#neither. i rawdog it

[myownwholewildworld]

the mists of avalon

↪ a marcus acacius ficlet inspired by the arthurian legend of the lady of the lake

main masterlist | ao3 pairing: arthurian!marcus acacius x cursed!f!reader summary: you've been regent to the netherworld for as long as you can remember. as the lady of the lake, you know providence will put king marcus acacius in your path. so when he invokes you, you go to him, ready to fulfill your destinies. author's note: so this is what happens when i spiral down into hell. i present thee: king of camelot, marcus acacius. this is a retelling of the arthurian legend "the lady of the lake", where said lady (you) finally meet acacius (king arthur). enjoy <3 tags/warnings: 18+, mdni. gothesque vibes (i tried). soulmates trope. merlin makes an appearance. reader is neither dead nor alive. angst (it's the acacius curse i swear). smut. fingering. oral (f! and m! receiving). unprotected piv. creampie. the crow is important, y'all. interpret the ending as you wish <3 unedited, we rawdog it in this house. wordcount: 7.5k divider by @\saradika-graphics

With every step Marcus took, the sense of belonging grew. Through the dense forest he made his way, the overgrowth so thick he barely could see his feet.

Night had fallen like a heavy blanket, yet the bright moonlight, filtering through the branches, lit up the way for him. The moment he had surpassed the first trees, the cold nipping at his skin had vanished, being replaced by the warm humidity hanging in the air.

“What is this place?” Marcus had asked Merlin before they parted ways on the edge of the woods.

“Avalon,” Merlin had breathed, his husky baritone like a ghoul whispering its sorrows. “And remember this place, Acacius, for you will never see it in this same way again. Here the Lady of the Lake reigns.”

Merlin had not given him any more words of caution. With a simple instruction—to drink from the lake to invoke the Lady—Marcus had made his way through the ferns alone. Crickets sang their ethereal chant, breaking the overwhelming silence surrounding him.

And as much as he felt like he belonged here, he also felt like an intruder—as if a mortal’s presence would wither and poison this oasis. As if this celestial place was not to be witnessed by a mortal’s eyes.

A hoarse rattle unsettled the peaceful air, the coo of a crow circling above the canopy. A bird he’d been hearing for so long now, but was never able to see. It grated on his nerves, but Acacius decided to ignore it and push onwards.

With the hairs on the nape of his neck standing, fully alert of any other subtle changes in the air, Acacius trudged forward. The lent sword he held felt flimsy on his hand, hollow and weightless. King Pellinore had broken his own, leaving him badly wounded after Acacius confronted him for murdering one of his most trusted subjects.

If Marcus owed his life to anyone, it was to Merlin—his advisor had intervened in the nick of time, snatching him away from Death’s cold hands by casting a sleeping spell on Pellinore. It was also thanks to the mage that Acacius was still standing on his two feet, having dragged him across a forest to pay a visit to one of the most knowledgeable hermits on the land of Camelot.

Marcus swung the sword to clear the way ahead of him, finally arriving to a clearing. No longer protected by the warmth of the forest, Acacius was welcomed into an icy coldness that seeped through his flesh and adhered to his bones.

A mystical lake appeared in front of him. The greyish waters expanded in front of him, daunting as a battlefield. Rotten water lilies danced around, gently stirred by a soft gush of wind. A low, thick mist kissed the surface, making it almost impossible to distinguish where the shore began. The trees framing the lake had some low hanging, naked branches caressing the water too, giving the whole scene a rather lugubrious appearance.

The cold air was heavier too—constraining his lungs, the humidity clung to his nose, his breathing becoming shallower. The full moon dominating the sky casted a leaden shadow in the foggy landscape, stripping everything of colour—only a palette of greys.

And Marcus could no longer hear the chirping of crickets either, a hefty silence uncomfortably hugging him.

Acacius thought he’d entered some kind of underground world. Completely devoid of life, a striking contrast to the lushness of the forest he’d left behind. There was nothing nor no one here. He was alone. It felt like a blinding veil had fallen upon his eyes, turning everything into a silvery, dull hue.

In reticent awe, Acacius took in the gloomy picture. He belonged no more.

