#i was almost gonna draw like specifics but i was too lazy

[wombywoo]

Ok! I've finally decided to put together a (somewhat) comprehensive tutorial on my latest art~

Please enjoy this little step-by-step 💁‍♀️

First things first--references!

Now I'm not saying you have to go overboard, but I always find that this is a crucial starting point in any art piece I intend on making. Especially if you're a detail freak like me and want to make it as realistic as possible 🙃

As such, your web browser should look like this at any given point:

Since this is a historical piece, it means hours upon hours of meaningless research just to see what color the socks are, but...again. that isn't, strictly, necessary 😅

Once I've compiled all my lovely ref pics, I usually dump them into a big-ass collage ⬇️

(I will end up not using half of these, alas :'D)

Another reference search for background material, and getting to showcase our models of choice for this occasion~

When picking a reference for an actor or model, the main thing I keep in mind (besides prettiness 🤭) is lighting and orientation. Because I already kinda know what pose I'm gonna go with for this piece, I can look for specific angles that might fit the criteria. I should mention that I am a reference hound, and my current COD actor ref folder looks like this:

Also keep in mind, if you're using a ref that you need to flip, make sure you adjust accordingly. This especially applies to clothing, as certain things like pants zippers and belt buckles can be quite specific ☝️

Now that we've spent countless hours googling, it's time to start with a rough sketch:

It doesn't have to be pretty, folks, just a basic guideline of where you want the figures to be.

The next step is to define it more, and I know this looks like that 'how to draw an owl' meme, but I promise--getting from the loose sketch above to below is not that difficult.

Things to keep in mind are--don't go too in-depth with the details, because things are still subject to change at this point. In terms of making a suitable anatomically-correct sketch, I would suggest lots of studying. This doesn't even have to be things like figure drawing, I genuinely look at people around me for inspiration all the time. Familiarize yourself with the human form, and things like weight, proportions, posing will seem a little more feasible.

It's also important at this stage to consider your composition. Remember to flip the canvas frequently to make sure you're not leaning to one side too often. I'm sure something can be said for the spiral fibonacci stuff, which I don't really try to do on purpose, but I think keeping things like symmetry and balance in mind is a good start ✌️

Next step is just blocking in the figures. Standard. No fuss 👍

Now onto the background!

It's frankly hilarious how many people thought I was *hand-drawing* these maps and stuff 😂😂 I cannot even begin to comprehend how insanely difficult that would be. So yeah, we're just taking the lazy copy and paste way out 🤙

I almost always prepare my backgrounds first, and this is mostly to get a general color scheme off the bat. For collage work, it's really just a matter of trial and error, sticking this here, slapping this there, etc. I like to futz around with different overlay options until I've found a nice arrangement. Advice for this is just--go nuts 🤷‍♀️

Next, I add a few color adjustments. I tend to make at least 2 colors pop in an art piece, and low and behold, they usually tend to be red and blue ❤️💙There's something about warm/cool vibes, idk man..

Now we move on to coloring the figures. This is just a basic block and fill, not really defining any of the details yet.

Next, we add some cursory values. Sloppy airbrush works fine, it'll look better soon I promise 🙏

And now--rendering!

I know a lot of beginner artists are intimidated by rendering, and I can totally understand why. It's just one of those things you have to commit to 💪

I've decided to show a brief process of rendering our dear Johnny's face here:

Starting off, I usually rely on the trusty airbrush just to get some color values going. Note--I've kept my sketch layer on top, but feel free to turn it on and off as you work, so as to not be too bound to the sketch. For now, it's just a guideline.

This next stage may look like a huge jump, but it's really just adding more to the foundation. I try to think of it like putting on make-up in a way~ Adding contours, accentuating highlights. This is also where I start adding in more saturation, especially around areas such as ears, nose and lips. Still a bit fuzzy at this point, but that's why we keep adding to it 💪

A boy has appeared! See--now I've removed most of the line layer, and it holds up on its own. I'll admit that in order to achieve this realistic style, you'll need lots and lots of practice and skill, which shouldn't be discouraging! Just motivate yourself with the prospect of getting to look at pretty men for countless hours 🙆‍♀️

I'll probably do a more in-depth explanation about rendering at some point, but let's keep this rolling~

Moving forward is just a process of adding to the figures bit by bit. I do lean towards filling in each section from top to bottom, but you can feel free to pop around to certain parts that appeal to you more. I almost always do the faces first though, because if they end up sucking, I feel less guilty about scrapping it 😂 But no--I think he's pretty enough to proceed 😚

They're coming together now 🙆‍♀️ Another helpful tip--make sure you reuse color. By that, I mean--try to incorporate various colors throughout your piece, using the eyedropper tool to keep a consistent palette. I try to put in bits of red and blue where I can

Here they are fully rendered! Notice I've made a few subtle changes from the sketch, like adjusting the belt buckles because I made a mistake 😬 Hence why you shouldn't put too much stock in your initial sketch~

The next step is more of a stylistic choice, but I usually go over everything with an outline, typically in a bright color like green. Occasionally, I can just use my initial line layer, but for this, I've made a brand new, cleaner line 👍

And the final step is adjusting the color and adding some text:

Tada!! It's done!

All in all, this took me the better part of a week, but I have a lot of free time, so yeah ✌️

I hope you appreciated that little walkthrough~ I know people have been asking me how I do my art, but the truth is--I usually have no clue how to explain myself 😅 So have this half-assed tutorial~

As a bonus, here is a cute (cursed) image of Johnny without his mustache:

A baby, a literal infant child !!! who put this wee bairn on the front lines ??! 😭

Anyway! peace out ✌️

[changbinsboobs]

Can you please do Stray kids, what physical traits they look for and how would they act around they crush 👀please and thank you if you have done it

Hi:) i just posted a reading on physical traits💗

I also have a reading on skz on how they are when they have a crush but its more focused on their internal state of being, so I'm gonna do a separate one on their specific, outwards behavior towards their crush specifically! Enjoy💗

I'll be using the 3rd Eye Tarot and remember :

*This reading is for entertainment purposes only!

How would stray kids behave around their crush?

Chan - The High Priestess, Page of Cups

He mimics his crush a lot. Like not in a mean way or intentional. Yk this psychology fact that we unintentionally mimic our crushes or people we like/admire, cuz we want them to like us too. I think he's doing that A LOT unconsciously but for the person on the other side i think its pretty obvious, pretty quickly😂

I also think that he would try and change himself a bit. Like his appearance or his likes and dislikes - according to his crush. I think it would be unconscious tho. Not like he thinks "oh she likes guys with blue hair so im gonna dye my hair blue". Its more like his crushes opinion just influences him a lot. Other than that im not seeing much i think he just matches his crushes energy and i wanna say pace too, but im unsure. So just leave it at he matches his crush😂 and he kinda copys them. Whatever his crushes behaviour is to him, that would be his behaviour to them.

Lee Know - Ace of Wands, 6 of Cups

He's normal and nurturing. I don't think his crush would think he's flirting with them, they would just think that he's really kind and helpful and has a big heart to give love and care from. So his approach isn't very demanding(?). Like whatever he does for his crush, u can feel he doesn't do it cuz he expects something in return, but because he genuinely likes them and wants them to be good.

I also see him making some advances but like...ugh idk, like his crush can't really tell if its flirting or if he's just a touchy person or if his humor's just a little perverted. Like what im seeing is a few perverted comments and an evil smile or something😂 and i think his crush would be a bit confused at that but not really take it as a sign of flirting or interest towards them. (Btw the 6 of Cups has already come a few times in his readings! He's definitely a very nurturing person!!!)

Changbin - 9 of Pentacles, 8 of Swords, Queen of Cups

Changbin of course had the most cards😂 he had so many cards (7 in total) im too lazy to write them all up there, so im just gonna write the 3 most significant ones. Also this is something i notice a lot with his readings he almost always has the most cards cuz i keep feeling theres more he wants to say, and that he's not done yet, so i keep drawing more and more. Then when i look at them i have 9 cards and 3 if them say thing A, 3 say thing B and 3 say thing C😂 like...my guy you could've just let me say all that in 3 cards m, why'd u make me work so much😂 i feel like its very important to him to describe the details and to explain everything the best way he can so that he does not get misunderstood. And details for him are very meaningful and actually very big, so he pays lots of attention to that and finds it important and wants it to be clear to the readers as well (or whoever's listening)

Sooo he tries to put himself in a good light. Like put his macho on, his gentlemanness, act nonchalant and poised(?), flex his wealthyness a little😂 (i love reading this😂💗)

But at the same time i see him being plagued by his thoughts an fears (literary the same cards as the previous crush reading came on) and thus why i feel like he would be giving mixed signals. Like being awkward one second, avoiding his crush, going out of their way, barely responding, barely having eye contact. To being stern and cold, acting almost as he doesn't like them or is angry at them or something. To being so genuinely kind and welcoming and i see even going for some slight, friendly skinship. To being boastful and slightly flirty again😂 its a rollercoaster i think every time his crush would be getting a different changbin. And maybe not even on different occasions. Maybe they can get 3 different version in one day alone.😂 poor girl.

I also see him having a hot-cold streak in his verbal communication too. Like one minute he's mimicking them (like chan), the other he's jokingly mocking them, annoying them, trying to get them a bit agitated and triggered even😂 he wants to get a reaction out of her. (God i think next time ill leave changbin's reading for last, every time im doing him i get so exhausted and i hope im already at the end of the reading (the whole post), but im not even halfway cuz he's so far up🥲. Now i did him first cuz he had so much cards, and now i wann cry cuz i have ti do 7 more guys🥲)

Hyunjin - Temperance, 10 of Wands

I think he's pretty calm around his crush. Tbh i don't see him making any impression of that kind. I think his mind is way too preoccupied to actually do something.

He might seem clumsy. Stutter, make weird sentences, have s bit if weird facial expressions. All of that is i feel whenever he gets into close contact with his crush. If u look at him from afar he's calm and collected and cool and poised. But if you come up close and actually converse with him he would be rally awkward.

Han - 5 of Pentacles, Wheel of Fortune

Ughh...a bit of a looser i fear. Like he's behavior would be very off putting. Like those pick me guys😭 ugh im getting such an ick.

He would be mostly like that, but every once in a while would have a moment where he shines and suddenly gets a boost of confidence and just is being himself and them he does so so well. Rally well! But that doesn't last long sadly and he becomes a pick me shortly after once again.🥲

Felix - 7 of Cups, King of Cups

Proactive. Isn't afraid to approach them. Just shamelessly goes up there and gives them a compliment, makes small talk, ask for a number or a date or whatever. I would say he's pretty smooth but he actually isnt😅 but it doesn't really matter cuz even if his approach isn't smooth, his energy is, and lots of people perceive only that. His overwhelming energy of confidence.

He might think a lot of them and give them small random gifts he thinks they will like, or that reminded him of him. Each time he gets the opportunity to be close to them again and talk to them.

Seungmin - The Emperor, Queen if Pentacles

Very helpful, very initiative, very supportive. He immediately shows how reliable he is. He proves his seriousness and that he's not in it just for the game but for a purpose.

Very stable and straight forward with his feelings and intentions.

Shows patience and doesn't pressure his crush all too much. Just leaves them in peace to warm up to him, while continuously showing up and being there. Reminding her of his high quality and value.

I.N - 3 of Wands, 4 of Pentacles

Straight forward with his feelings and pursuing. I think he's someone that as soon as he realizes he has a crush he goes over there to confess😂 brave guy that one!

He's very possessive of his crush even if they aren't together yet snd i think he would often show that in some ways, like wanting to walk beside her, wanting to take care of her, to answer her questions, to buy her food or other stuff. He doesn't want her to do those stuff by herself or even worse to ask other men about it. Or even allow other men to do that for her. Who are they to allow themselves that😂 only he can take care of her!!!😤😂

[sparrowofthedawnsworld]

Sweet Talker - Sam Kiszka

A/N: Remember when I said it would be a crime not to write a voice kink Sam fic? Yeah. There’s not much of a plot here really, just filth. Only lightly edited! I love you all so, so much!

WARNINGS: 18+!! Fingering, teasing, lots of dirty talk, voice!kink, hair pulling, choking, unprotected sex (be smart, be safe!!)

MASTERLIST

••••

Sam’s voice.

No matter how many times you hear it, it tears its way through your ears and shakes its way through your body in the most knee-buckling ways imaginable.

The slightly raspy, yet soft and almost nonchalant drawl of his words, never fails to send sweet, debilitating chills up your spine. And god, did he fucking know it, too. He notices everything, but particularly loves to clock the little things that turn you on.

When it’s just the two of you, his voice is much softer and quieter than it is when he’s with his brothers, or socializing with others.

While you adore his boisterous laugh and louder tone when he’s excited, that quietness that he seems to save specifically for you, is your favorite. Your weakness.

“What did you do while I was gone today, gorgeous?” Sam asks you quietly, while his hand strokes up and down your bare back softly.

You snuggle further into his bare chest, fingers gliding over his collarbone as you lay on top of him in your shared bed. The two of you lay this way often, partially -or sometimes fully- bare and just talking - Informing the other about the days events. Some days offering much more dramatic of tales than others do.

“Mmm…” You trail off into thought, thinking very little about what you’ve even done throughout the day, but more so the tingle Sam’s voice has just sent through your body and straight to your core. “I didn’t do all that much today, really…”

“That’s a cop out,” his lazy, raspy voice shoots the teasing observation at you, as he glances down at you with that goofy grin of his.

You’re quick to defend yourself. “It is not! I would just ra-“

“-Rather listen to me talk?” You can hear the smile in his voice, the second he cuts you off to finish your sentence for you. “Uh huh, I bet you would.”

A crimson blush paints over your cheeks. You’re incredibly thankful that you can bury your face away into his neck.

“You do this almost every night, doll,” Sam points out, tone smug and knowing. “One of these days, you’re gonna get sick of hearing me talk so much. Now c’mon, tell me about your day and I will tell you all about mine after.”

A faint huff slips through your nose. Of course you want to talk to him about your day…after you take care of the ache making home between your legs that he has caused.

“I spent some time editing some photos… those boudoir ones that I took a couple days ago,” you explain casually, going into as little detail as possible.

“Yeah?” Sam’s hand continues drawing lines up and down your spine - effectively fueling the fire inside of you. The lilt in his tone playfully urges you to continue. “I bet they look beautiful… You should get some done soon…”

You tilt your head to look at him, “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I would love it,” he corrects with a light tap against your nose with his free hand. “The same way you would love a recording of me talking on a five hour loop.”

“That would depend on what you’re saying,” you shoot back, smiling. It doesn’t really matter what Sam was saying, his voice affects you, always. For the sake of guiding your little cuddle session in a different direction, though…

“Oh, really? So a professional recording of me talking about the weather, wouldn’t do anything for you?” Sam jests, bringing his opposite hand up to poke at your side.

“Sam,” you sigh, frustrated by his obvious stalling. He loves to make you wait and suffer and pine, just a little.

“What?” You feel him shrug against you, dropping his voice lower. “Would me telling you exactly how to touch yourself be better? Or me reciting all the praises I know you love so much?”

A shaky breath bursts out of you at that, a clear sign for Sam to continue. He isn’t exactly digging for any verbal answers just yet.

“Ohh, that struck a chord, didn’t it?”

And here he goes, right back to teasing you again.

Wrapping both arms around your body, he carefully flips the two of you over, so that you are laying beneath him.

“That’s exactly what you want, isn’t it? For me to call you pretty and coo in your ear while you cum all over my hand?” He starts to place kisses along your jawline, working his way to the sensitive skin just below your ear. Slipping his hand in between your bodies, he just barely grazes his fingers over your heat, “Just… like… this…?”

Another whimper floats out of you just as Sam moves back up to join his lips with yours.

It’s a slow and sweet kiss at first, tricking you into believing Sam is going to give you exactly what you want, right away. His tongue pushes against yours gently, deepening the kiss and stealing all the air from your lungs until they’re burning and warming you to pull away. But you can’t bring yourself to pull away first.

