#let's just say i have not been making art at all

[the-original-skipps]

|| Dinner? A Bath? Or Me? || Honkai Star Rail Reactions ||

the thing I did for windbreaker imma do it for hsr too mehehehe just experimenting if this is well received I’ll do more

: aventurine. dr.ratio. sunday. dan heng. phainon. mydei.

cw: hints of sexual content. suggestiveness. established relationship. gn!reader. possible oocness (first time writing for some of these characters). art used does not belong to me but credited to it's rightful owner.

"Welcome home! Would you like dinner? A bath? Or perhaps me...?"

❥ Aventurine stills for a moment before his signature smile graces his face. You can already feel his mischievousness radiating off of him in waves as he steps closer to you, to stand directly in front of you. He acts as if he's in deep contemplation at your words. "Dinner does sound nice, I'm absolutely famished! Though, a nice hot bath does sound equally as enticing." He says with a playful mirth, trying to gauge your reaction. He's quick to notice the slight down pull of your lips - as expected of you, his smile grows wider. "Ah, the third option?" He asks like an afterthought but you know it's intentional. His face inching closer to yours while his gloved hand teasingly trails up your arm. His eyes lock you into a hypnotic trance that you can't possibly look away from. 

"Hmm and what might you be able to offer me...?"

❥ Dr. Ratio's face is serious as he digests your question. "Dinner followed by a bath would sound like the most logical option." He tells you as if he's stating a basic fact which causes you to deflate. "However..." You perk up at his words. "Exercising before eating has been known to lead to improved insulin responses and a higher fat burning rate." He speaks to you as he walks past you towards the hallway of your shared home. You feel your face grow how at his implication and use of the word 'exercising'. Then he suddenly stops to look back at you, his reddish eyes locking onto you. "Why don't we do a little exercising before dinner?" The atmosphere in the room shifting with the implication of his words. His face remains serious as he motions you to follow him.

"I simply chose the option with the most merits, that would be beneficial for the both of us."

❥ Sunday blanks out as he tries to process your words and the possible meaning behind them. As he eliminates all possible answers and lands on the one you’re most likely insinuating. His face starts to flush - his wings twitching from the urge to hide his face. "By ‘me’, are you possibly implying...?" Sunday manages to stutter out as he shyly looks towards you - awaiting your confirmation. You can't help but laugh softly at his question before nodding. Sunday matches your nod with his own letting the words sink in. The halovian hesitantly steps closer to you, taking your hands in his. "Then, may I h-have you...?" He asks you a slight nervousness laced within his voice as he brings your hands for his lips brush against your knuckles. A smile blossoms on his face as you accept. 

"T-Thank you, I promise to take good care of you..."

❥ Dan Heng freezes as you ask him this question. Keeping his face as neutral as possible. Your words immediately reminding him of a certain grey haired friend. He wonders if it was their idea to make you pose this kind of question to him. His eyes nervously shift around the room to make sure they’re really not hiding, watching his reaction. Once Dan Heng confirms the coast is clear, he clears his throat awkwardly looking away from you in embarrassment. The full weight of your words and intentions hitting him at once. “Sorry, I-I must have heard you wrong. Did you say ‘me’..?” You eagerly confirm, a smile beaming on your face. He pauses as he considers his next words, trying to come up with possible answers to your question. Your prolonged silence as you await his answer makes his cheeks grow redder by the second.

“I s-suppose one of those options does sound appealing to me…”

❥ Phainon couldn't contain the excited smile that breaks out on his face at your words. He immediately walks up to you, but before you could react to his sudden closeness. His hands hook underneath your thighs, lifting you to his press against his chest. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself. Feeling pleased, Phainon chuckles at your reaction. “Why, my dear. I believe the answer should be obvious.” He answers you with a bright smile as he walks over to the dining table, then carefully placing you upon it. He then places his hands on your cheeks, cradling your face as if you're his most prized possession. Your body tensing as the pad of his thumb brushes against your button lip - his previous smile turning into a smirk. 

“You don’t even need to ask, the answer will always be you.”

❥ Mydei smirks, a deep resounding chuckle rumbling from his chest. “How bold of you to ask me such a thing.” He proclaims as he slowly walks towards you like a lion stalking his prey. His crimson eyes rooting you to the spot, daring you to even try to move away from him. “I don’t think dinner can satisfy the hunger I have right now.” He almost growls to you, as if he's trying his best to hold himself back from pouncing on you right now. As you momentarily look away from him in embarrassment, he uses his fingers to tilt your chin up. "Eyes on me." He orders, his eyes swirling with want while his other hand holds your waist to pull you until you're pressed against him. You feel your breath stolen away with how quickly his lips descend upon yours.

“I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

[middle-earth-mythopoeia]

While I agree that not everything can be effectively translated from page to screen, I don’t buy that in this case. I just recorded myself reading these lines, not rushing, but reading them how I’d like to hear them spoken, and it took me 12 seconds. 12 seconds. It might take me one or two seconds longer if I really slowed down for emphasis. More on this in a minute.

Why do you think it would be comical? Not if it were done well, and Miranda Otto would certainly have done it well. Not if it were allowed to have the same importance that some of Tolkien’s other canonical dialogue had in the movies. This scene has nothing in common with a real emergency situation or a real combat situation, even if it’s depicting one: what it actually is is art, and the rules are different.

Was there time for Théoden to make his speech before the Battle of the Pelennor Fields? In a real emergency situation, shouldn’t they have just charged? Yes, but the thing is, it isn’t a real situation, it’s a story. It works for Théoden to make that speech. It makes the scene infinitely better. In fact, it’s one of the best scenes, if not the best scene, in both the books and the movies. This should have been treated no differently. Cutting down Éowyn’s dialogue didn’t make her scene work better, it removed the full gravitas that it could have had.

Théoden’s speech in the movie takes a long time. First he gives commands to Éomer, Gamling and Grimbold, and I’m not going to count that part, because it’s the most “realistic” part of his speech in the sense that it’s necessary for winning the battle. That takes about 11 seconds, for reference. Then this takes him 18 seconds to say: “Forth, and fear no darkness! Arise! Arise, riders of Théoden! Spears shall be shaken! Shields shall be splintered! A sword day, a red day, ere the sun rises!” After a pause, he says: “Ride now! Ride now! Ride! Ride for ruin, and the world’s ending!” That’s 11 more seconds of dialogue, not counting the pause. This is already significantly longer than Éowyn reading those lines would have been! And this is all before they start chanting “Death!”

Between “Forth, and fear no darkness” and the time they charge, more than a full minute passes. Is that realistic? Is that what you should really do in an emergency? No! But it's REALLY REALLY REALLY GOOD IN A STORY. If this speech had been cut down for brevity or so-called realism, the scene would have been much, much poorer for it.

Movies get a lot of criticism, often rightly, when opponents talk to each other during a fight, because it can seem absurd to talk while actively exchanging blows. But dialogue during a fight is different that dialogue before a fight. When Éowyn confronts the Witch-king, they’re not actually fighting yet. Théoden has just fallen beneath Snowmane and the fell beast has landed on it. He’s trapped. The Witch-king is in no hurry, and not only that, he’s used to being unopposed: most mortal Men fall to the ground in terror just at the sound of his voice. He has no expectation that anyone will try to challenge him, let alone kill him.

There’s actually even more dialogue before the quotation we’re talking about:

‘Begone, foul dwimmerlaik, lord of carrion! Leave the dead in peace!’ A cold voice answered: ‘Come not between the Nazgûl and his prey! Or he will not slay thee in thy turn. He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured, and thy shrivelled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye.’ A sword rang as it was drawn. ‘Do what you will; but I will hinder it, if I may.’ ‘Hinder me? Thou fool. No living man may hinder me!’ Then Merry heard of all sounds in that hour the strangest. It seemed that Dernhelm laughed, and the clear voice was like the ring of steel. ‘But no living man am I! You look upon a woman. Éowyn I am, Éomund’s daughter. You stand between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him.’

Note that the fighting happens after this. She kills the fell beast and they fight after all this is said. Now the dialogue is long, and I understand cutting it down, and I get that there are changes that need to be made from page to screen. But we’re talking about 12 seconds, the part at the end right there, just 12 seconds, give or take.

Now let’s talk about the movie scene for a minute. It’s quite different:

Éowyn says, “I will kill you if you touch him.” The Witch-king says, “Do not come between the Nazgul and his prey.” She kills the fell beast. They fight. He chokes her, which didn’t happen in the book, and I really hate it because it was completely unnecessary. He says, “You fool. No man can kill me. Die now.” Merry stabs him in the leg. Éowyn says, “I am no man,” and kills him.

In my opinion, the way they expanded the fight part of this scene actually removed some of its drama. Cutting down the dialogue also removed its drama. The part where he choked her was awful and should have been changed. And do you see how in the movie version the dialogue is actually interspersed in the fighting, which is not the case in the book? That also reduced the drama of the scene. Imagine instead a version of the movie that more heavily relies on Tolkien’s dialogue and how the scene actually went:

The fell beast lands on Snowmane, poised to attack. Éowyn draws her sword and says, “Begone, lord of carrion! Leave the dead in peace!” The Witch-king says, “Thou fool. Come not between the Nazgûl and his prey. Or I will not slay thee in they turn, but bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured. No living man may hinder me!” Éowyn laughs and says, “But no living man am I! You look upon a woman. Éowyn I am, Éomund’s daughter. You stand between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him.” Then the fell beast attacks her and she chops off its head. The Witch-king attacks her and breaks her arm and Merry stabs him in the leg and she kills him.

This is so much more dramatic and carries so much more weight and meaning than the scene in the movie. Of course some things could be added or subtracted, and there are different ways it could be done, but I’m just showing you that the original dialogue could have played more of a role here. It not only adds to Éowyn’s gravitas, it adds to the power of the Witch-king and makes his defeat more satisfying. And it actually builds to a crescendo. It’s far better to have the dialogue first and the action after rather than breaking up the dialogue with an unnecessarily extended fight scene.

Tolkien knew what he was doing. It absolutely does make sense for Éowyn to verbally challenge the Witch-king this way, and it works within the style of writing and the story that Tolkien created. There were many times when his dialogue translated beautifully from page to the screen, and this could have been no different!

The movie dialogue could never measure up to this:

“But no living man am I! You look upon a woman. Éowyn I am, Éomund’s daughter. You stand between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him.”

How could anyone cut this?! How?! How?!?!?!?! These lines are so incredibly stirring, so powerful, so moving. “I am no man” doesn’t even come close.

First of all, I like that the negative statement of “No living man am I” is followed by the positive statement of “You look upon a woman.” It’s direct and definitive. She’s been disguised as Dernhelm up until this point—another thing that was cut from the movie—but now she’s revealing who she really is.

Second, in a similar way, I like that she says, “Éowyn I am, Éomund’s daughter.” It’s like a challenge. It’s like announcing one’s identity before a duel—which is in effect what she is doing.

Third, “You stand between me and my lord and kin.” This reminds me of one of the most poignant quotes from the book: “I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.” It’s very important that Éowyn did this brave deed out of a desire to protect Théoden.

Finally, “Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him.” THIS IS LITERALLY SO AMAZING! THIS IS SO COURAGEOUS! I CAN’T EVEN EXPRESS HOW THIS MAKES ME FEEL! I don’t know which part is better—the fact that she threatens him, or that she gives him the choice to forfeit and flee the battlefield.

There’s an incredible heroic resoluteness to the final line, “For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him.” This, right here, is the essence of the courage of mortals in Tolkien’s books. It’s the acceptance of death, but the desire to go down fighting—the knowledge that death is inevitable, but the one thing we have control over is how we meet it.

Éowyn is facing Sauron’s most powerful servant, who is almost a personification of death itself, and she is declaring that no matter what he is, and no matter the outcome, she WILL fight him. When she says these lines, she doesn’t know that she and Merry will vanquish him. It’s sheer determination against impossible odds, it’s extraordinary courage in the face of death—and THAT is why this scene is so powerful.

[bitchface24-7]

bestie do you happen to know of you could find it in your heart to write for my FAV senior citizen. Silco. (I MISS HIM)

The tiktok ban has made me deprived. Please let me know at your earliest convenience. I will now go back to fighting my demons and missing my shayla. (I hope you are having a good day!)

YOUR DAD’S KINDA HOT… - SILCO X READER

synopsis: you've been friends with Jinx for years now, you're a few years older than her but you two are as thick as thieves. So don't ask how this conversation came up… you have no idea.

warnings: age gap (silco’s like late 30s to early 40s, reader is early 20s), teasing, banter (jinx makes fun of you), overheard conversations, fear of discipline, flirting, suggestiveness

genre: m/f or m/m

p.s. SILCOOOOO 😩😍 I've been down bad since S1 but people would jump down your throat if you said anything about him. The art book definitely spoiled us

You have no idea how your conversation took this turn. Here you are, sitting with Jinx as she works on her bombs in her little lair, having a good time when all of a sudden she asks, “Do you think Silco is hot?”

A sputter is heard as you cough and thump your chest, trying to unchoke yourself from your drink going down the wrong pipe.

“What?!” your voice is whiny in incredulous. No seriously… what?! Where did that come from?!

Jinx casually shrugs, “I won’t be mad y’know. You're not very subtle, just tell the truth toots.”

Your lips thin in contemplation. I mean… you’re not blind? You have eyes? Should you honestly tell his daughter that you think he's attractive?

Jinx appreciates honesty, and loyalty; the same as her dad. She's your best friend, you've never lied to her. And you're not gonna start now.

Even if it’s an uncomfortable topic.

You sigh, face scrunching up is displeasure, “Yes Jinx. I think your dad is hot… I’m not blind, duh.”

She cackles at you, “Seriously?! You could have any guy ya want, and you go for him, my old man?! Finn’ll be heartbroken.”

“He can stay heartbroken! I've got much a finer taste than… that. Silco’s strong, level-headed, and handsome. He values honesty and loyalty. Finn’s… Finn.”

Jinx’s reply is cut off by a deeper voice, “That you do my dear, that you do. Jinx, continue working on your bombs. The ones I see so far are perfect. You, come with me.”

It’ Silco.

Fuck, it’s Silco!

You gulp as Jinx just smiles at the praise, you slowly raise from your seat and follow the kingpin. A frantic look is shot Jinx’s way as you mouth “Help me!”

Jinx giggles at you and winks. You'll be getting no help from her. She's taken too much time planning this moment, she's not letting all her hard work go to waste!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The walk back to Silco’s office is tense, you're tempted to jump out a window and hopefully die in the fall to escape this cloying feeling.

It’s too late, you're doomed.

Is your only thought as Silco opens the doors to his office, ushers you in, and locks the doors behind him. You're trapped with a lion, and you’re nothing but a beetle.

He's gonna kill you.

“Sit.” Is all he says as he walks to his drink cart and pours you both two fingers of bourbon. You sit down immediately and fidget lightly. Ok… so maybe he's not going to kill you.

Yet.

He plops a cup into your hand and gracefully walks around his desk and sits down. He's not wearing his coat you realize. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to his forearms and you get to see how tiny his waist is.

God he so hot.

In your appreciation of Silco, you don't see him take a swig of his drink and look you over as well. Hmm, looks like you were telling the truth.

Time to make things interesting.