And suddenly got startled by the piercing caw of a crow. The bird flapped its broad wings in front of him, its sharp claws curling around a branch just a foot above the water. Its black eyes were like an abyss, no windows to a soul. Its head tilted, the animal watching him with intent.

Then the bird squalled at him again, graciously hopping down the branch until its peak touched the water, then its head snapped around in his direction.

It wanted him to drink.

Marcus stood there for a long second—his brown eyes transfixed on the crow, then on the water.

“Drink for you shall see the gift the Lady bears. But only if you’re worthy of it,” Merlin had muttered under his breath before disappearing from Marcus’ side.

Just as midnight stroked the ashen sky, Acacius sank his aching knees in the mud. Cupped his hands and ventured a last glance at the crow as if looking for reassurance—only to find he was the only living soul in this barren land. Had he imagined it all? Was the crow ever there? Was it the one which had been following him all along?

His eyes shot back to the water he held in his hands, tiny silvery droplets filtering through his fingers and running down his wrists. The inviting liquid made his palms tingle with cold and an acute need to quench his thirst overcame him.

So Acacius bowed his head down—and the moment his lips touched the virgin water, Marcus knew he would never taste something so pure. So exquisite. Craving more, the King felt the primal need to dunk his hands again and taste it one more time.

Mid-motion, a flash of blazing heat crawled through his skin. Then a grating coo—a cold shriek piercing through the night like a knife sinking in the flesh of his enemy—warned him of something’s presence. Or, perhaps, someone’s.

Slowly, and with an impeding sense of doom, his dilated brown eyes lifted, catching a glimpse of the moon’s reflection on the water. It sparkled rather brightly, almost blinding him—and for a brief moment, Acacius looked away, eyes squinting.

When his tired orbs darted back to the water, a delicate human hand emerged from it, on the same spot the moon’s shadow had glittered. The same red-billed crow he thought a mirage was now perched on the slightly curved fingers.

Marcus froze in place. His pulse was racing, his mind screaming for him to take his leave and run as fast as his legs would allow, but he just couldn’t. Mesmerised, hypnotised even, Acacius watched the terrifying scene unfold with his heart climbing up his throat, still kneeling by the shore. Unable to move, to avert his gaze.

The hand moved towards him, exposing part of a lifted arm as the figure walked on the lake’s bed towards him, the crow attentively watching him—soft, encouraging chirps blurting out while its head continuously tilted sideways in a rather mechanical way.

And then a head appeared above water, revealing the most beautiful face he’d ever witnessed. A woman of empyrean, yet eerie, beauty took what seemed to be her first breath in a long time. Water cascaded down her face and hair, the massive full moon behind crowning her dampened hair.

Marcus couldn’t find the words to describe you—breathtakingly, painfully beautiful. He’d never seen someone like you before. He could only stare at you in disbelief, his fear gone. But as much as he looked, he really didn’t see you. Not properly—the greyish veil still darkened his sight.

You coughed, struggling for air, and the crow took flight when you dropped your hand to your chest, wobbling towards him.

As if moved by a supernatural force, his strength returning, Acacius managed to get off his knees and tilt forwards to catch you before you fell at the edge of the lake. His sore arms wrapped around you like a vice, the mist surrounding both of you slowly dissolving into thin air—as if the lake itself was relinquishing its grasp on you. You felt so cold in his arms, he thought you dead.

The mud below his worn sandals gave way, and Acacius lost his footing. With his knees kissing the slippery sludge, Marcus kept his hold around you, not letting you go. Your delicate hands curled around the leather straps holding the pieces of his lorica together on his back.

“Sorry,” you whispered, a hushed sigh he almost missed—a sacred canticle that made his skin crawl.

Your cold hands pressed against his bare knees as you pushed yourself out of his embrace. Kneeling in front of him now, Marcus was finally able to discern what felt off to him even through the grey mist eclipsing his gaze: your eyes. They were sombre as the sky above, irises and pupils engulfed by the black holes of your sight. Eerily similar to the crow’s.

And for the first time in his life, Marcus felt… like he belonged. Not to a place, but to someone else. You felt like home. Like a calming balm on his torn heart. Like a ray of colourful sunshine on this grey world. Like someone who could have him on his knees, begging for your attention, your love. Like someone who would have him question his honour and duty. His purpose.

