”
“And you didn’t think to tell us this earlier?!” You wrapped protective arms around Natasha as the thought of her heart stopping made you so uncomfortable that you felt your skin crawling and your heart racing. “We could have died!”
“But ya didn’t,” Rocket said, that smug little grin making you scowl. “Both of you are fine. Got through it just fine and now you’ve both had the wildest sex of your lives.”
“That’s enough,” Steve pushed the door open, keeping his eyes away from both of you. “Let’s give them privacy and a chance to clean up. Come on.”
When the room cleared out, you shared a single look with Natasha before both of you started laughing. So all of this could have been fatal. And the damn raccoon (not that he would admit to being that), had no intentions of telling either of you. And he just let you two fuck senselessly for days because, what, it was funny?
And deep down… it kind of was funny.
Both you and Natasha were forced to wear turtlenecks for a few days to cover the hickeys left behind. Steve couldn’t look at either of you without blushing.
#lgbt#lgbtq#lgbtqia#marvel mcu#marvel#mcu#marvel cinematic universe#natasha romanoff#natasha romanov#natasha x reader#post infinity war#sex pollen#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff smut#mcu smut#wlw#fem!reader#i love natasha okay?#secret sweetheart#lesbian
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the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
#writeblr#warm up#this is longer than i wanted i really considered removing that part about myself and what i went thru#but i think it really fucking bothers me that EVERY time i talk about being an artist#ppl assume i just like. had the skill and ability to drop everything and pay for grad school.#like sir i grew up poor. my house wasn't a safe space. i gave up a FREE RIDE TO LAW SCHOOL. for THIS. bc i chose it.#was it fucking hard? was i choosing the hard thing?? yes.#but we need to stop seeing artists as lazy layabouts that can ''afford'' to just ''sit around and create''#when MANY - if not MOST - of us are NOT like that. we have to work our fucking ASSES off. hard work. long and hard work#part of valuing artists is recognizing the amount we sacrifice to make our art. bc it doesn't just#like HAPPEN to us. also btw it rarely has anything to do with true talent.#speaking as someone with a chronic condition i hate when ppl are like u have it easy. like actively as i'm writing this my hands r#ACTIVELY hurting me. i haven't been posting bc my left hand was curled in a claw for the last week#this isn't fucking luck. after a certain point it's not even TALENT. it's dedication & sacrifice.#''u get to flounce around and do nothing with ur life'' is a narrative that is a direct result of capitalism#imagine if we said that about literally any other profession.#''oh so u give up 10 yrs of ur life to be a doctor? u sacrifice having a social life and u get SUPER in debt?#u need to work countless hours and it will often be thankless? well i wish i was that lucky''#we should be applying that logic to landlords ONLY#''oh ur mom and dad gave u the money to buy a house? and all u did was paint it white and rent it? huh.''
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You Let Me Complicate You
18+ 4k homelander x f!reader. bickering, post-breakup sex, dubcon/coercion, angst, jealousy, emotional manipulation, implied murder, stalking, boundary smashing, breaking and entering, cunnilingus, penetrative sex. read on AO3. written as a follow-up to the breakup, but can be read as a standalone. gif credit.
Breaking up with Homelander is... complicated. After all, it is a god that loves you.
"What do I taste like?" You asked him once, drunk on pleasure and those early honeymoon days of loving him. He’d been slow to answer, thinking it over. "Love," he said at last. "Like you love me." You wonder if that holds true. If he can still taste love in you. If that’s why he’s so eager to devour you, or if the absence of it has made him even hungrier.
Homelander is an aberration.
Stronger than a hundred men, faster than a bullet and sharp as a tack all paired with a teaspoon’s depth of emotional maturity. He’s volatile, twisted, broken in ways no amount of therapy could ever hope to duct tape back together. He’s no better off than a dog that bites to kill. No matter how he got to this point, the best thing for him–for the world–would be to put him down by any means necessary.
Too bad you can’t seem to stop fucking him.
It’s late when you hear the front door open with a distinct crack. You’re sprawled out on the couch in the living room, one leg draped lazily over the armrest. What comes next is no surprise to you–a shock of primary colors filling the narrow doorway, a handsome face made ghoulish by the haunting light of the television in an otherwise dark room.
“You nailed the door shut,” Homelander says, the inflection of his voice somewhere between a question and a statement.
“Because you broke it,” you throw back, a stale Twizzler balanced between your lips. It had tasted good enough when you started eating it, but now–in his presence–the sweetness of it has turned sour.
“You changed the locks,” he says with a light shrug, cape swaying as he meanders towards you. “My key didn’t work.”
“Your key? Stealing a key to my house does not make it your key,” you say tersely, lifting your foot to press it firmly to his thigh, stopping him in his tracks.
He glances down, a mirthless smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he catches your ankle in his gloved hand, yanking you down the couch so suddenly you lose your Twizzler to the floor with a gasp. It’s one thing to know that Homelander has strength enough to throw cars like frisbees. It’s another to feel it. It sends a rush of adrenaline through you like a jolt, followed swiftly by something hotter low in your naval.
“Y’know, I’ve been thinking,” he begins, dropping your ankle. He lifts his knee and slots it between your legs, his opposite boot on the floor, his hand braced on the back of the couch, pinning you in place.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” you cut in dryly, moving to shift up the couch, away from him. He snatches your shoulder, halting you with ease. His thumb strokes your skin idly, goosebumps erupting beneath his touch.
“And I’ve realized that this whole… thing between you and I, this ‘will they, won’t they,’ ” he says, bobbing his head side to side. “It’s getting stale. Don’t you think it’s about time we progressed the plot?” He asks, leaning in close.
You brace your hand against his chest, holding him in place as ineffectually as you did earlier. You both know it’s all a game. It’s all pretense. There had been fondness between you once–love, even–but you’re done with that now. You have to be done with it, or Homelander will swallow you whole. He’s a black pit, a murderer, and his need knows no end. He’ll destroy you and everything you know and love if he thinks it’ll satiate that need.
You’ve lost enough. You can’t afford to lose any more of yourself to him.