“So, you find me attractive?”

You gulp looking down to your lap as you quickly bring your glass up to your lips and take a large swig, “Yes sir.”

“Hmm. How curious, you find a man old enough to be your father attractive. What's that say about you?”

“It says I prefer things that have aged finely. Like how you feel about this burboun.”

Silco chuckles, you’re quick. Smart as a whip. Loyal. Honest. Attractive.

He's noticed you for a while now, always on his radar due to Jinx. He appreciate’s your care for his daughter, how you’re with her constantly and protect her. He knew you as a teen, he knew you'd grow up into a attractive adult.

He knew he’d be right.

He knew that you have denied all advances made on you. No partner, no romantic or sexual relationships. The main reason why he knows that is you essentially live with him and Jinx.

He knows how you've looked at him over the years, ignoring their heat. But now… you're an adult. You've finally admitted your attraction.

He's going to take what’s rightfully his.

He's going to see what you've been hiding under your clothes, he's going to take you apart piece by piece. He's going to have you on his desk, his bed, in front of the large window in his office. He's going to feel your lips, how soft your skin is. How nice your hair would feel in his grip.

(You’re going to deeply enjoy it.)

(The two of you hope Jinx won’t be hiding in the office in the rafters as her dad devours you.)

(She wasn’t, thankfully. But she did have a knowing look on her face for like a week.)

(She still pats herself on the back to this day.)

He's a bad man but fuck is he hot! Hope y’all enjoyed this ❤️❤️ also I think the US has tiktok again? I saw the sad goodbyes last night, no Americans this morning on the app, then I took a nap and creators from the US were posting again?? I was so lost LMAO

[ghostgirl-22]

patrick catching art humping his pillow… and art is so fucked out he can’t get his hips to stop. hes red all over and drooling and hes whimpering sooo loud godddjfjfbfb

Oh anon…he’s going crazy thinking about kissing his best friend. Wants him so bad. Wants Tashi too. He’s so confused and a mess and Patrick’s staying with him and he’s out on a date with Tashi which is making Art extra insane. Patrick gets home early because Tashi’s friend needs help getting out of a date and he catches Art in media res, losing his mind with the pillow fantasizing about the two people he wants most but can’t have.

CW: 18+

—-

Patrick steps in the dorm room and it takes a little time to orient himself but once he realizes what’s going on he can feel the images etching themselves permanently into his brain. Art laying in his bed, thighs cradling his pillow, hips moving fast as he dry humps the plush fabric. Patrick means to turn around, leave the room, give him some privacy because he’s clearly having a moment but Patrick can’t keep his eyes off of him. His face is flushed, hair all over the place, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted and wet. He’s drooling on the blanket and whimpering. These soft little sounds, these pathetic little moans.

Patrick feels his pants getting tighter. He’s watched Art get off before but not like this. Not this vigorously. His mind starts going to crazy places, he considers approaching Art, getting on the bed behind him, pulling Art onto his lap and letting him hump that instead. Imagines sliding his dick in between those parted lips. Or tugging his shorts down and shoving himself inside. God, he didn’t think he was still this attracted to Art… wanting to crawl inside him levels of attraction… but after the kiss and now this, clearly it’s just been hidden deep down.

The headboard is knocking up against the wall with the force of Arts movements and he’s moaning.

Even though it’s been forever since they jerked it together Patrick is still so intimately familiar with Arts patterns. Knows he’s about to come. His voice pitched soft, the sounds make Patrick grip the door knob just a little tighter. He’s losing himself, while Art is coming. Falling apart mentally, memorizing the image of his best friend fucked out and all apart on the bed in front of him.

Art collapses breathlessly, falling on his back. “Oh god,” Art sighs. “Gonna fuck you so good.”

Patrick clears his throat and Art stills looking over at the door. “Surprise, I’m back early,” Patrick says sheepishly.

“Fuck,” Art groans, covering his face with his arms. “Why didn’t you say anything Patrick?”

“I mean… I didn't want to ruin the moment. You uh— you really showed that pillow,” Patrick smiles as he approaches the bed, delighted by the way Arts flush is only deepening. Patrick knows he’s barely concealed in these dress pants. He’s almost certain the hard outline of his dick is plainly visible. But Art doesn’t seem aware yet.

“Look man,” he’s saying, rubbing his hands on his thighs. The wet spot visible on his navy gym shorts, Patrick wants to lick at it. “I say all kinds of weird things when I— I didn't really mean I wanted to do any of that stuff. I was just working myself up. Random words, okay?” Art continues..

“Uh, okay…” Patrick says curiously, he hadn’t really heard much more than his babbling towards the end. But he kinda wants Art to believe he heard everything so he’ll share more with him. “I don’t know, you sure you wouldn’t be interested in that stuff?” Patrick suggests.

Art squints, this adorably stunned expression on his face. “You serious?”

“Uh well…” Patrick shrugs. “Well you sounded serious.”

“No I mean, yes, but what about Tashi?”

Patrick shrugs again, narrowing his eyes. Of course it’s about Tashi, he’s still so obsessed with her. God Patrick’s probably just agreed to let him fuck Tashi. Which he’s tempted at times to let him try his hand at it. Poor baby. She’d eat him alive.

Patrick gently pats his cheek and the way Art is looking up at him makes him want to unzip his pants and push his dick into Art's mouth. So he’s actually quite stunned when Art reaches for the zipper instead.

“Okay man, I guess I meant some of it… and maybe you liked it too…” he says quietly, staring at Patrick’s swollen dick the whole time as he slides it out, like he’s mesmerized. “If you tell her about this… I’ll deny it.”

“Uh right,” Patrick says, taking a breath as Art takes him into his mouth. “Definitely not gonna tell her.” He sighs, tangling his fingers into Art's messy hair. Dream come true.

[ramp-it-up]

Worth the Fall

Summary: James Bucky Barnes WAS an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. You came along and knocked him on his face. Despite the fact you have questions about Bucky and your parents’ conversation at Thanksgiving, you’re hitting your groove as a couple, but there is no time for alone time.

Word count: 3.4 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This part of the story is getting everything caught up to a month ago, lmao. Thank you for continuing to rock with this story. And let me know if you like it (I hope you do!)

This fic is in the Knock You Down AU, and comes immediately after both You've Got Me Thinking and the Steve Rogers fic Peach III.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Initial angst, Steve and Peach, Bucky’s anxiety. No time for nookie! Flirting Intimations of sexting and phone sex. Praise kink, fluffy Bucky, horny Bucky, dom Bucky. F@cking versus making love, wall time, sex with clothes on, raw p in v, creampie, after care, intimations of oral (f receiving!) dirty talk, Bucky applies for a second job. Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

————

You walked along the sand and inhaled the ocean air.

You were shaken to the core. 

Bucky Barnes had surely just taken your parents out to ask for your hand in marriage. But it was so soon, how could he be so sure?

Also, you were an independent woman. How dare he talk to your parents before he asked you to marry him!

He wasn’t your feudal lord.

You were scared witless and turned to the waves to try and calm down. 

“He loves the hell out of you, you know.”

Steve had fallen in beside you as you stared at the ocean. You looked up at him, trying to smile, but failing. To Steve you looked terrified.

“It’s just so….”

Steve smiled to himself, remembering that Bucky had purchased the ring weeks before, after just a few days of knowing you. But that wasn’t his story to tell.

“Just know that I’ve never seen him like this. And I’ve known him since we were kids. He’s never been so open, so determined with a woman before. You make him a better man. It’s truly amazing.”

Steve looked so earnest. Your cousin had done quite a number on him.

“You don’t have to be scared. You are ‘The One’ for him.”

This time you managed a smile and an arched eyebrow. You had a feeling that he wasn’t just talking about his best friend.

Steve chuckled.

“Gah. Don’t look at me like that. You and Peach and that eyebrow.”

You laughed at that and grinned, more relaxed now.

Steve looked off into the waves himself.

“So fucking cute…”

He looked down and kicked a rock, a small smile on his face. You could tell he had it bad.

“Thanks for the pep talk Steve-o. And I get what you’re saying. I love Bucky Barnes with all my might, making every other relationship I’ve ever had seem… trivial.”

You glanced at Steve, who was nodding at your sentiment.

“I’m just spooked at the possibilities. I mean…this seems…like a lot.”

“I know. Bucky gets intense.”

You rolled your eyes at him. 

“Understatement of the year. And you’re a lot like your friend.”

Steve looked at you, one eye closed from the sunlight in his eyes. He didn’t have any sunglasses and the sun highlighted his windswept hair and the planes of his handsome face. You were squinting at him and you could totally see why Peach let him touch her goodies. 

Steve was kinda hot.

You sighed.

“Listen. I’ll be alright. Bucky and I just need to chat.”

Steve smirked.

“Chat. Is that what the kids call it now?”

You laughed and swatted him on the arm as you continued walking again.

“Fuck you, Steve. But for real. Thank you for checking on me. I appreciate it. And I love you for it. I just wish my cousin could see this side of you.”

Steve scoffed.

“Fucked that up good, didn’t I?”

“Not gonna lie, she’s kinda blinded by rage right now. But don’t give up on her. She’ll come around.”

Steve looked at you skeptically and you shrugged.

“80– 75% chance she’ll come around.”

You both laughed.

“Just remember what I said yesterday. She’s a tough nut, but she has a huge heart behind that wall. She is determined about the success of that dance school and she is competitive as fuck. You know what to do.”

Steve grinned. 

“Yes ma’am, I do.”

—-

You and Steve re-entered the kitchen laughing, you holding on to his arm. 

Peach was at the table drinking coffee and dedicated to ignoring Steve.

“Thanks again for the pep talk Steve. I appreciate it.”

You gave him a long hug and when you separated, you saw Peach’s eyebrow cocked in what you could only imagine was the way Steve described. You stifled a giggle and leaned up on your tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

“You better stop before Bucky comes back and chops me in the throat.”

Peach humphed, and you knew exactly what she was thinking.

You laughed at Steve as he headed toward the stairs, ignoring Peach right back.

“I’m gonna go get my running shoes. A turn down the beach will help me get some of this tension out.”

You watched Peach as she watched Steve roll his neck and stretch on his way out of the room, her coffee stalled in mid air. Her head was on a swivel as he walked out of the room, checking out his formidable ass. She sighed and then remembered that you were there.

You looked at her and she looked at you.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I didn’t say a word, cousin. Yet. But we will talk later. Any coffee left?”

—-

The week ended up smoother than when Bucky and Steve arrived, and before you and he and Steve left on the jet back to New York, Bucky surprised everyone with an invitation to Vermont for Christmas. 

Your heart did a funny little thing because why would he invite your entire family on an all expense holiday vacation from Christmas Eve to New Years unless he was going to…

You couldn’t dwell on what ifs, and you didn’t want to spook yourself. You just decided to appreciate the moment.

It was funny watching your cousin’s face and the corresponding look on Steve’s. Maybe this trip wouldn’t be stressful at all.

Perhaps there would be entertainment.

—---

Later, back in Brooklyn, there was a whirlwind of activity as the Rebirth Foundation geared up for the annual summit and gala. 

During the second week in December, Rebirth Endowment recipients (which included your cousin this year!) flew in, were oriented and toured around New York City. The two culminating events were the summit, held at NYU, where there was an art lecture series, a panel, and the gala. 

Steve usually participated in the summit by himself, with Sam or Natasha sometimes joining him on stage along with the city’s movers and shakers in the art scene.

But this year Bucky was participating.

He said he wanted to be more prominent in the Art community moving forward as a path toward legitimacy, and you knew that tangentially, that had something to do with you.

When you got back from Thanksgiving, there was a week to prepare for the activities. Your Arts and Culture Alliance in Brownsville, as a part of Rebirth through the Howard Benson exhibit, was a stop on the tour, and you had a ton of work to do. 

Bucky and his three partners obviously had their own long list of to dos, but he also needed to be there for Steve, who was a wreck at the thought of Peach coming into town. 

Steve was so far gone.

But James Buchanan Barnes.

You’d never seen Bucky Barnes shook. 

Sure, you’d seen him excited, impatient, horny, angry, and a little irritated, but never truly nervous.

And you shouldn’t have thought it, but it was adorable. 

Friday night, you met your cousin at the airport and witnessed the beginning of her downfall. The cocktail reception later at the hotel had her, and by proxy your own, head spinning. 

You grinned at the way Steve was handling everything. 

Bucky was beautiful and you admired him as he toasted the guests, his beautiful tenor a nice contrast from Steve’s baritone as they both gave their salutations. Only you knew how anxious he was to speak in front of people and for everything to go well. You felt privileged.

You realized that James Buchanan Barnes was a good man who just wanted to be better for you and for his community.

And suddenly you were not afraid of a future with him.

—-

During this time, you two shared brief cuddles and quick kisses, furtive touches and brief bouts of handholding when you saw each other at events. The mornings meant salacious pictures and quick phone sex to take the edge off, but you weren’t able to luxuriate in each other as you usually did.

You missed Bucky’s full attention, but the fact that you were working together on something worthwhile was the shit. You loved this man and you wanted to work beside him as an equal, not just be his sex toy.

This was the week that you fell completely in love with Bucky Barnes.

Thursday was the day of the Rebirth Art Summit and Bucky was pacing up and down his home office, reading glasses switching locations from perched on top of his head, to his delectable mouth, to his handsome face as he reviewed his notes.

You looked up from the ones in your hands with which you were quizzing him and smiled at him.

“Jamie, it’s going to be okay.”

He stopped to look at you, a faint smile on his face. He came over and pecked you on the lips and gave you a hug.

“‘M so glad you are here tonight, even though you tried to stay away.”

You sighed into his chest and took a deep breath, inhaling his Bucky smell.

“I wasn’t trying to avoid you, I was just giving you space. I know tomorrow is important to you and I don’t want to distract—”

“Frumoasă. You don’t distract from anything. If anything, you add to my life. You add so, so much. I love you. And I miss you. I want you here with me tonight.”

You melted into him, chuckled and shook your head as he held you. This feeling was crazy.

“What?”

You heard his voice in his chest, but he didn’t move, except to sway just a little, as if soothing you. It worked.

“I love you too, Bucky. And I miss you too. So much. It’s wild to feel so much in such a short amount of time.”

You and Bucky had only been together about three months, but you knew this was it.

“When you know, you know, my love. And we shouldn’t waste any more time.”

You hugged him tighter. What was understood didn’t need to be said.

He kissed the top of your head and then moved back so he could see into your eyes.

“And having you in my space while I get ready for an important event is everything.”

You looked him in the eye, thinking of sucking his dick for being such a dream.

“Bucky…”

Bucky took your hand and raised it to his lips.

“Don’t look at me like that, Frumoasă. I will be forced to fuck you all night long, something that is long overdue.”

He kissed your forehead.

“But there is much work to do.”

You cast your eyes down and whispered, “You’re right.”

Bucky took you in, looking so demure and being so patient with him. It was such a turn on.

“Such a Good Girl for me.”

You wanted to fall to your knees, but you just bit your lip and went to sit back down, crossing your legs as you began quizzing him again. 

Soon, you told your pulsing pussy. Soon.

You worked late into the night and soon dozed on the leather couch in his study. The next morning, you woke in Bucky’s bed with a sweet note on your pillow. You smiled and knew that he’d carried you to bed and held you all night long.

