#help they inhabit my brain

[diehardpaleontologist]

I’m noticing a LOT of people wanting to see my friend draw our dnd characters, so I decided to post the refs I have of them!! I hope y’all like them, I worked very hard :))

(PS: These are from a DND campaign I’m playing with @superxstarzz, they’re a really fun tablemate :33)

[waitineedaname]

a svsss/hlvrai crossover au. is this anything.

[achillean-knight]

I might have a plot idea for your Mask bot series!

-Mike is in the PizzaPlex trying to correct his father's sins (even if he is still stuck in UCN in your AU or not, many people have still been hurt)

-Jeremy manages to make Mike recognize him

-They try to find Jeremy's daughter Cassie cuz Jeremy knows that with the V.A.N.N.I. mask, his daughter's life is in danger

-Find Roxy torn apart (due to the Mimic battle but the may not know that yet)

-Fix Roxy (not really they probably just manage to power her on or something)

-Discover the Tangle

-Discover the Mimic

- Find Cassie (in critical condition mind you)

Aaand that's all I could come up with for now. Of course these are just ideas so you can have your own plot.

Yoyoyo Anon! GODS THANK YOU FOR THE SUGGESTIONS! Especially since it helps me tie together a story I had in mind that was rather loose and just floating ideas in my brain... Also it kinda fits in weirdly well with another Anon ask/request that I'll for SURE get around to doing... eventually HKJH\SGDJ

With these in mind, here's a little story idea with bits from your suggestions with mine that I might eventually get around to making into a comic 👀👀 (Under the cut bc it is LONGGGG like REALLY long lmao)

Mike returns back to the Pizzaplex during the events of Ruin. He worked at the Pizzaplex while it was still running, for what reason? There's not a clue in the world, but he went undercover as a security guard. They say that his mother owns the place, evident by his rank high up, but nobody at all knows who runs the place and how Michael even got a job. But there he was.

He's back again to uncover the reason for it's destruction- to hopefully find answers to unsolved mysteries left by this company and to rewrite the sins of William. He's arrived maybe an hour or so after Cassie entered, so there's no sign of life in the main entrance besides a certain mask bot without the key item in its possession. The events of this comic take place during this time.

Afterward, the mask bot can't seem to let go after finding Mike again- Jeremy couldn't let go- so he tags along as Mike scours the pizzaplex. Jeremy's following along as he knows the programming of the bot he inhabits, gave his daughter a very dangerous item- the V.A.N.N.I mask- So he wants to try and get it off her hands as soon as he can with the help of Mike. How he'll convey his wants on the matter? He can't, but he'll try.

They're quick through the place- Cassie cleared the way, so all enemies are pretty much nonexistent to them, so they catch up quick to where she was recently. They find the MXES system offline and Mike panics, as he knows what's beyond it. (Playing off the theory that it was Henry's creation, Mike would know what it is.)

They find Roxy destroyed, Mike motioned to Jeremy to keep looking and he agrees. Making his way quietly, Jeremy peeks around the corner to see the Mimic's hand grabbing the power supply to the elevator. He hears Cassies voice faintly, possibly in the elevator and freezes in horror as the Mimic rips the wires and the Elevator fails (playing on the theory that the Mimic caused the elevator to fail.), all he can hear is Cassies screaming and he rushes back to Mike.

As he returns back, Mike somehow got Roxy online, but she's still in a completely wrecked state. They take her to the nearest safe zone- one they could think of on the spot to avoid the Mimic and try and fix her up a little more. Awake again, Roxy remembers her duty of protecting Cassie and tasks herself with finding Cassie- Jeremy is pleased with this as he can't convey his own panic- Once she somehow picks up her location, she guides them through twisting turns and flights of staircases until they find a bunker- Mike knows this bunker

They're back at the SL building : > (IDK, where else would the elevator lead lmao, I don't think there's anything lower than the SL bunker 😭)

Mike is familiar with this place but struggles to come to terms with this fact that this was where he was supposed to die- and who does he find than a giant mess of wires and destroyed bodies of past animatronics. He remembers Ennard He remembers Molten Freddy- This was horrifying, huge, and there was a mess of screams and crying inaudible, but he knew the thing was upset. Jeremy recognises the mask the thing it's wearing- it was Lefty, the thing in the VR world that tried to kill him while he was mending Helpy (this AU has Lefty as the head of the Blob/Tangle)

Mike has a feeling he knows what this is. He wasn't the person who attended the burning of the Pizzaria Sim Location, but rather, he helped guide the animatronics with Henry there for whomever was working there at the time, but he was indulged in Henry's plans- And he was mortified to know it only made everything worse- This was an amalgamation of all the children's animatronic bodies- remnant- souls- they were upset, scared, just wanting to move on, and Mike wanted to help so badly.

The thing was kind to them, even Mike for some reason. Roxy begged the thing to guide them to Cassie and it Obliged- the soul that was in the lead wasn't malicious, it was kind, especially to children so it wanted to help. It was kind to Mike- why Mike? He didn't know that the thing guiding them to Cassie was Charlie, she knew Mike- She wanted to help mike and with Cassidy in the amalgamation helping Charlie, she knew Mike was safe after letting his little brothers soul free from Golden Freddy while she inhabited it, so she deemed him good.

They find Cassie, incredibly injured and Jeremy panicked, rushing over and holding her close. Something was wrong though, she wore the mask- they didn't know her mind isn't in control anymore- she has succumbed to a similar fate as Jeremy but he is determined to save her from it.

She will be the next Vanny.

[queerlycarter]

im finally in a place where i have a real & consistent urge to make my life Better. more tolerable. enjoyable

im not just enduring anymore, i want to inhabit my life & my body

there are innumerable factors building up over years that led to this point, but i think a big one is my body's sudden & steep decline. it's led me to seeking relief & having to pay close attention to what my body is doing and how it's feeling, and make conscious choices to make myself more comfortable.

anyways which led to me FINALLY actually deciding that yes. i do want to start hrt. i'm done ignoring my body and im ready to start making it a place i'm happy living in

[magicwhiskers29]

Happy Flora Friday! Here's some drawings for what's been occupying my brain recently! (It's Flora if she was on the Boiling Isles... Extra thoughts under the cut)

Okay! To be clear, this isn't a toh au in the sense that I've dropped Flora in the story of toh, more so just in the world. So why the tracks I picked?

Plant was sort of the obvious one, because of how it lines up well with the whole Golden Apple thing... Additionally, it could be a family thing, with Flora's mother having liked. (Lady Violet/Viola being her name, so...) It also makes her relationship with it later more interesting - she doesn't like having to be the Golden Apple, so having the type of magic that would come most naturally to her be something so intrinsically related to that would push her to study more and want to learn other tracks of magic.

Illusions? It's a good one for her to get into and study herself, and it lines up well with her first appearances in CV. She's running around disguised, following them from the shadows, something which she continues to do, as well, and it's a good magical substitute for that. It just seemed fitting. Vibes, and all that.

Flora would have an interesting relationship with abomination magic too, considering how easy it would be for abominations to act as a substitute for robots. I don't know if I've considered this AU enough to say that St. Mystere is definitely filled with abominations rather than robots (covering that up would be a lot more difficult, though illusion magic is a thing), but it's an interesting comparison that Flora could absolutely make herself. I also think she could be interested in other applications of abomination magic outside of uh, literally just abominations (Think Blight Industries tech kind of stuff) later on. I like the idea of Flora taking an interest in mechanics post-canon, so that fits.