“Jesus Christ, you even think in TV script,” you say, pushing on his chest. He leans back, but not by much. It sends a terrible little chill down your spine. “I’m starting to think the only thing that might actually kill you is an original thought.”
His eyes narrow and his bright white teeth flash predatorily in the darkness. “You’re lucky I haven’t broken your neck,” he says, hand slipping from your shoulder to your throat. The sharp press of his thumb into your windpipe steals your breath, makes your thighs tighten on either side of his leg snug between yours. His lips split into an unkind grin. “Or maybe not. You’d probably like that.”
“You’re disgusting,” you spit, gripping his wrist with your other hand. Your pulse is starting to throb against the leather of his glove. He moves his thumb from your windpipe to your jaw and turns your head away, leaning in with a deep, pointed inhale along your neck.
“Is that why your hormones are going haywire? Because I disgust you?” He asks, grinding his thigh between your legs in a way that makes you gasp. “Y’know, given how full of it you are, I was sure I’d smell the bullshit on you. But all I smell… is how fucking wet you are.”
He grabs your hip and the memories come to you like muscle memory. How good it feels to be gripped and fucked and loved by someone beyond your comprehension. To feel as if you’ve stopped the world turning and called the sun itself to shine on you alone.
You twist your chin out of his grip and level him with a heated stare. “I hate you,” you hiss, grasping for the knife you know will twist the deepest.
It works for a second, his smug expression faltering, but only for an instant. His jaw sets, and his lips curl into that same unkind smile. “C’mon, babe,” he coos, the intimate familiarity woven into that pet name making your skin crawl. “We both know that I can always tell when you’re lying.”
He kisses you like he always has. Like you belong to him. In a way, you suppose you always will. There’s nothing you can do to pry your throat from Homelander’s jaws. Nowhere you can run that he won’t eventually find you. Like quicksand, the more you fight, the tighter he clamps down. Truth be told, though, that isn’t the worst of it. The worst of it is that the tighter he grips you, the less you want to fight him.
His tongue slithers into your mouth like a serpent into the garden and you bite down hard. While pliant between your teeth, the flesh doesn’t yield. It never will. He never will. Instead he moans a little chuckle that fades into a rumble against your lips.
“That how it’s gonna be?” He asks, the words rasped into your mouth. “Y’wanna bite and claw? Play hard to get?” He laughs, the sound of it reedy and light, like it’s all a silly little game of make-believe. “I can do that.”
He reeks of his own desperation for what he says to be true. More than anything, he wants to dress up his desires as yours. He wants to believe he’s giving you what you want. That way, he can trick himself into believing you need him.
He bites the middle tip of his glove and tugs it off with his teeth, tossing it aside. His bare thumb brushes your lip, smearing his spit and yours. “I saw you with that fucking loser,” he says, the airiness suddenly gone from his voice.
Your stomach drops. Two days ago you’d been with a man. You’d been so desperate to forget him that night that anyone would have done the job. You stumbled out with some nobody from the bar who’d been good enough for a sloppy makeout session in the back of his truck, but not good enough to bring home. It hadn’t ended well.
How close of an eye is Homelander keeping on you?
“I’d be angry if it hadn’t been so fuckin’ pathetic,” he says through his teeth.
“Liar,” you say tightly. You feel his fury in the tension of his body. He’s pissed that you’d seek this out anywhere else. As if he still has a claim over your body. Your pleasure.
His eyes flash up to yours. He sneers, pushing his thumb between your lips. “I watched you bite his lip until he bled. I watched him slap you,” he says, dragging the pad of his thumb along the ridges of your bottom teeth. The memories come to you as he speaks them, every moment of it made bleary by alcohol. “You wanted it rough, but he couldn’t handle you, could he? Because you’re used to something better. You’re used to a god.”
You sneer right back at him, yanking your head to the side, his thumb slipping from between your lips. “Could you be any more in love with yourself? Go fuck yours-”
“I still had to kill him, of course,” he continues nonchalantly, grinding your thoughts to a screeching halt. He laughs humorlessly. “For kissing you. And, well–for everything else, obviously. Slapping you,” he says, brushing his knuckles down your cheek. The same one the man had struck. “Humping your leg like a fucking dog.”
“Why are you doing this?” You ask, throat tight. Bile burns at the back of it. All you wanted was to get away from this. The blood, the horror of it. Yet no matter what you do to dissuade him, he brings death to your doorstep. “You have everything. You could have anyone. Why are you–”
“Because I want you,” he hisses, words so sharp his sharp teeth snap together. “Because I love you, and that’s what you do when you love someone,” he says. You can feel the accusation building in his words. “You don’t give up on them. And if that means cleaning up every dirty little mistake you make,” he says softly, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “So be it.”
A cold shiver rolls down your spine. You stare woundedly at him, lips parted, brows pinched together, the misery of it all etched into every line of your face. He stares at you in turn, and after a beat, his own hard expression softens.
“Hey, hey,” he says, the heat of his breath a ghostly kiss on your lips. “It’s okay,” he says, brushing the tip of your nose with his. “I forgive you.”
He kisses you again, more tender now. Your eyes prickle with tears. His gentleness hurts so much more than his violence. It disarms you, carries you to a time when things were simpler between you. Sweeter and warmer.
Homelander makes the world feel wonderful and dangerous, like standing in the middle of an electric storm. Being loved by him is the feeling of having your ribs cracked open, your heart cradled in his bare hands, possessive and bloody. What had been thrilling grew stifling, a feeling you realize now never truly went away.
He’s inescapable, literally and figuratively. Even when he isn’t inviting himself into your home or lurking in the periphery of your vision, Vought’s hero is plastered on every billboard and screen in the city. You haven't been able to breathe without inhaling the thick miasma of him.
Tears roll down to your temples as you kiss him back, both hands fisted in his soft hair, tugging. He makes a pleased little sound against your lips, teeth grazing your bottom lip. He’s always kissed like a man possessed–like every brush of your lips is a drop of salvation–but the hunger he’s developed since you tried to leave him is unparalleled. He kisses you like he means to devour you whole.