—--

“You look like that damn heart eyes emoji, ya know.”

You sucked your teeth at your cousin’s comment, but you didn’t pull your gaze away from Bucky up on the dias the next day at NYU. 

You were proud and in awe of your man. Your smirk turned into a grin as he glanced at you and started to speak.

You were down bad. And Bucky was too. After almost two weeks with little to no physicality, your energy was at supernova strength and about to cause a black hole in the universe.

That’s how intense this thing was. 

You were wet and hard and soft in all the right places.

Bucky had to pause frequently for the interpreter, and it gave you a chance to make googly eyes at each other. You ignored Peach’s subtle retching noises as you concentrated on Bucky. But you cut your eyes over to her while Steve spoke and found her visibly eye fucking him. You smirked when she noticed you noticing.

“Bucky is pretty much the man.”

She was trying to distract you. You laughed.

“Fucking-A.” 

You nodded up at the stage.

“Steve is the shit too.”

You were shocked as hell when she responded.

“He’s amazing. I had no idea everything that he does. Have to say, I’m impressed.”

You elected not to tease her about her response. It seemed as if Steve was working the plan.

You resumed watched as Bucky did his thing. He was glowing, handsome and impressive as hell. No one would believe he was as introverted as he was. But he was flourishing in the spotlight, seemingly born for his. He exuded confidence. 

It was such a turn on.

—-

Bucky watched you watching him and talking to your cousin and knew your tells. You were probably wet and ready for him. He briefly thought of what he was going to do to you later before he refocused on the task at hand. Knowing you were there for him was such motivation.

When he made his way back over to you, you were an angel, giving him a huge hug and exclaiming, “You were so fucking good up there, Jamie! I’m so proud of you.”

Bucky felt his heart explode and although someone was pulling him away from you, he mouthed a promise in your direction.

—-

“Later...”

You definitely read those sexy lips and your heart started racing. You looked around for your cousin, expecting to be roasted, but she was nowhere to be found. You shrugged and made your way to the subway, assuming that she was gathering with the other recipients. There was more work to do in Brownsville and you were busy anticipating the night.

You waited all day for Bucky’s text to tell you what time Nico was picking you up, but it never came. The rest of the day flew by and by the time you were walking home, daydreaming of dressing up for the gala tomorrow night and what Bucky might wear, you happened to check your phone and saw messages he’d sent just 10 minutes before:

You looked so good today. Especially this morning. Good enough to eat.

I’ll be at your place in 30. Wear that bra, no top, that skirt, no panties, and those heels.

You blushed and thought of the mirror selfie of the cream lace lingerie set you were wearing underneath your cream colored cowl neck sweater and grey wool pencil skirt that matched your grey wool coat.

Yes, Daddy, you replied and picked up the pace to make it to your brownstone ahead of him, your heart beating a mile a minute.

You thought you were prepared when you opened the door after Bucky knocked, but you weren’t.

In fact, you were shaking with anticipation.

There he was, bundled up from the cold, but those blue eyes sparkling down at you.

Bucky stared at you for a beat, and then walked toward you, taking your face in his hands and backing you up against the entryway wall, kicking the door closed behind him.

“My Frumoasă. So good. So perfect”

And then he leaned down and kissed you.

—-

Bucky had the strangest thought as you opened your door.

I’m home.

Although this was not his place, he realized that you were his home and that he couldn’t wait to make you his wife. His eyes swept down your form, pleased that you had followed instructions. You were such a badass, capable woman and partner and he just had to be inside you soon. 

He complimented you and his cock stiffened as your mouth parted in desire. He knew your praise kink very well. Bucky cradled your beautiful face and moved inside to kiss you.

His demanding mouth parted your trembling lips, sending tremors through your body. You clung to the lapels of his coat to tether you to earth as his tongue invaded your mouth. You suckled it, previewing what you wanted to do with his cock later. 

He pulled away, his bright blue eyes blazing, and his jaw clenched so tight as he shrugged out of his winter coat. If you didn’t know him so well, you’d think he was angry, but the look was desire. 

And only for you. You grew warm from the inside out.

“I can’t wait. Wanna make love to you, but I have to fuck you now.”

Bucky bent his knees and grabbed your thighs, prompting you to wrap your legs around him and hold on to him as he walked you over to your couch.

You attacked his face as you were sat down firmly on the bulge in his pants and Bucky accepted your assault, chuckling as you kissed him from his hairline, to his forehead, down his nose, each cheek, skipping over his lips to his stubbly dimpled chin and finally back to that mouth. When he kissed you again, his hands were everywhere, starting at the nape of your hair, pulling so your neck was exposed as his mouth moved down to mark you up, then trailing down to your fine lace bra cups.

Bucky palmed your full breasts, weighing them in his hands and watching your face as he twisted your nipples. You nipples tightened under his touch and you arched your back, moving and giving him a view of what was underneath your skirt. He admired your ardor, you squirming and moaning on his lap.

It was his dream come true.

“So fucking hot, Frumoasa. I’ve been craving you. All day. All week. Ever since Thanksgiving. Since I first laid eyes on you.”

“Bucky…need you.”

You grasped the lapels of his jacket as his hand traveled down your torso and as he leaned down to travel under the hem of your skirt. Your soft fingers peeled his jacket away and unbuttoned his shirt. You opened it and ran your hands down his chest, rubbing his nipples with your thumb and trailed your hand down to his happy trail and proceeded to try and undo his belt buckle.

Bucky grew hot at the warmth of your thick thighs and the way your cunt was so hot that he could feel it through his pants. 

He had to have it. 

Panting now and desperate, Bucky tugged your skirt up, flashing your bare pussy, but it was difficult to get rid of because it was still buttoned. It slipped out of his hands and he grunted in frustration.

“Ah, poor baby…” 

You leaned forward, brushing the locks of hair that had fallen into his flushed face, grazing your nipples across your chest with a sexy smile.  Bucky whimpered and you smirked at his desperation. You slowly reached behind you to your zipper, pushing your chest toward Bucky’s face. He licked his lips and pulled your bra cups down, causing your warm breasts to spill out and his hands to be drawn to them again like magnets as he watched you loosen your skirt.

When you grabbed the hem to bring it over your head, he released you, watching as the fabric moved above your crotch.

Your pussy. Fuck.

Bucky could never get enough of staring at it, the dark petals, which were spread open for him as you sat on his lap were calling his name. He licked his lips, suddenly parched.

“What are you thinking about, Bucky?”

You had a pretty good idea, but you wanted, no needed, to hear Bucky’s voice right now. You reached behind you again as you unclasped your bra and suddenly you were naked on an essentially fully dressed Bucky Barnes.

It was sexy as hell. 

“I’m thinking that your pussy is a work of art, Frumoasă. It’s perfect. I’m thinking that I want to spend at least eight hours a day between your legs, make you cum over and over again, make you beg me to stop, and to start again. How I want you to taste you and make you squirt so I can swallow you down…”

You moaned and started grinding on his bulge, causing Bucky to curse.

“Damn, Baby. You’re gonna make me jizz in my pants like a teenager.”

Bucky grabbed your ass and reached between you to tease your clit, feeling how wet you were.

“Fuuuuuck, you’re so wet.”

Bucky’s eyes rolled as he grabbed your waist and lifted you to your knees on either side of him as he unzipped his pants and pulled them and his underwear just down past his ass to get his cock out. He grabbed your cheek as he stroked himself and rubbed his thick cock head in your juicy pussy.

“Fuck me Frumoasa. Slide down this dick for me.”

You brushed Bucky’s hair off his forehead again as you nodded and started to slide down his fat, hard cock. Your head lolled back on your neck as you reached the root of him.

“Oh… Bucky… Fuck….”

You could feel Bucky pounding inside you, long thick cock battering your cervix and you whined, leaning back and working your hips as Bucky fucked up into you and thumbed your clit while the other hand guided you up and down his dick. 

His jaw was clenched and his eyes were shining as he looked up at you. You knew he was close and you couldn’t take it.

He started to speak and you knew it was over.

“Frumoasă. I-I’m gonna need you to… oh holy fuckkkkkk!”

His stutter made you start to cum.

As soon as your pussy started spasming around him, Bucky started shooting his spend all over your warm walls causing you to convulse and hug his head to your chest. He clutched you to him, whimpering as he held onto you for dear life as he came.

He collapsed backwards, taking you with him as you became boneless in his arms. You rolled off of him and curled up on the couch as Bucky stood and untangled himself from his clothes.

You closed your eyes for a minute as he got up and went to the bathroom, returning with a warm cloth to clean you up. When he finished, he kissed your forehead and gathered you up in his arms.

“You turn me on like no one else, Frumoasă. You’re it for me. I love you.”

You cuddled into him as he lay you in your bed.

“Me too, Bucky. You’re my one. I love you, too.”

Bucky kissed your forehead again, and then proceeded to move down your body.

“Good, now. I need to clock into my main occupation. Hour one of eight.…”

—-

If you like it, hit Reblog! ☺️

[starredblood]

NOWHERE GIRL

PART TWO

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

synopsis: time is ticking but sae-byeok seems to grow more irritated by your existence meanwhile you come face to face with the secret you’ve been holding onto.

wc. 1.9k

warnings: hints of homophobia | authors note: thanks for the love on part one! enjoy part two and let me know if you want to be added onto my taglist.

(nowhere girl masterlist)

You decided to get ready early in the morning to stay in your school campus for the entire day just to avoid staying at Ji-yeong and Sae-byeok’s apartment. Your new plan was just to stay here to sleep so wouldn’t bother them as much. Especially, Sae-byeok.

Because there was only so much you could pack in your duffle bag, you only brought your laptop, portfolio tote and your small portable supply container.

Before you head out, you go on your phone to find your new route to school for the week. And because you were concentrating, you failed to hear someone come out their room and walk towards you.

“Hey.” Sae-byeok hisses.

You shot your head up wondering why she’s up so early. Sae-byeok must also start her days early seeing as she has on her utility jacket, a pair of baggy jeans, and her unruly hair was more styled. The apartment was dimly lit so you can’t make out her expression, but you can only assume she isn’t happy about something you did.

“Why did you give Cheol your crayons?”

You blink. “You mean oil pastels?”

“Yes.” she grimaces. “I don’t know you so I don’t want you to be giving him things. Especially not without my permission.”

“They’re my old sets so I thought it would be better to give it to him than to throw them away.”

“We don’t need your charity case. Don’t give him any more of your shit.”

A frown starts to form on your lips. It’s bad enough you can’t go home anymore, now you have to deal with this.

You can feel your blood begin to boil watching Sae-byeok head to the front door, so you follow her out.

“They’re just oil pastels I don’t see why this has to be such a big deal?” you say to her, your voice louder now that you’re out of the apartment. Sae-byeok isn’t moved by your words. “Your brother looked so happy when I told him he could keep them—I wasn’t planning on giving him anything more.”

The morning breeze hits your red cheeks, cooling them. You following her like a baby duckling was not how you wanted to start your morning when you had a long day ahead.

Once you’re both out on the streets, Sae-byeok stops walking and spins around to face you. She took one step closer and you take a step back.

“Good.” Sae-byeok says.

“Good?”

Sae-byeok doesn’t like naive people. She doesn’t know you but from what she could guess: you’re just a spoiled daughter who threw a tantrum and ran away to prove a point. Once it all blows over, you have a support system to bounce back on. You can go back to focusing solely on your studies and later make a name for yourself—everything she can’t do no matter how many hours in the days she works or how many people she pickpockets.

“Yes. Good.” she repeats mockingly. “I don’t want him to get too attached to you being here—he’s a sensitive kid. So, just keep to yourself and focus on how you’re going to find a new place to stay in less than a week. Got it?”

You didn’t think the words of someone you met three days ago would affect you so much. But here you are, frozen in place, ashamed of yourself. However, in the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but think about the shift in accents when she spoke.

⊹ ✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

You were the first person in the art studio—about an hour or so early. With all your deadlines quickly approaching you saw the silver lining in arriving to your university early because you can catch up with all your work. Right now you were working on an art piece due next week, not realizing that class was soon starting and your friends began arriving.

“Hey.” one of them greets you.

You look down from your piece and smile at Yoon. She was the first person you contacted when you got kicked out of your parent’s house, you lived in her dormitory for only a week before you got caught. Although you wouldn’t consider Yoon a close friend seeing as she has a huge friend group, she was a reliant one.

“How are you, um, holding up?” she asks quietly to not catch the attention of the other students who began arriving.

“Not bad. I’m staying at an old school friends apartment for the time being.” you tell her, wiping your hands with a moist cloth.

Yoon nods looking at the ground in contemplation. “How long?”

“A week—well technically until Friday so five days.”

Something about her behavior seems off to you. Usually, she is pretty chipper ready to talk someone’s ears off. But today she is quieter, talking in less verbiage. Yoon shoots a glance around the classroom, surveying the vicinity to make sure no one is watching.

“There were rumors flying around about the real reason you ran away.”

You snort and fall back down on your seat to meet her at eye level. “Rumors? Aren’t we too old to be starting rumors?”

Yoon frowns and scoots a little back. “You know what it is…right?”

You stare at the floor, expressionless.

“They aren’t true, right?” Yoon asks cautiously. You threw her a look and the girl’s lips part to gasp or say something—you aren’t sure but it wasn’t a good reaction. Your heart rate begins to increase as you turn to face your canvas.

It’s all over now, you think. If Yoon has figured it out so will the rest of your peers and your social life is beyond the grave now.

Not even a minute later, Yoon stands up and sits on the other side of the room when she saw her friends enter. You start to become paranoid, wondering if she’ll immediately begin to gossip.

Throughout the duration of class you couldn’t help but get lost in your thoughts. The anticipation of everyone finding out about you was swallowing you whole. You are starting to wish that time moves slower so you wouldn’t have to leave class.

It didn’t help that Yoon and her friends kept stealing looks at your direction. You tried to avoid making eye contact but you would find that hard to do.

Rubbing the sweat from your palms, you pick up your brush and use this rush of panic as a way to speed up the process of your art work.

“Don’t forget about the deadline coming up!” your professor says five octaves higher while the class starts packing their things. “The students with the top three highest grades will get their work displayed at Hangaram Art Museum for the entirety of the summer!”

Your professors words were in the back of your mind as you frantically tried to pack your things to avoid Yoon and her group. It wasn’t until you heard a ‘Psst’ coming behind you that you snap out of your trance.

“Hey,” whispers a peer of yours. You never spoken to him, but the toothy inviting grin he is sending you is enough for you to know that he isn’t harmful. “I just wanted to tell you not to let those girls get into your head. I know how you feel—if you know what I mean.”

You send him a quizzical look. “Thanks?” So, they did gossip and everyone in this class knows. You might just throw up.

“Just keep your chin up and don’t let them see you in a moment of weakness and you’ll be alright.” he sends you a thumbs up as he walks away. You force a smile that goes away in a blink of an eye and sink into your seat.

What have you done? Why did you trust Yoon so much? You feel like such an idiot.

⊹ ✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

It was almost nearing midnight, Ji-yeong and Sae-byeok were in the living room. After a long day of working, Sae-byeok was trying to rest before doing it all over again tomorrow by watching mindless television until her roommate disrupts her to start pacing back and forth in front of her. Sae-byeok knew what she was getting worked up about. Ji-yeong clearly began to notice your lack of presence today.