Other points of interest: I think something fun could be Flora's bad cooking skills being replaced with her being bad at potion magic, potentially. I just think her trying to learn that rather than literal cooking and still having it turn out disastrously is a fun idea! More chaotic, too, and kind of funny considering potion track is the one most people without a specific focus on other types of magic are in. (I.E. Eda and Lilith being in it pre-Emperor's Coven tryouts and Hunter pretending to be part of it ASIAS.)

I've had palismen ideas, but none solid enough for an actual design... Oh, and her magic's a reddish colour because I'm a fan of when it matches the character's eye colour, haha. Obviously, this isn't entirely consistent with the show (Amity and Gus's magic matches their track colour, for instance, and other characters sometimes just match their track and eyes like Eda and Willow), but I don't personally feel like green particularly fits Flora, and this is a personal preference thing...

I'll probably come back to this au at some point (hence giving it its own tag) because toh never leaves my brain haha. I'll definitely take asks on the matter too ;)

[lesbegays]

seeing someone talk about their 1st trimester pregnancy fatigue being hard to deal with and having them basically describe my normal everyday experience has been somewhat enlightening

[monster-noises]

I have spoken before on my trouble trying to do the thing where i Show Up to things and... Actually successfully follow through on the next step of Making Connections and a big biiig part of that that i'm going to vomit onto my blog about today is that I just

Mmmm

I simply have No Thoughts and that makes having conversations very! Very hard!

Now this isn't a~silly quirky~ like "No Thoughts Head Empty uwu" thing

What I'm struggling with when i'm trying to talk to people, usually strangers or people I've just met but this can and does stretch to people i've known for y e a r s too,

is that they will say something; express an opinion, tell me about something, give story about their life, you know, the things you have conversations about and in response my brain just Goes Silent.

and it's not that I'm not listening, I'm actually really good at the Listening part of having a conversation, but if the person I'm trying to talk to does not go off on some long diatribe or ask me a very specific question to formulate a response around...

it's radio static! it's a soft and thoughtless buzz maybe sometimes permeated by a vague feeling associated with what they were saying that, really, forms no basis for a response beyond basic platitudes.

I'd Love to say that like "Well actually I Do have thoughts but I'm so anxious about embarrassing myself I just can't voice them" but I dunno! because if it's that I probably wouldn't be writing this post because That's something I can Work On. I know what to do with something like That. This isn't!!!! That Though!! Experiencing this in real time in a conversation doesn't Feel like my other experiences with anxiety and nervousness, where I feel like physically held back or barricade from participating in the way I Want to. The thoughts would be there I just wouldn't be able to Voice them.

But there Are No Thoughts. It's a cold and silent wind blowing over a dark and dusty barren field, it's white noise static on a screen occasionally permeated with enough of an emotional reaction and recognition that I have to do Something to generate.. generic platitudes that don't really go anywhere.. (Though sometimes, Sometimes, like 10-20 minutes later, when I'm on my own again and Ruminating on fumbling Yet Another attempt to Participate and reach out, I'll be able to think of good engaging and charismatic responses I Could have used. Perhaps suggesting this Is a very extreme form of this anxiety where the nerves are screaming So loud it drowns out all else, which would explain why I can kinda get over this when having text conversations it just takes me about Ten Million Years to formulate a response.) And that's like... what the hell do I Do... about that. ? All the solutions I can come up with involve... having had thoughts. Which doesn't really help because again, it's not having thoughts but struggling to translate or release them, there is nothing there to release. Just silence, just static, vacant gaping hole where my brain should be.

I had a good chance to maybe form some connections with local comics artists via a zine fest today at the library but I was in and out in like ten minutes maybe less because I 1) only had like 20 bucks and that wasn't enough and I have Other Issues dealing with standing at someones table and then not buying anything, it makes me Feel Bad. and 2) Just could not hold a conversation to save my life! There were at least a few people there that I did stop buy a little bit I would have loved to have longer talks with and we'd probably hit it off but my brain blanked out and I nodded politely as they told me what was on there table, sweated a little bit in silence, bought something quickly and then ran away!! like!

Fuck man! I know I'm more of a person than that inside! but it sometimes it really doesn't feel like it! sometimes it really feels like I'm an animated husk with ideas above his station just kinda wandering around and sometimes stumbling into things sideways enough people think I'm a complete person! With this zine fest at least I know it's a local thing so I can try a different strategy of just Being There Physically often enough that people start to recognize me even if I don't say much which will ease the tension I guess?? Still strangers but not Complete strangers you know? For anything else though Idk what I'm going to do...

[galactic-rhea]

This keeps being relevant since I have a test and a presentation tomorrow, and I'm just thinking about how would be Vader's health issues related to the loss of midichlorians

100% accurate depiction of myself attempting to finish homework

[minglana]

im gonna fucking kill myself WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY do i keep failing these fucking exams!!!! i fucking study for them thats the worst part! i study for them and i fail and oh my god. cuarta puta matricula para otra puta asignatura es que what even is the meaning of my fucking life. i feel like im going insanse like im stuck in the same fucking place every single fucking year and i just. cannot fucking escape from these basic ass classes that i keep fucking failing!!!!!!!!

[malusdraco]

something something birdy the mighty something venom something ultraman

[tswhiisftteedr]

Wings ☆ Drabble/Really Short One Shot

☆ Adam x Wingless Angel!Fem!Reader :

They were just so pretty, you couldn’t help but touch your boyfriend’s beautiful golden wings. And hey, what was the worst that could happen’ probably nothing too bad, right?

Warnings: Mature Content, Explicit/Graphic Language, Praise & Degradation, Adam is a bit condescending and forceful, but hey, it’s Adam we’re talking about. Oral Sex(Female Receiving), Penetrative Sex, First Time As A Couple. NOT PROOFREAD.

Words: 2330

Ask: Hi! ^^ Omg I saw that your requests are open!! I have one for Adam from Hazbin Hotel. I have a headcanon that his wings are very very sensitive and when you touch them it drives him crazy. Could you please do a Nsfw/ smut headcanon, or scenario with him and his female S/O just hanging out, him eating and she gets curious and touches softly them (not knowing what the affect it)? I hope you have a beautiful day!

Note: Of course!! And thank you, hope you also have a beautiful day/night!! Thanks for the request, right now I’m going to work on my others lol. Hope you like what I wrote!!

☆ more under the cut. ☆

Ever since your ascent to Heaven post-mortem, a sense of exclusion lingered in your heart. Unlike most heavenly beings with wings, you were one of the few soul that lack that part of the brand new heavenly anatomy. While everyone in Heaven remained kind and courteous, the infrastructure, were obvious designed for winged inhabitants. That posed you quite the challenges, especially when you where in need of transportation— the lack of automobiles was your greatest nemesis in the afterlife, as everyone effortlessly soared using their wings they didn’t need them.

Despite a subtle feeling of inferiority, your fascination with wings endured. Their majestic allure captivated you, and the desire to experience the softness of the beautiful contraptions persisted. ‘You just had to feel them!’

And you were determined to do so today, as you had received an invitation from Adam to come over.

Currently, you find yourself enjoying takeout on the expansive balcony of his penthouse. It was nice scenery, a comfy outdoor couch with a coffee table full of food.

As he rambled about his day, you nodded along, your attention solely fixed on the captivating golden wings adorning his sides and back. Sneakily inching closer to him, captivated by their beauty. “—Anyways that chick had a huge rack,” He pauses to take a bite of his burger, “So I guessed even Karen ass bitches can be hot.” he finishes with gulp.