You bite back a sob, but the hiccuped noise of it catches his attention nonetheless. He breaks from you, looking down at you with a feverish mix of yearning, impatience and something that almost resembles pity, which might be the closest thing he knows to sympathy.
“Hey,” he coos, dusting your jaw with feather light kisses. “Don’t cry.”
“It’s awful,” you choke out.
“What is?”
“Your love.”
“I know,” he says after a prolonged pause. “It’s all I know.”
You look at him, the image of him bleary through your tears. There’s a morose resignation in his ocean-storm eyes, a distance that makes him seem far, far away from you, even as you taste the heat of his breath on your lips.
Focus returns to his gaze, and suddenly he’s present again. “It’s all I know,” he says again, his tone made of wood, stiff and splintering.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you lift your palm to his cheek, hovering just shy of touching. He’s pulled to it like a magnet, nuzzling into your palm, eyes closing. His hand slides down the familiar slopes of your body, settling at your hip, where his fingertips sink in like claws, the pressure of them shy. For as vicious as things have gotten between you, he’s never hurt you. A fact he lords over you as if he should be applauded for it.
I love you more than anything. You know that, right? That I would never do anything to hurt you? He’d asked you during that first fight. When everything went wrong.
You’d only been able to nod then, trapped with a man you didn’t recognize wearing the face of the man you loved.
That’s right. Of course you do. Because if I wanted to hurt you, I would have. It would have been easy, huh?
Despite how desperately you’ve tried to fortify yourself against him, it’s still so easy.
Homelander is an aberration, but so too is he a man, and there was a time when the man was all that you saw. When the monster at the core of him reared its head, bloody and unrepentant, that became all you could see in him. Now, the two are so irrevocably tangled in the sinew of the other, you’re never sure which you’re looking at.
“I miss you,” you confess to the man in him, voice so soft only his ears possibly could have discerned the words. As if you can hide the words from the monster lurking behind if you speak them quietly enough.
He looks as confused as your own aching heart. “I’m here,” he says, everything in his tone willing you to believe it. He doesn’t understand that you miss who he was before you knew what he was.
A mournful noise swells in your chest, but he kisses you before it can escape. “I’m here,” he says again, the hand at your hip turning into a fist in the fabric of your clothes, tearing them at the seams. “I’ll make you feel better,” he says between presses of his lips, hungry and rushing, like he can outspeed your miserable grief. “Let me make you feel good.”
Sex has always been an avenue of redemption for Homelander. Whether he’s frustrated, anxious, wounded or a combination of them all, he’s sought to remedy it through a good orgasm. He treats you as though the notion should hold true for you: the fight doesn’t count so long as he makes you come.
Yet again, you’re left stricken by him. As you have a dozen times before, all you can do is nod. Deep in your core, you know he’s right. He can make you forget this horrible ache in yourself, the grief and the fear. He can take you away to the dream you’d lived before you met the beast in his shadow.
Coherent thought turns to water slipping between the cracks of your mind as Homelander’s bare fingers brush your inner thigh. You suck in a sharp breath that leaves you as a shudder and you clutch at his collar, twisting the fabric, unsure if you mean to push him away or pull him closer.
Homelander makes the choice for you, closing the distance and kissing you too gently, too sweetly. You spur him with your teeth, needing it faster, harder. Needing it to hurt just enough to not feel entirely right. He ignores your prompt, focused wholly on tasting you, on sliding his fingers up into the waiting warmth between your thighs. He presses the pad of his middle finger to your clit, deft and familiar.
You sigh, closing your eyes, ready to lose yourself to the feel of something good. He slides serpentine down your body, kissing you through your shirt, nipping at your skin through the fabric for the way it makes you jump. His lips trail down until they pass the hem of your shirt, finding where he’s stripped you. His mouth is unbearably warm, breath hot huffs on your bare skin, goosebumps erupting everywhere.
He mouths at your hip, sucks the skin dark before trailing further down, leaving a constellation with his lips. The scorching wet heat of his tongue feels like a brand on your clit, replacing his hand with his mouth.
You thread your fingers into his hair, widening the spread of your legs to allow for the way he shoulders under and between them, lifting your lower half. He nuzzles into the nectary sweetness of you, moaning unabashedly for your familiar taste.
What do I taste like? You asked him once, drunk on pleasure and those early honeymoon days of loving him. Everything about him fascinated you; did his super smell lend itself to super taste? Could he pick out each note of you, dissect your profile into sections?
He’d been slow to answer, thinking it over.
Love, he said at last. Like you love me.
You wonder if that holds true. If he can still taste love in you, if that’s why he’s so eager to devour you, or if the absence of it has made him even hungrier. If he plunges his tongue to the core of you in the hopes he might discover lingering shreds of what the two of you once had.
A moan escapes you. His fingers bite into your thighs, tongue coaxing more. Restraint dissipating, you tighten your grip on his hair and tug, grinding hard against his mouth. He knows the stepping stones of your pleasure as well as you know yourself, knowing just when to suck, when to lick. He’s more relentless than any other man could hope to be, never needing to stop for breath, never succumbing to aching muscles. He maintains a pace that sends you careening so viciously towards release, you give a choking gasp when it hits you, your head thrown back against the couch as euphoric relief rolls through you in waves.
Homelander shrugs out from under your trembling thighs, his mouth slick and shining, eyes predator wide. You’re both panting, silently gauging the other. You’re first to break the standoff, his hunger infectious. You climb onto your knees and grab his shoulders, pushing his back to the couch, straddling him. He keens when you kiss him, an addictive sound that gives you a deceptive sense of power.
He murmurs your name in fervent repetition, dragging his mouth along your skin, inhaling you like a drug. You unbuckle his belt with the ease of experience, unzip his pants and slip your hand inside. Curling your fingers around his cock, you find it already hard and dripping in anticipation.
“Anything you want,” he breathes, the words coming between the prayer-like recitation of your name. “Money, diamonds, anything, I’ll make you a queen,” he says, eyelids fluttering at your touch. He pledges these things like an act of devotion, but you recognize this Faustian bargain for what it is. It will cost you your heart and soul.