“Where could she be this late? I’m sure libraries are closed by now…” she trails off, rubbing her chin in deep thought.

Sae-byeok’s mind goes back to earlier this morning. Your brief exchanges could’ve caused her to avoid coming to the apartment but your duffle bag is still here. You’d have to come back eventually.

“Sae-byeok, what did you do?”

Sae-byeok’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “Me?”

“I saw that look you just did. You look guilty. What did you do?”

“Nothing.” she responds coolly.

Ji-yeong purposely blocks the television screen and crosses her arms. “I’m not moving until you tell me the truth.”

“I don’t remember it was early in the morning.”

“Is it because she gave Cheol her crayons?”

Sae-byeok narrows her eyes. “How did you—?”

“He wouldn’t stop talking to me about it when I picked him up from school.” Ji-yeong rolls her eyes. “So, it is because of that? You got mad at her because of crayons, Sae-byeok, really?”

“It’s not just about the crayons.” she snips, sitting up straight from the couch. “Do you even know her personally? When was the last time you two actually talked before this?”

Ji-yeong doesn’t say anything.

“Thought so.” she scoffs. “I don’t trust her. Especially since you don’t want to tell me why she ran away in the first place.”

Ji-yeong purses her lips to digest her words. She shuffles to let Sae-byeok watch television again and sank next to her in the couch.

“I think she’s nice.” she grumbles like a child. Sae-byeok sends her a glare.

“You think, you don’t know.”

Ji-yeong shrugs. “I have no reason to think she’s a bad person.”

“People can change overnight. I’ve seen it happen and I’ve seen the consequences of being too trusting.”

Ji-yeon goes silent again. “No. This is something different—“

“Well, if you can just tell me why she’s even here in the first place then maybe I—“

“I can’t.”

“Then I don’t see the point in discussing this.” Sae-byeok sighs. She gets up from the comfort of the couch and stretches before grabbing her coat by the front door.

“Where are you going?” Ji-yeong frowns.

“To clear my head. I won’t be long.”

Ji-yeong doesn’t push any further, knowing this is something Sae-byeok occasionally does when her thoughts start to become too much. Maybe Ji-yeong went a little too far trying to defend your character because Sae-byeok rarely ever backs down from an argument so she really tested her limits.

Of course with Sae-byeok’s luck, she stumbles upon you sitting on the staircase, doodling something on your sketchbook underneath the fluorescent lights of the building.

Sae-byeok stares at your back trying to figure out if she should sneak back inside or talk to you. Maybe this is her chance to figure out what you’re really up to and prove Ji-yeong wrong.

“Why aren’t you inside?” she asks you after hesitating. You don’t response, you just throw her a glance before going back to drawing. Sae-byeok feels like this is some sort of payback for earlier.

Sae-byeok thought she was good at reading people’s body language and automatically pinpoint who they are and what their intentions are. It was something she had to learn to do in order to survive. But you are becoming an outlier.

“Ji-yeong is worried.”

“Well, just tell her I’m here.” you speak up. “I’ll be inside later. I just want to stop by a convenience store to get something to eat.”

“We have food inside.”

You turn to make eye contact with her again. For a brief moment, no words were spoken even as tension was rising.

“You got mad at me over oil pastels. Why would I go around touching your food?” you ask softly.

And for the first time, Sae-byeok is taken aback by you. There is another evanescent period of silence.

“Fine.” she says and starts walking down the staircase and further away from the building only to turn around to call out your name. You poke your head out from your sketchbook, raising an eyebrow at her. “Are you coming or what?”

You survey her figure blankly. With every interaction you have with Sae-byeok, she just keeps confusing you further. It feels like you are playing mental game of chess with her and you aren’t sure how to feel about that. You’re already overwhelmed with what happened today at school, you shouldn’t add someone like Sae-byeok to the mix.

Sae-byeok dug her hands deep inside the pockets of her jacket and taps her foot on the pavement, waiting for you impatiently. You sigh in defeat and close your sketchbook.

Just five more days and this’ll all just be a blurry memory, you think to yourself.

🏷️: @monroesturnns

[luvvyouforever]

vampire!emily prentiss

you are mine, you shall be mine, you and i are one for ever. ꨄ

-carmilla, sheridan le fanu

content: vampire au, wlw imagined when writing, lowk sugar mommy dynamic, sex, possessive, blood, feeding.

𖤐 uses her immortality to enjoy all that life has to offer. indulges in expensive trips, luxurious fabrics, international delicacies, and art collection. her home is always beautiful no matter where she lives and becomes her own personal museum. probably has storage units around the world holding her keepsakes.

𖤐 works for fun rather than for money. creates new lives for herself when she gets bored with one. essentially builds an entire character and lives as her in some new place. will change her hair or her entire style so she's not recognized.

𖤐 if she had some way to just ethically source blood like premade bags or something along those lines, she would. but if those options aren't available, she will feed and drain the worst, almost like a vigilante.

𖤐 she is suchhhh a seductress, luring people in for pleasure and company easily. all she has to do is attend an event dressed to the nines and lean against a table before she has people crawling to her.

𖤐 when she meets you, she's entranced immediately. thinks about you all night long, dreaming of touching your skin and brushing your hair away and feeling your lips on hers. she tries not to let herself wonder what your blood tastes like but she can't help it when you're close and she can smell it.

𖤐 spoils you to no end, but makes sure she's buying you the best of the best. she's so good at being rich and enjoying luxury that she practically has to teach you. she shows you what expensive fabrics feel like and makes some expensive drink for you saying this is the only way you can enjoy vodka.

𖤐 i think she confesses to you that she's a vampire rather than you finding it out in some dramatic fashion. she feels herself becoming more attached to you and she's lived so long that she knows it's better to be upfront about it to keep you.

𖤐 i like to think that if there was some way to have you eternally and let you live alongside her for the rest of her life, she would want that, but she would make sure you're really sure. eternity is not what everyone makes it out to be, she says. but she would be so heartbroken if you said no, knowing she has to watch you age.

𖤐 loves teasing you by dragging her sharp teeth along your skin, sending shivers down your entire body as you think about how powerful she is, what she's truly capable of. enjoys making you come completely undone for her.

𖤐 she has so much experience and knows exactly what to do to make your body sing for her. she can draw it out for an entire night, keeping you down on the bed, making you finish around her till you're a babbling mess. or she can take you against the kitchen counter quickly, having you leave for work in record time.

𖤐 is very possessive and claiming of you. she gets angry at someone's touch against you, even more so if they've been so close to you that she can smell them. licks along your neck, muttering 'mine' the whole way up.

𖤐 will totally gift you something that makes it glaringly clear that you're taken. she'll gift you a locket with her initial carved into it, or an ornate ring she picked up centuries ago. you wear it with pride, so happy to have been gifted something beautiful, but she's smirking as she feels her possessiveness quelled a little bit.

freaky vampire blood stuff below i'm sorry (no i'm not):

𖤐 it would take multiple conversations for her to be comfortable with feeding from you. she likes strict boundaries and open discussion and prioritizes your health over anything. she informs you about how you're gonna feel, how the process will work, everything. when she receives another confirmation from you, she can't help but feel excited that she finally gets to taste you.

𖤐 the first time she does it, she makes it an intimate experience as if it was your first time having sex. makes it dark in the room, lays you down on the plush bed and crawls on top of you. she asks for permission one more time and when you readily give it to her, she bends down and gently seeks her teeth into your neck.

𖤐 from that moment, she's obsessed. she dreams about your taste and craves it all the time. but if nothing, she's great at self-control. she holds herself off until you've recovered, then she will practically crawl to you, begging for another taste. it's the most submissive you've ever seen her.

𖤐 she lost her mind when, as she was about to cum during sex, you lifted your neck, offering her the perfect spot to sink her mouth onto. she finishes just at the moment that your blood fills her. she never wants to leave your side.

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot Donnie Ref Sheet

Y'all genuinely have no idea how happy I am right now. With many, many years of work, the Weak Spot Donatello ref sheet is finally done and @garbagemilkshake is truly one of the greatest people to ever grace this planet. I say with full honesty that WS would not have near the same visual impact without their art. Now that this treasure is finally a reality, I'm holding nothing back. Below I breakdown all kinds of detail about what you see above and all I can say before that is thank you to each and every one of you who've been kind enough to read my work! This one goes out to you!

Villain's Mark Reference Sheets:

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. - Donatello - Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Raphael

PREFACE TIME!

Now it may seem like way overdue from the outsider perspective, but let me tell you, I have been trying near non-stop to get this damn thing done. Interest in getting WS Donnie's ref sheet made dates all the way back to around Chapter 9ish of Weak Spot, but very technically to April of 2023. An artist was commissioned to make it and all I will say on that matter is that they decided they could not continue. Thus began my new search. There was a ton of criteria: Someone willing to make a ref sheet of this size, someone willing to associate with NSFW content, and someone willing to do mechanical props.

Unfortunately, I would fruitlessly search until eventually I had Garbage on as a chapter artist. I eventually asked if Garbage was up to it (they totally were) and we decided to test out the other turtle's ref sheets first. It may not seem like it, but a ref sheet of this size is an ENORMOUS undertaking. I seriously cannot praise Garbage enough. As you all know, the other turts ref sheets were stunning. We planned out what was needed for Donnie's and starting May 2024, work began. Garbage would routinely take time off of doing chapter art or what need be (I'm too discombobulated to remember when their vacation was). Their happiness and life takes top priority in my book and after all the time I'd spent searching for someone just to do the ref sheet, I did not mind it getting sidelined in the slightest. Garbage was doing me a huge favor after all, commission or not!

BUT WHO CARES!! WE'RE HERE AND IT'S DONE!!! 🎉🎉🎉

Let's get into it with the turnaround!

The turnaround! Finally we have the definitive collection of Donnie's scars! it was tricky and we ended up needing to label him like some anatomical model to get all the mentions in. Some scars will look a little familiar to you and other's might not, but dang, I sure did a TON of scar research. From hypertrophic (raised scars) to atrophic (scar that don't have enough scar tissue to heal and are sunken in comparison) to how sharp blades versus dull ones cut skin raise what kind of scars. I have a bunch of gorey references for all that, but I doubt anyone wants to see that. Instead let's go into inspirations and the like:

First off, in spot 4, Donnie's electrical scars!

You probably think I ripped them off from Replica or Unknown and that wouldn't be totally wrong, but it wouldn't be right. Obviously I'm a huge fan of both artists (go support their patreons), but my thoughts were always more in the camp of getting Villain Donnie from A to B. I was planning alongside a canon timeline and my thoughts were he would have definitely created himself a pair of show goggles, but there was no way, with what he went through, that those would make it to adulthood. When I considered where he was mostly likely to lose them and that I wanted him to give himself laser eye surgery (again, show accurate, he had glasses once!) that I could knock both out if he were to have damaged the goggles, rendering him deaf and needing cochlear implants.

Now spot 2, the body augmentation, reaches outside the fandom and to Megalo Box of all things!

I only watched an episode or so, but the way Joe scrapped together gear was something that stuck with me. When I was conceptualizing WS Donnie and came to the conclusion he didn't have ninpo, I thought a lot about what he would do when the others got there. The logical conclusion was turning towards his tech and Megalo Box was right there with the idea.

Donnie's body augmentation gear has not been depicted as of yet, but it absolutely looks like something out of Megalo Box. I additionally did research into other wearable tech and came across the ExoArm.

Studying their information on what nerve points and muscles needed to be hit was what helped me ultimately decide where the extraction points on Donnie's arm would be. The starbursts on Donnie's arm are where the pins for the device were forceably torn out when they 'failed' him. The lines between them are where the wires that connected pin points were similarly torn out. They created finer scars.

I want to highlight the barely seen spot 7, Neural Implant, with an extreme close up:

It may seem like just the curvature of his noggin, but it's actually Donnie's one clean scar. It was his only surgery he was truly careful with as it chanced his brain stem and spine if he messed up. Without his ninpo, he implanted a chip to coordinate with his tech more seamlessly. It's inspired by the fic Switch by unorthodoxx, which shout-out! Again, if someone comes up with a neat concept, that stuff sticks with me!

Spot 6, Mystic Chains aka where Donnie got his foot ripped off and it might not be for the reason you think. I wanted to make mention here, that you might remember the chapter art from chapter 43 of Weak Spot and that Donnie did not have a port sticking out back then. That's growth kids because it took me until after to realize that he would need something inserted to connect to a working prosthetic.

Finally, it was tough to figure out how best to depict all of Donnie's shell damage. It's reveal is such a huge moment in Weak Spot and I knew he would have what was basically insurmountable damage to have made it a specific weak spot to him (if you know what I'm saying 😏) The number 8, spike holes are just that, Donnie hit some spikes. Think of him having been shut in like an iron maiden or maybe trapped by a spike wall that was reminiscent of the ones in the Maze of Death in the Minotaur Maze episode of canon.

As for spot 10, Shredder, we see this Donnie suffered for not having a bulkier battle shell. When he was attacked by shredder in this moment:

His shell took that damage directly.

The last spot I want to touch on is 9, the Odachi marks, the larger blob one is when Leo attempted to, but held back from severing Donnie's spine and the other is from Leo trimming Donnie's spines (aka from being a Spiny Softshell). I made this extremely helpful infographic to explain to Garbage at one point exactly what was trimmed off in the latter:

Moving on to outfit variants and expressions!

I hope this section is pretty self explanatory, but I did want to make a note: Donnie wears his wraps as seen in Lounge Looks around his arms and neck under all his clothing and at most hours due to his constant pain. Also, the examples of Donnie's emotions are something that only came around during Weak Spot. He hardly emoted before he met reader.

Last, But Not Least we got prop close-ups!

The prosthetic shown here is specifically Donnie's comfiest, aka the one he uses at home. I didn't bother adding any other prosthetics because his others are either shoe prosthetic (aka the shoe is fit so it directly attaches to is port) or a prosthetic that is made to perfectly replicate what his foot looks like (which visually looks like he just has his real foot). His prosthetic is actually a straight rip off of a real one!

When researching prosthetics, I found this one and it struck me as so similar to the turtle's actual feet (with the 'two toes' and heel) that I thought this had to be Donnie's prosthetic.

We get a good look at Donnie's glasses. As a reminder, the arms (temples) of Donnie's glasses attach to his head via magnets. He's got a little metal in his head from the electrical burns and cochlear implant so he made use of it when he made a facsimile of his goggles. The whole point of his glasses is they mimic the vision specs/knowledge he needs to access without them being a danger to his person. They are meant to be easily removable and they do not have lenses. The color projected in them is just that (a projection) and it only works if it's close enough to Donnie's neural implant and he wills them to be turned on.

Our final order of business is WS Donnie's battle shell! This is the first time it's ever been depicted! I always knew he was going to have a different sort of battle shell when I was created this version of Donnie. His show shell is just too bulky for what this Donnie could afford. Since he dabbled a lot of easily concealable tech, I took a lot of inspiration from Iron Man. The battle shell, as we know from Weak Spot, can grow and resize to its user. I specifically had this gif in mind whenever I thought about how the battle shell grows on one's back:

I did a ton of research into body armor itself, since that is what Donnie would specifically need it for and found this specific piece that I thought fell perfectly in line with both the Iron Man idea and utility of a realistic battle shell for this Donnie.

and that's just about everything! Again, thank you to anyone who made it this far. Thank you for reading my works! Thank you for literally everything! Round up thanks to my betas, to Garbage, to everyone dangit!