Then you finally had a hold of them, ‘his marvellous wings!’ You were engrossed at their exquisite softness, surpassing any feathers from animals you had ever touched. Lost in the delicate material for about a solid five minutes, it had than dawned on you that Adam had stopped talking. Looking back up at him, you notice he had dropped his burger on the table. Then when you glanced at his face, you noted that he looked ‘different’, if you had to describe it, his face almost looked feverish.

In a blink, you were flipped onto your back and hit the couch cushions, then one of Adam's hands pinned both of your hands above your head.

“Fuuuck, babe! You don't need to get so handsy just because your jealous, you could've just fucking said so instead of acting a little tease, feelin’ me up and all.” He informs you while staring down at your perplexed expression, because, while Adam talked dirty in general, you had  no idea  what  you had done to be a tease in this particular  situation.

While that question spun in your head, Adam moved closer to your ear, his words jolting you out of your thoughts.

“if you were feeling needy, you just had to speak up. You know I would never leave my girl hanging, especially if getting her little brains fuck out is what she wants.” His voice low, full of desire and malice. He then playfully nip at your ear, ‘now who was the tease again?’

“Wait what�� Um, Adam, where is all this coming from?!” You speak up, clearly nervous as a result of your boyfriend's statements and how close your bodies were together.

“The fuck you mean? You started this shit.” He begins, slowly sliding his free hand up your thigh. “Getting in my personal space, touching my wings to get me riled up, are you really gonna play the clueless card now you slutty little thing.” His hand now reaching under you shirt. “Think you can mess with me and just act like nothing happened, huh?” He says as he fondles with one of your breast.

“What do mean get you riled up, I barely touch you!?” You speak out anxiously; this was going far beyond anything you had done before. You two would kiss passionately at most, never doing anything remotely close to, 'well this!' It was strange; he almost acted like he did when he was mad, but this was somewhat different.

"Bold lie for an angel, like you wouldn't know— Oh, riiiight, you don't have wings." It had now dawned on him that you were utterly clueless of the affects the soft petting you gave to his wings had on him, and how depraved it made him feel.

"Yeah. I am not sure what I did to you when I touched your wings, but let me make one thing clear: it was unintentional. Seriously, they seemed soft, and I wanted to know how nice they were to the touch. So I'm sorry for making you mad; I should have asked before touching them.” You explain.

"Aww babes, don't worry, you didn't make me mad, and I'll tot's forgive you,"

You briefly relax as he speaks, well that is, until he opens his mouth again.

"Yeah I'll definitely forgive you if take care of my raging hard on for me'." He emphasised his words by grinding himself against you, making you feel his erection, and oh boy! Was he big; his self-appointed title of 'dickmaster' didn't seem so baseless anymore.

Your heart races faster as you feel a wave of panic wash over you. Despite his words, you couldn’t help but feel anxious about the situation. It was a big milestone to you, ‘the first time the two of you would have intercourse’.

You squirmed slightly, attempting to break free from his hold due to nerves but soon realize it was futile with him pinning your hands above your head. "I... I'm not sure that—," you started to say, but before you could finish, he cut you off.

"Shut up and enjoy the ride, babes." He growled softly, taking advantage of your momentary hesitation to quickly roughly kiss your lips. His tongue thrusts aggressively into your mouth, demanding entry while his other hand continues cupping your breast, squeezing and groping roughly. His erection presses harder against your thigh, digging into your sensitive flesh.

Despite your initial protests and confusion, you can't deny the familiar thrill coursing through your veins. You knew better, yet you still arch into his touch, moaning softly against his rough treatment.

As a warning to quit your shifting around, Adam's grip tightens around your wrists, almost painfully so, causing you to whimper in discomfort mixed with arousal.

And when he finally breaks the kiss, his breathing is heavy and labored.

"You like it, don't you?" He asked, his voice low with desire. His hips rock back and forth, grinding against you harder, making sure you felt every inch of his member. "Admit it, Y/N."

"A-adam, please... I—," you pleaded while being out of breath, but your words were cut off by another deep kiss. His tongue forced its way past your lips, exploring your mouth hungrily yet his hand didn't stop its manhandling of your chest. Meanwhile, his cock throbbed painfully against your thigh, leaving a trail of precum on your clothes.

The sensation was too much for you to handle; despite your original nervousness, the thoughts of messing up or not being enough had dissipated, and you couldn't bring yourself to refuse him anymore. You wanted him and he was totally into you.

Plus your body responded to his touch in ways you didn’t expect it to, it was incredibly in tune with his wants. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as he continued his assault on both your body and mind.

Suddenly, Adam pulled away, his breathing heavy and short. "Good girl," he praised, his tone laced with satisfaction. "Now, spread those legs for me."

While being aroused, you still reluctantly spread your legs wide apart, letting him take off your shorts and exposing your wet panties. "Please, Adam," you whimpered, unable to resist his advances any longer.

With a growl of lust, he ripped off your remaining clothes, revealing your naked body to him. His eyes devoured every inch of you—your stomach, to your hips and obviously your beautiful pussy. Without further ado, he leaned forward, his mouth descending upon your navel, tracing slow, hot lines with his tongue before moving lower still. "Mmmm, you smell so fucking good toots," he murmured against your sensitive flesh.

His hands trailed downwards too, cupping your thighs in his palms, squeezing and kneading them. Soon switching to one free hand and one holding down your legs, inching his face to your then and lapping at your heat.

“Adam, what in the heavens are you doing!?"

“Uh, trying to eating you out, pretty obvious babes”

"Yeah, I get that, but like, why?? You always complain about 'bitches being annoying for demanding you go down on them.' when you mentioned passed relationships"

"Oh yeah, I did say that lmao. Honestly, I just feel like it. You look so pathetically adorable; I couldn’t help myself."

“Did— did you just lmao out loud?”

“Do you want me to stop eating you out with all your interruptions.” He threatens.

"No! I mean, I'm alright. Please continue."

"That’s what I thought too, babes," he grinned around your wet folds, sucking and licking at your sensitive spots. His tongue traced along your cunt, flicking against your clit before returning to tease your entrance again.

You moaned softly, your hands grasping tightly onto Adam's horns as he continued to pleasure you. You arched into him, letting out a soft whimper when his long tongue brushed against your G-spot. "Mmmhmmm... More please..." you managed to mutter between heavy breaths.

He chuckled lightly against your sensitive flesh before pulling away slightly. "Alright, alright." With renewed vigor, he returned to his task with even more enthusiasm, sucking harder and faster on your clit while his fingers teased her opening. He could feel your wetness increasing rapidly, seeping down onto his hand.

Your body trembled and shook in response to the intense sensations assaulting every inch of your being; you were close now—very close. Your breathing became increasingly shallow as she fought the impending orgasm building up inside of her. Then finally you reached sweet climax.

Adam momentarily let go of you to undress himself, now cock in hand."Tell me you want it," he demanded between kisses to neck, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.

"I... I do," you managed to choke out, your voice barely audible above your heavy breathing.

"That's my girl," he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. Without warning, he thrust his cock deep inside you, filling you completely. A sharp cry escaped your lips as the unfamiliar yet familiar feeling washed over you. His thrusts were fast and hard, pounding into you relentlessly. Each powerful stroke brought forth a moan from your throat, mixing with his growls of pleasure.

Your body adjusted quickly to his size, accommodating him easily despite initial discomfort. You arched your back against him, meeting his rhythmic thrusts. The sensation was unlike anything you've ever experienced before—it hurt, but in the best possible way. Your chest bounced with each powerful thrust.