“I’ll make you a god,” he moans at a particularly deft twist of your wrist.
Making you come will have to be enough for now.
“Fuck me,” you tell him breathlessly. “The way I like it.”
Like flipping a switch, the dazed pleasure in his eyes sharpens. The corners of his mouth tug, his upper lip twitches, eager tension slipping into his touch as his hands slide up your thighs, grasping your hips. His fingers sink in tight enough to bruise, despite the gentleness of his touch. The immeasurable power lurking within his unassuming frame is a novelty that never wears off, a thrill that shocks you to your core no matter how many times you experience it.
Like a vicious storm, he’s beautiful and terrible in equal measure. Caught in the eye of his maelstrom, the only thing left for you to do is weather him.
He guides you down onto his cock in one slow, agonizing pull. Even with his spit and your orgasm easing the way, it’s too much all at once. Relishing the aching burn of being split apart by him, you make a noise that gives him pause. You don’t let him stop. You brace your hands on his shoulders and lift off of him almost entirely before sinking back down deeper than you had before, wringing a moan from him in turn.
Homelander’s fingers dig securely into your back as your bodies slot together and find an old, familiar rhythm. By now he knows exactly the angle to take to best pleasure you. You let out a shaky sigh at the warmth that spreads through you, the pressure of your climax building, his heat sinking into you like the light of the sun itself.
You’re used to a god.
You cup his face and kiss him. You bite his lip until you should taste blood. You dig your nails into his skin so hard your knuckles ache. If he notices it, he’s only pleased by it.
“I’d move heaven and hell for you,” he swears between kisses, ripping the shirt from your body. The cool air hits your damp, hot skin like a shock.
“I don’t want them,” you say, voice catching on one of his sharp and sudden thrusts. He’s close. You can feel it in the tightness of his muscles, in the erratic, merciless way he drives into you.
“Doesn’t matter,” he says, voice reedy, tight. He kisses down your chest, scrapes his teeth over the swell of your breasts. “They’re yours. It’s all yours. I’m yours.”
Those words should hit you like a prison sentence, but they don’t.
They make you come.
Homelander holds you tightly as he, too, breaks into pieces, filling you with light and heat. He chokes more promises against your skin, kisses the salt from your skin and licks it greedily from his lips. You spin in place in his arms, dizzy on your own orgasm, riding out the aftershocks with his cock throbbing against the quiver of your cunt.
For a long while there’s nothing but the sound of your breaths and the distant din of the television. The tremors wracking your body gradually fade, and the chill of the open air begins to set in.
Homelander holds you tight as the sweat on your skin cools. He kisses a trail from your neck to your shoulder, nuzzling there before he rests his head down, face tucked into the crook of your neck. You feel wrung dry, eyelids heavy. You card your fingers absently through his hair, body boneless against his. Your eyes ache from crying, but you don’t mind it. Strung out like this, the aches left in the wake of pain and pleasure both feel equally good.
“It’s late,” he says warmly, a smile in his tone. He sounds lovesick, the way you both did once upon a time. Back then, you thought you knew every dark corner of his insatiable heart. “We should sleep.”
“Okay,” you agree, voice frayed. He lifts you gingerly from his lap, adjusting to cradle your naked body to his chest. Despite how Homelander unspools himself before you, you’re always the one left reduced. Bare and vulnerable both physically and emotionally. You slip your arms around his neck as he stands, resting your head on his shoulder.
“I could take you to the tower,” he whispers, sending a chill down your spine. “My bed’s bigger.”
“No,” you say, remembering a door you cannot reach, no matter how many times you grasp for it, and the god’s hands that sent you spinning. He’s already so capable of turning your home into a prison. You’re not sure you’d ever escape his penthouse. “I want mine.”
Perhaps the most terrible fact of all is that Homelander is neither a god nor a monster.
He is simply a man without limitation.
“Sure,” he says, kissing your cheek. The touch lingers, dripping with his adoration. “Anything you want.”
So long as it includes him.
#homelander x reader#homelander x you#homelander fanfiction#x reader#my writing#yandere x reader#dark fic
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I don't know if you write something like this, but what about reader being Hades lover instead of Persephone like it's supposed to be? I imagine reader is some normal human on our world learning about Greeks Gods but suddenly got isekai'd into the Mythology haha. Imagine the confusion and flabbergasted reader felt by all of this.
Reader try to find a way back to human world but ended up in the forest where all of this started. Trying to avoid Persephone fate of being Hades's lover that eating the underworld food, but of course, Hades wants the reader to eat the food. After all Hades got all the time and reader is starving.
I would love the tension, back and forth of Hades temptation and reader insistent. Thanks!
Okay but what if I take your idea, and I give it a tiny plot twist? Make it just a little bit more horrifying? Okay, okay hear me out, look...
»»———————— ♡ ————————««
Being a human had never been so frustrating.
It was one thing to manage the daily challenges of adulthood, of living on your own and taking care of yourself. Things got tough, and they got fun again; sunrises made you smile, and losing a beloved restaurant to a global issue made your heart somber. For the longest time, you believed having a shitty day at work and then having to go home in the rain because you forgot your umbrella was the worst your life would ever get.
But you were wrong. Very wrong.
Because where there was no life, that's where things became messed up.
"One bite," he pleaded. With the pomegranate juices running down his spindly fingers, the red was almost disturbingly blood-like against the faded color of his skin. "Please. I know you are so hungry."
Pouting your lips, you shook your head, turning and marching onwards through the dark forest of lush yet colorless greenery. It was just a park, Hades had explained, but every time you thought you'd break through the thicket, it expanded further, endlessly like a maze of trees and bushes.
You two had kept up this dance of rejection and chase for a while now, days to be exact. And you were unsure if he knew, but you were hanging on to the last threads of sanity. You felt your knees buckle with resistance every time you rejected yet another offer of fresh food and sweet nectar, your stomach screaming in aghast horror as you kept denying freshly picked fruits and beautifully arranged plates that could sate your hunger. And your head had become so dizzy from the stress and anxiety that you began feeling as if your life was being drained right out of you to feed this place instead.