Sam senses this and every few kisses, he slowly starts to pull away, making you chase after his mouth, wearing a smirk that grows with each of your impatient whimpers as he keeps his lips just out of your reach every time.

“What is it?” He questions knowingly, bringing his hand up to your jaw to keep you in place.

“Sam,” you’re fully pouting now, pushing against his grip in attempts to kiss him more. “You’re always being a tease.”

“Quit pouting.” He nudges your bottom lip with his thumb playfully. “You love it when I tease you. Don’t even try to act like you don’t.”

Sam is right and you know it. He knows you know it, too. You can’t fool him.

He takes your silence as victory, “Uh huh. See?”

The teasing, slightly condescending cadence to his tone sends you reeling all over again. His knowing smirk making your stomach twist with desire and excitement. As it always does.

You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips with all the strength you can muster.

Your lips meet not so gracefully at first, and you swallow down the low chuckle Sam emits before the kiss turns needy and quick in pace.

Sam’s hands start to feel around your body, gripping at your hips, your waist. A soft growl vibrates through his chest. The sound reminds you why you want to be in this position in the first place.

“Sammy…baby.” It comes out almost like a plea. You need to hear him.

“You’re such a needy thing,” Sam says, shaking his head.

“Not needy,” you protest. “Just wanna hear your voice.”

“I was gonna get there, if you would just be patient.” Sam chuckles, hand coming up to wrap around your throat. “Can you do that? Be my sweet, patient, girl?”

All you do is shake your head ‘yes,’ but that’s not good enough for your Sammy. Not in the slightest.

He leans in, lips grazing yours with the formation of each of his words, “That just won’t do. I think you already know that, too. Speak up, princess. Spit it out.”

It’s low and raspy, the demand. You’ll do absolutely anything that his gravely, lust-drawn voice asks of you.

“I’ll be patient for you.” You give in right away. “I’ll be your good girl.”

“Yeah? You’ll be my good girl?” Sam questions, trailing his hand down from your throat to your chest, teasing and toying with your nipple.

“Yes, s-sir.” Your breath catches in your throat, your body warming rapidly as Sam continues to feel around your chest.

“You always are,” Sam sighs, his right hand traveling down your stomach, stopping just shy of your core. “You always listen so well and cum so pretty for me.”

Your hips raise to press harder against his splayed hand, the warmth of it only adding to your body’s excess of heat and need.

Sam leans in even closer, nudging your head to the side with his nose. His lips graze your ear, sending chills up your spine. All while his hand continues it’s decent between your legs.

“What is it, princess?” He notices the way your breath catches in your throat, the soft squeak of a whimper giving you away. He places a few kisses to the pulse point below your ear. “Your heart is racing. Did I get you all worked, sweet girl?”

“Sammy…” It’s a desperate plea, almost embarrassingly whiny - the way his name falls off your tongue.

“I know, I’m gonna make you feel good,” Sam assures you, sliding his middle finger through your folds, sighing as your arousal completely coats his finger. “Is this what my needy girl wanted? For me to talk to her and play with her sweet little cunt?”

A few slow circles over your clit is all it takes to pull a moan from you, making Sam’s lips curve up into a cocky smirk.

“There we go,” Sam starts, voice low and smooth. “There’s those pretty noises.”

Sam’s thumb replaces his middle finger, keeping the light pressure against your clit, knowing that it will drive you straight to an orgasm and fast. His middle and ring fingers slip inside you slowly, curling up into that sweet spot that he can do perfectly reach.

“Fuck, Sammy,” you cry, reaching up to grip at his bicep. “Right there, please…”

“Right where, princess? Here?” He punctuates the question with a firm curl of his fingers, holding the pressure for a few seconds until you begin to squirm beneath him.

“Oh god- Fuck, yes! Sammy, please!” Your breathing becomes even more labored, eyes screwing shut as you fall into overwhelming pleasure.

“Such a pretty girl,” Sam coos, smiling down at you. “I love when you whimper my name like that.”

“Keep talking, Sammy, please,” you beg him, head lulling back against the pillows.

“Keep talking?” Sam teases lightly, dropping his voice even lower. “You just love my voice, huh? Bet I could make you cum just by talking to you. What do you think, gorgeous?”

“I-“ You attempt to form a coherent sentence, but another wave of pleasure and moan stops you short. “P-probably.”

“Mmm, might have to test that out one night,” Sam hums, as if just voicing a casual thought out loud.

You feel Sam’s forehead press against yours, only serving to make you melt further into the sheets.

“Listen to me, baby doll,” Sam practically growls, although he knows he already has every bit of your attention. You force your eyes open to meet his. “You’re gonna cum right on my fingers and say my name nice and pretty when you do. Okay?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you answer him breathlessly, feeling yourself squeeze around his fingers, pulling them in even deeper. Oh, how your body reacts to him. Every. Time.

“That’s my pretty girl,” he praises, kissing down your cheek to your neck. “Let me have it, gorgeous. Please.”

It burns low in your stomach, your body’s internal scream for release. A few more pumps of his fingers and swirls of his thumb, throw you over the edge and into the raging waves of your high.

You feel it throughout your whole body, tensing and relaxing all the muscles in your body rapidly.

Your head spins as you come down, but Sam clearly isn’t ready to stop.

Your hand shoots down to wrap around his wrist, tugging at it in attempts to stop the overstimulation. “S-Sammy-“

“-Ah,” he cuts you off, pulling your hand away and flattening his hand out over your inner thigh, pushing your legs apart. “Baby doll thought I was done?”

A constant stream of whimpers huff out of you with short bursts of breath. You can feel your clit throbbing against Sam’s thumb, the overstimulation twisting into pleasure with the littlest hint of pain.

“You wanted me to talk to you all low and soft and pretty…” Sam taunts, moving with your squirming body, following every jerk. “And make you cum all over my fingers, but now you can’t take it? My little sensitive girl.”

The shudder that shakes through your body at his words, draws a low, raspy chuckle from Sam’s chest.

“Oh? Someone liked that, didn’t she?” Sam continues his relentless taunting, pulling his soaked fingers out to circle your clit.

Opening your mouth with the intention to answer him, all that manages to come out is a breathy whine. A noise so high pitched and desperate sounding, you might be the slightest bit embarrassed about it, when you think back on it later.

Sam’s lips curve up into a shit eating smirk, far too pleased at the sounds and reactions he’s pulling from you. And it’s so easy.

He leans in, mocking the airy, high pitched noise you just made, directly into your ear.

“F-fuck yo- u-oh, fuck,” you stutter, moaning and stumbling over your own words as Sam quickens the circles over your bundle of nerves. “

“Oh, fuck.” It’s parroted right back to you, his voice mimicking yours; sweet and needy.

Why the way he mocks you turns you on so much more, you aren’t exactly sure. You haven’t the brain power to ponder on it, yet, either.

That sweet and most welcomed burn reforms in the pits of your belly, just waiting for the perfect pass of Sam’s fingers to unravel and take over your whole body once again.

“I’m so close, Sammy,” you warn, gripping at the blanket beneath you with one hand and the pillow behind your head with your other. “Please, don’t stop. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop? Don’t stop what?” He knows exactly what you mean. “Don’t stop talking to you, or don’t stop pleasing this throbbing little clit?”

“Sammy…” It trots out of you through a whimper.

“Gonna make you cum one more time before I give it to you.” Sam says, as though it isn’t up for debate. And at this point, it isn’t. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Your back arches off the mattress, the pleasure finally taking over your body in a second orgasm.

“That’s right, gorgeous,” Sam practically groans. “Let it all go for me. My pretty, messy, princess. Absolutely fucking gorgeous when you cum for me like this.”

Sam’s lips are suddenly colliding with yours in a searing kiss, capturing all your little noises right in his mouth.

As soon as he feels your body start to jolt, he eases his skilled fingers from your clit, sliding them down through your wetness to bring up to his watering mouth.

“Jesus christ, you taste so fucking good.” Sam sinks your fingers in and out of his mouth, watching you watch him.

You’ve watched him do it before, but it never fails to completely wipe all coherent thoughts from your mind -no matter how many times you’ve seen him do it- to watch him be so filthy.

Dropping his hand from your mouth, he wraps it loosely around your neck, just barely squeezing as he leans down to reconnect your lips.

You can taste yourself all over his lips. It’s an addicting combination of your own release and the aftertastes of mint on his tongue. Creating a sweet, spicy, concoction out of the two of you. Fitting.

“Tell me, baby doll,” Sam calls gently for your attention. “You want me here again?” His fingers trace over your lips ever so lightly. “Or here?” His hand travels down your body, tracing over your folds with the same featherlight touch, before dipping down to gather more of your wetness and begin slowly stroking over your clit again.

Your body jolts and convulses on its own accord, making Sam laugh lowly at you and your bodies way of displaying its sensitivity.

“Awe, is it too much for you now, doll?” Sam teases, lips dragging over the center of your throat. “Has this poor little clit had enough?”

“Need you inside me.” You raise your hips, trying to press yourself against his cock, visibly straining against his sweatpants. “Fuck me, Sammy, please.”

“I’ll give you whatever you want, when you beg that pretty.” Sam removes both hands from your body, tucking them into the hem of his boxers, shoving them down his legs hastily.

Taking himself in his hand, a shaky exhale flutters out of Sam. His eyes close, hair falling around his face as he continues to lose himself with each stroke of his own hand.

At last, he pulls himself back together and guides himself through your folds, letting out a deep, breathy, groan at the feeling of how wet you are.

“F-fuck,” Sam mutters, shakily trying to line himself up with your entrance.

Your jaw falls slack, as he pushes himself into you with a smooth thrust of his hips.

“Oh, m-my god…” Your words barely stutter out loud enough for Sam to hear.

Sam brings himself down above you, using one of his forearms to hold his body just above yours. His other hand slips up to tangle into your hair, tilting your head back against the pillows.

“Move, Sammy, please move.” Your voice is pathetic, dripping in desperation and submissiveness.

“What if I make you wait?” He questions slyly, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “What if we stayed just like this and I just talk to you some more? Tell you how amazing you feel wrapped around my cock, until you cum all over it just from my words?”

“Sam, I swear to god…” You try to fight back, wanting nothing more than for him to just move and fuck you completely senseless.

“You clearly love the idea,” Sam points out. “And you love when I talk to you like this. I know that’s why you squirm every time I hold you close and say little things in your ear. Why do you think I’ve started doing that more often? You think I don’t notice how your breath catches when I say even the most mundane things right in your ear?”

“You’re right, I love it,” you say through a fresh wave of whimpers that are tearing through your throat and filling up the room. You’ll always soak up his praises like a plant starving for water.

“I fucking…love it…”

Sam tugs at your earlobe with his teeth. “You’re clenched so tight around me…I could cum in you right now.”

Now that…

That strikes a new nerve, causing you to arch your body into Sam’s followed by a noise reminiscent of a sob.

“Oh, fuck me…” Sam curses, fist tightening in your hair as you flutter around his already throbbing cock.

Unable to wait any longer, Sam begins to rock his hips, slowly dragging himself in and out of you. The burn of him stretching you out rips another unholy sound from your lungs - one that he accidentally mimics, but in a much deeper tone.

“My sweet baby doll, making me feel so good.” Sam picks up the speed and depth of his thrusts. “You love on my cock so well, don't you? You're always just so, so sweet to it."

Sam’s head falls against your shoulder, short huffs of uneven breaths hitting your neck and adding yet another sensation to the pile.

Your hands reach around his body, one tangling in his soft tresses, while the other claws it’s way down to the center of his back - surely leaving flaming red marks in its wake.

“Pull it,” he groans, tilting his head back ever so slightly, to ensure you know exactly want he means.

You oblige without missing a beat, tightening the hand tangled in his hair and tugging it firmly.

“Fuck, goddamn,” Sam sputters, delivering a particularly deep thrust into you, making you gasp and choke on the words you’re trying to form.

“What's that? You feeling good?” Sam fires questions at you breathlessly. Later you’ll probably wonder how he manages to stay together enough to form full, coherent sentences.

“You want to tell me about it? About how my cock is filling you up so good? How you can feel me here?" He lays his hand over your stomach, splayed out and applying the littlest bit of pressure.

You open your mouth to speak, babble some barely understandable praises and call out his name over and over again. Yet, nothing comes out. Your mouth simply hangs open, not even a hint of a sound coming forth from your lungs; they simply hold captive any air left within them as Sammy relentlessly fucks you.

“Tell me, baby, tell me how good it feels,” Sam smirks cockily, knowing full well that you can’t. “You can't even talk, huh? Am I fucking you speechless, doll face?"

“S-so close,” you gasp, both hands gripping at Sam’s shoulders now in hopes that you will stay anchored to earth.

“Are you? Tell me you’re gonna cum so pretty for me,” Sam demands, snaking his hand between your two bodies to rub hasty circles over your bundle of nerves. “Say it for me.”

It takes every part of your body to form the words for him. “I-I’m gonna cum s-so pretty for you, Sammy.”

“You want me to talk you through it? Huh?” Sam’s voice is dripping with sex, low and smooth as silk. “Yeah, I'm gonna talk you through it, baby."

A few more deep thrusts of his hips and passes of his calloused fingertips over your hyper sensitive clit, is all it takes to unravel you.

“Come on, cum for me, sweet girl. Cum for me.” Sam coaxes.

The way you clench around him, suffocating his cock, dragging him to his own high right behind you, has him sucking a long breath through his teeth before he can even speak.

“That’s it, baby doll. Fuck, there it is.” He’s hardly keeping it together above you, determined to work you through most of your orgasm before he allows himself to fall into his own. “That’s my good girl, so fucking pretty making a mess all over me. My gorgeous, messy, baby doll.”

You can hear him, faintly, as you ride out your seemingly never ending climax. And God, do you love when he calls you ‘baby doll.’

Just as you start to come down, Sam’s thrust become sloppy and sporadic, signaling that he’s reached his own high.

“Where do-“

You cut him off before he even finishes his sentence. “-Inside me. Let me have it, please, pretty boy.”

“Oh, fuck…” he draws the word out, rough and airy. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-“

His hips rock into lazily a few more times, the obscene sounds of both of your releases, bouncing off the four walls of your room.

“How the fuck does this manage to happen every night,” Sam huffs jokingly, slowly pulling out and collapsing beside you, still fighting to catch his breath.

“It might not if your voice wasn’t always dripping with sex appeal every time you open your mouth,” you jest right back.

“What?” Sam gasps, feigning shock, but fighting back a smile. “So you only fuck me for my voice? How low of you, doll.”

“You’re right,” you admit, grinning at him. “I don’t just fuck you for your voice… I also fuck you for your pretty face.”

Sam wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you into him with a pleased smile. “Mm. That’s fair enough, I do have a pretty face.”

@wildbluesorbit @jaketlove

@tripthelightfatality

@sunandthemoontwinflames

@shutupdevvie @jakesguitarsolo

@ageofbarbarians @streamsofstardust

@gvfpal @theweightofjake

@twistedmelodies @belovedsamuel

@watchingover-hypegirl

@watchingovergvff

@jakekiszkasbuttsweat @losfacedevil

@starcatcher-jake @gardensgatedaisy

@i-choose-the-road

@sammykiszkamyass @sammysprincess

@ascendingtostardust @gretasmokerising

@jake-kiszkas-smirk @gretavanfanfics

@doodle417

@greta-van-chaos @sarakay-gvf

@colorstreammind @ofburningskies

@groovyvanfleet

@highladyofasgard

@of-infinite-wonders

[ziekkfreak2-0]

Obligatory procrastination posting.

Too lazy (and busy) to draw out all my ideas, but I really want them outta my head. So have a bunch of unorganized thoughts abt my MD Swap AU. Don't take any of them as final or canon tho.

Below the cut ofc hehehehehe

THE BUNKER:

🚪 No joke, I forgot if they ever mentioned what the name of the bunker Uzi lives in is called.