[creatively-cosmic]

more stuff for our cr retake looooore. something about cycles and reincarnations... supposedly.

[Lore under da cut . also blueberry milk is @viscarrion 's guy i just did concept art ^^]

disclaimer: this was copied straight from a ramble over discord i did while very tired so this is Not final and might sound like a message written at 6am on a hyperfixation high

the thought with the ancients story is . We're making it cyclical with it babyy. age old legacies passed down over ages of cookies made of the same recipes yet Tweaked, born again, over and over, changing and evolving, lights of virtue watching and Waiting for an incarnation worthy of being their avatars. the beasts were a catastrophe that could not repeated- no, the next wielders had to prove themselves.

early attempts resulted in disaster, cookies chasing purpose and power, yet falling into the same corruption as the Beasts and becoming mirror images of their madness. as time passed and recipes changed, eventually, one success would rise- proven by their good natures and a great act of leadership and power. (possibly by striking down another corrupted incarnation deemed the Leviathans- smth we're still workshopping, based offa thing mentioned in the pre-registration artbook)

the soul jams had changed by then, too- but these heroes were, all the same, worthy of them. a successful batch at long last.

for a while the world thrived under their rule- peace prevailed and kingdoms were born, built, and flourished.

yet good things never last.

white lily, on the night of witches, fell into the "ultimate dough" after discovering the true nature of the witches all cookies revered as Gods- how they saw them only as snacks, puny and fragile and delicious. as the woman drowned in dark magic, poisonous ingredients, and was burnt from every angle from a second baking, she emerged changed. angry. pained. hateful. and imbued with that great power, she found herself strong enough to make a stand against the witches.

one by one, they fell. and in pursuit of vengeance and the power to change everything, let's just say that she decided to turn the dynamic of Witch and Cookie on its head. with bloodied teeth and bones as trophies, the now Wilted Lily cookie, who would come to be known as the Dark Enchantress, set out to show the world what she'd discovered. and how she would change it.

of course, the Heroes wouldn't let this stand. the enchantress did not take pleasure in fighting her once-friends. did not revel in how she had become unrecognizable. white lily, however, had always chased goals that she believed was for the good of the world- this was no different, and no one would stand in her way. at any cost, she would prevail.

on a fateful night, the war between her and the Heroes came to a head. Two kings, two queens, and a sorceress entered that battlefield.

what came of it were five shattered soul jams, four orphaned kingdoms, and only one survivor; sealed away by forbidden magic in a final attempt by Pure Vanilla to save the world as he knew it, in his dying breath.

a few hundred years passed. the dust settled- the war, forgotten. but having lost their leaders so suddenly, so cruelly, and while they were so young, the kingdoms left behind were weak. cookies left, rulers took and left the throne far faster than anything reasonable. societies rose of their own merits, but the remnants of kingdoms clung dearly to what was left, their people spurred on by whispers of legends- of undying heroes, who would one day return and bring their small lands to power again.

when spurred by belief, anything you hold closely can be true in the eye of the beholder.

a cookie was baked with pure vanilla extract and decorated in the flowers of the vanilla plant it had been harvested from. a kindly and pacifist healer, a shepherd- the village under the sky kingdom's remains watched closely, and began muttering of his uncanny resemblance to the legend of the kingdom above.

sparks of hope would become a guiding firelight in the villages hearts- slowly, the name Vanilla Flower was drowned out by the prayers for the return at last of Pure Vanilla.

a young girl cookie, red and tart and bursting with life, wandered into the Hollyberry kingdom from Dragon's Valley. she boasted of victory over beasts great and small, bringing great supplies and hopes for prosperity to the beautiful little kingdom. her passion shone bright, her natural sense of leadership even moreso. the queen that their age-old songs would never forget must have returned!

again, the name of Red Holly was lost under the voices singing of the triumphant return of Hollyberry.

The Cacao kingdom stood strong- a council lead them steadily and held them well through the endless winters of their land. But as time passed and mindsets changed, the council would fracture- no single party trusted enough to watch and unify. Nobody, except... Him. A decision was made- it was time to take a kingdom-wide belief seriously. They watched, as each newly baked cookie would come through. Trying to discern if one could finally be the reincarnation of their king. Until finally, a boy of lonesome and bitter origins came to them, begging for a chance to fight for the good of the kingdom. They saw the look in his eyes, and knew he had come home.

Frigid Cacao, under the guide of the council, quietly let his name be lost under their uplifting words of how Dark Cacao had returned.

The golden cheese kingdom had long ago made a promise to their queen- in the event of her death, they were to prepare and ensure her reincarnation happened smoothly. They did not simply sit and wait. Over those hundreds of years, they carefully engineered each step of the recipe- carefully gathered every ingredient, carefully crafted her dough, and carefully, carefully, set her aside- shaped to perfect form- to incubate in her golden egg cradle, slow-baked by the warmth of safety and adoration. It took ages, but she emerged almost perfect. It had taken too long to care about the flaws- for now, this cookie was their queen.

Before Pyrite could even learn her name, she was taught the only one she'd ever be called by her people- Golden Cheese.

the next cycle began with these four, names and identities cast aside to fill the roles of monarchs and heroes the people of the land sought for. They made idols of men, and each kingdom raised them as such.

And even so, how could they doubt who they were when even the lights of virtue told them exactly the same...?

though the soul jams were still shattered, each of the four had been baked with a small piece within them- a piece that now connected them to the past life they once embodied. the lights whispered of destiny, of rebirth- showed them memories of lifetimes long since passed. the four upheld their virtues as best as they could. even as the weight went on to exhaust them, burdened by the responsibilities, legacy, and promises of a life they had no say in- of a person they never were.

... what of the fifth?

dark enchantress, though sealed, was not dead. her soul jam was still hers, right? and white lily had no kingdom, no subjects to morn her, or to wish for her return....

... mostly.

the kingdom of the faeries held her in dear regards. she'd been a friend and savior, bringing unfathomable power only outdone by their own monarch. They led her along on her quest for answers... and felt responsible for the following chaos.

dark enchantress... that was not the cookie they'd known. whatever happened, it was not white lily. Not to them. white lily was still out there, exhiled from herself. what she needed... was help!

so the faeries made a cookie. as best they could, they made White Lily cookie. she would be born anew as one of their own, her flowers not quite the same.. but still hers.

and carefully, they laid that husk where one day, her soul would find its way home again.

Valley Lily cookie did not awake until desperation grew high enough to force a lost soul into her body. And given life... she awoke. Confused, lost, and with no idea of who she was, where she was, and even what she was ... though far more dazed, Valley Lily was no different than the other young "reincarnations."

the only difference was now, that cycle of uncertainty was not at the hands of a kingdom. it was at the hands of cookies who had been forced to remember the lily of a different life. of cookies who looked at a lost stranger, and instead saw an old friend.

[justanothermemestrider]

Nothing Ever Stays Dead - Part 1

Gadriel x Childhood Friend OC

Inspired by @beckyninja ' Titus x Reader fics and @hatsubara-8chan' s Titus x Theia art. Thank you guys for giving me the confidence and inspiration to finally do something with my own oc :)

I know x reader stuff is my forte, but it would mean so much if you guys checked this series out too. It was super fun to write and I think you all will really enjoy it.

As always, apologies for grammar and spelling mistakes. While this part is sfw, some future parts will be nsfw but I'll note that up the top. Typical 40kness and violence, also I've just gone and made up an entire og backstory for Gadriel lol.

Hope you guys enjoy! And thank you so much for reading xoxox

Love, Memestrider :)

Ellicent sobbed into his shoulder, soaking his collar and staining it dark. She'd been like this for ages; she didn't know how many, but it was enough that the grimy windows in front of them had darkened to black slabs with the disappearance of the sun and rolling in of night. She felt embarrassed by it. Ashamed. Kids down here lost their parents all the time, and her Dad had been sick for a long time. Knowing that should've made it easier, but it didn't. Her heart was still shattered. Her soul split in half by a stake of grief and anguish. She sobbed like a baby. Like a weak thing that the Underhive should and would eat alive.

But he didn't seem to mind.

His grip was as gentle as it was tight, as if he were trying to wring the sadness from her very being. He stroked her hair, rubbed her back, let her hide her face in the crook of his neck.

"I'm sorry, Ellie," he said. He'd said it many times before, but this one was no less genuine or earnest. Ellicent's throat ached too much to reply, so she only shook her head.Tentatively, he drew away from her. Not enough to break their embrace all together: just enough so he could look her in the eye.

"You know we have to leave him here, right?"

Swallowing another sob, Ellicent nodded. Down here, there were no medical services or law enforcement to collect the dead: there were only scavengers and cannibals. They'd find her Dad eventually, but if they kept her Dad in here, he might stay safe for a little longer.

"I know," she said. "But... but what about me? I can't- I can't stay here."He answered without hesitation or thought. "You can come stay with me."

"Wha- what?"

"I know Mum will let you. And if she says no, I'll make her. But she won't say no. I know she won't."

A dozen questions sat on Ellicent's tongue, but she was either too tired or too sad to ask. Sinking into his arms again, she wiped her eyes on his shoulder. "Okay."

"It'll be okay, Ellie. I promise, it'll be okay." Ellicent closed her eyes.

"Thank you, Gadriel," she whispered.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Remind me," Chairon says, using the box so he could be heard over the rumble of the Thunderhawk. "Which xenos is our target supposedly allied with?"

Gadriel checks the slide of his bolter for the umpteenth time.

"The dark eldar," he replies. "Specifically, the pack that has made this planet their favoured hunting ground."

"What about the necrons?"

"What about them?"

"Did the briefing not state that Severus' gang often makes use of necron technology?"

"It did," Gadriel says. "But that technology is stolen. Pillaged from only the Emperor knows where."

Through the static of the vox, Chairon's scowl sounds particularly vicious. "Damned heretics. Have they no pride or dignity to speak of at all?"

"Of course they don't."

Gadriel looks to his left where Titus sits beside him. Like his and Chairon's, the face of the lieutenant's helm is cast as a mouthless, red eyed glare. Somehow, though, Titus' glare appears even more intimidating.

"Creatures like Severus are among the worst kind of heretic," he says. "Chaos can corrupt the unwilling. Mutancy can affect the innocent. But to work with the alien? To turn one's back on their own species? That is a choice. One that is made willingly, without coercion or subterfuge.

"An uneasy silence settles across the vox. For a long while, the only sound comes from the roar of the Thunderhawk's engine and the collective of the three Astartes' power armour. Eventually, Gadriel is the one to break it by clearing his throat.

"Forgive me for saying so, sir. But, it sounds as if you speak from experience."

Titus turns his head towards Gadriel. The dim bar lights lining the Thunderhawk's interior reflect sharply off the golden laurels welded around his helmet's crown.

"You remain as sharp as ever, brother," the lieutenant remarks. "And you would be right. Severus' gang is not the first group of xenos collaborators I've encountered."

He pauses for a second. "As I said, they are the worst kind of heretic. Worse than political dissenters or atheist zealots. By a long, long way."

Silence falls once more. This time, however, it is morose. Sober. Behind his helmet, Gadriel chews the inside of his cheek in thought. It's a habit he's had ever since he was a boy- one so innate, not even Astartes re-education could snuff it out. He's reviewing the mission briefing in his head. Specifically, the intelligence regarding their target. Archibald Severus- a rogue trader turned planetary crime lord. Typically, such a man would not be a concern for the Astartes- such things were usually handled by the Inquisition alone. But Severus has been particularly problematic; almost all of his people wield necron weaponry and his Drukhari allies have all but brought the planet to its knees. Also, the Ultramarines just so happened to be in the area. Fortunate for the people who live here, though not so much for Severus. The last thought amuses Gadriel enough to make him smile. Yes. Very unfortunate for him indeed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Thunderhawk drops the fireteam amidst the exterior district of a hive city. The street upon which it lands is wide, dusty and long abandoned. Blade and plasma scars line the walls of every surrounding building, reminders of the countless dark eldar attacks the city has endured over Severus' tenure here. The Astartes quite literally hit the ground running. Bolters in hand, their objective's location marker pulsing in the top centre of their heads up displays. The objective in question is a warehouse- once a hangar for Imperial Guard aircraft, now just as abandoned as the rest of the district. Severus will supposedly be there, though the exact reasons why are unknown. But that doesn't matter to Gadriel. If the man is there, he will die. As surely as the blood of the Primarch flows through Gadriel's veins, that traitorous xenos-sellout will die.

The warehouse in question emerges from around the next street corner. It looks like a giant concrete brick dropped in the middle of the district block. Gadriel falls in behind his brothers, covering the rear while Titus leads the way and Chairon covers their flanks from the centre. But the area is empty. As if the entire district had been evacuated or disappeared. Considering what this place has endured over the last several years, that is probably not far from the truth.

"Gadriel," Titus says over the vox, breaking Gadriel's reverie. "Auspex."

The team halts against a nearby wall. The warehouse is now directly in front of them. Moving in perfect unison, Gadriel switches position with Chairon. He sidles up beside Titus, takes one hand off his bolter to extract the Auspex scanner clasped to his belt. He holds the device up and studies the screen for several seconds.

"Motion detected," he reports. "Ten hostiles, one hundred and fifty metres ahead. Baseline, by the sizes of the pulse."

"One must be Severus," Chairon says.

"Hopefully," Gadriel replies.

"But not certainly," Titus says. The lieutenant says nothing more, but Gadriel hears his unspoken order nonetheless: maintain your guard.

Despite their size and weight, the Astartes move like panthers on the prowl. As it is still light outside, they stick to the shadows where they can. Reaching one of the warehouse's walls, the fireteam lines up, Gadriel in front with time with Titus and Chairon covering him.

"We will breach the wall here," Titus says. "Overwhelm them with speed and surprise."

Chairon and Gadriel both acknowledge the order with a curt "yes sir". Internally, however, Gadriel is somewhat amused by Titus' choice in tactics. *One would be forgiven for thinking we were White Scars. All we're missing are the jet bikes.*

Chairon moves in between his brothers. He holster his bolter to his hip before reaching for his belt and extracting a fist-sized breaching charge. He plants the explosive on the wall, primes it with a button press, then motions for Titus and Gadriel to stand clear. Gadriel crouches down on one knee. His secondary heart joins his primary in beating, flooding his body with adrenaline. He looks between his brothers. Both give him nods of acknowledgement. Chairon touches his forearm, ready to activate the charge. As his fingertip brushes the button, however, Gadriel's Auspex let's out a chime.

"Hold," Gadriel says before pulling up the scanner. He furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

"What is it?" Titus asks.

"The Auspex has changed. All but one of the pulses have vanished."

"Vanished?" Chairon asks.

"That's what I said."

"But how?"

"I do not know."

"It matters not," Titus growls. "Chairon, blow the charge n-"

Before he can finish giving the order, the wall explodes on its own.