The Underworld. Resting place of souls.
Occasionally, you had heard about occult stuff like fairy rings or portals to another world. You never thought that accidentally falling into a river would end with you being transported right into the realm of the afterlife! You had cursed at your feet for being so clumsy and easily losing their balance, but at this point, you had no strength left other than to be thankful they still carried you around. You weren't dead yet, but you didn't think you were very much alive either.
"I need to find a way out..." you mumbled to yourself, your mouth feeling dry and your head buzzing with incoherent thoughts. Only determination had gotten you up after passing out so many times. Only knowing you came here somehow, so you must have been able to get back somehow, kept you going. Things were tough, but you were tougher, right?
"There is none," the god of the Underworld mumbled, a tinge of regret breaking through his voice. "You've been here too long. There is no way back from here."
You breathed out, coming to a halt, as did his ghostly appearance behind you. It was colder in his proximity, yet he stayed close as if to comfort you. His body was cloaked in black swivels, yet his face was almost too handsome to look at directly. His hands were visibly gnarly like those of skeletons, yet you knew his touch was soft and his palms big and reliable, able to catch you before you hit your head on the floor from fainting. His hair fell in waves of ebony beauty, and his crown was so intricately woven into it that it made him look humble and whimsical rather than fearsome and ruthless like the stories made him out to be.
There was nothing about him to hate or make you truly distrustful of him. Yet, you still wished he would leave you, just like in the beginning, when he could only stay for a limited time to watch you struggle before returning to his duties. But his time by your side had gradually increased, and perhaps that was the feeling of dread you've been experiencing for a while now.
"Don't you have anywhere else to be?" you asked, too exhausted to sound snarky.
"I cannot leave you like this. It's not your time yet."
"Then let me go! Lead me out of here!"
In a spurt of a moment, you regained enough strength to spin around, yelling at him angrily. You regretted raising your voice as you looked into the flash of hurt crossing his features before the beautiful grimace turned serious again.
"I can't," he said firmly, holding out the pomegranate again. Its fragrance enticed your nose, saliva collecting in your mouth as it promised to be an especially juicy one. "There is nowhere I could lead you but back to the palace. But you wouldn't make the journey unless you eat and drink. You're just human, after all."
It must have been easy for a god to point out your biggest flaw of them all: you were just human.
"Can I go home if I go back to the palace?" you asked, eyeing the pomegranate with disdain even though your teeth demanded to sink into its flesh, chew apart the seeds, and satiate your hunger.
"No," Hades shook his head. "But you could find peace there. Stop the endless roaming of the gardens for an exit that doesn't exist at this point in time."
"You're lying," you concluded finally. "You want me to eat the pomegranate so you can claim my soul for the Underworld. You're telling me there is no exit, but there is, you just don't want me to find it."
Your accusations left a mark on Hades, the brilliance of his eyes dulling as he heaved a deep sigh, letting his head hang before shaking it slowly. "I'm not lying. I'd never lie to you. I have enough souls waiting for me to give them a place here. I don't need to kidnap humans that Thanatos doesn't have on his list. It was an accident. A fatal one at that, but your stubbornness made it irreversible."
"So it's my fault, eh?" you tried to argue, but there was no bite left in your voice. Raising your hand, you dug your finger into the soft flesh of the pomegranate, felt the fruit yielding to your touch without resistance. Hades closed in, eager for you to finally accept his offering.
"You know what they say about Persephone and the pomegranate. How you trapped her, how you forced her to stay here. Tales of you don't make you look so good."
Without looking up, you could only imagine the anger or frustration that must have played on Hades' expression, but he surprised you when he picked up your hand, raised it to his lips, and slipped your pomegranate-stained finger into his mouth. You watched in horrifying fascination as the god licked off the stain on your skin with relish, the brilliance returning to his eyes as you met his gaze, confident, unwavering.
"People have long made up stories about us, but my wife has never been unhappy with me. And my pomegranates are truly delicious, I only wish for you to taste it. I wouldn't lie to you about these things. I promise I will never lie to you. It's not my nature to begin with, and I'm trying to make things better for you, not harder."
You felt the tears well up in your eyes at the sincere words of such an otherworldly creature—one you only believed to be a story that people believed in religiously. You never thought the gods could be real, much less kind and compassionate. But when you popped the first pomegranate seed into your mouth, your whole body collapsing and Hades catching you with one arm, lifting you up to his height with ease, you realized he had been truthful.
The fruit tasted tart but was absolutely delectable. It had a different kind of sweetness than the ones you had eaten on earth, and tears streamed down your face as you scooped a handful of it, greedily stuffing it into your mouth with no regard for its juices. Hades didn't seem to mind either, holding you seated on one arm, with the fruit halves in his other, the pomegranate bigger than what you were used to, yet still small in his hands even when cut open.
You cried and ate, your body rejuvenating yet also releasing all the tension and fear you had clung to. Your vision was blurry with tears, your nose stuffed, and your head so pleased with the taste of pomegranate on your tongue that it didn't think of anything else. You didn't even register that Hades turned around, strutting back towards the dark, looming palace behind the forest that was the gardens stretching out before it. He was in no hurry, yet it took him barely the blink of an eye to return to where you had first woken up.
By the time he reached the palace doors, you were fast asleep with a belly full of pomegranate, and your thoughts turned into pleasant dreams. The shadows of his body were licking at you, caressing you gently and touching you much more comfortingly than his cold hands could. Even so, he never let go of you, content with you on his arm, resting against his shoulder as if he had taken any worries from you, just like he wished to.
"I see you have received my gift."
"My Queen? You are back early."
"I have not returned yet from my duties; I merely wanted to visit my husband and bring him a gift."
Stepping down a few steps to meet Hades on his way to the palace, Persephone smiled at him warmly, cupping his cheek, which he couldn't help but melt into. She ran her thumb across his cheekbone lovingly a few times before her hand slipped from him to your head, brushing back your hair gently and revealing your face to her.