As Adam continued to ravish you, his fingers found their way between your legs, rubbing and massaging your sensitive folds. He teased and tormented your clit mercilessly, causing waves of intense pleasure to ripple through your core. After staring at your lower half for a minute, “I should totally get my name tatted on you, like a crotch tattoo or some shit.” he tells you in his usual goofy tone, yet the look behind his eyes seem to say that he wasn’t completely joking. You on the other could only cry out his name between ragged breaths, begging for more.

“That's it, you filthy little whore," he murmured between labored breaths. "Tell me how much you love this, slut." His pace picked up even more, slamming into you harder and faster than before. Your moans echoed around the room as he relentlessly claimed your body.

In response to his demand, you managed to choke out, "I... I love it!" Your voice cracking with desire, filled with honesty despite yourself.

"Good girl." He growled, picking up speed. His hips slammed against yours in a brutal rhythm that left you gasping for air. His fingers continued their relentless assault on your sensitive spots, driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. As a reflex you grabbed at his back, well in this case, his wings.

And that action fucked with him so bad. So Adam bit down hard on your neck, leaving a mark that would later turn into a pretty obvious hickey. Blood trickled down your skin, but it only served to heighten your arousal. "Cum for me, babe," he groaned, his voice hoarse with lust. "Let go, don’t think too hard about it"

You were close, so close to the brink of orgasm. The constant barrage of stimulation was too much for your body to handle, and you couldn't hold back anymore. "A-Adam... I'm..."

"That's it, baby," he encouraged you, his words thick with desire. He increased the pace even more, pounding into you relentlessly.

With a loud cry, you release around him, your pussy contracting tightly around his cock as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over you. Your entire body shook with the force of your climax, and sweat trickled down your body, mixing with his saliva and cum.

Adam groaned in satisfaction, following suit moments later, filling you up with his hot seed. Panting heavily, he lifted his head to stare into your eyes, his gaze filled with lust and satisfaction. "That was fucking amazing, shit, that’s why your my fav."

After momentarily going inside to get cleaned up, you had returned to the balcony.

“Shit my burger is cold!” Adam bitches.

“Well what did you expect it was left on a table while being outdoors— Oh, shit, did someone-?” You begin, than the realization of the what just happened hits Locke a truck.

“-Hear us? Yeah most likely, but doesn’t really matter, they won’t do shit about it, well probably.” He says followed by a laugh.

Sometimes you wondered why you were dating someone so irresponsible, but after today, you did have another bullet point to add to your pros list. ‘The dick was good’

Thanks @starlightfire97 for requesting!

©tswhiisfttedr. dn translate, or plagiarize.

Tip Me (Ko-Fi) & And support my art account @maviscarlettie

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Tag list for Adam: @sunflower-lilly @moonbloom226

Reblogs help!!! (Request Are On Pause)

[k9wa]

⟁ 7:14 PM ft BOOTHILL.

⠀ — braiding his hair bc my brain is rotting and i miss him.

⚠︎ fluff, thats really it, mechanic!reader but its not really relevant, suggestive if you squint and cover one eye and hang upside down. gn reader, wc 860.

boothill's head was lulled back between a pair of soft, comfy thighs, eyes a content and lazy half lidded as he felt some familiar calloused and precise fingers detangling little pieces of his hair. the sun was almost down past the horizon, and the last few warm rays peeking out left the room hued a gentle orange colour, its two inhabitants bathing in it.. 

he felt a slight tug here and there as you worked your magic, taking the knots out of those long white locks with patient fingers.

“you have such pretty hair.”

you mused quietly, combing out another strand with your nails. boothill's lips tugged up lightly in a gentle smirk— a hint of pride washing over him. he was a bigger sucker for praise than he’d ever admit.

“well, it’s gotta look good if it’s gonna match th’rest of me.” he drawled, voice a low rumble filled with a certain ease that rarely surfaced— well, rarely with others, anyway. he received a playful tug of his hair in response.boothill leaned back a bit more, trying to catch a glimpse of your endearing focussed expression.

he was slowly melting against your deft fingertips, silently whirring internals mimicking the quiet purr of a cat as you twirled a piece around your finger. 

“can i braid it?” you asked simply, already sectioning out a few strands at the top. 

“do whatever you want, sugar.” he granted with a little shrug, smirk still playing on his lips. “reckon a braid’ll help keep it from flyin’ into my eyes so much.”

he felt the rhythmic crossing of each strand as you began to braid, every brush of your nails against his scalp sending a pleasant shiver right through his wires.

“y’know,” he opened, voice still that gravely tone you could never get enough of. “ain’t nobody else i’d sit still for like this.” he admitted, brashness taking a backseat to give way to a tenderness reserved for one person only.

“yeah?” you smiled a bit, continuing to braid. “just for me, huh?”

boothill couldn’t help but let out a scruff, throaty chuckle, vibrations running through his chest.“just for you, darlin’.” he echoed.

 “you’ve got a magic touch, i s’ppose,” his eyes shut briefly. “could get used to this.”

the melodic and methodic movements of your fingers were earnestly making him drowsy, a soothing lullaby that laced and weaved around him in the same patterns as his hair. 

“like being pampered?” you teased playfully, earning a chuckle from him.

“you just got a way of makin’ a man feel real special. that’s all.”

your fingers kept slowly crossing and twisting strands.

“you should let me curl it some day,” you suggested, amusing yourself with the thought of him dawning a bunch of puffy ringlets. “you’d look like ‘genti.”

boothill's low laughter echoed quietly in the room, a deep sound that harmonised with your own. 

“now that’d be somethin’ to see,” he admitted with a playful scoff. “ol’ boothill with curls bouncin’ around like some dandy.”

he shook his head as he pictured it, and you had to flick his cheek to remind him to look straight.

“i'd sport some curls if it meant i get to see you smilin’.”

you smiled fondly at that, taking a small hair tie and wrapping it around the tail of his braid.

“you’re sweeter than you let on.” you reached around to fix his bangs a little bit. 

“there.” you tilted his head up a bit to look at him, feigning shock. “well, ain’t you pretty?”

hearing his own southern drawl echoed back to him made the cowboy snort. “ain’t i just the belle of the ball now?”

boothill's hand instinctively reached back to feel your handiwork, prosthetic fingers tracing along the weaves of his hair.

“mighty fine job, sugar plum.” he commended, turning around to face you on his knees, hands sliding up your thighs until they met behind your back in a careful hug around your waist. he looked up at you— really looked at you, that mushy softness in him pushing out through the cracks you always left in his defences. 

“thanks, darlin’.” he said quietly, those red cruciform pupils locked in on your own. “means more’en you might know, you spendin’ your time fussin’ over me like this.”

the cyborg’s head fell comfortably down in your lsp, nuzzling into you.

“i think fussing over you is a full time job,” you teased lightly, a smile evident in your voice. “not that i mind.”

one of your hands traced the mechanical connections of his arm, all the way up until your fingers gave a gentle brush to his cheek.

boothill let out a breathy chuckle, some air fanning across your tummy. his fingers, a soothing and smooth cool metal, traced little shapes along your lower back.

“well, i reckon i oughta start payin’ you overtime for such dedication.” he quipped quietly, demeanour playful yet earnest as always.

“paying me to start might be better.” you gave a playful pinch to his cheek.  

“i got a few ideas for how i can pay ya,” he teased back, giving a little nip to your thigh.