The shockwave slams into Gadriel with the force of a meteorite. It throws him backward, knocking him off his feet, sending him rolling over his side before landing on flat on his front. All three of his lungs are emptied of air and his ears ring as if glass were being shattered inside his skull. Gadriel ignores it all. Recovering his footing with staggering ease before raising his bolter in the direction of the enemy.

Only he can see nothing. Just the charred concrete debris at his feet and a wall of thick black smoke. Even through his helmet's filters, the smell of it is choking. Like the polluted air of an Underhive amplified and condensed. Gadriel clenches his jaw.

A gas grenade. Only it exploded with the force of a breaching charge.

It has to be Severus. He must have known they were coming, that they were there. Gadriel curses to himself.

We were too loud. Too forward. Not cautious enough...

"Brothers! Status!" Titus' voice crackles over the vox. Gadriel whips around to try and find the lieutenant, but the damned smoke is too opaque. "Alive and unharmed," Gadriel hisses. "But can't see a damn thing."

"Acknowledged." By contrast, Titus' voice is calm and level. "Chairon? What's your status?"

No reply. A fury like fire ignites in Gadriel's chest. "Brother!" he shouts. "Are you there? Tell us where you are!"

A flash of light catches his peripheral vision. Gadriel spins to face it, snapping his bolter sights up as he does. It's small, but sustained, growing in luminosity with every second. But that isn't what makes Gadriel's breath hitch. It's the colour. A shocking, neon green. Too vivid to be natural, too bright to be electronic.

Gadriel's eyes widen. His thoughts scream a single, terrible name.

Necrons.

With an plasmic screech, the particle beam blazes towards him. It aims for his chest, right over his primary heart. Gadriel manages to twist out of the way in time, but not before the beams edge grazes the top of the aquillia on his breastplate. Gadriel aims his bolter in the direction the green light, only for it to vanish as he opens fire.

"Contact!" he shouts down the vox to Titus. "Necron weaponry confirmed!"

The light reappears on his left. Much closer than before. Gadriel fires upon it and he hears his bolter round sing as they slam into alien metal. He dive-rolls to the side, anticipating another particle beam. But no such shot comes. Instead, the light swells. Growing from a dot to a long, curved streak.

"Throne!" Gadriel hisses. Throwing his bolter into the holster on his thigh, he draws his power sword. Just in time to parry the crackling, green energy blade that comes careening towards his head. Both weapons spark and hiss when they make contact. Faster than a blinking eye, Gadriel surges forwards to slash at the arm holding the necron blade. But his opponent is quicker. Smoke swirling about them, they duck his attack before launching a kick at his knee. Pain spikes through Gadriel's leg and he feels his balance slip. It surprises him. There aren't many things that can kick out an armoured Astartes' knee.

A necron warrior, though, is definately one of them.

The energy blade comes for his head again. Gadriel throws his chin up to avoid it, but in the process looses what little balance he has left. He lands on his back hard, grunting as the last of the air in his lungs is forced out by the impact. In the same instant, his opponent is on top of him. Erupting from the smoke like a daemon from the Warp pinning him down by crouching on his breastplate.

Now close enough to see them through the smoke, Gadriel lays eyes on his attacker for the first time. What he sees, he can only describe as abominable. At first glance, they are human- female, from her shape and build- clad in tattered, studded leather characteristic of those from an Underhive. Her hair is a stunning shade of scarlet and she has it up in a pony tail so long it flows behind her like a cape of ribbons. But that is where all semblance of her humanity ends. Instead of a left arm, she has a robotic appendage, the clawed, green-veined forelimb of a necron warrior, with a green plasma blade bursting from its knuckles. The same is true of her right leg, the foot of which is pressed savagely into Gadriel's chest, strong enough to keep the Astartes pinned. A necron rifle- the source of the particle beams, surely- hangs from a strap looped across her back.

Hatred contorts Gadriel's face into a snarl. Abandoning his power sword he reaches for his bolter, which is still holstered to his thigh. Wrenching the weapon free, he throws it up just as the cyborg-abomination above him raises her energy blade. Her face, too, is twisted into a snarl.

Time suddenly slows. Gadriel's finger stops shy of the trigger.

Her face...

Hatred turns to confusion turn to shock. His thoughts are a racing, jumbled mess. His mouth opens without him realising and he hears his own voice. It speaks a name he hasn't heard in over fifty years.

"... Ellie?"

The cyborg freezes. The snarl on her lips dies.

"G- Gadriel?"

Both of Gadriel's hearts stop. His mind is simultaneously paralysed and raging like a warpstorm. His bolter falls from his hand, clattering off his breastplate to land beside him. Gadriel doesn't even notice.

"Sergeant!" a voice bellows over the vox.

Sparks suddenly burst from the woman's back. As quickly as it had vanished her snarl returns. Leaping off Gadriel, she whips around. Her energy blade retracts into her arm and she reaches for her rifle. Gadriel turns his head to see Titus charging for them with his bolter raised.

The woman hesitates. Glances at Gadriel. Behind his visor, Gadriel meets her gaze. His eyes become wide and watery.

It can't be.

More of Titus' rounds slam into her, this time pinging off her necronian arm. She staggers backward, dropping her rifle so it's swinging limp against her hip. Another moment of hesitation. Gadriel opens his mouth to call her name again. But before the word can leave his lips, she's moving again. Turning her back and vanishing into the smoke screen. When it finally fades, there is no sign of her. Not even a drop of blood.

Gadriel swallow thickly. A lump has formed in his throat, large enough to make it difficult for him to breathe.

"Brother!" Titus clasps his arm, hauling Gadriel up into a sitting position. "Are you alright? Are you wounded?"

Gadriel says nothing. He doesn't remember how to speak. Nor can he even see his brother kneeling beside him. The only thing his mind can see is her. The day her father died. The day on the rooftop. The night they had spent together in her bed.

"Promise me you'll come back."

"I promise."

"I love you."

"I-"

"Brother?" The concern in Titus' voice is palpable now. "Gadriel. Can you hear me?"

Gadriel finally looks at the lieutenant. He nods, but still refuses to speak. He doesn't trust himself to. He's afraid that if he did, he might start to weep.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

That's it! I hope you liked it! The first part of any story is always kinda slow, since you gotta set everything up, but I tried my best to keep things moving fast-like.

Thank you again for reading xoxoxoxo

Part 2 will be up in a few days probably. Hopefully I'll see you all then :)

Update: pssst, you can read part 2 here!

Tag list: @yurihasurunbara @beckyninja @nereidof40k @hatsubara-8chan @moodymisty @solspina @jaghatai-khock @lemon-russ @wolf-feathers12 @egrets-not-regrets

[sutekh94]

I hate to be the brutally honest one in the crowd, but Salem, if you're reading this?

Your audience - myself included! - loved that doodle you posted. Wiping that off the face of the universe - not once, but twice! - is not only doing your fans and supporters a disservice, taking something that people clearly enjoy away from them. It's doing yourself a disservice. You're telling yourself you shouldn't be proud of even that little doodle. You're letting your demons get to you. You don't "have to be" this hard on yourself regarding your art, and the fact that this is far from the first time you've been this way about your art speaks volumes imo.

Really, what I want you to take away from all this is that I hope you come to start seeing your art in the same ways your audience does. None of your audience expects you to be perfect. Nobody wants you to be a machine that only creates "good" art, that forces himself into a world of pain and self-loathing because he perceives some of his art to be "slop" even though it's not. And sometimes you gotta be less than perfect. If helps keep you in the groove, if only out of practice, so be it. I say this from experience. So what if I draw something that I don't feel is up to my usual standards? If my audience is happy about it, I'm happy about it. It's why I post it anyways. Because I know people will love it regardless of what I think and feel.

At the end of the day, you do what you want with your art, but don't feel like you gotta force yourself into being perfect, into making only "good" art. Because there is no such thing as "good" art. Just be as self-indulgent as you want.

Sincerely, another stranger on the internet.

sorry.

[strangerthingsfanworkrecs]

Artist Highlight: Jo-Harrington

This week, we're highlighting @jo-harrington! All recs this week will be for her work. @jo-harrington writes for the Stranger Things Fandom, with a special focus on xOC, and xReader fics. She's also a great beta-editor and design all the graphics for her fics! We're highlighting Jo for her incredible world building and strong OCs.

You should check out her Store Manager Verse fics for some great fluff and top-tier retail angst Jo answered some questions about her creative process and her work under the cut

Why Stranger Things?

I’ve been an avid ST Fan since the beginning. My old Store Manager and I watched the first episode in the backroom of our store while folding t-shirts and rest was history. Fic-wise, a certain Metalhead Dungeon Master brought me out of a fanfiction posting hiatus and I haven’t looked back since.

What's your favorite ship (platonic or romantic) to create for?

Platonic is always going to be the Hellfire Club boys. I love writing their adventures. Their friendship is epic and deserves to be explored and celebrated. Romantic…EddiexOC or EddiexReader. I mean, I’ve been an xOC girl since my first fandom. xReader is new for me but it’s almost an extension of xOC. I always joke that I’m allowed ONE epic borbo obsession love of my life per decade and I’ll give them one canon pairing but the rest are OCs.

What's your typical writing process like?

I have an idea, I write it down, I get sick of working on a chapter, I don’t edit, I post. (Which is funny because when I beta, I am a lot more detailed. But for my own work I just need it out of my head.) It might not be the best. It could probably read better or have less typos or mistakes. But it’s always from the heart.

How do you come up with your OCs?

I sit there for a long time and figure out how I can put a part of myself into a story. Oops was I not supposed to say that? Sometimes you think of a character that you just can’t help but want to write. But even if they aren’t a manifestation of your physical self or your personality, they almost always end up being an extension of you in some ways, or something you aspire to be. You also need to add some attributes you hate into them, so that they’re not too perfect and you can throttle them around and make them suffer and not feel too bad/let it become a self hatred thing.

What has been your favorite project so far? Why?

Store Manager Verse. (EMxReader) Retail is who I am and who I’ve always been. I had a mall romance irl that went south. So it was a way to rewrite my past with my comfort character…and also give said comfort character a happy ending as well.

What has been your hardest project so far? Why?

As Above, So Below. (EMxOC) It is a passion project, it is a beast, every chapter takes an emotional toll on me and it takes a month—if not more—to recover. But it has been the single most fulfilling project that I’ve worked on in the 20 years I’ve been writing fanfiction. I've been working on it for about 2 years now. 3 more chapters til the end…I’m gonna be very sad when it’s over.

Have you ever had a creative block? How did you get over it?

My brain is just a beehive that I shake every now and again to get the bees angry. Honestly, the bigger block I get into is self-doubt. I have no problem finding the words, it’s the courage to put them to paper I struggle with at times.

Is there a big source of inspiration for you? Books? Art? Games?

Yes all of the above. But in all seriousness, life experience is the best inspiration. There’s only so much research you can do. Truly for me, the canon characters are the source of inspiration. Then I take from things I’ve done, things I’ve read, places I’ve been in order to take an idea to a fully formed plot.

Is there an upcoming project you're particularly excited about?

Eddie Munson Big Bang. I know you’re gonna hear that a lot. I love creating really ambitious AUs and I think this one is really testing my abilities as a writer. It's a crossover fic, in a way, but with a lot of original plot folded in. I hope I do both fandoms/universes justice.

Is there anything we didn't ask that you'd like to add?

I’m from the Midwest, so thank you for listening to all of my long-winded answers. Haha.

[bullet-prooflove]

It's me! Hi! 😉

From Midnights prompt list

24)  In the kitchen humming for Terry and Georgia (and if possible baby Sebastian) please 😊

Tagging: @kmc1989 @thedeadsingforme @mia1653 @kimbergoldess @cortmac1989

You’ve just stepped out of the shower when you realise the baby is missing. There’s an empty space with a towel wrapped around you, your hair tousled and damp as your heart palpitates in your chest.

Sebastian is two months old and can barely raise his head, there is no way he escaped on his own accord. Immediately your brain goes to John Kreese, but you remind yourself he’s dead, that he can’t hurt the two of you anymore.

It’s when you hear Terry’s voice coming from the kitchen that you start to calm. You follow the gentle sound of his humming, not caring that you’re dripping water all over the floor in your haste.

You pause when you reach the doorway, lingering as the relief fills your body at the sight of Sebastian cradled in his arms, half asleep.

“I know your little tummy hurts.” He murmurs, his lips brushing over the baby’s forehead as he sways gently from side to side. “But you’re being a terror for mommy.”

You hate to admit it but he’s right. You suspect it’s the reason that Terry’s home from work early. Colic has been driven you to tears more than once since you had Sebastian and the fact you can’t sooth your son devastates you.

“He hates me.” You’d told Terry last night, after he’d put Sebastian down for the night. “He won’t sleep, he cries all the time. Nothing I do is working. I feel like I’m failing him.”

You’d fallen apart then and Terry had kissed away your tears as he cradled you close, whispering the sweet reassurances into your hair.

“You meant it.” You say softly and Terry turns to face you, his palm resting on Sebastian’s back. “When you said you’d be around to help more. I thought…”

You trail off because you’ve been in a bit of a fog since you had the baby, exhausted, unable to ask for help. You’d seen it as a weakness because mothering, it seems easy for everyone else but not for you. You worry all the time if you’re doing the right thing for Sebastian.

“You thought I was placating you?” He questions as he kisses Sebastian’s tiny fingertips and you nod your head, unable to speak.

“Georgia.” He says softly. “Parenting it’s hard, it’s probably going to be the hardest thing we’re ever going to do. I would never leave you to struggle with it on your own. I’m a fool for not realising how much of a tiny tyrant he was being, for not seeing you needed help.”

“It’s not your fault.” You say quietly as you grip the towel tighter around your body. “I thought it would come naturally to me but I’m finding it hard to connect because he doesn’t want me…”

“He does want you.” Terry reassures you as Sebastian grumbles. “Right now he’s showing preference because I put him to bed at night after work, if we start doing that together he’ll start associating it with the both of us and that preference will slip.”

“Do you really think that’s it?” You ask him, your fingertips caressing the baby’s featherlike dark hair.

“I do.” He tells you with so much surety that it relaxes something deep down inside of you. “I know he’s exhausting you so let me take over for a while, give you a few hours to yourself. Take a nap or a walk on the beach, spend a little time in the studio, just do something for yourself for a while. I’ve got him.”

“You’re sure?” You ask him and Terry gives you a stern look.

“Georgia.” He says, tilting his head towards the closed art studio door. “Go have yourself a little fun.”

Love Terry? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won't be added.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[ghostgirl-22]

Could i request a little something with patrick x fem art (or x reader if that makes you more comfortable) who has vaginismus, i have it and have been feeling really down about it recently because i cant have vaginal sex or masterbate without bleeding or wanting to cry.

Like i enjoy anal and can happily substitute but sometimes i wish someone would take their time to work me open and i really get to throw myself into it and be the slut i was born to be lol

Also so many guys treat it like a chore but i feel like patrick would understand and hed see it as a reward to get to fuck the person at the end and make them feel good because all pussy is good pussy and when he wants to make someone cum, hell find a way, hes determined!

Thank you for this anon! You’re so real…Patrick isn’t the type of guy to give up without at least a little bit of a fight <33

CW: 18+ !NSFW!