🚪 ANYWAY, what if besides making big ahh doors, the Worker Drones also used the DDs' overheating issue against them? So their colony is designed to be very warm, not enough to overheat a regular Worker Drone, but just enough to gradually affect a DD. Sorta like a contingency for if they ever infiltrate the bunker.

🚪 Could also add an aspect of the bunker having a lot of lights and being very vibrant, to play with the fact that the DDs are bug themed in this. This + the idea above would kinda make the colony like a big ahhh bug zapper.

🚪 Does this mean that the colony is a lot more serious about the DD issue and not just playing cards all the time? Nope! Still a bunch of incompetent silly billys.

NEXUS:

🐾 Finally figured out his trauma: Extremely knowledgeable with vehicles and zoology, but given that no one seems to care about cars and all biological life on Copper-9 is dead, his knowledge is almost entirely useless.

🐾 Puts up with all the bullying bc he sees it as his own punishment for being a burden on his peers.

🐾 I need to make his backpack bigger. I want it to be big enough to fit all his friends in (well at the beginning of the story, I guess it does since he has no friends). Note to self: make a doodle of this.

🐾 Might scrap the school bus idea and instead have him find a military car of sorts?

SERIAL DESIGNATION Z:

🪰 Oh god I haven't made her solo yet. Sorgi I frogor 🫶🫶🫶

🪰 DDs aren't as short as her. In fact, she was a little taller as a Worker Drone. L and T got a lot taller tho LMAO

🪰 I like to imagine she would get along well with Tessa and inevitably picked up some of her characteristics. Thus, Z is now "The Scavenger" of the DDs, looting the carcases of her victims and using it to build... Something.

🪰 She always loses to her teammates if they ever spar, even though she's a really good fighter. L just likes to take advantage of her low self-esteem, and T disturbs her, to say the least.

🪰 Dies the most frequently bc of the points above + her experiments.

DISASSEMBLY DRONES:

🔺 Okay but listen, I am absolutely crazy about their overheating weakness. So it's like their DD specific features (interchangable hands, wings popping out of nowhere, and nanite acid tail) all require a lot of power, but they're still working on the same amount of power they had as Worker Drones.

🔺Rarely ever gonna draw em, but the DDs should all have different insect wing types. Just to show I did like. At least a little research.

🔺 Antennae for receiving signals from their other squad mates. Possible to intercept and listen into.

🔺 Possibly giving each of the DDs a unique ability related to their titles. Small hints to the others, but I'm considering "The Watcher" for L and "The Travesty" for T.

🔺 The titles aren't an in universe thing btw, I just like foreboding names.

edit: Frogor to add the intro post to the AU

[nerves-nebula]

I fucking adore your comic panelling, any advice on how to do it? Like specific ratios or ways to divide the page?

god there's so much advice i COULD give but i really dont wanna end up writing a book here. so I guess I'll say this: however you divide the page you should be CONSISTENT with it, i literally just learned/internalized this but it's made comic paneling soo much easier. when you break that consistency it will be more impactful. hold up lemme grab some pages.

so i recently started making loose stitches a 4 tier comic. it's not the exact same for each page cuz i'm lazy but i think it's made legibility way better. before i think it was kinda uhhhhh a little all over the place. not BAD but a little difficult to tell where your eyes supposed to go sometimes. which isnt great for a commic.

the page on the left in particular has always bothered me cuz i always read the top panels incorrectly and it's like. fuck man what is the paneling here why is it in two columns ????? that's so hard to understand. but the page on the right can be more or less easily understood (by someone who knows how to read comics) even without panel borders because it's just a simple 4 panel square.

one thing my comic professor really stressed was that he didn't like weird paneling or weird borders. for the most part, a square is fine. AND HE'S RIGHT. weird paneling is fun and cool but should be used sparingly or with intention, cuz if you do it too much then like. how tf are ppl gonna read your comic.

that being said there are a lot of cool ways to cut up panels even if they're just squares hold on lemme grab some examples

so the panels here are all square but the image in the one at the bottom is almost like a mural. one thing i really like to using is a lot of heavy BLACK, what can i say silhouette's have my entire heart.

in my fable comic, I used a 3 tier system. it wasn't the same exact size across all pages but all pages had 3 tiers of paneling. that way i can be a little more flexible with the SIZE of the panels to emphasize the more important things, without it feeling like it's all over the place

meanwhile in my comic final i used a 4 tier system where each tier was nearly the same across every page, but you can collapse tiers together for establishing shots and big reveals so that they're more impactful. it's still fully within the grid system I set up so it doesn't feel like it's messing with shit either.

ok i just spent a lot of time rambling about this one particular concept and it's probably not even what you wanted to hear about :') i didnt even go into ratios or anythinggg guhhhh sowwy

other than all that i'd just say you gotta keep looking at what comic artists have written and take note of how they use space and cut things up. there's this book called How To Read Nancy and it has all these exercises for understanding the building blocks of nancy. for real the author is OBSESSIVE and goes through everything of a 3 panel nancy strip from body language to spot blacks to the minutia of the background. we used this book in my class and did some of the exercises in the back and i think it's really good at getting you to THINK about what you're drawing. and you can easily pirate it if you're broke.

also try to make sure things dont get stagnant on a page. zoom out if you're only doing close ups (i try to make sure every page of loose stitches has at least one full body shot even tho I'm lazy and wanna just do talking heads- talking heads arent interesting!!)

also, take advantage of the fact you're drawing a COMIC. you can do shit in comics that you can't do in other mediums, try to implement them when u can! ALSO PRACTICE. you're not gonna get better just by reading and watching. you gotta do it lol. ok ok that's enough and you didn't even ask for that stuff you asked about PANELING sfdasfsd byeee

[sadtrashking]

HEY!! actually wrote these all out u can tell where i started going off of mostly appearance for these because i only really know a few qsmp characters help obviously not everyone but uhm. swagever (sorry for sending it to inbox it was too big to fit in the comments on that other post)

Tubbo: Groyvle (Frozen in time/Time related things. Looks like how I imagine her, I like the idea of him not being a fully evolved mon I think it oddly fits her)

Spreen: Hisuian Typhloshion!!!!! (Guy who is like darker colors and the ghost typing is such a cool like. hint towards his tragic fate of fucking dying. Plus works well with Fit and Ramon being normal types)

DanTDM: Shiny Sceptile (works mostly with my specific QSMP dragon lore but TLDR is that Tubbo and Dan are really similar genetics wise and look almost identical, but Dan's fully evolved while Tubbo hasn't really mastered it yet hence. Shiny Sceptile (which is more blue so its fitting)

Bad: Yveltal (Death vulture thing, Dark Type, God-related status, Immortal)

Jaiden: I know the obvious choice is like Chatot but. I like to think she'd be an Archeops I feel like she'd be a raptor of some kind and Archeops is like both that and a parrot it feels made for her…. SHE'D HAVE HER NORMAL COLORS THOUGH I THINK

Pac: Shiny Dusk Form Lycanrock: I like to think Q!Pac is some kind of shiba hybrid so he's GOTTA be a dog and Shiny Dusk Lycanrock is the EXACT colors

Fit: Ursaring because like. Look at it that's just him

Cellbit: Meowscarada this is another appearance based one but I REALLYYY like Meowscarada Cellbit its fun to me.

Baghera: KILOWATTRELLLLLL i dont think any of the ducks fit her and I fucking LOVEEEE kilowattrel i think it's a really fun choice for her

Roier: Midnight Lycanrock I like to think Roier is an African Wild Dog and I think it makes this guy fit him! Plus he's red and emo which is fitting i think

Foolish: Palafin! I don't wanna give him Sharpedo because i think it'd be a bit too silly, and Garchomp is for Leo, so Palafin!! Works well with me imagining him as a Sawshark anyways…

Phil: Honchkrow. IT LITERALLY LOOKS LIKE HIMMM ITS SUCH A GOOD MON FOR HIM hes not corviknight because thats my c!phil headcanon plus i feel like q!phil's less intimidating

Missa: Alolan Marowak i know next to nothing about this guy but. dude's an alolan marowak

Cucurucho: BLOOD MOON URSALUNA THIS FUCKERS SUCH A URSALUNA its a big intimidating bear that's face is mostly obscured and doesn't really display much emotion raaaagh its so fitting

Fred: Beartic because blue polar bear but GOD i love ur pangoro idea thats so fun

(Eggs)

Sunny: Cosmog because i loveeee the idea that shes gonna turn into a solgaleo its so funny to me. groyvle dad with a metal sun lion god following him around PLUS COSMOG FITS HER IN LIKE A LOVING SPARKLY THINGS WAY… made of stars

Dapper: Zweilous (I think a lot of the eggs have evolved atp) Fits bad's dark typing! Little guy!!! Little guy with no eyes!!!!

Ramon: Drampa. Mustache dragon thanggggggggg also the idea of this baby dragon being a grampa is really funny

Pomme: DIPPLINNNNNN make that girl into a hydrapple to match dapper becoming a hydreigon eventually. the hydra sisters :fire: ALSO DIPPLIN IS REALLY CUTE i dont particularly care for flapple and appletun feels too like. lazy? for pomme? idk

Richas: Craniados!!!!!! The way people draw Richas reminds me SOOOO much of a pachycephalosaur so I gave him the pachycephalosaur pokemom!!!

Chayanne: FRAXUREEEE haxorus is SUCHHH a chay pokemon to me i think its the yellow. i like to think he's the first to evolve due to being the oldest :3

Tallulah: Swablu: I've always associated the altaria line with music and Tallulah with music so!!!!!

Flippa: Goomy. u'll never fucking guess why

Leo: GABITEEEEEE its a shark dragon its MADEEEE for her honestly

Bobby: Bagon because I feel like it mirrors Jaiden's whole thing with flying in a really sad way

I FUCKING LOVE THEESE. God I love pokemon aus so much they're so fun. And sw on the just appearance ones because they work too. Pac and sunny are probably my favorites from this list

[rui-drawsbox]

hey dude

how did you develop your art style? ive been drawing for years and I cant seem to get a handle on ANYTHING

4 almost 5 days late sorry dude you shot right into my inability to put thoughts into words properly HAHA

alright so first of all, i don't even think a style is something you need to do art. I'm a hobbyist apologist and as long those people enjoy creating it doesn't even have to look "good".

That aside i'm assuming you want to take art at least a little seriously so i'm just going to be straight forward and say that the only way is ping-pong between styles/techniques/themes and just stick with the stuff you feel more comfortable doing.

Now going into my personal experience, that's what you asked after all lolol (from now on this is just yapping so feel free to ignore it)

alr soooo im skipping my first steps into art and going into the humanoid phase. I actually started with sonic! Specifically the show Sonic X, of course i picked up mannerisms from the anime when it was time of doing comedic doodles (and cuestionable taste on fashion)

(im going thru my big inspirations so bear with me here)

2015 came and i discovered my two main inspirations for a long time: fnaf and Ed00chan! (link to her abandoned deviantart so yall can see the style of the time). As i was completely enamored by her anime-yet-cartoony style i was also hyperfixated with fnaf and those two things combined perfectly into (the infamous in the spanish side of the fnaf fandom) fnafhs! bing bang boom there it goes my personality for the next 5 years!

sprinkle a few power puff girls z too why not

anyway at that time i wanted to become a pro like ed00 so i had to understand anatomy, and my go-to channel was Bgm94! But the elders said that to broke the rules you have to understand them, so i just kind-of started doing more "realistic" bodies while maintaining the cartoony-ness i liked so much. Which to be fair, didn't last long before i got bored and jumped straight into cartoon/chibi again

also since we're entering my digital era i'm including some drawings with wild style changes since the experimentation never ends owo9

anyway that was 2018 and before! it was around 2017-18 that i dropped the general tutorials and just started experimenting on my own style/anatomy and trying to improve my skills (im ignoring my sketchbooks bc from now on they just become- well, sketchbooks, instead of doing full drawings i just doodled in classes and leaved the detail for digital stuff)

i would love to include all my 2019 folder bc i consider it was a year full of love for my silly doodles but tumblr has a limit for images HAHA. Hopefully you can see how i go trying out stuff and pick little stuff from every stage with me lolol

2020 hits and you can *see* my hyperfixation with twisted wonderland here, at least my folder is 60% twst drawings i made for my fanfic at the time LOL. Not so many style jumps here tho so let's keep going

2021 and 2022 here! at the second half of 2022 i found my oh so beloved crunchy brush and i also fell hard for Arashi Narukami, so basically my tumblr became an arashi fanpage lol

stuff at 2023 keeps pretty the same until now tbh, the only highlight would be the re-inclusion of noses bc of spiderverse 2. My style also has been pretty well maintained since i started doing commissions so i don't really do so much experimentation anymore, at least not with proportions and such.

alr so that was my journey on artstyle! Of course it's not like you're gonna guess all my process just by looking at the images so i'll say what type of stuff i feel influenced my decisions.

i'm very lazy and for a log time i just abandoned my projects if it prolonged more than a day or two, that obviously made me lean into the cel/plain shading rather than spending hours and maybe days rendering (not that i don't try rendering every now and then but i don't enjoy spending so much time in a single piece)

everyone around me always has been extremely supportive so i had the privilege of dedicating all my soul to drawing silly characters haha, i feel like since i never felt the need of comparing myself to others i could actually experiment so unapologetically with my style until i was satisfied

finding an actual brush that i like is always crucial to me tbh, even in traditional i'm pretty picky with how the ink and type of pen i'm using. Of course, i also tried multiple traditional art techniques (watercolor, acrylics, crayons, pencils, pastels, my favorite are pen+markers)

i dont like feets. that shows until today.

in general i think an artstyle is something extremely personal that every person has to shape themselves and that it can't really be a permanent thing, it's gonna fluctuate with the artist whenever they like it or not.

[jeannos]

I'M CRINGE BUT I'M FREE.

every kid in this fandom MUST have their au phase where they make aus of this stupid skeleton, and I FINALLY got the courage to make one!!

I lied actually... I have like 6 sans/skeleton ocs... and 2 of them are self inserts... BUT ANYWAY this guy is the only one I posting publicly atm

btw this reference specifically is really old (I started drawing this in like- 2021/2022 I guess?? Idk honestly) but I never actually finished it till recently bc, yeah, I got super lazy... ironic isn’t it? I don't even draw Sanses like this anymore -_-

SUPER AMAZING AU INTRO ↓

THIS HANDSOME FELLA IS- IS- is...

...

he does not have a actual name yet...

I mean- I call him Dreamer!Sans but I'm not really sure if I'm gonna set with that yet, since I don't actually have a story/plot for him besides his purpose in the multiverse, but I do have some other ideas ;]

Dreamer!Sans is basically a protector of dreams, he protects mostly the realities of dreams (or the Dreamscapes, is what I like to call them) to make sure everyone from his au and multiverse have sweet and safe dreams.

Theres this things called Night Spawns or Nightlings who feeds from peoples nightmares and trauma while they are asleep. They oddly look like spiders... Dreamer is responsible for defeating these pests.

"But why?" you may ask.

Well... the Nightlings "power" to manifest bad dreams in your sleep can cause you depression, anxiety, paranoia, and much more, if they stay too long attached to someone, AND since they are really hungry they are trying to consume the dreamscapes of the person they are attached to. If they succeeds, one may never dream again (or woke up, in other words)

"What are Dreamscapes?"

Every time someone dreams, that person's consciousness is "transported" to this place, and each person has their own dreamscapes!! They are directly connected to people's consciousness and that is why they are so important.

SILLY BILLY SKELE INFO ↓

Hes mostly like classic Sans, very lazy, laid back/relaxed, and he enjoys puns a lot

but it's a little more extreme-

• He is always tired and cannot stay awake for more than 20 minutes without falling asleep again

• He aways looks tired/sleepy

• Sometimes he sleepwalks, he can do unbelievable things while he's asleep, from knitting and cooking to physically fighting or writing a quantum science research, all unconscious!