"The gods above are stirring with excitement for their special humans. Apollo has just collected an extraordinary one for himself. I know you care so little for these trends, but knowing you wait down here for me, alone and so lost in your work, you don't see the seasons pass until I return—it breaks my heart. I thought it would cheer you up to have something so precious to pass the time. You can do as you please with them, treat them as you like. They are yours to own."
"You shouldn't have. They are human, Persephone. Being in the Underworld will cause them nothing but suffering."
"Well," she huffed, agitated by her husband's chiding. They have an eternity to get used to it, just like I did. They will be fine. You can teach them to like it and show them how beautiful this realm can be if they behave themselves. Besides, the pomegranate tree bloomed the moment they came here; it must have been a sign."
Passing by her husband on the way out, she winked at him, and he knew fully well that it had not been a coincidence. Neither that you fell into the Underworld years too early, nor that the tree sprouted fruits the second you arrived. Looking down at you, he watched you furrow your brows as Persephone's warm touch vanished, and you nuzzled your head further into his shadows, trying to find just a bit of the same comfort with him that she could give you.
You truly were lovely. So small, so impossibly perfect. Precious, she called you, but of course you were since his wife knew him well. The moment Hades laid eyes on you, he knew he couldn't bear letting you go and wait until you'd inevitably return to his side as the course of life took its sweet time to reunite you two. And thanks to Persephone, he never even had to lie to you to make you eat the pomegranate on your own and so wholly, he would never have to part ways with you again.
"It is a wonderful gift, thank you," Hades admitted. Persephone smiled, laughing heartily as she made her way back to the surface, passing through the park that stretched out in front of her with ease as it let her pass towards the exit. It was her garden, after all. But even as the two separated temporarily, Hades could hear her say, "I can't wait to get to know them when I return, too."
And he couldn't wait to introduce the now two most beloved parts of his existence, either.
#hades#persephone#yandere hades#yandere persephone#yandere!hades#yandere!persephone#yandere gods#yandere!gods#yandere greek mythology#yandere greek gods#yandere#yandere imagines#yandere headcanons#yandere scenarios#yandere fanfiction#yandere writing#yandere stories#yandere oneshots#yandere oneshot#yandere drabble#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#Yandere TW
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anyways im done with this now lol
painting is the worst its inevitably all like. cool idea this looks great this looks great. wait. fucked that up. okay fixed it- no no god fucked it up more? oh god. oh god. wait i can work with this. okay. okay okay okay coming along great. FUCK no wait okay its fine whatever. oh shit i just went over that part i liked. oh well this looka better maybe. okay il exhausted il going to take a break.
*walks away for five seconds* WHY DOES THIS LOOK SO BAD OH GOD NOOOOOO
#final verdict: trees on the left turned out great love the colors overall#wish the values were a but more balanced w the clouds (either more dark all over or less dark)#and maybe if i did this again the composition would be a bit better but oh well#scenery#acrylic#traditional#its so hard to stick with one opinion lol one min i dig it the other i. dont. like why flipflop. god
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Meet Me at the Met
Lewis Hamilton x up-and-coming singer!Reader
Summary: in which you go head over heels (quite literally) during the most important event of the year and end up right at the feet of none other than Sir Lewis Hamilton himself
Warnings: minor injury
The roar of the crowd hits you like a tidal wave as you step onto the iconic themed carpet of the Met Gala. Flashing bulbs from countless cameras nearly blind you as you blink rapidly, trying to adjust. Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel it thrumming in your throat.
“Over here, honey!” A photographer calls out, gesturing for you to turn towards him. You pivot gracefully, the layers of shimmering tulle from your Maison Margiela gown swirling around you.
“Work it! Look this way, sweetheart!” Another shouts, snapping shot after shot.
You take a steadying breath, channeling every ounce of confidence you can muster. This is your first Met Gala, the biggest night of your fledgling music career so far. One misstep could be disastrous.
Your publicist Samantha appears at your side, perfectly put together as always in a sleek sheath dress. “You’re doing great,” she murmurs with an encouraging smile. “Just keep smiling and be yourself.”
Nodding, you continue gliding down the iconic path, pausing at the designated spots to pose for the ravenous paparazzi. An elegant string of Bulgari emeralds adorns your neck, glittering mesmerizingly under the bright lights.
“Miss! To your left please!”
You turn obediently, the intricate beadwork on your deep blue-green gown catching the flashes. Despite the oppressive late spring humidity, you refuse to let a single drop of sweat show. This night is too important.
After what feels like an eternity, a security guard appears to usher you up the final flight of stairs and into the main event. With a brilliant smile plastered on your face, you make your way carefully up the steps, lifting the delicate train of your dress to keep from tripping.
Suddenly, one sparkly heel catches on the fabric and you’re thrown off balance. Unable to catch yourself, you tumble head over heels back down the stairs, gasping in shock and pain as you land hard on the ground.
There’s a collective intake of breath from the crowd as you blink up at the bright lights, thoroughly stunned. Your vision is blurred and there’s a sharp throbbing in your head. When you try to push yourself up, bolts of agony shoot through your right wrist.
“Oh my god, are you alright?” A deep, accented voice sounds from beside you.
You turn your head and your breath catches in your throat. Crouched beside you in an exquisitely tailored double breasted suit and wool coat is arguably the most handsome man on the planet. His beautiful coffee-colored eyes are filled with concern as he reaches out to gently brush a loose strand of hair from your face.
“I … I think so,” you manage to stammer out, though your pounding head begs to differ. “Just clumsy, I guess.”
Despite the sheepish grin you attempt, a wince of pain crosses your features as you shift positions. Lewis’ brow furrows and he places one large hand on your bare shoulder to keep you still.
“Easy there, love. Don’t try to move just yet,” he soothes in that rich baritone that has melted millions of hearts. “You took quite a nasty fall.”
You nod mutely, unable to tear your widened eyes away from his handsome face. This couldn’t be happening … could it? Did you really just faceplant in front of the entire world and, perhaps more importantly, your celebrity crush?