⠀ MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[satoruhour]

gojo nuttin in you and plugging you up!!!!

a/n: request: “I’m sure you’ve probably done something about it but the way that the idea of gojo coming in you and pulling your panties up after is so IRBDJEHDBEBSBNS makes my brain numb no thoughts off the walls feral” + so im combining these two! uhm. horny devil took over me while writing

warnings: fem!reader, reader is deep in sub-space, semi-public sex, multiple rounds, pet names, calls you ‘slut’, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, lots of cum, n*sfw under the cut

no one really knew where this breeding kink of gojo had come around, not when he was the student talking about how annoying kids were and then got blessed with megumi and tsumiki.

he’d like to think that it wasn’t because he wanted to see little yous and hims running around the house. sure, it definitely was in his future plan, but with everything going on it would be too chaotic, so he’s willing to wait. it unveils itself to him one night after cumming deep in you; it related more to his possessiveness over you—

it rings true when he’s got you riding him in his office chair, the pleasure of his cock deep in you overtaking the discomfort in your thighs. you’ve been holding back for the longest time in the meeting with the higher-ups and the other sorcerers, unable to stop your glances toward your boyfriend while they talked of another emerging curse user.

you jumped him as soon as the meeting was over.

“f . . fuck, baby,” gojo’s breathless as he says it, a thumb to your clit and drawing languid circles. it only prompts your pussy to clench around him and your head falls down to your connected bodies. “hear how sloppy your fuckin’ cunt is, sweets.”

you can both hear and see it, see the drag of your pussy along his length and the pleasurable stretch of your walls around him. your hands go around his neck to play with his hair, messing with the abandoned blindfold resting along his clavicle.

“were you this wet for m-me, for the whole meeting?”

your scrunched up eyes struggle to open as you meet his blue ones, a choked yeah leaves your lips as you continue to bounce on him. there’s sweat lining both your bodies from the clothes still inhabiting your persons, slowly getting soiled from your juices, too.

“oh, baby, you know i would’ve dropped everything to fuck you then and there—” satoru grits his teeth when you tighten around him again and you moan out loud at the words he says. you’re not even sure whether you came, thighs shaking from your mini orgasm that you limp forward into your boyfriend’s arms.

gojo coos into your hair, doing the work now as he fucks into your spent body. the slap of his balls against your ass is obscene, whining into your ears before he starts to rut in short little thrusts again. “cumming— cu—”

gojo’s eyes squeeze shut, hiding his forehead in your neck as he spills deep in you. a deep groan reverberates from his throat, feeling his cum feel you up spurt after spurt and you’re the same, mewling softly beside his ear that only gets him hard again.

“that’s right, take all my cum, baby.” gojo mumbles, drunk on the feel of your pussy before he remembers he has a class to get to.

“you gonna keep my cum in you?” he asks breathlessly, a little softer than he expected to. but his heart soars when you nod obediently, letting him help you put your other leg into your panties. his cum still threatens to spill out, but it’s still better with the fabric barrier.

gojo is disgusting like that, “i’ll see you at home, alright?” he taps your butt playfully, landing a sloppy kiss to your lips and indulges you with a few more pecks.

that one feeling hasn’t left him since the afternoon, determined to pump you full again that he couldn’t even conduct a class properly. all he wanted to do was to rush back to you, with a sweet reward granted to him.

you were so dazed from his cock that you decided it wouldn’t hurt to put on your favourite set under your clothes, tending to your own errands as you wait for your boyfriend to return. so when you’re welcoming him with more touches than usual and a sultry voice to match, he knows he wasn’t the only one with that creampie on his mind.

you aren’t sure what round you’re on by now, pussy feeling so slick and full from how much he’s cummed in you that your mind is fuzzy and muddled.

“like it when i breed you, hm?” he slams into you from above, bed creaking from just how rough he was being. he’s got your body pressed deep into the sheets and your ass up and as usual, he’s got your back arching uncomfortably.

“y— yeah, yeah, s’much, ’toru!” you whine into your hands, feeling your orgasm approach again as you feel like you’re driven to your limit everytime and yet you come back for more. gojo is quick to cum again, cock stilling in you as he pumps you yet again and the sight is so messy.

your ass and pussy is painted with white and gojo grins seeing your hole push out his seed. he purses his lips, scooping up his cum and pushing it back in. and then he’s got you on him again, thrusting into you from below. the strings of his cum stick to your pelvis, paired with your cum pooling at the base of his cock. it’s so sticky and lewd, the squelching sounds of pussy.

“can never get e-enough, of pumping you full, princess.” you groan into thin air, juices spraying everywhere from the sheer amount of it.

“love it— wan’ more, pleasepleaseplease.” you’re out of your mind, driven into oblivion and you think that this truly was your limit, sobbing out your lover’s name when he starts to rub circles along your clit and you’re squirting, hips bucking away from the overstimulation and you grab onto his forearms like a vice.

“good little slut . . mh, squirting all over my cock— s-shit—” you’re cumming so much he can feel it on his thighs, soaking his skin and sheets. the grip you have on his cock is insane, making him so difficult to move that he grunts and stammers, pelvis faltering with a twitch to his dick.

“going to— give you another load, baby.” he mumbles breathlessly, giving one last deep thrust that has your eyes rolling back into your skull and body trembling and you’re so deep into sub-space that you just let him manhandle you roughly. satoru’s hips snap up into you impatiently before he’s cumming deep again, mind turned into mush once ropes and ropes of cum is pushed into your womb. you feel so full, so dumbed down that you don’t notice him scrambling for something in the bedside table.

“got your slutty pussy somethin’,” he whispers. the first pull out of gojo’s cock is gross, a translucent sheen of white covering his shaft from how much he’s cummed in you before he removes himself completely. you gasp at the emptiness, sinking behind into his embrace before you feel full again.

a cute little toy takes the place of his cock, a baby blue plug that is stuffed deep in you and possessiveness is starting to turn into wanting to get you knocked up. gojo isn’t sure any more.

your boyfriend prompts you to look down, caressing your thighs as he hums into your ears and you shiver lightly.

“need you to keep every last drop — can you do that, baby?” you feel him smile against your lips when you turn your head to kiss him, an affirmative response muttered against his lips together with a confession.

tagging @hyomagiri @jabamin @shotorus @satohruu :3

[hughmanbean]

A Wedding to Remember

Credit to @i-am-not-acting for this idea from a comment on one of my other posts. I had a major brain functionTM.

Ellie does her wandering, and comes across a beautiful Lady by the name of Gotham. The two of them hit it off, dating, and eventually, getting married. But a week before the big day, Lady Gotham has a flash of panic. She forgot to invite her Knights and Rogues! Ellie, of course, consoles her, saying she'll help her do it. Fright Knight tags along, saying it's only fair that he welcome his fellow protectors and loyal servants into the Royal Family.

And so begins a week long jumble of either Fright Knight, Ellie, or Lady Gotham giving invites to the various vigilantes and rogues within Gotham.

Mostly these are letters, inviting them to come and witness a union that will forever impact and strengthen Gotham's standing universally. Something will change Gotham as we know it, forever. Everyone who shall see will be audience to the greatest joys one could know.

Ellie is the pseudo daughter of the Reluctant King, after all. There will be a huge party, like, absolutely massive. And Lady Gotham's Joy will ripple throughout her inhabitants.

These letters, obviously, do not ease any worries. They very much compound them. Now, how any of our batfam or rogues recieve these letters is up to you, or it could be a personalized invitation! But from the beginning of the week to the day of the wedding, it's either outright chaos or paranoia setting in.

may add more later.

[eldrith]

ғʀᴏᴍ ᴇᴅᴇɴ ; ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ.