• For some reason sometimes he sleeps in super specific and random places, once he slept for two whole days inside Nightmare!Sans' castle and no one ever noticed... strange right? He wasn't even in a room, he slept in the kitchen storage the entire time lol

• He has been in and out of so many people's dreams that he probably knows EVERYONE, he has an incredible memory too!

• Sometimes he can't tell if he's really awake or if he's still dreaming, so he doesn't usually take things around him seriously. Which can make other people upset or annoyed that they're not being taken seriously.

• He learned to never try to find meanings in dreams that don't make the LEAST sense, and since he cannot distinguish which reality he is in because he is almost always dreaming- he will always accept anything absurd you propose to him.

You wanna make a birthday party for a giant unicorn baby? sure sounds fun.

You think Shrek is upset and needs help? yeah lets cheer him up.

Several alternate versions of him are fighting for some bizarre reason he doesn't understand?? yeah ok he can help, he don't mind.

• He snores when he's having a really deep sleep, he won't believe it if you tell him that tho

THE END!?

Well thats it! These are my ideas and thoughts about this Sans I created, I might and probably will add more things about him and his story later in other posts, can't wait to finally see his au takes more shape hehe~

also I will make another post about his magic skills and possible weapon along with more illustrations of him, so keep a eye out for more~~

heres a old doodle I made of him before finishing his ref, bye bye!! :3

ignore my old signature pls T-T

[imaginetyzx]

f/o February day 17: coffee shop au

This is ironic bc the place I work at actually sells a lot of coffee! I can so easily picture him coming into the store and buying something once, but coming back repeatedly just to see me. When the pot is empty, I pour his coffee for him, or I make him a sub for lunch. He'll come in and buy anything if it means he can see me. ;_;

[avintagekiss24]

𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖔𝖚𝖗 | 𝖇. 𝖇𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖊𝖘

→ pairing: beefy shadow monster!bucky barnes x black!reader

→ word count: 5367

→ warnings: 18+ ONLY, dub con, a tinge of somnophilia, exophilia, #monster fucker, smut, sex, rough sex, masturbation, rough masturbation, sex toys, butt stuff, oral sex (female receiving), multiple orgasms, voyeurism, explicit language

→ square filled: @badthingshappenbingo​ 

wiping the other’s tears away

→ author note: guys, i’m... this is who we are now. we are monster fuckers. this is based on @idga-buck​ INCREDIBLE ask that was bred from this post. i honestly don’t know if this holds a candle to that ask because, whew girl. that shit fucked me up when i first read it! anyway, hope you guys enjoy because i might be planning a little monster fucker series based off of this and another certain someone that is mentioned in the fic.

→ read hirsute

The stress in your shoulders makes it hard to lift your arm once you finally reach your apartment door. It takes everything in you to shove your key into the lock and slam your hip against the old, swollen wooden door to pop it open, but just crossing the threshold into your sanctuary helps soothe your nerves. Everything falls to the floor within an instant— purse, messenger bag, coat— hell, even your keys. Hopping on one foot to remove a light brown, velvet heel, and then the other as you make your way towards your bedroom, ignoring the lively green house plants scattered around window seals and the living room.

You don’t even bother to turn on the lights. Don’t make a pit stop in the kitchen, or even the bathroom to remove your makeup. Hunger pains be damned. There are exactly two things that will help with this mood— an orgasm, and sleep. Thank God one always leads to the other.

It was 10:12am, just two hours into your work day, when you knew what you were going to need to help forget about this day. Emails piling up, phone ringing off the hook, picking up the slack for coworkers because you’re just so well versed in this… we could really use your help. Took its toll. By 10:12am you were ready to scream, punch your perky, always in a good mood cubicle mate, and rip your hair out— so you knew, right then and there, that you were gonna fuck yourself stupid when you got home.

Perverted thoughts lingered all day as you rifled through old court filings and scoured obscure statutes. Thighs tightened as your sex started to dampen at fantasies of being bent over your boss’ desk. Caught yourself staring, more than once, through his open door as he chatted on the phone, bright blue eyes glinting underneath the natural sunlight that poured into his office, crinkling on the sides as he laughed.

Then he would furrow those brows as he read through briefings. Jaw and lips set tight, eyes squinted as he nibbled absentmindedly on his bottom lip. Big hands and thick fingers made the pen in his hand seem entirely too small. Pink tongue darted out to wet pink lips.

You’ve spent many a night with thoughts of Andrew Stephen Barber; and tonight will be no different.

Dark shadows are cast across the floor and bed, small slivers of moonlight creeping in. The sound of your shoes hitting the floor don’t even register in your ears as you wiggle out of your skirt and panties and fall onto the soft, warm, inviting Queen mattress.

Deft fingers make light work of the buttons on your silk blouse but the other hand can’t wait— slipping down your stomach and between sticky, hot flesh. A sharp inhale fills your chest as you rub slow circles against your clit, pangs of quick excitement starting to fire off. Your fingers push down to your slit, prodding and stroking gently as a new wet starts to slick your muscles.

A lazy smile curls onto your face. The stress of the day starts to evaporate as you melt into the mattress, the circles against your clit quickening, hips starting to roll and push up into your hand. The expensive silk of your blouse falls off your shoulders just a bit as you push it away from your chest, exposing two bare tits and quickly thickening nipples.

You take hold of one— tweaking it slow. Pinching and rolling the nub before palming your tit all together, cupping and pushing the mound of flesh up your chest. A swipe of your tongue— rough and torrid— against your nipple makes you grunt deep. Makes your hips jut upward as you prod that now filthy wet slit and hole.

Muscles flex as the sound of your dirty deed fills the empty space. Wet squeaks and sloshes bounce off the walls as fingers thrash back and forth and up and down against your clit. Heavy, thick thuds of your palm pounding against your body when one, two, three fingers finally slip inside— but they aren’t enough. Not wide enough or long enough to feed the hunger.

Then… there’s a shift. The atmosphere in your apartment— your room specifically— just changes on a dime. The tiny hairs on your body start to stand on end, goosebumps raising on your skin. Your eyes slide open, blinking up at the ceiling as your pumping hand slows down to just a creep before stilling completely. An already racing heart starts to beat harder, lips part, eyes and limbs completely frozen in place as fear strikes you.

You’ve felt this before, at random times since you moved in. Sometimes in the shower or in the kitchen, when you’re getting ready for work, or catching up on a show— but mainly at times like this. When you’re stretched out on your bed, naked, fingers rooted deep in your cunt, when you feel like you’re being watched. Like there’s a thousand eyes on you all at once.

There’s even a chill that takes over the room, sometimes getting so cold that for a brief moment, you can see your breath. You’ve gone to management a few times, who of course did nothing— but a few of your neighbors put your mind at ease, it happens to them sometimes too. It struck you odd that it was mainly just your female neighbors who experienced the random chills, but you brushed it off. You live on the southside of the complex, the sun gets blocked by the surrounding buildings. You also live on the first floor— heat rises, cold sinks. It happens.

You swallow hard, shutting your eyes, trying to center yourself again. A small laugh escapes your lips seconds later— you’re ridiculous. Maybe it's time to lay off the horror movies for a while.

Shrugging out of your blouse the rest of the way, you roll onto your side and pull open the drawer of your nightstand. Out comes the cute little heart shaped butt plug, complete with a pretty pink crystal gem. A small bottle of water based lube is next, and then, the pièce de résistance. Your ten inch tall, two inch wide realistic dildo.

Your stomach tightens with anticipation as you fumble with the flip cap of the small purple bottle of lube. Just a dollop is enough to coat the steel plug, the excess on your fingers used to wet your warm, puckered hole. Melting back into the mattress, you roll your shoulders, let your eyes flutter closed, and grab your bottom lip between your teeth as you massage your rim with the rounded tip, gently pushing.

A soft moan vibrates in your throat as your body opens up. Your hole twitches, clenching tight around the toy as it disappears with a quick pop as soon as the widest part is shoved in, leaving nothing to be seen but the pink heart flush against your hot rim. You draw your legs up, calves pressed against the backs of your thighs, butterflying open as you drag the fake cock through your folds— against your clit— using your slick to lubricate the soft silicone.

Fingers find your nub soon after, slapping quick, before stroking the delicate flesh as you start to tease your slit. The cock head slips in easy, but you're so tight, so worked up and eager, muscles swollen, that it takes a little more effort to swallow the rest. Tiny little wet squeaks fall from your lips, body tenses and curls inward as you push, push, push— mouth falling open, face splintering with pleasure.

It takes not even ten seconds for your body to adjust, hips wiggling and shifting to get comfortable, before you're pulling the massive toy out and shoving it back in. You start to murmur, indiscernible, clipped words filtering through full lips— a hot tongue slipping out, sweeping over teeth as your hips start to get into it.

You’re soon too far gone to notice the black shadows moving around the room. Chalk up the feeling of the little hairs standing on end, the goosebumps popping up across your body to your arousal— and not the two piercing blue eyes that illuminate at the edge of your bed.

~~~

Bucky could reach out and touch you he’s so close now. He’s careful still— almost getting caught by you earlier, his anticipation for your almost nightly show getting the best of him. Making him sloppy.

He’s haunted these walls, these rooms, these buildings for decades, if not a century or more. Seen generation after generation moving in and out, kids growing up into adults, adults growing old, the old dying off— but you— fuck, you’ve got to be his goddamn favorite of them all.

Deep brown skin. Lithe and delicate. A soft little quiet thing, engrossed in her solitude and house plants, more than happy to shut the rest of the world out more often than not. You’re gentle. Your soul, your physicality, except in these moments. When you fuck yourself like this, and it doesn’t matter when— in the mornings when the sun is soft, in the late afternoons, your body covered in the oranges and pinks of the sky, late at night in the absolute darkness with nothing but the moon and the shadows— you’re anything but gentle.

Unrestrained and wild you are when in the throes of your arousal. Writhing and loud, a thin sheen of sweat on your brow. Eyes clamped closed so tight sometimes sweet little tears squeeze out and slip down your cheeks. Two perfect tits, mounds of soft flesh, jiggle and bounce with the aggressive thrashes of your fingers against a glistening, sensitive nub.

Nights like tonight are his favorite. When you’re acutely aware that he’s here, but too scared to really give it much thought. When the fear strikes you stiff. When you pull out that monstrous fake cock and spread yourself wide— stretch that pretty, pink, wet cunt. The squelch, the squish of the foreign object being jammed into hot, distended muscles.

Your smell. So sweet and pungent— distinctly you. It’s constantly on the tip of Bucky’s tongue, filling his nostrils, swirling in his head and chest— taunting him. Intoxicating him. Begging and beseeching him to just reach out and touch. Taste. Oh, to have your scent— your flavor— on his lips to savor. He wants to bury his face between those thighs, drown between them. Slither into you and curl up, take up residence.

Bucky’s gotten bold as of late— now, not even waiting until you’re fucked out and sex drunk, falling into a peaceful, post orgasm slumber to move around. No. Now he shifts while you’re still awake, still fucking— toy sowed deep, fingers slapping, hips snapping, back arching.

You’ve snapped your head towards him once or twice over time as you’ve caught his movement in the corner of your eye. Sat straight up, mouth hanging, eyes wide, chest heaving as you stared into the darkness— waiting. Scared shitless. You even tried to cover yourself, hands over your tits, legs closing into each other.

It made him laugh.

You’re already his. That body claimed— no need to cover it up now.

Even tonight, he’s even bolder still. Right at the edge of your bed, peering on. It’s a damn near perfect view when you get like this— sloppy. Legs splayed open, heels dug into the mattress, hips arched off the bed. Your slick glistens underneath the moonlight, splashed on your thighs, strings connected between two puffy, balmy lips. It’s nothing but an invitation— an invitation that he can’t ignore for much longer.

He pushes his knee into the mattress, and then the other, his substantial weight dipping it. Piercing blue eyes snap towards your face as he stalls, waiting for any indication that you feel him there— a smile curling onto his lips when it doesn’t come. So he pushes closer, settles right at your feet. Reaches out, hovers long, black fingers over your chest— so close that his pointed, sharp nails graze your skin.

Makes you gasp.

Bucky snaps his hand back, but you don’t stop. You shiver. Goosebumps ever present on every inch of your skin— but you don’t stop. In fact, you get faster, harder. Pounding that fake cock into your cunt, pushing your hips higher as you slap and knead at that sticky, swollen nub.

You like it.

You like his touch.

Pride swells in Bucky’s chest. Maybe you’re much more receptive than he originally thought. Maybe it’s the fear itself— knowing you’re being watched by something, not someone— is what turns you on. And it makes Bucky bolder still.

He looms over you, hand pressing into the mattress right by your head. Head tilting as he leans in, brushing the tip of his nose against your cheek. You jump again, mewl loud when his nails scrape against your skin, between your jiggling, bouncing tits. He wants to fuck you so bad. Stuff you full of his monster cock— he knows you can take it. Knows you can stretch wide for his veiny, dripping prick. Suck those pretty tits into his wet mouth, those hard, perky nipples between his sharp teeth. But he won’t, not now.

You’re so close.

And this is always the best part.

So he pushes away, away from the bed. Hovers up near the ceiling, eyes shifting from their brilliant blue to pitch black so he can enjoy your finale. Then he’ll wait a while, maybe a few nights— maybe a few hours, who knows—  to encourage an encore.

With a little help, of course.

~~~

You cry out, shrieking into the darkness as the coil planted deep threatens to snap. The chill in the room has your nipples hard, but the heat blooming across your skin has you damp and sticky. There’s gusts of something— splashing over your naked body— but the windows are closed. The air conditioning turned completely off.

It feels like breath. You’d swear it— and it’s so close. Like someone, or something, is right on top of you. Shudders wrack your body, adrenaline rushes as ice floods your veins. Alarm, panic, sheer horror gripping you.

But, you cum before you can rationalize it. Before you can pinpoint it.

It’s so sweet, the orgasm, so deep as the warmth of it spreads like wildfire. Toes curl hard, so hard they go numb as the waves crash, each one harder than the one before. Heart in your throat, the blood rush in your ears. Muscles spasming, clenching and clamping down around the silicone cock, clit jumping with each contraction of your cunt.

It lasts for awhile— your body knowing that this is what you needed. So you ride it out as long as you can, fingers still rubbing and thrashing against your clit until it’s too sensitive. You stuff the cock into you one last time and leave it there, fixed so deep as your body falls back against the mattress. Your asshole constricts around the plug, twitching and fluttering as the last jerks of your hips start to subside.

Chest heaves with deep, long, ragged breaths. Tits pushing up and down, jiggling, stomach flexing as you go limp. Limp and fucked out. Asshole and cunt used, hot— weeping lube and cum. You’re a mess. A beautiful, sated, sloppy mess.

A lazy smile on your face, eyes hooded, you stare up at the ceiling. Unaware that you’ve found two black eyes just perfectly— stare right into them as they peer back at you.

Sleep starts to pull, a mushy, hazy brain giving in all too easily, not giving you time to recognize that you’re being watched again. That there’s a presence looming just over you— all around you. Or maybe, it's a mechanism. Maybe you don’t want to recognize it. So you roll over onto your side, shimmy underneath the blankets to gather some warmth. Shut your eyes and give into the sleep— vow to stop watching those cheesy scary movies so late at night.

They’re making you paranoid.

-

The sting of cold on your extremities makes you stir. Letting out a yawn, you flex your toes, pulling the blankets up to your chin as a chill ripples through your bones. You roll onto your back, and push out a breath, not opening your eyes to see the white puff of air. Another shiver, a deep one, rolls through you again, making you shift underneath the blankets and push your face into the pillow.

Moments later is when you perceive a warmth. A soft moan trembles in your throat as you smash the back of your hand against your face, still teetering between sleep and consciousness. The ache between your legs grows harder to ignore— the warmth, starting to sear. Your hips buck soft. Another groan scratches at the back of your throat.

You’re writhing within minutes. A white hot molten pooling in the pit of your stomach and spreading out to the tips of your fingers and toes. The cold nothing but a distant memory as the familiar burn of lechery encompasses your tight body.