“S-Sorry,” you whisper, utterly mortified. “I’m usually much more graceful than this, I swear.”
Lewis chuckles warmly and you feel your cheeks flush. “No need to apologize, darling. These things happen to the best of us.”
Nearby, Samantha is frantically trying to wave over security and a medic, her expression pinched with worry. You groan quietly as another stab of pain lances through your skull. Definitely a concussion, if your swimming vision is any indication.
“Let’s get you looked at, yeah?” Lewis murmurs, rising fluidly to his feet.
Before you can protest, he slips one arm behind your back and the other under your knees, cradling you gently against his firm chest. You suck in a shocked breath at the sudden movement, instinctively reaching up to grab onto his shoulders for stability. His Burberry suit is buttery soft under your fingers.
“Whoa … y-you really don’t have to carry me,” you stammer out as he easily lifts your frame.
Those rich brown eyes meet yours with an amused glint. “I insist. Can’t have one of the brightest new voices in music getting any more hurt, can we?”
You bite your lip shyly, unable to hold back a small smile of wonderment. Is this really happening right now?
“I’ll be fine, honestly,” you try again as Lewis maneuvers around the gathered crowd, heading for a discreet exit with Samantha close behind. “Just a little banged up.”
“Your wrist is already swelling, love,” he points out with a frown. “Best to get it checked properly, yes?”
“I … yeah, okay,” you acquiesce quietly, not having the energy or brainpower to argue with him further.
The two of you disappear through a door and down a mercifully empty hallway, leaving the stunned crowd and flashing cameras behind. Samantha is rapidly conversing with security to locate the nearest medic station.
“Thank you,” you murmur, letting your head rest wearily against Lewis’ shoulder. Up close, he smells incredible — like crisp bergamot and just a hint of expensive cologne. “For helping me, I mean. I’m sure you had better things to do tonight than playing knight in shining armor.”
Lewis smiles down at you, eyes crinkling in a way that makes your heart flutter unexpectedly. “What a coincidence, I just so happen to be a knight.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, suddenly feeling shy under his warm gaze. “Lucky for me then, I suppose.”
“Indeed,” he agrees with a wink. “Though I can’t take all the credit. That dress is clearly too stunning for us mere mortals to handle.”
A watery giggle slips past your lips before you can stop it. Even slightly concussed and in quite a bit of pain, you can’t deny that foreign flutters are dancing in your stomach just from being in Lewis’ presence. He’s even more charming in person than you ever could have dreamed.
“You’re too kind, Sir Hamilton,” you tease lightly. “But I’ll be sure to leave the couture gowns at home next time.”
Lewis opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by Samantha hurrying over with a young medic in tow, his kit already open. The worried expression on her face deepens when she sees your obviously injured wrist cradled against your chest.
“Thank god you have her,” she exhales in relief, nodding towards Lewis. “What do we know so far?”
“Took a pretty hard fall down those stairs,” Lewis explains calmly as the medic kneels down to begin his assessment. “She was unconscious for a moment and seems to have injured her wrist as well.”
You wince as the medic gently prods along your forearm. “Definitely a sprain at the very least,” he confirms. “And with the way her pupils are reacting ...”
He shines a small light into both your eyes, brow furrowed in concentration. “I’d say mild concussion too. We should get her to the infirmary for further evaluation, just in case.”
Hearing his words, a small wave of panic crashes over you. Missing any part of tonight because of this would be devastating. You force yourself to sit up straighter, ignoring the way the room spins sickeningly.
“No, no I’ll be fi-”
“You’re not going anywhere but to get checked out properly,” Lewis cuts you off firmly, placing a staying hand on your shoulder. His expression brooks no argument. “Head injuries are nothing to mess around with, love.”
You open your mouth to protest again, but Samantha quickly interjects. “He’s absolutely right. We’re not taking any chances with your health.”
As much as you hate to admit it, they do have a point. If your condition really is as serious as the medic suggests, it could be dangerous to simply brush it off. You let out a resigned sigh, wilting back against Lewis’ sturdy chest.
“I suppose you’re ri-”
Before you can finish your sentence, a sudden dizzy spell washes over you. Bile rises in your throat as the room tilts crazily. Your voice trails off into an anguished groan as you squeeze your eyes shut, fighting off waves of nausea.
“Alright, that’s it. We’re getting you looked at immediately,” Lewis declares. He shifts you effortlessly in his arms and strides down the hallway, the medic and Samantha hurrying to keep up.
The rest of the journey to the infirmary is a blur. You’re vaguely aware of being transferred to a gurney and giving the doctor on staff your information. Lewis’ worried face keeps appearing in your line of vision, his voice a soothing balm against the incessant pounding in your skull.
Finally, the doctor confirms that while your concussion isn’t serious, you definitely need to be monitored overnight. A brace is fitted around your sprained wrist and you’re given strict instructions on managing the symptoms over the next few days. Throughout it all, Lewis remains stubbornly by your side, declining offer after offer to return to the main event.
Thoroughly drugged and exhausted by this point, you can barely keep your eyes open as a wheelchair is brought over to transport you out to the car waiting area. Lewis helps you into it carefully, crouching down in front of you with a tender expression.
“I’m so sorry,” you mumble miserably, gesturing vaguely to your bandaged wrist and slightly dazed state. “I’ve completely ruined your whole night … your entrance, your photo ops … everything.”
He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head adamantly. “Don’t be ridiculous, love. I’d take meeting someone as wonderful as you over all of that any day.”
You blink up at him in surprise, an embarrassed blush staining your cheeks. Did he really just say that? Lewis Hamilton, world famous athlete and heartthrob, thinks you’re wonderful?
“Still,” you protest weakly. “This is supposed to be your night to shine. And now you’re stuck playing nurse for a clumsy fool.”
Lewis arches an eyebrow sternly. “I think you’ve bumped your head around a bit too much, darling. That’s no way to speak about yourself.”
He reaches out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear, his calloused fingertips grazing your flushed cheek with unexpected tenderness. Your breath catches in your throat at the gentle gesture.