ʜᴏɴᴇʏ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ғᴀᴍɪʟɪᴀʀ ; ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍʏ ᴍɪʀʀᴏʀ ʏᴇᴀʀs ᴀɢᴏ

jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader words: 3.1k synopsis: jacaerys falls for a woman in aegon's garden. notes: happy haunting season! here's part one (more of an introduction or prologue) to my october mini-series! a little horror love-letter from me to youse <3 so many thanks to my beautiful sweet brains @useralba & @dipperscavern ... dippy fetched my header for me & they basically co-wrote this whole concept. chapter warnings: this is The Most Normal™️ part out of the whole series so not much. canon-typical mentions of death/grief, but jace is thugging it out. morally gray jacaerys (& reader) throughout the story, though hes p normal in this. series masterlist. main masterlist.

A SHARP ACHE PIERCES JACAERYS’S MIND. 

It has lingered, ebbing and flowing in the corner of his vision since the news came by raven this afternoon; whispers of fury, nostrils flared around the Painted Table as gasps of shuddered grief echoed in the dusting quiet. A gust of sharp wind blows his curls from his temple, his lips wettened and chilled by the cold of eve. 

Soil turns soft underfoot as Jacaerys stalks down a trail less frequented; the Outer Bailey of Dragonstone Castle is thick with land, and yet rather sparse in people - most of whom are within tubs. Or, more likely, tending to those within the tubs - though tonight, as much as it can be afforded, he wishes not to not remain within those suffocating walls.

Walls which still echo, in the slumbering quiet when candles are all snuffed and guards repose drearily against stone, with laughter and footsteps of his kin; walls which whisper of doves, wings clipped and soiled by blood of innocent, by hatred stale and harbored.

Walls which used to hold his family - which now cage the fragmented remainder of such a thing; of tense jaws and eyes that cannot help but glaze over each other in pursuit of some long predetermined destiny. 

He sniffs against the chill of the evening, rather disturbed by the beauty, raw and wild, of the island - steep cliffs clumped by wildgrass and staggering up into sharp black slates, which yawn high into the sky; the Mont, steeping with heat and nesting ancient beasts within its belly.

And the garden, just ahead - a primordial thing, once shining and primed by the glory of a beautiful empire. When he'd stormed from the council room, he'd been rather dead-set upon the garden - if only in a bout of frustration lingering in the denial of his mother, yet projected as a sharp mind ache that laid somewhere in the bowels of Aegon's Garden. Searching for a figure, one that likely exists in only his imagination - the one he's seen through bleary eyes of his chamber window, dancing through leaves and past faces of stone; their presence a low hum in the back of his mind that pierces and grates against his resolve.

The castle’s hearths burn low now after supper, and the eve falls dreary upon quiet ocean-misted moors. His footsteps drag untenanted, burdened by the weight of some distant crown as he clenches tight to his pommel. 

Those empty feet had indeed carried him all the way down from the tower; past guards and faces familiar, as though his mind was tethered to a memory, a shadow flickered in the distance of his chamber window.

The cliffs are black in the fall of night, the walls of the keep warm but crumbling in the lower Baileys. The Sept - a rather forgotten relic these days - has a soft glow from within; though through the thickening fog, Jacaerys wonders if the figures he sees within are truly there. 

Silent Sisters, his mind whispers, though there is no body reclaimed for them to prepare. She lies with the Red Queen still; a war without bodies, though he fights the thought from festering - no bones to wrap, no flesh to burn. Only names, which will die on the tongues of those who are too agonized, too vengeful to mourn.  

The trail is unkempt; it is not often the inhabitants of the island come to the Garden, less so now that looming war plagues the realms. Death grasps Dragonstone Castle in its implacable grip these days; and anger, that hungry beast that bites at the tail of revenge - it ravages his house. 

He has known since the very first moon they came to Dragonstone, all that time ago - in the earlier years; Luke, Joff, and himself - stumbling over hilts longer than their legs, watching the spiraling towers of Dragonstone become swallowed by thick clouds. And there had been Maester Gerardys, in the first of many lessons to come round the table, tone imbued with something rather distant, gaze fixed upon the window. 

Even now, years later, Jacaerys knows that the ground he walks is tainted - the Dragonmont looms, its acidic breaths falling in years over toppling years, watching Dragon Kings rise and leave for their birthright; and yet still it remains, sprinkling its volcanic acids to leech into the earth below.

The soil the castle was built upon is imbued with the very acid that grows beneath the island’s crust - and from it, the plants in Aegon’s Garden now grow unruly, unbidden; No longer tended to by hands familiarized with their needs. 

The soil is rich, Maester Gerardys had looked out the sharp window in the drum, eyes weathered as the skies. But even when the Conqueror landed, it was unfit for nurturing life. We eat not from the fruit which grows from this side of the island. The blooms stay within their home, and return with each cycle of life back into the ground. 

Evening fog swallows the burst of trees on the other side of the Thorned Dragon; it twists into the sky high enough that Jacaerys can see the horns through the iron gates to the garden. Fresh sprouts crawl out of the earth from under the wall, curled with the kiss of frost which visits each evening and thawed by the island's sun come each morning. Life into death.

The circle turns. 

The gates to the garden are marred with the same rust that crawls up the chains lining the Western Docks; Jacaerys grasps the cold metal and pushes through with surprising ease. 

A creak of groaning metal. Trees are gnarled; they twist and wind down the path that he walks, his mind lingering up in the thick clouds - a faint gust sends the scent of smoke through his nose. 

Dragonfire. 

A clench within his chest; the falling of the Queen Who Never Was echoes in his mind, the fluttering of raven’s wings, the whisper in a chamber much too empty for all the people who occupied it - and a suppression of the stab of loss which threatens to crawl out his throat. 

The garden is bright, despite the falling daylight. It bursts with untamed indigenous flora, thick with the air of blossoms - roses, red and thorned; bark, dampened upon twisted trees older than his mother’s mother, rough under his palms. Stoned statues loom with twisted grins in the half-light, some relic of his ancestors which turn now to mock him in his solitary march.  

Jacaerys’s breath comes out in a puff of fogged chill - the evening brings a cool seabreeze, although his heart has always beat rather warm.

 A gentle caress seems to bring forth a curling smile from a bushel of red anemone blossoms as he passes - a twitch of a grin upon his own lips though the lingering feeling of walking deeper into a shadow looms within his mind. 

Any semblance of peace is disrupted at the slither of fabric around a lingering statue of a melancholy ancestor, a rustled noise - his heart stops. 

Though his mind is muddled with tumult, there is some life breathed back into him when he catches a glimpse of shining tresses around a tall thorny hedge, and the snaking curl of dress skirts around the bottom; and so he begins to stalk after the scent of earth, of some deep turn of late summerfruit. 

Another flicker of movement, a rustle in the vines; and still he follows, heart slamming as the clouds roll over the sunlight. 

In the deeper part of the garden lies the Thorned Dragon - a once-wonderful iron statue which now crawls with thick vines and time-bitten rusted holes; though below sits stoned benches for respite.

And there Jacaerys halts his footsteps, deadening at the sight before him. 

Concealed, only the whisper of skirts near hidden feet, strands of glowing hair, the peek of one timid eye thickened by long wisps - of a brow that arches, peeking only just so from beside the iron Dragon. 

A young woman. 

“Hello.” His voice is schooled with confidence - this is his island, after all. 

The sun glints in a sharp fight against the rolling clouds; the foggy cloud around his feet swirl as he carries himself with curiosity - it is unusual for Housestaff to venture into such a place. At his voice, there is a flicker, a twitch - slither of skirts until his gaze meets the pair of wide eyes. 