It feels so real— a long, forked, rough tongue lapping at your folds, swishing around your clit. You jump suddenly, gasping deep when something like teeth, so many sharp teeth, nibble and bite at the meat of your thighs. There's pressure, pressing down on your stomach and wrapped around your thigh as you draw your knees up slow, digging the balls of your feet into the mattress. The pressure, it’s warm and vast— something like a palm… there’s scratching, quick little tickles over your stomach, your tits, your ankles and calves.

Fingernails. Long, jagged fingernails.

You give in to the fantasy— the dream. Not opening your eyes, not giving into the consciousness that tugs at you, not wanting to lose this euphoria. The pressure on your stomach gets harder, heightening the sensation of the tongue against your core and almost pinning your writhing hips to the sturdy mattress.

The tongue, rough and wet, slithers through your folds, flicking quick against your clit before the mouth sucks you right up— lips, clit— right into it. Tongue flattening against your slit, teasing your pink opening. Then, oh God, and then it slithers inside, that tongue. Massages your hot, swollen muscles from the inside. Your body jolts up, away from the mattress, a breathy, drawn-out snarl bursting from your lips.

You fall back against the mattress— liquify into it really and let your hands roam, finding your taut, thick nipples. Tweaking and rolling them, pinching between deft fingers before palming your tits feeling the goosebumps that have popped up on your flesh again. Your knees fall apart, legs splaying open, putting your swollen cunt on full display for this invisible force.

It’s not long before your hips are jutting up into the dream tongue, the lips, the teeth hard and fast, a sharp sting piercing your clit just as you start to cum again. Loud, shaky moans fill the room as your hips pulse and your back arches. Cursing, whaling as the dream tongue swipes and flicks, lips wrap around your nub again, sucking hard, coaxing every last drop of your release out of you.

Thighs, stomach, arms, cunt burn as a delicious stretch, a used ache settles deep in the exploited muscles. Long, hoarse breaths fill your chest, the air rushing so fast, and yet so slow that it makes you dizzy. You couldn’t move if you wanted to, everything is just so fucking heavy.

Brain is mush again, cloudy and dense, stupid with ardor. Lazy, broken moans vibrate through your vocal chords, body twitches with quick aftershocks every now and again, making you giggle. You feel like you’ve been hit by a mack truck. It’s so nice.

Once your breathing has slowed back to normal, you roll your head towards the window, open your eyes just enough to see the moon cutting into the room. Relief floods through your veins, happy to find it’s still night time, still dark, your room still moody, giving you time to fall back asleep with the pleasant thoughts of whatever just happened— but you’re a mess again. Skin sticky and damp, panties ruined. Your eyes droop and close as you push out a soft breath, hand slipping down your body. You should really clean up.

Maybe in a few minutes. You push your knees together slowly, swaying them back and forth as your fingertips find your clit, toying with it gently. They calm your jumbled nerves quite nicely and immediately— the touch familiar. Your fingers stretch out, tips push down just a little lower as you smile stupid and lazy and blink slowly up at the ceiling.

The smile doesn’t last long.

Your eyes pop open as a simultaneous sharp gasp fills your chest with cold air. Blood runs ice cold through your veins.

“Good,” a scratchy voice sounds as your fingers push through a tuft of thick hair just between your legs, hot breath sticking to tacky flesh.

Shallow, quick breaths squeak through your teeth, eyes wide, lips and chin trembling as your limbs grow heavy— oh so heavy. Frozen. You slam your eyes shut when a hand slides slowly up your side, serrated nails skipping across your skin. A sob chokes out as you slam your eyes shut, fear gripping every inch of your body.

The wet, long, hot tongue of your dreams swipes at your core again but you’re still sensitive— jumpy— hips pushing down into the mattress to get away from it. A second hand grabs your hip, squeezes it hard, stilling your lower half as it laps at you again. The crawling hand finds your left tit, cups it— kneads it slow— rolling the thick bud between even thicker fingers.

“Look at me.” The voice sounds again, like gravel, low and rough.

Your clit is sucked into an instant warmth, a wide, flat tongue massaging— rolling— gently. A soft, tiny little noise thrums in your throat as a shudder ripples through already irritated muscles. The sound pleases whatever is between your legs, as it chuckles deep, the vibrations adding to the sensation of its tongue.

It pinches your nipple— quick, hard— and bites down into the meat of your thigh while also squeezing it with it’s other massive hand, “I want you to look at me.” you hesitate— and it doesn’t like it, “Look at me.”

The chill in its voice forces your eyes open, but you keep them on the ceiling as silent tears trickle down the side of your face and onto your pillow. An influx of air fills your lungs when a hand pushes up to your face. A thumb swipes underneath your eye gently before an index finger curls to wipe away the wet emotion.

“You’re pretty when you cry,” it says, a little softer, still rubbing your cheek slowly, “Look at me.”

Against your better judgement, fighting through the fear, you blink, shifting your eyes towards your drawn-up legs. There are two big eyes, unnaturally blue, probing and upturned, staring back at you, disappearing in the dark as it blinks before they settle back on you. In fact, they stay on you as it’s tongue flicks out at you again, sweeps through your folds, teasing your opening, your clit again. It palms your tit, squeezing before sitting up, exposing it’s true size.

Your eyes follow slowly upward as it towers over you, it’s knees pressing into the mattress, dipping it deep with its weight. You struggle to breathe, eyes flutter quick as your lips tremble, taking in the umbra. There’s a wide chest, thick biceps and forearms and hands and fingers that push your legs back— towards your chest and stomach. Stocky thighs and a—

You gulp slow, sitting up on your elbows as your eyes zero in on the throbbing, weeping cock between its legs. The moon illuminates the pulsing veins running the impressive length, the wet, red, dripping cockhead— cum already dribbling out, splashing on your skin. It’s hot and silky— dense, the cum, as it wipes the spot away with it’s thumb, a nail cutting into your skin.

It grabs itself, strokes it’s massive cock slow as it drags its eyes along your naked body. Another shudder trembles through you when it teases your cunt with it’s cockhead, pressing into your clit, dragging through your folds, prodding at your slit. You let your head drop slightly, let your eyes close to slits, let your mouth drop as it’s fingers skip up and down your thighs, it’s jagged, black nails tickling you.

Errant hips canter upward, pushing your clit against its tip again, coating it with your slick before you let it settle back against your opening.

“Now that you can see me, beautiful,” it’s raspy voice sounds, starting to push into you, “I want you to scream.”

It juts into you hard, pulling a loud scream out of you— just what it wanted. You pant as it pushes, deep, deep, deep, until its hips are flush with yours, cock completely sunk. It doesn’t move right away, lets you wiggle and twitch, hiss and grunt as you adjust to the size— the absolute fullness. Stretched so wide, clasped so tight around this pulsating cock that you aren’t sure that you’ll be able to walk tomorrow.

But you’ll risk it.

It locks one of your legs around it’s waist, throws the other over its shoulder, slipping its massive hand down the length, down your calf, over your knee, along your thigh until it’s fingers settle on your cunt— on your clit. Slow circles are drawn into your flesh, a gentle pressure applied as it pulls back, cock dragging out of your death grip. You hiss as it sinks back in, reaching something deep.

It’s blistering after that. Within seconds, hips are snapping, skin slapping against… skin? You aren’t even sure. Long fingers are everywhere, tits, stomach, legs, cunt— gripping, groping, pinching. They venture up to your chin, up to your parted, swollen lips, where they linger. You send wide, innocent eyes up to its blues, tits sliding up and down as you lunge with each thrust— and open your mouth wider, sliding your tongue along the tip of its finger.

When a husky moan rumbles through its chest, your heart soars unexpectedly. It’s pleased with your eagerness— your reception.

You’re empty suddenly. A strong hand grips your side, pulls you roughly down the bed. Flips you over before yanking your hips upward, propping you up on your knees. And then, you’re pinned— an unyielding grip around the back of your neck holding you in place. You grunt and start to whimper,  another bout of fright coursing through your veins as it smashes the side of your face into the sheets and pillows.

It fucks back into you slow, a long, shuddering groan spilling out of your trembling lips, “My pet,” it speaks again, squeezing the back of your neck a little harder, “Such a sweet little thing.”

Reaching back, your fingers graze over a sinewy thigh, taking hold as you start to spring forward with each drive of its hips. You slam your eyes closed, more emotion squeezing out of them. The dull burn is back in the pit of your stomach. Your toes and fingers start to curl and flex as each stroke gets sweeter and sweeter, hitting that deep little spot within.

Goosebumps pop up again. Heat blooms across your skin, filling your face and chest and stomach. Spit dribbles from the corner of your mouth as two pouty lips form a perfect little “o” as you start to shriek, each sound coming faster and faster, louder and louder. Your fingers find your nub again, rubbing and slapping to set this release in motion. The sound of your slick is sloppy, wet— and gorgeous, to both you and it.

You’re cursing, sobbing, begging within minutes, teetering right on the edge. It starts to thumb at your asshole, rubbing the rim gently, pushing just inside— coaxing you on.

That’s all it takes. You tense hard— toes curl, fists ball, stomach clenches— and then stiffen as your orgasm hits. A white hot flushing through as you quake, cunt spasming around it’s heavy cock. Jammed full, orgasm rippling, fingers still thrashing against your constricting clit, you’re dizzy, warm all over, sweaty and freezing cold all at the same time.

Your companion— this monster of the night, lurking in the shadows— hammers on behind you, pumping, gripping, squeezing, pushing you down further into the mattress as his strokes get sharper. Stronger. More forceful.

It gets loud. Growling so deep and heavy that the sound shakes the walls— the bed. God, the poor neighbors. It grips your hip with one hand so hard you yelp in pain, hands flailing, trying to grip and grab anything they can as it fucks into you.

One, two more jabs and it stills quick— and that’s when you feel it. Another white hot, this time all concentrated in your overstimulated, tight, wet cunt. Long ribbons of cum, silk soft and warm, fill you up, up, up— to the brim. It’s cock veins pulsate, it’s girth seemingly growing wider, stretching you more as it unloads. Cock jumping in your tight grasp as cum weeps from it.

You take it all, humming loud and proud, panting as you feel it’s seed spill out, down the inside of your thigh.

It drags out slow, as if not wanting to at all. Like it likes the feeling of your messy, cum filled cunt all wrapped around him. You feel that swollen cock head through your folds again, slowly pushing up and down your clit, teasing your slit. A finger, and then another glance over your asshole— lovingly. Softly. Massaging the twitching rim before burying it’s hard cock between your cheeks, slapping you with it.

“No more,” you plead, voice small and broken and pathetic, “Please, I can’t.”

Another chuckle rumbles through its chest, “Ok sweet girl,” there’s a hand on the back of your head, stroking curly, damp, surely tangled hair, “Such a good girl.”

Hands are back on your skin again, fingers pushing and pulling, adjusting you on the mattress. You’re flat now, splayed out on your belly, legs spread, hands shoved underneath your pillows and head. Balmy skin, puffy flesh is soothed by slow gushes of breath, making you jump and whine more— whimper more. The bed sinks again as it moves, pulled again, your back up against a massive chest and hard stomach.

It wraps around you, slinging an arm and a leg over you, enveloping you in its warmth. Rids your face of the wetness, pushing the remaining tears away with its thumb. Nuzzles in close— a scratchy cheek against your own.

A heavy hand over your heart.

“I like this,” it says soft, tapping along with your heartbeat, “The rhythm.”

You hum again, happily fucked out and cock drunk, already feeling an ache settling into your muscles and bones. Hips and ass push back into its hips, pushing its dense cock against you— wanting to feel it resting against your cunt, “You got a name?”

“Brarthronoz.”

“Excuse me?” you giggle through a deep yawn as your eyes flutter.

It— he nuzzles again, pushing his face closer, “Bucky is fine, pet.”

“Bucky,” you sigh a little, “I like that.”

You fall asleep with the soft rhythm of his breath against your neck.

-

When you wake, he’s gone— but you kinda figured that anyway. The oranges of the sky and rising sun chases away all the shadows. You go about your routine but a little slower— inflamed, throbbing arms and legs make showering and brushing your teeth a little harder this morning.

You look for him though, in the corner of your little kitchen, in that small spot where the sun just never quite reaches.

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth when you find a pair of bright blue eyes fixed on you, a little wink encouraging you further.

“Toast?” You ask cheekily, a wide smile on your face as you offer him a plate.

[ask-de-writer]

IMMORTALITY? A Grumpy Goat *tail* (Part 1 of 3) : MLP Fan Fiction

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IMMORTALITY?

A Grumpy Goat *tail* (Part 1 of 3)

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

© 2022 by Glen Ten-Eyck

7865 words

All rights reserved. This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

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The somewhat scraggly and a good bit overweight brown pony with a large ridged reddish scar on his shoulder stood on my carpet and said petulanty, “Why ain't you got something comfy for me to sit on?  Ain't fair.  No way to, like, get customers.”

I leaned back in my easy chair. My bare goat like skull, with glowing snake-like eyes, curled horns, fangs and an ever-burning candle between the horns, floated above my invisible body.

I retorted acidly, “I don't recall inviting you here.  I was reading quietly, out front, when you barged up and said that I gotta do something for you.

“That is fine, in itself. Doing things for ponies too lazy or dumb to do those things for themselves is my business.  

“The problem here is simple. For fifteen minutes, all that you have done is complain about how I am treating you.”

I glamor spelled gryphon talons where my forehooves would be, if I had a real body.  I aimed a talon at him.  “You have not even told me your name.

“To be blunt, if I am a poor host, it is because I presently have a rotten guest.  

“What is it that you want me to do for you, exactly?  My business is seeing that you get what it is that you have set out in a contract.  That is all.”

“I wants to be immortal.  I don't want to never die.  That clear enough for a goat to grasp?”

I nodded, making the candle flame bob and the shadows all about the front chamber of my cave to bob and weave.  “That was admirably clear and succinctly, if rudely put. Shall we draw it up?"

“The terms are simple.  Once you sign, you pay in advance.  1000 golden bits in exchange for living as long as Equestria remains a habitable world.  Refund due to your heirs, as spelled out in the contract, should you die before then.”

He curled a lip.  I pointed a claw at him as he was about to spit on my carpet.  He choked on the loogy instead of spitting it out. “That was a vile trick!  I could'a choked on that!”

“Spitting on my carpet isn't precisely nice, either!  That just put the price up!  1200 golden bits or just walk away from here and trust Ponyville General Horsepital to take care of you!”

Suddenly he broke down.  “Dratted Doctors!  I was there.  They says I gots a bad heart and gonna die. I don't wanna die!”

I shrugged.  “Few do.  It happens to be something that I don't have to worry about a whole lot.

“Now listen to this and listen closely.  Immortality is NOT possible.  Everything will die eventually.  What I CAN do is give you a VERY LONG life.  A life to match Celestia or Luna in length from now onward.  If that is good enough, we can do business.  If it is not, we can't.

“It is that simple.”

“You really can do that?”

I tartly replied, “Unlike you, Mister Sawnax, I am not in the habit of saying that I can do something if I can't deliver.”

Sawnax stomped a hoof in irritation.  “If you knowed who a am, why'd you make a fuss about it?”

I snorted, “It is called courtesy.  You are really short on it!  Just like the loads of timbers going out of your yard.  Short counted almost every time.”

“That ain't true!  Even Houser buyin' from me, and they doesn't get pickier than him!”

A fleshless skull, floating in the air should not be able to grin.  It can.  Aren't glamor spells wonderful?

I chuckled as I replied, “You actually do stock excellent quality timbers.  That is why I instructed Houser to bring a constable with him when he picked up the timbers for my cave door.  The constable blocked all of your efforts to interrupt the count.  Load was six timbers short.  You had to bring the load up to invoice.

“Houser STILL brings a constable along when he picks up timbers.  So do all the other Ponyville builders, now.”

Sawnax almost snarled.  It was delightful to see.  If he were to die, I would not spit on his grave. The moisture might cause something to grow.