“Missing out on some silly party is more than worth it to me if I got to meet someone as lovely as you,” Lewis continues honestly. His eyes are filled with sincerity. “The only thing I’m upset about is that you were the one who got hurt.”
You’re rendered speechless for a long moment, completely disarmed by his words. Never in a million years could you have imagined this kind of scenario playing out tonight. Is this all really happening?
Finally, you manage a weak smile, blushing furiously under his warm regard. “You’re too kind, Sir Hamilton.”
“Please, call me Lewis,” he insists with a wink. “And let me know where you’re staying, yeah? I’ll come by tomorrow to check on how you’re doing myself.”
Your eyes widen in surprise and you quickly scramble to recall the name of your hotel. “U-Um, the Lotte New York Palace,” you stammer out shyly. “But you really don’t have to do that ...”
Lewis waves off your protest easily, rising to his feet with a soothing grin. “Nonsense, it’s no trouble at all. I’ll be by with some breakfast to make sure my favorite new artist is being properly taken care of.”
With a final wink and dazzling smile, he steps aside to allow an assistant to wheel you towards the exit. Your head is still swimming, though you can’t blame it entirely on the concussion this time.
Did Lewis Hamilton, actual living legend, really just say he was coming to check on you tomorrow?
You allow yourself a tiny, bewildered smile as the night breeze washes over your heated cheeks. Somehow, despite all the mishaps, this crazy night had turned into something straight out of the kind of romantic comedy you secretly loved.
Perhaps falling on your face in front of the entire world wasn’t so disastrous after all.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#lewis hamilton#lh44#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton fic#lewis hamilton fluff#lewis hamilton fanfic#lewis hamilton blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#lewis hamilton x y/n#mercedes#lewis hamilton one shot#lewis hamilton fanfiction#met gala
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arcane req teehee
any arcane characters you want (women+ please) with a partner that's a little weird/otherworldly. just a bit of a strange person ygwim
“Don't mistake me for the wind when she blows”
Arcane women with a weird/otherworldly partner!!
Pairings: Caitlyn, Jinx, Vi, Sevika
Caitlyn:
-Finds it absolutely adorable.
-With all the shit she has to deal with, being an enforcer and detective, and now practically one of the leaders of Piltover, your strange habits and anecdotes help bring color back into her world.
-Loves coming home from a stressful day of work to find you in your own little world. Her shoulders immediately drop and her face softens, wrapping her arms around you and asking you what you’ve been up to, ready to listen to you go on and on about your strange little adventures.
-Once looked outside her window to see you barefoot with your pants rolled up to your knees, standing ankle-deep in a pond. Eyes closed, face blank and arms crossed just standing there in the water. When she asked you why you were standing dead still in a pond for thirty minutes you just replied “felt stressed” and shrugged your shoulders like it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.
Vi:
-Was a little weirded out at first. She didn’t really understand what you were talking about half the time, and definitely labeled you as an airhead before she got to know you.
-Eventually, she began to slightly match your energy. You say some odd shit like “I wish we were two birds so we could sit on a branch together and sing all day” to which she’d reply “Type shit” and nod in agreement.
-This girl is a WHORE for physical touch, not even sexual touch. Just any contact of your skin on hers. One time you decided to take a nap while she was sitting next to you on the couch, and without saying anything you put your feet on her lap so you could spread out but still be touching her while you slept and she literally melted. Girlie's heart exploded on the spot.
-Loves to join you on little adventures. One time you asked if she wanted to join you in the woods to look for a really good stick. Like one of those big smooth sticks where you see them and go “damn that’s a nice stick”. She obviously said yes on the spot.
Jinx:
-Your twin flame. Absolute soulmates.
-Didn’t question your quirks ONCE. In fact, she almost out-weirds you sometimes. You walked into her hideout to find her attempting to balance a stack of crackers on her forehead while in her underwear once so needless to say you’ve met your match.
-Not super huge on physical affection especially at first, but loves it when you do the thing where you lay on her chest but you crawl inside her hoodie/t-shirt so your basically cuddling while connected to the max.
-You two are never sitting where you should be and everyone else has coined it as “your thing”. Like for example, if you two are hanging out at the last drop you are both sitting on top of the table, rather than in the chairs or on bar stools and everyone just accepts it. You two regularly hang out on the ceiling rafters wherever you are, and If you knew each other before Silco’s death you definitely startled him more than once by doing so. (when he first saw you and Jinx together his first thought was literally “Jesus christ theres two of them”.
Sevika:
-Gonna be totally honest, she thought you were fucking annoying at first.
-Like to be fair she had to deal with Jinx’s antics for years, so when you came along shawty was drained.
-Nonetheless, you captured her heart anyway. She doesn't make fun of you per se, but imagine that one meme that goes “Do you ever think the wind is trying to tell us something we don't know how to hear anymore?” “I just want you to stop saying odd shit”. That's your dynamic. (secretly finds your quirks adorable but would never ever admit it)
-God forbid anyone else say anything even slightly condescending to you, though. She does NOT play about you, you're literally the light of her life, and as much as she gets sick and tired of your habits, she is the ONLY one allowed to feel that way. Has beaten multiple people to a pulp for saying slightly passive-aggressive things to you.
-Despite her slightly detached and no-bullshit personality, you know she loves you no matter what. She may not verbalize it much, but the way she shows you off is enough for you to know. Whenever you're out together she always has an arm around your waist or has you sitting on her thigh. Anything to proudly show off and announce that you're hers and only hers.
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A/N: LOVVVVED THIS REQUEST! As a certified "interesting critter" myself i luv a good weird partner headcanon. Also this was my first time ever writing headcanons so go easy on me TT im still finding my bearings writing for characters lol. constructive criticism always appreciated!!
#jinx x reader#sevika x reader#vi x reader#caitlyn x reader#caitlyn kiramman#arcane#arcane fanfic#arcane headcannons#jinx headcanon#vi headcanons#arcane headcanon#sevika headcanon#caitlyn headcanon#arcane fanfiction#league of legends#arcane x reader#jinx arcane#vi arcane#sevika arcane
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