You stand on legs doelike and unsure, bent slightly at the hips as if prepared to skitter away at the slightest of movement; and he, with a skip in his heart at the glow of your skin, the flutter of lashes upon sweet cheeks. 

“Hello,” you echo his very essence, voice a mirror of his own tone though syrupy and curling with the warmth of summerfall. 

He is struck at once by your beauty. 

A breeze picks up; the scent of rich earth beneath his boots, the thick blooms even in so chill a climate. Skirts blown back gently, your hair rustles against the wind and he finds the soft beauty upon your visage arresting. 

Your feet are bare. His brows drawn, he moves just slightly, cloak fluttering in the wind; and you, watching with owlish eyes as he nods cordially, struck with the natural compulsion to greet you with proper manners. 

“I am Jacaerys,” he is rather unsure why he omits Prince from his introduction - though with a pang of storm clouds looming in his mind, he dwells not. 

Indeed it matters little, for you offer some sudden beaming smile - a bright thing, a leap from his heart at such a blessing from the Gods as you have been given; and you nod gently, lips glistened and pale. 

A sharp smile, something that would seem coy, unpropitious if not for the small flash of kindness that lingers in your stare. 

“-Jacaerys Velaryon,” you finish, dropping into a curtsey that brings about a slight glide of interest over your form; he chastises himself sharply in his head, bowing back. 

A Houseworker, then, though he’s never seen you in the halls; nor has he seen a maid or cook wear such material of their gowns. He reclines upon a stone bench; you follow after he invites you kindly, your eyes skittering over the fine folds of his tailored clothing, lingering on the line of his jaw, then hooking rather intently on the dragon upon his chest. Your own dress seems to shift with the light - it is white, then gray, then a near muted purple; it fits with the glow of your chest, with the glint in your eyes.  

You tell him your name then and it lodges itself warm and wanting into the cavity of his chest. It drips with the glazed sweetness of blooms left in the care of the sun and preserved in the chill of shade.  

Pines linger tall around you; a sea of green, though the true thing lies far in the distance, its tidal breath a slow roll in the evening air. Your fingers are lithe as they trace over a spiny vine hanging off the Thorned Dragon; and yet, peculiarly, you give no hiss as you press your thumb down against a thorn - in fact, your lips curl into a quick grin, eyes dark in interest when the thorn nearly pierces your flesh.

“-Why are you here?” His question is one rather improper, though he finds himself perturbed and cannot bring himself to feel remarkably bad. Indeed, your dreamy hum silences any doubt that may linger in the back of his mind, “It was my assumption not many come to Aegon's Garden anymore.” He admits. 

And something about his words must be amusing to you; a grin that you hide with a tilt of your head, your hand leaving the thorn on the vine. He can smell the scent of your hair; a honeyed thing, a gentle thing. A sweet thing. 

“I tend to it,” you murmur, voice gentle as a psalm, though your eyes flicker off towards the peak of a twisted treeline upon the far end of the garden, past the murky bog. “-Though sometimes I feel as though it tends to me.” 

Dreamlike, your eyes glaze over - and Jacaerys is left rather uncomfortable against the cooling stone. A foreboding prickles at the edge of his mind; and as fog creeps towards the shore each morning, he has a sudden urge to back away from your curling chill - there is something familiar within your lilt, in the way your eyes shift under dappled sunlight. His aunt had much similar a tone when they were young; with fingers that slid between bars of small cages, prodding creatures which nuzzled back against her, musing words that never quite strung together right. 

“And you?” You add now, fingers cupped within your lap. His brows draw as you murmur again, “What brings you here, my Prince?” 

Behind your shoulder is the long path narrowed by closing hedges, by twisted trees and creeping vines untamed and wild with life; with life, a part of him rejoices silently, life, though so much death looms over Dragonstone these days. 

His hesitation lingers in the quiet thick fog that creeps through the grass. “I’m…” His brows furrow, a sudden cloud of amnesia confusing weighing his tongue. He feels almost blank, save for the sweet scent of you beside him. 

“...I don’t know.” 

A flicker of your visage in his peripheral, as if you’ve moved - though when he turns to your countenance once more, he wonders if the sharp, darkly unnerving smile that had flashed onto your face was only in his mind. It unsettles him deeply within his stomach as your eyes remain upon his, muscles lax, as though the smile you’d given earlier was the first in years. 

His mind is too clouded - Rooks Rest has weighed heavy on the tongues of the council today, though it seems it weighs even heavier so on the mind. He must be rather exhausted. 

 “I…” He struggles once more, unsettled by the false image of that hungry grin, gaze focused upon the soil, fresh and puffy below his boots. “I thought I was…looking for something.” It is said absently, straining to recall his initial intentions - and it feels only slightly incorrect. 

You do not say anything to this, and for the sake of his nerves, he pretends to ignore the growing smile slow over your countenance in the corner of his vision.

In a breeze cooler than expected, his unnerved eyes rise to the Castle - up, to the window of his own chambers high within the spire of the Stone Drum with such direct view of the garden, of this very statue. 

Gulls cry in the distance; the blooms overgrown above your head seem to droop, as if bowing towards your companionship. A beauty Jacaerys has never once fathomed; though he is momentarily distracted by the movement of your hands, once so still within your lap. 

It is with surprise when he finds your fingers delicately peeling away at some foreign fruit, revealing the glistening flesh within - and your lips, wettened with your tongue as you pluck at the tissue of its skin. 

A heaviness in his throat, muddled bewilderment leaking through the cracks of his mind; though any true alarm melts away as you slowly bring the fruit to your gentle, awaiting lips, its crimson juice staining your fingers. 

Slow bites, teeth sinking into tender flesh in the stillness of the bright garden; and Jacaerys, transfixed upon the glow of your skin, the gentle sigh from your chest at the taste. It is bizarre he has never once seen you here - perhaps you are new to the island; with the influx of residents within the castle, it has provided ample new jobs for the smallfolk around. He is certain he’d have remembered such arresting eyes. 

It is a sight so innocent, yet so incredibly salacious in its sudden intensity - he finds it a battle to cast away his gaze; his toes drag through the dirt upon the earth, watching the sprouts bounce back upwards once the pressure of his presence is relieved. 

“Have you ever had one?” Your voice curls through fog, some sweet melody that startles him. His cheeks are flushing red, though you are much too enraptured with the fruit, lips stained dark as wine. “-A fig,” you mend, an afterthought as your eyes rise once more to the larger of the trees deep in the gardens; and a buzzing haze that creeps through Jace’s mind as the empty shell falls from your fingers onto the ripe dirt below. 

He watches it lie to rest, bespeckled with the damp dark of soil. 

The circle turns. 

His mouth is dry, and he struggles to swallow; “No,” he admits, clouded by déjà vu and a sudden, mild perplexity. “I haven’t.” 

Your lips curve into that slow, knowing smile once more - less unsettling when it is fixed upon his gaze this time. Your fingers trace the smooth skin of another fig before your palm extends, offering it with a slight tilt of your head. “They are divine,” your words lilt, syllables sung out into the garden’s thick air. Divine. 

And gods, you are divine - an arresting thought, one that jolts him out of the trance he’d so unwittingly tumbled into - and with a blink, he hesitates. 

A half-remembered tale told in the dim light of hearths drawn moons, years ago - and he shakes his head, the thought of food at a time like this rather sickening. “Where did you get them?” he wonders instead of accepting, though your palm remains outstretched, enticing. There is a thrumming in his ears, though he realizes with a start that his headache has ceased. 