“YOU was behind that?  No wonder no pony likes goats!  That stunt is cost me hundreds of timbers.”

I waived a claw casually as I replied, “Timbers that were not yours.  Shorting the invoices was and is theft.

“That, however, is not why you are here.  As much fun as this conversation is, I would rather get to the point of your visit.  Your 1200 golden bits is far more fascinating to me than listening to you pretend to be honest.  

“Let us clear the air.  You want to live until either Celestia or Luna dies or this world ends. That is what I can deliver.  It is what I have.  True immortality, living forever, is impossible.  Not even the universe will last that long.”

“Well then do it, goat!  Make me live fer ages.”

Mildly surprised, I asked, “Are you sure that is all?  No conditions on it?”

Sawnax stopped like he'd run into a wall.  “What do mean?  If I lives, I lives.  Mind stay sharp and all that.  I gets to enjoy life.  A REAL LONG life.”

I nodded, the candle between the horns of my skull bobbing.  “Fair enough.  I am going to put in a suicide exclusion, though.  You will be able to end your own life without any refund being due or paid.”

I reached over and pulled a writing kit to bridge across the arms of the easy chair.  I handed Sawnax a copy of the cover page after filling in the fee and a few other items.  I required him to initial all of the boxes.  It was a legal boiler plate covering the basics of all of my contracts.  I stacked it on top of two more copies of the boiler plate.

I took a blank page and started to fill in what Sawnax had told me.  Live to the death of either Celestia or Luna, or until the world ends.  His mind to remain sharp and unimpeded.  He was to be able to eat whatever he wanted or engage in any activity that his body was capable of at signing without shortening the specified lifespan.

I finished up with the suicide exclusion clause.

Sawnax carefully read it through. I took two more sheets, stacked them under the contract, and offered him a pen.

His brow clouded.  “What?  No signin' in blood or any of that?”  he snorted contemptuously.  He did sign though.

I snickered.  “You want to do it that way?  We can.  If you want.  All sorts of Dark Ritual.  

“It won't mean anything, but I can put on a show for you, if you want it.  20 gold bits fee for it, though.  I don't do much of anything for free.”

I peeled the top sheets off their stacks and folded them together. The top one was the boiler plate that he had already seen and gone through.  I placed the set into an envelope.  I did not have to fill out cover sheets for the other two. They were already done.  Contagion spells are lovely for making lots of copies of something.  I put the other two sets in envelopes too.

Sawnax reached for an envelope. I sank the gryphon claws into his foreleg just above the hoof, where it would hurt.  “Sawnax, I have not yet been paid.  No money, no deal.  No contract in your hooves to try faking payment with a forged receipt either.”

He stomped off down the trail to Ponyville.

Really, I figured that he would not be back.  I mean, Sawnax was well known for many things. Unfortunately.  Cheat.  Liar.  Busy body.  Pain in the ass (apologies to my donkey friends out there).  Miser so cheap that any copper bit that left his hooves had Celestia and Luna's portraits pressed out!

I sat back outside in the sun. Left my skull inside.  Don't need an Ever-Burning Candle if you have good light.  Reading is my favorite pass-time.  As it happens, being read to is popular too.  My guests came out of the back chamber of my cave, where they had gone when Sawnax came up the trail, and sat where they could hear well.

It is easy to see where I am, even without the skull (which really is/was mine when I was alive). The book floating there with pages turning is sort of a give away. The voice coming out of empty air is another clue.

My guests were the Litch King and a lovely pure black mare named Coalsmoke.  Her cutie mark is a sort of hourglass that is bright orange-red.  It is a fair warning.  She is a semi-regular customer as well as a frequent visitor.

The Litch King is the supernatural being who made me what I am.  He appears as the skeleton of an Alicorn.  I was shaped by his sense of humor and a printer's mistake. (For details, read A Bad Day For Grumpy Goat.)

My copy of the NECRONOMIPONY: Necromancy made Easy: a manual for beginners in the Art (Non-Equine University Press, For academic study only) had two important magical diagrams called Pentacles swapped.  The error was covered and corrected in an Errata Sheet in the back of the book.  I missed the Error sheet.

The Litch King did not.  When I proved willing to listen, instead of trying to bully a creature that can and does literally raise the dead, he talked to me.  He showed me the flaws in my plan for necromantic revenge and suggested a better way.

A spirit body would be invisible, not subject to decay and would answer to my will directly.  I could find it easily because he would leave the skull, which I could take on and off of it, like a hat, sort of.  

I agreed.  He did it.  To me. The swapped pentacles were the ones to keep the operator (me) safe and the Work pentacle.  No points for guessing which one I was in, due to that printer's mistake.  Thing is, it has worked out really well.  We have become buddies of a sort.  He has free and unlimited access to my cave and has always been an excellent guest.

We were just getting well into Daring Do and Compass of Discord, when Coalsmoke said, “There is somepony on the trail, down there by your spring, Grumpy!”

The Litch King observed, “Sawnax. He is hauling a small cart.”

Both of them muttered. Coalsmoke, under her breath.  The Litch King, not having breath, just muttered.  They went for the back chamber of the cave and shut the door.  Just as they had during Sawnax's earlier visit.

He toiled up the slope and left the cart blocking my door.

He thrust a clipboard and pen at me.  “Here is your dratted 1200 golden bits!  Sign here for full payment and gimme my contract!”

“No.  I have not counted it. Push-around bullying is how you shorted ponies before.”

He stirred a hoof through the coins.  “You can see it there.  That all you needs, goat!  Sign!”

“What part of NO is unclear? No count, no receipt.  No receipt, no contact.  You may haul away your garbage.”

Incredulous and indignant, he demanded, “You turns down my gold after requiring it?”

“If you do not permit me to count it, yes.  No deal.  Go away!”

He promptly dumped the cart, spilling gold on the ground and into my cave.  “There!  You is done took delivery!  Sign or I sues!”

“No.  Clean up the mess that you have made and leave or let me count it first.”

“This is calling me a liar!”

“I do believe that is the first time that we have agreed on anything since you arrived the first time!”

Sawnax had that just ran into a brick wall look, all of a sudden.  I worked my way around the cart and stepped into my cave.  I returned with a stiff broom and sweeping pan.  

Sawnax watched incredulously as I swept up the first pan of golden bits and dumped it back into the cart.  Almost in a panic, now that his bluff had been called, he whined, “You ain't countin' it!”

“The way that you have been behaving, old scoundrel, I did not think that you wanted me to.  No count, no deal.  Your bits.  I am giving them back.”

“This here is unfair.  I can't even see you!”

That gave me an idea that even I would count as wicked.  So I did it.  Glamors are easy to cast.  He could see a body where I was, now.  A body, as in a half rotted, lots of bones showing, zombie corpse.  From his sudden look of horror, I gathered that it had the desired effect.

Innocently, I asked, “What? You can see something where I am, just as you asked.  Now, let me get this counted.”

I began the process of making stacks out of the spilled bits. Amazingly, Sawnax did not even want to touch the stacks after watching the zombie-like, corruption leaking, body handle the gold. I had smaller bags.  Each hundred went into one and was tied snugly.

It took a bit to count the bits (joke there).  When I was done, sitting next to bulging bags and unbagged stacks, I pointed with a decayed looking hoof.

“Only 950 bits here, Sawnax, old cheat.  No wonder you tried to bully me into signing.”

He swallowed hard and twisted his face angrily.  Fishing in his saddlebag, he produced a heavy sack. He tossed it at my feet.  “Here!  And be damned to you!”

“If it ever becomes possible for me to die again, I most certainly am!” I replied casually, starting to stack the new supply of coins.

Two more bags joined the heap.  I waived a hoof, trailing tiny chunks of rot, at the remaining stacks. “Still two bits short, Sawnax.  You must really WANT to die!”

Pausing and appearing to brighten up considerably, I added, “If that IS the case, I can certainly speed it up!”  I lifted a hoof in his direction, a look of anticipation on my skull.

He brought out the last two, sourly commenting, “Can't blame me for trying.”

Taking the last two bits and bagging the final hundred, I replied, “Wrong.  I can blame you for trying.  I do, in fact.

“However, this does complete our deal.”  I moved the bags inside my cave's door and got Sawnax his contract.

He very ostentatiously opened the envelope and checked the pages to be sure that I was not pulling a Sawnax on HIM.

I wasn't.  I am a lot of things. Evil, absolutely.  Practitioner of Non-Equine magic, correct. Honest, that too.  I earn my bits.  Even Sawnax's.

Speaking of whom, he was trying to push past me into my cave.

As I blocked him with a foreleg apparently full of maggots and rot, I inquired, “Where are you going?”

He looked at me as if I were a simpleton.  “We gots to do the dark rituals and shit to fulfill this here contract.”

“No, YOU don't.  I do.  I have everything that I need to do it.  I not only don't NEED you, I don't WANT you there.”

“But I gots to make my dark bargain with the evil ones!”

I actually laughed.  “No, you don't.  I do. Your contract is with ME.  Come to think, though, your contract DOES have a suicide exemption - - “

I paused and then brightened up, “Actually, do come in!  If you do, I can keep your gold, because I have warned you. That makes you being there a suicide!  What I have to do is call up the Litch King!  A very dangerous Working indeed! If you are there, he will certainly destroy you AND I am blameless. Your money will be mine!”

TO BE CONTINUED

NEXT==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

Return to The Annals of Grumpy Goat

[servicetopkaradanvers]

Do you have any tips for coloring/shading? I always love how your colors look cause they're really nicely saturated but still well balanced

oh boy do I have some very strong opinions about color lmao

First, I’m morally obligated to mention that there are 8 million ways to approach digital color, so these are really just the Thots going through my head when I’m working on a given thing. For the sake of this rant, I’m gonna use this scribble of Kara and Lena from last fall, because it’s simple enough that I can easily illustrate some key points.

Most of the ideas I’ve outlined are about shorthand techniques that can easily and quickly use color to your advantage when you’re trying to sell the environment your characters are in. I’m not a painter, and painting is absurdly difficult, but we can use digital software to our advantage and consider how a painter would approach when lighting a figure/object/environment. Too many shortcuts are >:( but a few quick and simple habits can go a long way in finishing and posting a quick drawing you don’t want to spend hours rendering.

1. Pure black almost never exists in nature, and similarly, you will almost never need it.

Most illustration aims to “sell” a perceivable, believable space. While this is not everyone’s goal, most of what I draw is finished with an at least semiconscious goal of appearing touchable. Pure black is a guaranteed way to take away from that, because we almost never see it in nature. The darkest point in this particular drawing is Lena’s (terrified, dead) eyes, and it is only about 80% black and has some red/orange in it to help unify with the rest of the darks in the piece.

Here, locking my drawing layer and scribbling in some browns, blues, and even whites goes a long way to mesh the figures with their environment, especially because the background is lineless.

Here’s what this same drawing looks like with pure black lines. I would argue that this version does a disservice to the steps I’ve taken to light the figures, and it’s flattening the brightly lit outdoor space I’m trying to imply. There’s a whole additional essay about how lines play into this as well, so that’s a pretentious argument for another day.

2. Local color will rarely reach above 50% saturation.

Here’s the drawing with all the lighting work I’ve done removed (barring a few highlights I’m too lazy to turn off). In illustration, “local color” is referring to the color of a given object at the most neutral lighting possible.

The most heavily saturated element here is the artificial red on Kara’s cup, which makes sense! Printed logos, light up colored signs, things that are generally hard-sided and man-made will be more saturated. The next most saturated object here, and the only other local color exceeding 50% is Lena’s coat.

The rest of the clothing, skin, and hair falls between 10% and 35%. A neutral base gives you a lot of room to work with when you start lighting. It’s easier to go richer in digital than it is to accurately reel your colors in. Like any other kind of contrast, saturation can be used to pop points of interest, and if your entire canvas is TURBO SATURATED, none of it actually is. Also you’re hurting my eyes.

3. Natural light is cool, artificial is warm.

As humans, we spend 99% of our time either seeing the world lit by the sun, or by a lightbulb. Light from the sun is cool and generally diffused because it has passed through our atmosphere. Interior lighting tends to be warm and direct, casting clear shadows that come from a very specific light source.

Even if we remove the background, you would probably assume that Kara and Lena are outside based on the light temperature. Blue and orange are opposites on the color wheel, so an orange-tinted shadow (warm) will by effect make all the lighter colors look blue-ish (cool)! Pretty much all the shadows on these figures are just a faint orange Multiply layer. You’ll also notice a faint blue gradient over Kara’s shoulder to emphasize the approximate point where the sun is in the sky.

In short, cooler light and warmer shadow will imply that the setting is outdoors. Warmer light and cooler shadow will imply that the setting is indoors. It’s a fast and easy way to communicate character location.

4. Skin is weird.

If I’m just slapping some flat colors down and don’t plan to do much painting, facial features and skin have a lot of complex undertones, so if I don’t want to get into too much detail, a splash of red on the nose and around the eyes, a bit of color on the lips, translucent ears, can all go a long way to making flesh look more like flesh and less like barbie plastic.

5. Atmospheric perspective is much more important than grid (1/2/3 point) perspective.

This is relevant to color because color is the best way to easily portray atmosphere and the passage of space. Especially when your setting is outdoors, objects’ colors should become cooler and less saturated as they recede in space. The closer an object is to the camera, the more contrast you’re going to see in hue (position on the rainbow), saturation (richness of the color), and value (light vs dark).

[peachiimilquetea]

PEACH PEACH CAN U WRITE SMTH ABT A BEACH DAY W OBEY ME BOYS!!! EITHER ALL OR ONE ILY BFF

the obey me brothers go to the beach!

a/n: these are super cute and quick, i hope you like them! most of my hcs for the brothers are a lot more... harsh? idk i like bullying them but this was a fun exercise to familiarize myself with their personalities and whatnot

you can also tell who i like the most in these i think FDSBJKFDBSJKF

lucifer!

this is oddly specific but lucifer strikes me as the type to wear a swim shirt

or like one of those full-body swimsuits that end as biker shorts??

like this

he also wears a shit ton of sunscreen and bothers others to do the same

very much drill sergeant vibes when he tries to get everyone out of the house on time in order to beat the traffic

has a fucking itinerary that nobody follows FDBSJKBDSJK

mostly stays on the beach with a book or just looking out for his brothers

hates the water but loves the tranquility that the beach provides

so he takes the day to relax

but i can still see him trying to get work done while at the beach and you have to force him to put his shit down

"diavolo literally gave you the day off what are you doing"

"its just an expense report, it'll be done quickly i promise"

"give me the notebook lucifer,"

"but-"

"GIVE IT"

mammon!

MY BABY UGH

i see mammon as a "wheres my hug" ass dude

so he probably likes the beach purely bc he can grab people and throw them in the water like a fucking caveman

he will pick mc up and throw them in the ocean, laughing like a maniac the whole time

also wears obnoxious sunglasses

"mammon are those really necessary? they're a little... tacky"

"you just don't know, fashion mc, asmo said they look nice hmph"

very corny but he will make everyone stay later so he can watch the sunset

takes like 20 pictures in the exact same spot and then never uses them again

ALSO USES A METAL DETECTOR LITERALLY RUNS AROUND THE BEACH TRYING TO FIND SHIT HE CAN PAWN OFF

"mammon that's a penny"

"yeah but it could be worth millions!"

leviathan!

mans doesn't even bring a swimsuit BYE

it takes the strength of all the brothers (and lucifer's wrath) to get him to leave the car

spends his time on the boardwalk buying corny souvenirs or sitting next to lucifer on his phone

gets burnt bc he's never outside and doesn't listen to lucifer and asmo when they urge him to put on sunscreen

tries to make everyone go home early but nobody listens FBSJKFDBSJk

attempts to make sand sculptures of some of his favorite characters bc he saw people do it online and he thought it was cool

draws in the sand as well

people come over to watch him work and admire it bc its actually pretty good

then he gets his shit kicked over by a little kid and then just gives up

you have to console him GSHJDHJFK

satan!

like a cat, i don't think he likes the water either

despises the water actually

i can see him playing beach volleyball with beel tbh

he's actually pretty good

also explores the boardwalk with levi, altho he doesn't buy any corny shit

if a there's a nautical-themed bookstore in the area, you'll never see him again

but in most cases he sits to read with levi and lucifer

likes to watch the animals do their thing

i can see him getting a hermit crab or a fish bc of how cute they are

"they're like the cats of the ocean!"

hates when mammon tries to mess with him and attempted to drown him once so mammon doesn't try shit with him anymore FSBJKFSBJ

asmodeus!