—-

You’re kinda kicking yourself for falling for it now. Patrick’s easy charm, his sense of humor, his looks. You’ve heard all the rumors. You know everyone says he’s got a big dick, that he’s promiscuous. It was okay before when you didn’t expect it to go anywhere. When you thought it was a little fun and flirting but he didn’t really like you. Not like that anyway.

But now you’re in his bed, his fingers tangled in your hair, you’re licking into his mouth. You can feel him, his cock. You’re wet and you’re horny, but you’re anxious at the same time. God if only it could be that fucking easy. You get wet, he gets hard and he fucks your brains out. But it’s not easy. It takes everything in you to pull away from him but you manage it.

“What?” He asks, eyes hooded, gazing over your face, your body. He looks hungry.

“Nothing, just… a little curious how the movie might end.”

He smiles. “Right. I thought you said you’ve seen Mean Girls like four times or something.”

“Uh well, I have a bad memory.”

He tangles his fingers into your hair. “Uh huh, god you’re so pretty. Are you a virgin?”

You glare at him.

“What? I don’t mean it any way… it just feels like you get nervous whenever we… get close.”

You don’t know why you say it. Maybe because he’s always so blunt with you. “It’s not that… it’s just…it’s difficult for me to have sex.” You blurt.

He chuckles but then settles a bit when he sees your face. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I thought you meant with me. Is that not what—“

You narrow your eyes and grip the sheets, irritated now. “It’s called vaginismus and it makes vaginal sex painful. Like even with lube it’s… um… hard to open up.”

“Mm,” Patrick says, curiously. Though now he’s blatantly staring at your lap. You’re still in your tennis skirt.

You’re starting to feel a little more embarrassed and uncomfortable. Why did you just tell the guy who’s supposed to be the local sex god that you’re fucking useless at vaginal sex. Why did you say vaginal? Or vag for that matter. Not once but twice. What the fuck were you thinking?

“Look, actually I’m just gonna go. I just remembered I didn’t finish that essay for Ms. Horne.” You say quickly, making excuses as you gather your things. You don’t really let him talk, which he seems to be amused by. You pop the movie out of the dvd player and by the time you’re out of there you’re dying of embarrassment. Certain he’ll tell all his bros about this. You’d been bullied before you started at MRTA, for your hair, for the way you talk, but now that you’re older the idea of being bullied for something sexual that you can’t even control makes you feel sick. You’re dreading what the boys will be saying about your condition.

You hide away in your room for most of the weekend. You only go to the lunch hall to grab things that you can eat in your room, like fruit and yogurt. Your roommate and best friend, the only other person you’ve told about it, feels bad and agrees to split a pizza order with you on Saturday night.

“Maybe he didn’t tell anyone.” Your friend suggests.

“Please it’s Patrick Zweig, he probably told Donaldson the moment he got back to the room.”

“Well they’re best friends— besides it’s a higher likelihood that he just tells everyone he hit it anyway.”

You wouldn’t necessarily want that— but it honestly beats the alternative.

”Honestly I wish we could’ve done it. I mean, his dick really is big like they say it is and I just wish I could… I don’t know… be a little bit slutty for a change. We’re gonna be in college next year.”

Your friend laughs. “You can— I believe in you. You just take a little more work. Which the perfect guy is definitely gonna appreciate.”

You’re starting to feel better towards the end of the weekend. Your friend confirms she hasn’t heard anything about you around school from Art Donaldson or anyone else Patrick is friends with. Sunday evening you're in bed watching Mean Girls again when you hear a knock on your door.

Confused you get up and pull open the door, expecting your floor captain but it’s Patrick standing there with his goofy little smirk and his backpack. “Hey.”

”Hey,” you say feeling your skin heat up with embarrassment remembering the other night. Not to mention your hair is a mess and you're in sweatpants. And not shapely sexy sweats, you’re in massively oversized sweats with old bleach stains.

“I snuck in, so can I…”

“Oh right,” you say, stepping aside to let him in the room.

He drops his book bag and leans in to kiss your cheek. “You look pretty.”

He has to be joking.

“What are you doing here?” You ask as he lifts your sweatshirt.

“I don’t know… finishing what we started.”

“Huh?”

“The other day, when you left. You said it was difficult for you to have sex.”

“Uh well… I mean with the condition.” You stammer awkwardly.

“Yeah I know, I researched it,” Patrick says, smirking.

“You what?”

“I’m very studious,” he says, half smile on his lips.

“Uh,” you stutter as he gets to his knees and tugs at your sweatpants and then your panties. Within seconds he’s kissing your cunt. You’re moaning almost immediately as his tongue flits around your folds, teasing just below your clit. You can’t stop moaning and you hope your roommate plans to get dinner after the mall or she’s gonna come home to an eyeful. Every time you get close he withholds and soon you’re so wet and frustrated that you’re gripping his shoulders and practically riding his face trying to get off. That’s when you feel him teasing you with his fingers and you start to tense.

“Fuck,” he whispers. He doesn’t sound frustrated but you apologize anyway.

“Mm baby, don’t worry. We’ll figure this out.” He breathes.

“R-really?” You stammer, you’re kinda stunned and a bit emotional.

“Yeah really,” he says, his expression almost incredulous, like he’s surprised that you would even ask. Like it’s a given. “Just call me Dr. Zweig. World’s foremost pussy doc.”

Before you can make fun of him for that ridiculous statement hes working on you again, tongue teasing along your clit only this time. You can tell he’s started jerking himself off and that kinda puts you over the edge. You’re shivering, your walls spasming as orgasm rips through you.

He stands up when he’s done and gazes at you, tangling his fingers into your hair. God his skin is flushed and his eyes are sparkling. “You’re so beautiful,” he says and you want to say the same thing back, but your a little tongue tied.

He grabs his backpack and pulls out some lubricant, handing it to you. “Do you ever finger yourself?”

”Uh… sometimes but honestly sometimes it hurts so I get scared to.”

“Ah well try it tonight,” he says. “You can touch yourself and tomorrow I’m gonna come back and help you.”

You swallow, anxious and aroused at the idea of it. “Okay,” you take the lube. “What if um— what if it doesn’t work?”

He shrugs. “It’s gonna work. Even if it’s not tomorrow, we’ll fuck next week, or next month, or in six months. Or whenever. You really think I’m just gonna get this close to pounding your pussy and let vaginis— whatever it’s called beat me? No fucking way.”

You laugh, feeling a bit more relaxed already. “You’re such a pervert. But thanks.”

That night you try fingering yourself in the dark after your roommate falls asleep and it feels a little less painful after your fingers are coated in too much lube but you do bleed a little. You’re anxious and nervous to see him again.

The next night you sneak into his room. He claims his roommate is out with his girlfriend so you’ve got plenty of time. You bring the lubricant and it turns out that when he said he’d help you, he meant he’d meant he’d lie between your thighs and lick at your clit while you finger yourself in front of him. You’re trying to ease your fingers inside and play with yourself and all the while he’s distracting you from the discomfort of it… licking teasing tasting… it doesn’t take long before you’re coming. Your fingers are barely inside but you still feel your pussy quivering as you moan through your orgasm.

Patrick looks up from between your legs, hair messy, jewel colored eyes sparkling. “God you’re so sexy… I’ve been dreaming of this since I first met you,” he hums.

“I wish you could fuck me,” you sigh breathless.

His eyes light up. “How does it feel? Fingering yourself?”

“Tight,” you breathe. “But um… I’m um… I’m really wet so it’s uh… it’s going in.”

“Yeah,” Patrick’s looking down, sees your finger slipping in and slowly disappearing deeper inside your cunt. His dick is aching so much from watching you come that he’s dangerously close to rutting on your mattress. God, you’re gonna be the end of him. He’s never had to work this hard to fuck before. Barely had to work hard for anything in his life. He’s gonna savor this. “Keep doing that,” he says. “Except try two fingers tonight.”

*

He has an away match the next two nights. The boys varsity team made it to the state finals again. He calls you while he’s in his hotel room to ask how it’s going. You decide to do it on the phone with him. It takes you a while but you’re able to handle two fingers as he teases you, “Imagine you’re on my big cock, imagine you’re so full and it just feels good.” His voice is so soft it makes you shiver.

“Yes, yes, fuck me baby. I want your huge dick in me. Wanna be a slut for you,” you groan. You can hear him breathing heavy into the phone. God, he’s fucking touching himself too. You barely feel pain, just pleasure listening to him as he gets off and then you’re coming too… feeling your pussy spasm around your fingers.

When you come to his room the following night, you feel all shy and giggly. He pulls you in and kisses you. He says smoking might help calm you so you’re sitting by the window sharing a joint before he lays you down. He’s giving you head while you finger yourself again but this time he coats his fingers with lube and slowly works his way in alongside yours, he’s gentle, paying attention to your breathing, your expression, your cues. If you hold your breath he’s asking if youre okay? If you moan he’s asking if you like it? If you squeeze he’s gently telling you to relax. It takes time, he’s got it on MTV on and Real World was playing when you started but now Road Rules is on.

“Fuck,” you whisper, staring at the three fingers pressing inside you. Slowly dilating you. You remember feeling pain just with one. And the pain isn’t all gone but it doesn’t make you want to cry.

“Is it okay?” He asks. He can’t help himself. He’s grinding lightly up against the mattress.

“It feels… it kinda feels good.”

“Yeah?” He says excitedly.

“Mmhm,” you breathe. You press your fingers back and forth a little more quickly and he matches your pace. “Fuck I wanna take your cock.” You groan.

“Oh sweetie… I’m a little bigger than this…” he says, his tone light but his breathing heavy.

“I know… oh fuck… need you.”

“Lets try one more finger,” he says, anxious.

“Okay,” you’re at your breaking point, you don’t even realize it when he’s added another finger. You’re more fixated on the way his calloused fingers are bumping up against your clit as they flick back and forth relentlessly, it sounds slipperywet and obscene. And suddenly you’re coming. Hard. Moaning out expletives. Your toes curling tight. He’s aching for you, eases his fingers out, they’re coated with lube and your moisture. He can’t help tasting them.

“Mm I bought you something while we were away,” he says distractedly. You’re fixated on his cock. He’s tenting in his shorts and he’s right. He’s definitely bigger than the fingers you’re now able to take.

“You bought me something?”

He pulls a box out from under his bed. “I made Art go with me to the sex store.”

You laugh, and look at the image of a rainbow dildo on the box. “Oh wow.”

“I just read it helps to try and get used to opening up or whatever,” he says, and it’s almost like he’s nervous now. Actual Patrick Zweig getting nervous.

“Thanks for thinking about me,” you smile and he seems to relax.

“I’m always thinking about you,” he smirks.

“Want me to—“ you gesture at his erection and he licks his lips and nods his head eagerly as you bend over to take him in your mouth.

*

That night you coat the dildo with as much lube as you can and try to ease it in. It’s not crazy big which is good but you’re a little anxious, terrified that if you can’t get this to work you’ll never get to fuck him. You fall asleep feeling a little defeated and overwhelmed. You’re tense the following day but you spend the next evening with friends going to a movie. It helps a little to take your mind of things. As fun and sexy as it is doing this with Patrick every night you realize you’ve been focusing so much on it that you’ve been wound up a little tight.

You pull the dildo out again before bed and surprisingly you’re able to get it in. You let it stay there hoping it will stretch you out and that your insanely tight pelvic floor muscles will get used to the intrusion, even welcome it. After a while you start to slide it back and forth inside yourself. Trying to keep your head in the relaxed state it was in while you were having dinner with your friends. Soon you’re actively fucking yourself with it. Your breath hitching as your roommate snores not too far from you. You’re biting your tongue to keep yourself from moaning out loud. The next morning you text Patrick. Can we try it tonight?

He responds back literally one second later. Yeah come over.

He’s just out of the shower when you get there. You wrap your arms around him and breathe him in, he smells so good.

“How was the dildo?” He asks, smiling.

“Good… but I wanna try you.”

“Yeah I’m sure… no pressure okay?”

“Okay,” you say as he guides you backwards to his bed. He’s desperate to fuck you but he doesn’t want to hurt you so he’s taking his time, condom fitted tight, over doing it with the lubricant. You’re feeling antsy and eager. You had fun last night with the dildo but as you watch him you can tell he’s a little girthier. You swallow as he presses at your entrance. Maybe you can’t do this…

You feel him anchor himself and slowly he’s pressing into you. He’s not even halfway in when you’re achy and overwhelmed. “I— um— I don’t—“

“You need me to pull out?” He asks, quickly and you feel him slowly pulling back.

“No,” you say quickly, “can you just… can we stay here?” You ask.

“Uh,” he takes a breath.

”Just for a bit.”

“Uh yeah,” he’s breathless. “How about— how bout you lead?” He whispers. “Take as much as you need.” And before you both know what you’re doing you’re moving, pushing your hips up and down barely if ever proceeding beyond that point where you asked him to stop. You’re fucking yourself, practically using only half of his cock and yet it feels like so much more than the dildo. And after a minute it starts to feel good. His dick teasing along your clit, pressing heavy… back and forth inside your cunt.

”Is this okay, baby?” He whispers.

“Yes, so good,” you groan.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re so fucking tight baby. So fucking nngh— you’re squeezing me so tight. Feels so fucking good.” Patrick gasps. And then he’s jerking himself, while you’re basically fucking yourself onto him. Sometimes testing yourself to push your hips higher and get more of him inside. It doesn’t take long before you two are falling on each other, breathless in orgasm.

“Shit,” he sighs, falling onto his back.

You smile looking up at the ceiling. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

“Did it feel okay?” He asks.

“So good,” you sigh and rest your head on his chest. He leans down to kiss your head and then tangles his fingers into your hair.

“Thanks for opening me up,” you whisper, breathless. “I know there’s probably a million other girls who woulda been ready to jump on it right away.”

“Mm I like the challenge,” he says, softly. “Speaking of… I think we got a lot more work to do.”

“We do?”

”Oh yeah, probably shouldn’t stop this any time soon. I’m really committed to a cure. The cure being turning you into a slut for my cock.” He teases.

You laugh. “Okay then pussy doc, what’s my next assignment?”

[kultklassickiller]

Prada You Chapter 15

Summary:

In the summer of 1998, sparks fly between Nyeya and Jey.

Nyeya is an 18-year-old around the way girl. Jey is older, paid, and fine. He is also the leader of the infamous Prada Bois alongside his twin brother Jimmy.  The two have chemistry. However, Nyeya has plans outside of her attraction. With a birthday around the corner and dreams of living a good life, Nyeya sets her sights on enjoying the perks of Jey's money and hood celebrity.

But baby girl has no clue what it takes to really be down. Nyeya is about to learn some hard life lessons at the expense of her 'Prada' priced dreams.

Pairing: Jey Uso x Nyeya (Nye) Green (OC)

Author’s Note: This story is happening in an alternative universe. It features the current and original Bloodline members along with other WWE stars. So, the characters are themselves, but some things are switched around for the stories sake. This was originally written with all original characters, but I think it could work better this way. Hope you guys enjoy it and I actually finish it...

Warning: Please be advised that this chapter contains underage drinking, age gap relationships.

Disclaimer: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story (if any). All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.