“They come from me,” you reply coyishly; though there is some glint in your eyes, some shift of the breath you take - and he looks away just before that smile reclaims your face.

A strange girl, he decides. A strange girl, yet quite endearing. 

He cannot help the smile he returns to you, a short chuckle, mostly out of nerves from him which is echoed rather enthusiastically, nearly unsettling in its fervor, by you.

His heart beats faster, though he cannot say why - his lips are wettened by the prod of his tongue, and he pretends not to notice the flush upon your hollowed cheeks, nor the way your head seems to dip lower to observe his countenance. 

“No, thank you,” he declines, voice barely a whisper; and his eyes search yours, your name echoing heavy in his mind - so familiar a name. 

Your smile returns, though this time it is sharper; and with darkened eyes, the corners of your lips twitching as if you already knew what his answer would be. When you respond, it is not what he expects. “As you wish, my Prince.” 

And then you bring the last fig to your chest, fingers delicate even when they tear at the little flesh as though you've been starved; his stomach rolls, entranced as a drip of juice rolls down your chin, crimson against your muted skin. 

Night falls. Council will be called soon, he knows - and the bells will be rung though they are barely heard from outside the inner bailey. Jacaerys is hesitant to leave, yet there is a chill that has begun to seep through his bones; a pit that grows within his stomach. Each pulse of his blood through his heart, a bite of your teeth into the fruit of the fig - but he waits until you’ve finished your repast to clear his throat. 

“I must return,” he decides, a strike of hesitance at your look, that kind stare that flickers in the death of sunlight.

You hesitate as he rises, just for a moment - and then, leaning forward as crimson fingers grasp the stone bench, your smile drops. A fleeting thing, a sparrow upon a windowsill, a hummingbird through the morning air.

 “Thank you, Prince Jacaerys.” 

His brows furrow; and you, staring up at him with a gaze so unalloyed, so pure - a lingering darkness in his chest that grows each day of unrest cooped up in his coddled little nest within the island. 

Though he smiles only gently back at you - a twist of soft pity that bleeds into an odd affection for such a sweet stranger; a much needed respite from the faces much too familiar and suffocating in the choking smoke of war and duty. 

“I suppose I find myself rather lonely,” you confess, eyes dropping to stare at the figs that now rest in your lap - a blink from Jacaerys at the sight of them, once more bewildered at their presence. “Not many come to the garden anymore. I worry I tend to it only for myself these days.” 

Jacaerys finds himself rather uneasy - there is that guilt that coils familiar, a serpent squeezing his stomach. The circle turns, he thinks.  

“I will have to return then, my lady.” He feels rather uneven on his feet, “This garden is quite beautiful.” 

And if you bristle at his assumption of your title, you do not show it; an absent look has plagued your seraphic features, leaving you with shallow breaths and a plumped lower lip. “I would hope so, Jacaerys.”

For a dreadful moment, he fears you might begin to cry; a stoke of regret and pity through him. Though it is quelled rather abruptly as you snap up, eyes staring down the row of hedges behind him before returning to his own, much more warm than before.  

You hold his gaze for a horrible few breaths - and he knows not what to do, as you sit faraway and dreamlike, your hair moving in a breeze he cannot feel.

“Are you turning in soon?” He wonders, unable to quell his curiosity - he cannot imagine your duties much require you to extend your services into the dark of night, though he admittedly has paid less than staunch attention to the Housestaff as of late.

Your eyes remain distant, though a soft wisp of a smile grows as you rise to your height, standing oddly against the vines which creep down towards you. 

You look back beyond his shoulder, a glint of firelight in your eyes though the sun still whispers its last stretches of breath across the indigo sky.

“Not so soon, I'm afraid. The roses need pruning,” you sigh. “I detest thorns.”

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[darylssunshine]

I need ya.

Summary: Daryl helps you fall asleep after trying to fight it.

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 0.7k

Era: Alexandria

A/N: I just really want Daryl cuddles and to fall asleep with him. This is purely self-indulgent.

~~~~~

It was a rare moment of peace in Alexandria. All of the residents were either safe in their houses or fast asleep in their warm beds, a luxury in a world like this. No walkers were breaking through their fortified walls, no enemies were hot on their trail and waiting to strike until morning, nothing coming through the gates to disrupt the silence. The people of Alexandria made themselves known to Rick’s group in a moment of weakness. They accepted them and let them adapt to their way of living, and Rick and the rest of the group would be forever grateful for that, no matter how long it took for them to trust the other group. These four walls separating them from the cruel outside world and provided them with a sense of safety, and Alexandria’s inhabitants had to bask in that whenever they had the chance. 

That’s what was happening now, in the house that held you and Daryl. While the autumn winds pressed on, you two were shielded and warm. A crackling fire lit up the living room while Daryl sat in the corner of the slightly tattered couch, you on his lap. His arm was resting on the subsequent arm of the couch while the other hand was playing with your hair, twirling the strands in his fingertips and occasionally scratching your scalp. Each time he did, it earned a small sigh from you nuzzled against his chest, and then earning a small chuckle from Daryl.

Today had been one of those days where Daryl got more sleep than you did. You had work that had to be done with stocking the food on account of falling behind the day before, and you were beat. The warmth of the fire combined with the warmth radiating from Daryl’s torso was slowly lulling you into a tired state, but Daryl didn’t need to know that. You wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. 

“Ya gettin’ tired, sweetheart?”

Shit.

Immediately after those words registered in your sleep-addled brain, you sat up and looked Daryl in the eyes, your own being forcefully widened so he believed your ruse. “Nope. Nope. Not one bit.”

Daryl removed the hand that was previously on your hair and moved it behind his head, slightly looking down on you. He chuckled again. “Ya sure?”

Your mouth quirked up in a smile. “Yep. Wide awake.”

“Mhm. Sure ya are.”

He placed his hand back on your scalp and started massaging it at a slow but consistent pace, his soft, blue eyes never leaving yours. Your eyes on the other hand started to get very heavy, like someone was physically pulling them down, something you couldn’t control. Daryl let out a deep chuckle. “What was tha’ about not bein’ tired?

“Shut up.” You said in a breathy manner, stubbornly still trying to look him in the eyes.

His large hand guided you to his chest again. “Get some sleep, sunshine. I’ll be here when ya wake up. Promise.” His voice was soft, but sincere. You’d believe anything he said in this state.

You nuzzled back into his chest, his words making you smile. “Your chest vibrates when you talk. It’s like a cat purring.” You rambled, your voice coated with tiredness. You said it unconsciously, your filter being almost nonexistent with you being on the verge of sleep. 

He smirked. “Oh yeah? You like it?”

“Mhm.”

“Want me to keep talkin’?”

“Mhm.”

He sighed before he continued. “Back before we found ya, I was nothin’. I was tryin’ to deal with all the shit that went down, but I didn’t handle it well. I was a mess, killin’ myself in the process. But you helped me deal with all that. You got me to open up to ya. Every time I see ya, I get like, this feelin’ in my stomach. I know, romance movie bullshit. It’s been happenin’ since the day we found ya in that cabin. And now, I feel like I can’t live without ya. I feel like I’m empty without you, fightin’ by my side. And I’m scared ‘cause that’s never happened before, and I don’t wanna mess it up. I need ya- I- I love ya, (Y/N.)” 

Daryl then heard a soft snore come from below his head. 

He blew some air through his nose in an amused manner and kissed you on the top of the head. “I'll always be there for ya, sunshine.”