OBVIOUSLY HE TANS DUHHHH

probably wears the skimpiest little cheekster bathing suit too in order to "eliminate tan lines" or like a thong

OR he wears one of those giant straw hats in order to keep the sun off him

yk what, maybe both

he also collects saltwater to go home and make at home beauty treatments

collects seaweed as well

makes you help him hunt for pretty seashells to make jewelry and accessories with

"this one looks so nice with your complexion! here, put it in the bag!"

but mostly lays around tanning and flirting with people who stare at him

bc lets be honest whos not staring at him??

beelzebub!

i hate to be cliche but

this fatass is tearing the boardwalk UP

mans is harassing the icecream truck, eating various crab boils, and finishing all of those gimmicky challenge menu items that the restaurants have to offer

did they pack lunch?

yes

is he gonna still spend money and buy more food?

also yes

mc: "beel they call it the triple twist burger of death are you sure you want it?"

beel, who has already finished it: "huh?"

they either love him or hate him bc he eats a shit ton but that also means he PAYS a shit ton and who doesn't like money???

once he sees people going to the beach and catching their own shit, he's SOLD

hunts for crabs and wrestles big ass fish he finds in the ocean

would definitely start a bonfire to roast the food under the open air

plays sports with random people he meets and probably does calisthenics??? like those mfs who do chin ups and walk in the air???

i can see him doing that

belphegor!

doesn't do anything

sleeps in the sun

almost gets left behind bc everyone just assumes he's already in the car

likes to float in the water on a giant donut

almost like lazy river style

makes beel watch him to make sure he doesn't drift too far out to sea

doesn't like to get up too much but will get involved from the sidelines

like if asmo asks his opinion on a seashell or if the boys need someone to be referee for their volleyball game

keeps everyone's spot when they need to go do something

treats the beach like every other day he has tbh

i can see him letting mammon and asmodeus bury him in the sand and literally not even caring FBJSDKBJK

[omg-imatotalmess]

Your Turn

Hey guys! So, y'all can thank Skirt anon for this absolutely wonderful idea. They really outdid themselves offering me an idea like this because I literally couldn't stop thinking about it. Like, I really just went head too full. Hope y'all enjoy!

Pairing: Harry Potter x Reader

Based on this ask: Ok I had a ✨thot✨for sub Harry- basically having him riding ur strap and it's a larger one than he's used to and even with prep he's squirming around.

"It's too big!" (He's fine it's just for the scene) and you just kiss away his tears and bring him down harder and thrust up a little and as it presses into his prostate, he lets out a cry as he has the most powerful orgasm of his life without you even touching his dick

-skirt anon

Warnings: Smut, sub!harry, dom!reader, pegging, dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving), slight praise kink, swearing

                                                            ---

Art came in many forms: songs played for generations, paintings in museums, sculptures that endured lifetimes, but none that rivaled Harry. More specifically, Harry as he was just then. Eyes clenched shut, and tear tracks down his flushed face as he slid inch after inch of your strap into him. You'd never seen any piece of art more worthy of praise or more breathtaking than him. And completely yours. Only for you to see. A smile graced your lips at the thought, and you trailed your eyes over his trembling body again. You'd never seen anything more exquisite in your life.

"Beautiful," you murmured.

"(Y/N)," he whined, hands tightening on your shoulders. Gently, you ran your hands up his thighs, feeling the muscles jump under your attentions and the strain of holding himself up. You bucked your hips, sliding a little more of your cock into him. A strangled moan filled the air around you.

"What's the matter?" you asked as if you didn't already know.

"It's too big!" he sobbed.

"But you're nice and full, aren't you? All stuffed full of my cock. That's what you wanted, sweet boy," you said. More tears dripped down his cheeks as you thrust in again.

"Yes!" he cried breathily. Leaning forward, you began peppering kisses all over his face and neck. You couldn't tell if the slightly salty taste was from sweat or tears, but it made you shiver anyway. The effect you had on him always made you a little breathless. It took so little to have him shaking and crying on your strap. And you were the only one that got to see this stunning creature this way. Trailing your fingers back up his thighs, you latched onto his hips. Perhaps with a little more force than necessary, hoping to see the bruises tomorrow.

"Show me how much you love it then. Fuck that pretty ass on my cock," you purred.

"I can't, I can't. (Y/N)!" he moaned, voice pitching up and cracking on your name.

"Then let me help you, baby," you said. And in one fluid movement, you dragged him down on you and slammed your hips up. The resounding howl rattled the windows, making you glad you'd remembered the silencing charm.

You set your hips at a punishing pace, driving your strap into him without allowing him time to gather his thoughts. All he managed to get out were strangled sobs and mewling sounds that might have been some version of your name. At some point, he'd wrapped his arms around your neck, pulling you as close as he could get you. Tears and sweat mixed as they dripped onto the skin of your collar bone and little punched-out breaths fanned across your cheeks. You couldn't stop.

"Too much! More, please, more!" he begged, slamming his hips down in a sloppy rhythm.

"That's my good boy," you panted.

"I can't! Too much! I need more!" You weren't sure if he was even aware that he was speaking at this point, but you didn't care. It didn't matter. Your golden boy needed more, and you were damn well going to give him as much as he could handle.

"Are you gonna cum for me, Harry?" you asked, digging your hands into the soft flesh of his ass.

"Yes! Please, please, so much!" he babbled. His cock twitched violently where it was trapped between your stomachs. A wicked smile cut across your lips as you pressed him back so that delicious friction came away from his overly slick cock.

"I want you to cum from my cock and my cock alone. Can you do that for me?" you asked. The answer you got was a simple incoherent cry. His bouncing became more frantic. You were just enjoying being about to watch his angry red cock bob in front of you.

"So hard for me. What a good boy," you cooed.

"Harder! Use me!" Harry's desperate plea shook you down to your core. Electricity shot up and down your spine as you slammed up into him again. Judging by the howl, you'd hit his prostate dead on. Then something savage awoke in you.

Shoving him onto his back, you hiked his legs over your shoulders and thrust into him with a surprising amount of force. All you could focus on was fucking him through the mattress. Being too much. Being the only thing he could think about, then forcing him not to think at all. And you were. His back arched as he sobbed out long whining moans so forceful you wondered if he was past words. Vaguely, you could feel his hands curl into your hair. The slight pull drove you harder into him. You could barely hear the slapping skin over the cacophony of moans. Hips bucking up erratically, head thrown back with the tendons of his neck bulging, Harry let out the most beautiful sound you'd ever heard.

"(Y/NNNN)!" he howled, drawing out your name into a near scream as he came.

The sight of him with his eyes rolled back in his head as he painted his chest and your stomach with his cum was nearly enough to send you over the edge. It almost did. Slowly, you rocked your hips into him, letting him ride it out until he finally went limp. You stilled for a moment, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

"You alright, love?" you asked, sliding your strap from him.

"Brilliant," he slurred, peering up at you with his eyes just barely open.

"Good," you said, "Did you like that? Was it okay?"

"Brilliant. Absolutely bloody brilliant," he said. Harry gave you a lazy smile that made your heart squeeze. The amount of affection you had for him was a little overwhelming. "Your turn."

"Wha-" Before you could fully answer, he rolled over until he laid over you.

"Let me finish you off, yeah?" he asked.

"Please do," you said.

"Can I- can I use my mouth?" For a moment, he looked almost a little shy, which was a bit laughable considering you'd just fucked him within an inch of his life.

"Fuck yeah," you breathed, letting your head drop back into the pillows.

You felt him hook your legs comfortably over his shoulders, and a hot breath caressed your slick skin. A shiver coursed through you. You hadn't realized how worked up you were until just then. Then your thoughts cut out entirely. Harry dragged his tongue over you, lapping gently at your lips, looking up at you to carefully watch your expression. You swore this gorgeous boy would be the death of you. He did it again. This time just barely flickering inside. Humming, you threaded your fingers into his hair.

"Good boy. Just like that," you sighed.

Harry was always a gentle lover despite the way he liked you to treat him in bed. He saw to your needs with the utmost care, with soft sweeps of his tongue, never rushing anything, building you up until you couldn't stand it, and you love him for it. All he ever asked in return was that you told him he was doing it right. And by god, you could do that for him. With every flick of his tongue over your clit and easy swirling over you, you let him know how good he was. You let every little sound he pulled from you slip out unchecked. Every sound seemed to tell him exactly where you needed him most. His hands massaged your legs in the most intoxicating way that had you going boneless under them. Pulling your thighs further apart, he pressed his face more into you.

"You taste so good. God, I love it," he muttered against you, toying with your clit.

"Good. Harry, so fucking good!" you groaned.

"You drive me crazy when you say my name like that, you know?" he said, genuine amazement coloring his voice. You arched your back, keening at the sound. You felt like you might be floating. Or losing your mind.

"Shit, that's it," you hissed.

You'd lost track of what he was doing. Whether it was his hands or his mouth on you didn't make a difference. With everything that had taken place, you were teetering so close to the edge you couldn't think. You didn't care to. Harry worked around your clit again just the way you needed him to, and you felt your hips jump up. So close.

"Please cum in my mouth," Harry pleaded, the words slightly muffled.

And you were falling over the edge. Your voice choked off into a soundless moan as you arched against him. Your thighs shook uncontrollably. The rhythmic rolling of your hips that you'd just noticed turned to jittery, forceful thrusts against his lips, grinding for all you were worth. Harry simply stayed there, licking up every drop of slick you gave until you relaxed. Only when you began pushing his head away did he really stop.

"Harry," you sighed for no other reason than saying his name.

"Was that good?" he asked, green eyes staring up at you through pieces of displaced hair.

"Jesus, yeah. You're always good," you said. Smiling, he crawled back up, covering your body with his own.

"You too. I mean, so are you," he said. Laughing, you pressed a kiss against his messy lips and let yourself relax against the sheets. Both of you were in desperate need of a shower, but you had the feeling that would have to come later. When Harry snuggled under your chin, you decided you didn't really mind.

[homerforsure]

Whumptober No. 6 Bruises / Touch Starved / Hunger Whumptober No. 30 major character death / left for dead / ghosts

Me: I can’t believe I have to post this absolutely incomprehensible piece of writing. 

Me: You don’t... have to?

Me: No, I’m gonna. 

Buck has an exceptional number of pillows on his bed. There are six, before he knocks a few to the floor every night, and he burrows into them like a nest, curling up with one against his chest, two pressed against his back, one between his legs. His sheets are a ridiculously priced, cool, crisp cotton that welcomes him in, surrounding him. The blankets he uses aren’t weighted, but they’re heavy and thick and he keeps his air conditioning turned up so he doesn’t have to give up the feeling of nestling into them in the heat of summer. Along with the white noise machine on his night stand, all of it is chosen to trick him into sleep. To keep back the feeling that night time in his own apartment is the loneliest part of Buck’s day. 

It wasn’t perfect, pre-covid. It’s been a long time since Buck had someone share his space, share his bed, someone he could reach out and touch whenever he wanted. But his life outside of home was full. He didn’t lack for closeness; in some ways he had more than he’d ever dreamed. So while he had lonely moments, they weren’t a constant ache in his chest. 

These months though. These months hurt. Facetime isn’t a substitute for curling up on Maddie’s couch with whatever silly-labeled wine she’d liked best that week. It’s definitely not a substitute for Eddie’s couch and losing to Christopher over and over again at Mario Kart. The last time they talked, Eddie had reached over and ruffled Christopher’s hair and Buck felt it. First as a tingle up the back of his scalp and then as a bruise to his heart. Eddie’s touches, so constant and so casual, became essential somewhere along the way and Buck feels himself reaching out for them even when he knows it’s not allowed.

“Six feet, gentlemen,” Bobby says gently when their orbits swing toward each other and Eddie makes a dramatic show of raising his hands and taking a giant step backward. Bobby just shakes his head and reminds them it’s the price they all agreed to pay for not wearing masks in the firehouse. 

Buck starts dreading the end of a call when taking off his heavy turnout coat leaves him feeling cold and exposed. He folds into himself, claiming a chair, putting in earbuds and crossing his arms tight over his chest, pulling his knees up even though he knows better than to put his shoes on the furniture.

It’s a similar position to the one he lies in at night, clinging to the pillows, trying to draw comfort out of the smooth fabric. In those moments, his loneliness is so loud it might as well be a beacon sent out into the universe, a burning shout of need. 

And that shout is heard. 

***

“Have you guys heard of exploding head syndrome?” Buck asks one morning when the calls are slow and the crew is all lingering in a lazy way rather than rushing off to take care of their other duties. 

“What, the band?” Chimney asks.

“I think it was an album,” Bobby says.

“No,” Buck sighs. “It’s a sleep thing. It’s this loud noise that you hear when you’re falling asleep like a massively loud explosion. Only it’s just happening in your head.”

“Is your brain actually exploding? Like an aneurism?”

“No. It’s just the noise.” 

Just the loudest noise Buck had ever heard. It woke him up with a feeling of abject terror. It was an explosion that didn’t echo. It just rang, clear and true through his eardrums like the end of the world. Even as he struggled out of his sheets, searching for the source so he could run from it, part of him knew it wasn’t a sound that left any physical evidence. What could it even be? A sound like that? An old fashioned safe dropping from two stories up? A car crash without the crunch? Just a high speed collision of two immovable objects, all of the equal and opposite reaction of their momentum forced to escape as sound. 

Once his heart rate had slowed, he googled. He wasn’t initially sure what to google. “Ridiculously loud noise woke me up” seemed at once too vague and too specific but sure enough. Exploding Head Syndrome. It was what happened. Obviously. But Buck remained too full of adrenaline to sleep. As he sat up in bed, he couldn’t shake the urge to look around. Under the bed, in the closet, behind the shower curtain. He didn’t feel alone. 

“I’m just glad it’s happening in your head instead of mine,” Chim laughs. “Maybe try putting some earmuffs on before you go to sleep tonight.” ***

The sound doesn’t reappear. Buck is relieved, but sleeping doesn’t get any easier. He tries to soothe himself with obscenely long hot baths, by ordering a hoodie that’s more fluff than fabric, by running a foam roller across his muscles, trying to pry them into relaxation. It’s so much work and it does so little. Buck’s entire body is screaming out at all times for a hug or a massage or even just a really fucking good haircut. It takes longer and longer to fall asleep and the little sleep he does get isn’t restful. It’s like whatever meager comfort he manages to give himself during the day is leached away in the night. 

He doesn’t even notice the bruises at first. It’s an easy enough thing to miss. Their job is heavy physical labor and Buck barrels through a scene like a one man stampede. Bruises are as common as the smell of smoke in his hair. The ones Eddie points out on his arm though are different. 

Buck’s carrying a kitten at the time. The fire they’ve been fighting is beaten back to smolders. Buck shucked off his coat, wet and dripping from the hose and too cold for the shaking animal, and grabbed a blanket from the ambulance to wrap her up and cradle her against his chest. He’s rubbing his face against her damp fur, feeling the softness like a concentrated shot of endorphins when Eddie asks, “What the hell happened to you?”

“What are you talking about?” Buck asks and Eddie’s hands are pushing up the sleeves of his shirt, rolling them up to his shoulders while Buck’s trying to hold onto the cat.

“You don’t feel that?”

“Feel what?” He’s maybe a little ruder than he means to be but the sleep deprivation makes him cranky and the touch deprivation means that Eddie’s gently probing fingers feel like a dream on his skin. The care in the brush of his hands makes Buck’s knees weak. 