Chapter 15: Division

The sunlight streamed through my bedroom window, warming the hardwood floor and catching on the gold bracelet still clinging to my wrist. I turned it over in my hand, the engraved words Belongs to a Prada Boi glinting in the light. It felt heavy—heavier than gold should. I had barely slept since Jey clasped it on, and now it seemed like a permanent reminder of everything I didn’t understand about him or what it required of me in return.

A knock rattled my bedroom door, and my mom’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Nye, I need help with these groceries. Get up.”

My stomach twisted. She couldn’t see this bracelet—not her. Panic surged as I fumbled with the clasp, finally yanking it free and shoving it into my pillowcase.

“Coming!” I called, grabbing a sweatshirt to cover my hurried movements.

When I opened the door, my mom stood there, one brow raised, her hands on her hips. “You’re moving slow today. You all right?”

“Yeah, Ma. Just tired. You know Kiyah kept me up all night,” I lied, brushing past her to avoid her sharp gaze.

She didn’t follow, but her voice trailed behind me. “You been sleeping over there a lot lately. Don’t think I don’t notice. I’m starting to think you like it over there more.”

I grabbed a bag of groceries from the counter, ignoring the sting of her words. My mom was sharp, and if I wasn’t careful, she’d cut right through the excuses I was using to shield her from the truth.

“It’s nothing like that, Ma. Kiyah just wants me over there so we can gossip all night. You know how her and her mama is.”

---

The next day, I met up with Kiyah, Natasha, and Nataya at Kiyah’s apartment. The box fan in the corner barely stirred the sticky summer air, but the loud R&B coming from Kiyah’s stereo kept the vibe lively.

“Okay, Nye,” Kiyah said, pausing mid-polish as she painted her toes neon orange. “What’s the deal? You’ve been holding out on us lately. You and Jey work shit out?”

I hesitated, biting my lip. They’ll never let me hear the end of this if I say what’s really been going on.

“So... Jey asked me to help plan a birthday party for one of the Prada Bois,” I said finally. “It’s for Tama, and it’s supposed to be this Friday.”

The room erupted.

“Wait, hold up. You’re throwing a Prada Boi party?” Natasha squealed, practically spilling her iced tea.

“Not throwing,” I corrected, laughing despite myself. “I’m just helping Jey make it memorable.”

“Girl, that’s throwing the party,” Kiyah said, snapping her gum. “And you know we’re coming. Don’t even play like we’re not.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I teased, though I knew they were coming regardless.

Nataya leaned back on the couch, her bracelets jingling as she adjusted her tank top. “What’s the theme?”

“Something classy but fun,” I said, reaching into my bag. “And speaking of classy...” I pulled out the bracelet, holding it up so it caught the light.

Kiyah’s jaw dropped. “Oh, he’s serious-serious. Let me see that.”

I handed it over, and she turned it over in her hands, her eyes wide. “This is official. Like, he stamped you. That’s crazy. Most hoes don’t get that far.”

Nataya smirked, lifting her own wrist. “Jimmy did the same thing last week. Different words, same vibe.”

Her bracelet read, “My Prada Girl.” I made note of how hers and mines differed.

“Y’all got me out here single and tragic,” Kiyah said, pouting. “I need a Prada Boi. Maybe Damian’s available. Perhaps Jacob but damn he got a lot kids. Like 14 of them.”

The mention of Damian made my stomach twist. I forced a laugh, but her words stuck with me long after the conversation moved on.

---

The next day, Jey surprised me with an invitation to the mall. He was in a rare, good mood, teasing me as we walked through the food court, sharing a chocolate-dipped cone from some ice cream place we passed by.

“You remember when we came here and people-watched?” he asked, grinning as he wiped a stray drip of ice cream from my chin.

I nodded, smiling. “Yeah, and you’d make up those ridiculous stories about everyone we saw.”

“Because I’m funny. Admit it,” he said, nudging me lightly.

“Sometimes,” I teased back, earning a playful glare.

We wandered into Macy's, where Jey immediately started pulling clothes from racks. He paused in front of a display and grabbed a crisp red Ralph Lauren collared shirt for himself. The bold red contrasted perfectly with black jeans he pulled off a nearby hanger, making the outfit sleek and sharp.

Then he turned his attention to me, his eyes scanning the racks until he found a red dress. He held it up, a smirk playing on his lips. “This is it. Short, tight, and classy. Just like you.”

The dress was undeniably striking. The smooth fabric hugged the mannequin’s frame, its bright red hue catching the light. The spaghetti straps and form-fitting design screamed confidence, while the slight slit up one side added an edge. “What do you think? We’ll shut it down at the party.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Red and black, huh? You really want to match?”

“Hell yeah,” he said, his grin widening. “If we’re showing up together, we’re showing out together. Red and black is how we make a statement.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. “Fine. But only because you’re paying.”

At the register, Jey took my hand, his thumb brushing over the bracelet on my wrist. His voice dropped, serious now. “You know what this means, right?”

I glanced at him, my smile fading. “What?”

“It means you’re mine,” he said simply. “And I don’t take that lightly. You wearing this? That’s loyalty. That’s trust. And I don’t break that for nobody.”

The intensity in his eyes made my stomach flip. I nodded slowly, unsure of what to say.

He smiled then, softening. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. Friday’s gonna be a movie, baby.”

As we walked out, hand in hand, I couldn’t help but wonder if this bracelet was a promise or a warning.

---

Friday night hummed with electricity. The venue, tucked behind tall iron gates and surrounded by luxury cars, was alive with the deep bass of music and the murmur of voices. The summer air clung to my skin as I stepped out of Jey’s BMW, his hand firmly gripping mine. My friends spilled out behind us, their excited chatter filling the warm night.

The glow from the venue bathed the sidewalk in warm shades of red and gold. My dress, a sleek red number that hugged every curve, felt like a second skin. My stiletto heels clicked against the pavement, every step a reminder to keep my composure. Jey’s arm slipped around my waist, grounding me in the moment.

“You ready to show ‘em how it’s done?” he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear.

I forced a confident smile. “Always.”

Behind us, Kiyah let out an exaggerated gasp. “Y’all really came to shut it down. Nye, that dress is giving—don’t even look at me tonight.”

Natasha snickered, her braids swaying as she adjusted her crop top. “Girl, we all about to steal this party.”

Nataya, walking arm-in-arm with Jimmy, gave me a knowing look. Her bracelet caught the light, sparkling like a quiet declaration. “Just don’t let her outshine me, Jey. Jimmy would never let me live it down.”

Jimmy laughed, leaning down to kiss her temple. “You know you’re the real star, baby. Let ‘em have their moment.”

Jey smirked, nodding toward the door. “Let’s go. The night’s not waiting.”

---

Inside, the venue was a world of its own. Red lights cast a sultry glow over everything, while gold accents on the tables and walls shimmered like hidden treasure. A DJ spun 90s hip-hop and R&B, the beats vibrating through the floor. Waiters moved through the crowd like shadows, balancing trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres.

Tama, the birthday boy, sat at a central table surrounded by laughter and bottles of top-shelf liquor. His smile widened as he saw us approaching. Jey’s hand stayed firm on my waist as we navigated the crowd, my friends trailing close behind.

“Look at y’all,” Tama said, standing with his arms open. His chain caught the light, gleaming against his crisp black shirt. “Coordinated and killing it. Appreciate you putting this together, Nye.”

“Happy birthday,” I said, returning his grin. “Glad you like it.”

Nataya slid into a seat beside Jimmy, who handed her a glass of champagne with a smirk. Kiyah and Natasha lingered by the bar, where Jacob and Solo were already engaged in a heated conversation. I caught Kiyah tossing a flirty glance at Jacob, her laughter loud enough to turn heads.

Jey pulled me onto his lap as he sat, his arm draped casually over my thigh. The move earned a round of whistles from the table.

“She’s been running shit for this party,” Jey said, his voice loud enough to carry. “This wouldn’t have happened without her.”

“Okay, boss lady!” Solo teased, raising his glass in a mock toast.

The attention made me squirm, but Jey’s hand tightened on my leg, his grip a quiet reminder that I was his. I smiled through the discomfort, playing my part.

---

As the night wore on, the energy shifted. Drinks flowed freely, and the music seemed louder, more urgent. Near the bar, tensions simmered as Damian squared off with a tall man in an oversized black hoodie and heavy gold chain. His posture was rigid, his broad shoulders and clenched fists exuding barely restrained aggression. Their voices started low but sharp, cutting through the ambient noise.

“You didn’t deliver. Now you’re acting like it’s my fault,” the man growled, leaning toward Damian.

Damian didn’t flinch. Instead, he tilted his beer bottle, letting the condensation drip onto the floor as he stared the man down. “You don’t get to talk about delivery when you can’t even follow basic instructions,” he fired back, his voice calm but lethal.

The argument escalated, drawing a crowd. Conversations faltered, and heads turned as their voices grew louder.

“You think you can talk slick and not have consequences? Keep running your mouth and see what happens,” the man snapped, stepping closer.

Damian leaned in, his smirk a taunt. “Go ahead. Make it worth my time.”

Before it could boil over, Jey stumbled into the middle, his steps loose and unsteady. “Hey! Cut this shit out,” he slurred, throwing an arm between them. “We’re here to celebrate, not do this shit.”

The man hesitated, his fists flexing at his sides, but Damian’s jaw tightened. His gaze flicked to Jey, and the weight of his words hung in the air. “Maybe if you picked better people to trust, we wouldn’t be cleaning up their messes.”

The pointed remark hit like a slap. For a moment, Jey’s usual swagger cracked, and a flicker of vulnerability crossed his face. Tama stepped in quickly, his laugh light but firm. “Come on, y’all. Not tonight. This is my night. Let’s keep it cool.”

The man backed off first, muttering something under his breath as he disappeared into the crowd. Damian lingered, his cold stare fixed on Jey before he finally walked away, his beer still in hand.

The confrontation ended without violence, but the tension lingered. I watched from the edge of the room, my chest tight. Jey’s world wasn’t just chaotic; it was a minefield, and I was standing too close to the blast zone.

---

Outside, the air was a welcome relief, cool against my heated skin. I leaned against the wall, trying to collect myself when Damian’s voice broke the silence.

“Needed a break too, huh?”

I turned to see him emerging from the shadows, his beer bottle dangling lazily in his hand. His gaze was sharp, his expression unreadable.

“Damian,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. “What are you doing out here?”

“Same as you,” he said, his tone casual. “Getting some air.”

I crossed my arms, trying to steady myself. “What’s up?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a slow sip of his beer, his eyes never leaving mine. “You really think you belong here, Nyeya?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I shot back, my voice defensive.

Damian stepped closer, his tone dropping. “This world ain’t built for girls like you. You think that bracelet makes you untouchable? It doesn’t. It just makes you a target. Makes it harder to leave like I told you to.”

I swallowed hard, refusing to let him see my unease. “I can handle myself.”

“Sure, you can,” he said, his smirk returning. Then, before I could react, he grabbed my arm, pulling me close. His lips brushed against mine in a brief, startling kiss.

I jerked back, my heart pounding. “Damian! What are you doing?”

Damian’s smirk deepened. “A reminder. You’re not as safe as you think you are with him. But with me.. you could be.”

He walked away, disappearing into the night. I stood there, shaken, before finally heading back inside. Jey was drunk, laughing loudly with Tama and Sami. Nataya caught my eye from across the room, her brow furrowing as she noticed my expression. She nudged Jimmy, but I shook my head, forcing a smile. Whatever had just happened, I wasn’t ready to talk about it.

As I sat back down beside Jey, his arm looped lazily around my shoulder, the bracelet on my wrist felt heavier than ever. The words Belongs to a Prada Boi seemed to echo in my mind, each letter a reminder of how deeply I was entangled.

---

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[haveihitanerve]

Sup lol, tis been a while I fear

Had story idea, and it's just Bruce and Jason hanging out, but as soon as Jason leaves, Bruce just starts bawling because 'Holy shit, my son willingly hung out with me and made plans to hang out again' and he's just so emotional

Everyone is concerned that he's crying but Alfred and Tim and probably Cass, cuz they know how Bruce was during Jason's death (and Cass can just read him like a damn book)

K bye thx!

Heyyyyy!!!! Welcome back!!! This is a wonderful idea, not sure how I'll manage to write it, but i can try :) :

It was Saturday. Jason wasn't even supposed to be visiting, family dinner wasn't until Monday, but he dropped by with Dick, chatting on about something or other.

"Hey Old Man." Jason greeted, throwing a grin Bruce's way. Bruce almost dropped the tray he was holding, newly made shortbread cookies for Damian's art club meeting. The cookies were a little burnt, but Bruce thought they looked okay.

Jason, however, was under a different opinion. He wrinkled his nose, snatching one off the tray. "What on earth is this B?" Dick laughed along, grabbing one as well, and knocked it against the counter.

"You make your batter out of cement or something?" His eldest snickered as not even a crumb fell off.

"careful, you'll dent the counter." Jason warned, a shit eating grin on his face.

Bruce sighed, dumping the tray on the table. "They're for Damian. He's bringing over a few friends after school, and I thought I'd make some snacks. Cookies." He rubbed a hand over his forehead. "Didn't go so well."

"You? In the kitchen? Not going well?" Dick teased, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Never woulda guessed." Bruce rolled his eyes.

Jason shrugged off his jacket, lifting the stack of old recipe notecards. "This is a fairly easy recipe, how did you-" he shook his head, rolling up his sleeves. "Alright old man, time for a baking lesson, come on, get the ingredients, we're gonna make demon brat some snacks."

Bruce raised an eyebrow as Dick lifted his bag, backing up into the hallway. "You guys have fun- I've gotta get going-"

"Coward!" Jason hollered after him as Dick vanished up the stairs. Privately, Bruce had to agree.

But it was... nice. Jason was... well he wasn't kind in the kitchen, but he treated Bruce and his inability to bake nicer than Dick would've at least. And it was... good.

They talked about everything and nothing, and Jason even let him ruffle his hair a few times, and even allowed a hug goodbye before he and Dick headed out again. (Plus the cookies came out perfectly)

Bruce managed to hold it together until they were out the door before he collapsed, tears streaming down his cheeks as sobs shook his body.

Steph was the one to find him, lured by the smell of cookies, Tim, Cass and Duke on her tail.

"Woah." Tim paused, head cocked. "Bruce you good?" He questioned, glancing at the others, who held up their hands in equal measure of confusion.

"Yes." Bruce sobbed back. "Jason- I- he-"

"I think what he's trying to say is that he and Jason hung out today." Duke translated slowly, raising an eyebrow. "I saw them baking earlier when I came upstairs."

"Oooohhhh." Steph, Cass, and Tim nodded in agreement. "That makes sense."

Duke looked between them. "How, exactly, does him sobbing make sense?" Steph laughed.

"Oh Duke, sweety, you sweet summer child, BB and J don't have the best relationship sugarplum, in case you didn't know. So Jason willingly hanging out with him?" She mimed an explosion. "Mind-blowing."

Tim grimaced. "I wouldn't say it like that, but basically. He was a mess when Jason died. And now he like, basically gets a redo of hanging with his son."

They all stared down at Bruce sobbing on the floor.

"So..." Duke cleared his throat. "Cookies and down to the Cave to watch a movie?" The others nodded their agreement.

"Yep. Bye Bruce, have... fun."