“Your arms are bruised to hell,” Eddie says. “Are you- Did someone grab you or something?”

“I swear to god, Eddie. I don’t feel anything.” Except grumpy and exhausted and longing. 

“Jesus, it goes all the way up your shoulders. It looks like-” He stops, pulling Buck’s collar aside and tracing a small spot that Buck can’t see even if he turns his head. “They look like fingerprints, Buck. Are you seeing someone?” 

“What!”

“These are handprints. And they’re dark. Do you really not-”

Buck wrenches himself from Eddie’s grasp so he can turn around and look at him because if Eddie’s really accusing him of putting everyone at risk by trying to date someone right now… But Eddie’s face is nothing but concerned. Which makes Buck scared. 

“Is it really that bad?” he asks, clutching the cat to his chest. 

Eddie rubs a hand up Buck’s back (it feels so good, hot like Buck’s t-shirt isn’t even between them and is it just because it’s been so long or just because it’s Eddie?) without looking around to see if Bobby’s watching and that’s really all the confirmation Buck needs. It’s bad. 

***

After that, Buck starts to feel them. He wakes up and he can’t breathe. He wakes up and he can’t move. He wakes up on the floor. He spends every moment that he’s asleep fighting to wake up. Buck can only remember fragments and pieces of the torment but he knows that it feels like drowning. Like being held down. Like being grabbed and pulled and smothered. He thinks he remembers long dark hair. 

Google is useless. Sleep apnea. Sleep paralysis. Sleep terrors. Even sleepwalking. None of them can account for the worst of it. For the physical signs of whatever is happening to him while he sleeps.

Bruises bloom blue on the pale skin of his hips. Purple on his ribs. Green on the back of his neck. The ones that Eddie saw first on his arm fade to yellow.  A long scratch runs down the side of his face. Dark circles under his eyes grow darker every day. 

“What’s happening to me?” he asks his reflection.

All he wants is to be able to ask that question with someone’s arms around him. He wants anyone to hold him tight and shush his fears and tell him that it’ll be okay. 

It’s easier than he thought to hide it. Buck just chooses his shower times strategically and opts for a long sleeve uniform, complaining that he ruined his short sleeves ones by grabbing bleach instead of detergent while he was half asleep. 

He’s always half asleep these days.

At least in the bunk rooms, he gets some semblance of rest. Whatever presence he feels in his own bedroom doesn’t cross this threshold and Buck sleeps deeply, almost missing the scream of the alarm. 

“It’s getting worse isn’t it?” Eddie asks, cornering Buck in the locker room. Buck can’t help but nod and Eddie steps closer as if to touch him. 

Buck flinches away and Eddie pulls up short as though hitting an invisible wall. 

He breathes Buck’s name on a pained exhale and says, “You have to get some help. Whatever it is…”

“I don’t know what it is!’ Buck answers. “It’s living in my house and it- it- God. Maybe I need an exorcism.”

“Maybe you should come home with me,” Eddie suggests and Buck recoils again. 

The firehouse seems safe but there’s no guarantee that Buck won’t be followed anywhere else. He’s desperate to be safe--desperate for Eddie to make him safe--but not at the expense of anyone else. Not when he doesn’t know what he’s facing. 

“Okay,” Eddie says. “But call me in the morning.” 

***

The burned girl screams louder when she sees Buck than she did while they were putting out the inferno of her car. 

“Stay away from me!” She shrieks. “Stay awaystayawaystayaway.”

“Miss, we’re going to need you to calm down,” Hen says to her. “Buck, you wanna move aside? Like preferably somewhere she can’t see you?”

Buck does because the patient’s well-being is more important than anything, but his skin feels like ice. He wants to demand to know what else she sees when she looks at him. Wants to know how she knows. For half a second, he imagines following her to the hospital and waiting for her outside the glass doors.  

They aren’t far from her house (52% of accidents happen within five miles of home) and the girl’s father arrives on the scene before they finish prepping her to be transported. And he sees Buck. 

He freezes when he does, but at least he doesn’t scream. He ignores Buck completely, instead going to the ambulance where his daughter is still crying and trying to soothe her. Hen offers to let him ride in the ambulance, but he says that he’ll take his car. 

“You’re in a lot of trouble,” he says, returning to Buck as the ambulance pulls away. “What you summoned… That’s not a normal ghost.”

“I didn’t summon anything! It just happened.” Buck’s voice is high-pitched and he just barely stops himself from grabbing onto the man’s arm, but the man doesn’t seem afraid of Buck the way his daughter was. “What is it? How do I make it go away?”

The man shrugs, “She came in through an open door. Which door depends on the person. But she’ll do everything in her power to keep it pried open. All you can do is try to close it again.”

It is… the least helpful advice Buck’s ever been given in his entire life. But the man’s daughter is on her way to the hospital and he needs to follow her. He vanishes. 

***

They’re about to have four days off. Buck’s bracing himself to meet the woman in his dreams. To look around in that dreamspace for open doors and slam them shut again. He can do it. He has to. 

***

The next night Buck wakes up and he can’t move. He’s paralyzed on the bed. He’s paralyzed on the bed and someone’s standing at the top of his stairs. 

She’s not… right. Buck can’t quite see in the dark and he can’t lift his head but the woman on his stairs isn’t solid in the way a human should be. The outline of her is strong, but it’s like she’s a shell wrapped around a cavernous emptiness. She’s across the room but she’s already pulling at him. 

Buck tries to thrash but his arms are pinned as if her hands are already on his wrists. He needs to reach the lamp. If he can just turn on the light.

“Get away from me,” he pleads and the part of her face where lips should be turns up, revealing pointed teeth that stand in front of a void.

“You called me,” she says. The words don’t come from her mouth and Buck doesn’t hear them with his ears. It’s wrong wrong wrong. He throws himself hard to the left and he rolls, flying further than he expected to, suddenly free, and crashes hard into the table, knocking the lamp to the floor. It shatters, bulb and all and pain scrapes across Buck’s shoulders.

“Poor boy,” the ghost mocks. “Poor lonely boy. Just wants someone to touch him. Just wants someone to stay with him. I heard you.”

“No,” Buck says and he tries to scramble, but his feet can’t find purchase on the floor. “I didn’t want you.”

He doesn’t deny the call. Can’t deny it when his heart is reaching out in the same pleading, desperate way now. Please. Anyone.

In the time it takes to blink she’s in front of him. She’s so close. She shouldn’t be able to get that close without standing on him but she’s there. Her voice whispers in his mind, “You should choose your words more carefully.”

And then her hands are around his throat.

The pressure is insistent and her motive is unmistakable. She’s going to kill him. She’s going to squeeze the life out of him. He’s going to die here and Eddie’s going to find his body because Eddie’s going to come rushing over as soon as Buck doesn’t call him in the morning and what if this thing is still here waiting for him. 

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Buck’s mind yells for him like his lungs did when Eddie was buried except now it’s Buck who’s too far away, who’s trapped somewhere deep and dark with no hope of escape. 

He tries to breathe and his breath whistles. It’s like the first time someone handed him a styrofoam cup of coffee and he tried to drink through the plastic stir stick. Black stars twinkle in the room and tears build in his eyes. 

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. 

There’s a shift as she adjusts her grip and it’s enough for the stars to clear. Buck throws himself forward, shaking his head like he isn’t a ragdoll trapped in the jaws of a rottweiler, like he has a hope of breaking free and then he does. The ghost is thrown off balance and Buck jumps, scrambling back over his bed for the stairs. He can’t even think about defeating her, finding out the secrets of where she came from, closing whatever fucking door he left open. All Buck wants to do is live. 

A force behind him swells like a wave to lift Buck off his feet and slams him into the bathroom door. He expects to slide off of it and onto the floor, but he’s held in place hard, his head turned and his cheek pressed to the wood, toes just brushing the ground. 

“You begged me to come,” the ghost hisses. “I’m here for you, lonely boy. Don’t fight so hard.”

A hand skims up his back, nearly gentle, but leaving a numbness in its path and Buck shudders in disgust. He jerks against the door, but his arms are wrenched behind him and he screams. He realizes it’s the first time he has.

“I didn’t call you! I don’t want you here! Get out.”

“I came because you needed me.” A long finger trails down his cheek and Buck whimpers. She’s taller than him now. Was she always? “I could feel you from so far away. An aching ball of need. I’m here for you now.” 

“I don’t need you,” Buck growls and the room flashes like lightning. He hopes to fall, almost expects to fall, where he can scramble again but instead, Buck is hurled away from the door completely. He has time to see that he’s above the stairs, throw his hands out uselessly and then he’s frozen. 

Buck hovers there in the air above the stairs, dangling in the grip of the ghost, like a cat grabbed by his scruff. Kicking wildly, he grabs for the invisible hand that’s holding him, yelling “No, no, no, no.”

“Need me now?” the ghost asks. 

Smothering the terrified part of him that nearly answers yes, Buck forces himself to stop twisting and just hang there. He doesn’t want to fall. He doesn’t want to die. But what he needs isn’t going to come from the ghost. 

“No,” he answers. 

And he can’t explain how he knows what her face looks like when it’s screwed up in fury, but he does. It’s vicious and vindictive and Buck’s not surprised at all when he’s flicked away from her and down the flight of stairs. 

He seems to hit each one as he falls, something that should be impossible with the speed that he’s traveling and the force with which he bounces off of them, but the ghost is obviously responsible. Air leaves his lungs as his ribs crack against the stairs. His elbows and knees scrape. His head bangs the rail. Buck’s long, long legs seem to tangle as he falls, cartwheeling him down and he lands in a heap at the bottom. 

As he tries to figure out if he can still move, the door flies open. 

Warmth rushes in. Buck hadn’t even realized how cold it had gotten since he first woke up, but the room seems to thaw around him. It’s like sunlight. 

It’s Eddie. 

“Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Evan. Buck. I’ve got you, Buck. I’ve got you.” 

Tenderly, he scoops Buck off the floor, unsnarling the mess of his limbs and feeling all over for the damage he can’t see. “I’ve got you. Open your eyes. Come on.” 

The ghost stands at the top of the stairs and then she’s at the bottom. Buck clambers backward again, digging his heels into the floor to push himself upright in front of Eddie, to try and hide him from view. Eddie doesn’t seem to see the ghost. All of his attention is still on Buck, stroking his hair, promising over and over that he’s there, that he has Buck. 

All of the ghost’s attention is on Buck too. “You need me,” she says. “You called for me.” She sounds different now. Bitter. Like Buck wasted her precious time. 

“I don’t need you,” he says and he reaches behind him to grab Eddie’s hand. “I already have everything I need.” 

Lights flicker and that impossibly loud sound bangs in Buck’s ears again. He gets one last look at the ghost’s vicious, violent visage and then she’s gone. 

And then Buck wakes up.

[carpisuns]

New anon, but I saw the last one and I have some thoughts. Specifically, I have been obsessing over ml for the last month or so, and I’ve only seen three episodes, and they were the three released before crocoduel. And you know what? I wasn’t that into it, it wasn’t bad it just wasn’t half as engaging as fanon and fanworks have been for me.

I’ve also done this with the Magicians, Supernatural, and a couple others. I think the reason that this works, for some people, is because it is a more familiar and in many ways, easier way to discover and become attached to new material and new characters. Fan writers and artists are coming from a place of love for their source material (no matter what issues they may have with it) and that bleeds out into their work. Time is spent developing the characters and their feelings, their relationships, in ways that canon so often can’t or isn’t allowed to, and reading that, it’s very easy to fall in love with new characters very quickly. There’s also common AUs and dynamics that make it much easier to start something new.

And also: comfort characters. So many fans find common ground with characters and further project onto them, particularly in fanfic. And because of that it’s often easier to identify with a fan’s interpretation of a character than it is to identify with the canon’s, since you have these more deeply explored feelings and relationships based on a combination of canon and the personal experiences of the fan writer. Also, with these kinds of fics it’s extremely emotionally affirming since for someone who doesn’t have much of any connection with the source material, it feels like the original, even if you’re reading a large body of work by a lot of different people. And I’m so used to fanfic as a substitute for the emotional work and character development that shows/movies/books don’t have room for or aren’t willing to get into, that approaching a fandom as it’s own original piece of media in a way, feels very comforting.

That’s my perspective on it anyways, and why I do this. I do think it is a good thing to engage with the canon to an extent, even if it’s just watching a few clips (how I found ml) but I also don’t think you need any real connection or knowledge of it to be deeply invested in the fandom. Sorry, this got very long.

you know, i totally get being on, like, the fringe of fandoms and interacting with fanon to an extent without a proper investment in canon (I have a couple fandoms like that), but i honestly just can't imagine becoming super invested in a fandom when I am not invested in the source material...maybe that's just a difference between you and me, idk.

but also, i gotta admit that i'm struggling a bit to understand the reason. you yourself pointed out that fan work is enjoyable because the creator's love for canon bleeds into it. and isn't that the reason that you would want to give canon a real chance? obviously there is fan content made out of spite lol (and sadly a fair amount in this fandom), but to me most fan content is like a love letter to canon. like, "i adore this thing so much that it inspired me to create and share with other people who adore it." and what better recommendation is there than that?? i would think people would wanna familiarize themselves with canon in order to better enjoy fanon(?)

i completely understand your point about fan content delving further into characterization and relationships where canon hasn't/can't, and that is such a big appeal of fanfic/fanart. but i don't feel like that's a reason to not engage with canon? on the contrary, i feel like you are missing something important in your understanding and appreciation of that wonderful exploration if you haven't experienced firsthand the foundation that canon set. and maybe that missing thing is just your personal interpretation of a character/dynamic.

for example, i could say, "adrien agreste is this, this, and this and he would do this but not this." and of course i will think im right because my characterization is always perfect 😌sakjdfaldjks but someone else might have a slightly different interpretation, and someone else will have another interpretation, and when you mush all those individual takes on a character together, you will get a good sense of who they are, but you still don't have the Original™️ to draw your own interpretation from. idk, to me it sounds like basing your opinion of chocolate ice cream on what other people are saying about it without ever trying it yourself? ajsldakljf maybe that's an oversimplification but i do think that without experiencing it for yourself, your understanding will always be kind of incomplete.

idk, i big agree with everything you said about why fan content is special, but everything that is a point in fanon's favor is not a knock on canon. to me fan content feels pretty inseparable from canon, so it just doesn't compute to me to take canon out of the equation? then we would have nothing.

i feel like it's almost kinda trendy nowadays to be like, "oh this show actually sucks lmao but the fanon and AUs are good." like it's shameful to actually...enjoy source material? 😭 i mean i completely understand that miraculous ladybug is not gonna be everyone's cup of tea and that's fine! but if you truly enjoy the fan content that much i encourage you to give canon a real shot. it's not that surprising to me that you watched 3 recent episodes and didn't vibe that much, since you haven't seen the 3 seasons of buildup that lead to them. miraculous has a neat way of tying a bunch of things together so if you aren't familiar with all of it, you're probably missing out.

personally my love for miraculous was kind of a slowburn at first. i only started watching the show because my sister and i made a deal that forced me to watch the first few eps lol. and i didn't really vibe either. but there must have been enough of a spark there for me to keep watching bc for some reason i did and the more i watched the more i fell in love with it until it became the thing that occupies my brain more than anything else. i started with canon and then got into fanon, but it could easily go the other way too. and if you're already invested in the story and characters, i have to imagine it would be much easier to push past the initial cringe of "this is a show about a couple of teen furries rated TV-Y7 on netflix" lol and give anything you don't vibe with the benefit of the doubt.

again, to be clear, i'm not trying to judge or gatekeep here! i'm just saying this because i genuinely LOVE miraculous. it's my favorite show. that's why i make things for it. that's why i have this blog. i want people to watch it. so maybe, pwetty pwease, try watching the show you like so much? 🥺👉👈

(source bc i was too lazy to make my own so i stole this from twitter)