The strength of his own feelings took him aback.

“I— Uh…” Acacius rasped, still trapped by the sheer weight of this revelation.

You looked human but didn’t at the same time. Because if you were, how long had you been underwater? And if you weren’t, why did you look so real? Made of the same flesh and bone as he was, breathing the same air, kneeling on the same muddy bed. Present in the same space, in this very lake.

“King Acacius, I have dearly anticipated your arrival,” you mumbled, a feathery touch on his wrist before you towered above him.

A long, grey, linen dress clung to your curves, hugging your figure through the soaked textile. With the moon on your back, you appeared to him like a Goddess. And, inevitably, on his knees, Acacius bowed his head, overtaken by the sheer allure of your presence. King or not, Marcus was just a man and, in your presence, he was no one. A mortal graced with the vision of you. Had you ever come forth before?

“The Chough has grown impatient with every inconvenience you have encountered in your travels here,” you husked, tapping his shoulder.

His mind was spiralling so hard, he realised he hadn’t said anything of importance yet.

“The Chough?” he repeated, glancing up at you, still gathering his thoughts.

You nodded towards the tree near the shore again, and there it was—the crow, tracking his every movement. The bird happily chirped and rocked the branch under his claws.

“Since birth He has been shadowing you for He knows of your Destiny,” you mumbled, offering him a hand to stand up. “Perhaps you never saw Him until now, but He always saw you. Watched over you. Guided your trusted mage, Merlin, to keep you safe. Brought you here to fulfil your Destiny, my lord.”

Marcus’ calloused hand slid on yours, a soft and warm palm pulling him up. Your fingers curled around his wrist again, a light caress before you withdrew your heavenly touch. His hand felt cold again, destituted of your warmth.

“And what is this destiny of mine you speak of, my lady?”

“I shall not intervene with matters beyond my expertise, my King. For today, your Destiny awaits at the bottom of this lake I have guarded only for you,” you explained, moving to one side, your hand pointing towards the centre of the lake, where the moon shone.

“The sword,” he spoke breathless.

“Not any sword,” you softly corrected. “Excalibur awaits your claim, my liege. I have shielded it from fiends and foes since The Morrígan whispered your name.”

You came forward, your fingers curling around his wrist again. And yet your touch surprised him again—cold but reassuring; icy but comforting. Walking in front of him, you pulled him towards the shore.

Marcus couldn’t bring himself to look elsewhere—you felt so ephemeral, he worried you’d vanish the moment he blinked. But you didn’t, directing his wavering attention to the water.

“King Acacius’ sword, Excalibur, wrought by the lonely maiden of the Lake. Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps upon the hidden bases of the hills,” Marcus recited the prophecy he’d heard Merlin say once before. The words never really meant anything. Until now. “Have you been safeguarding Excalibur for nine years?” he asked in awe.

You nodded once in reverence, your chin almost touching your clavicle.

“For you I have, my King,” you cooed, letting go of your hold on him. “You are to retrieve it thyself from the bottom of the lake. An unworthy hand would wilt and rot, its owner perish and drown. I will accompany you for the waters hide unthinkable threats for a mortal’s imagination.”

Marcus took in a deep breath, steeling his posture. Merlin hadn’t spoken of this caveat, but he was no stranger to seas and oceans. So he shook his head once in agreement, stabbing the mud with his borrowed sword.

“If you allow me, Sire,” you spoke gently, walking around him, halting once you were on his back. “This armour won’t protect you in this realm; it will only drag you down.”

With no more words than those, Marcus stood still while you unwrapped the leather straps holding his lorica. Carefully, you untied every bow until the metal breast piece felt loose. You helped him lift it off his head and put it down on top of a rock, a worn tunic covering his upper half.

But when your hands moved towards the front to help him get rid of the pteruges he wore, Marcus’ breath hitched. He didn’t speak, but his body did react. His muscles flexed, painfully engaging to tame his own reaction. Your cold breath fanning the back of his neck was a striking contrast to the warmth your hands brought him.

Whether you noticed or not, you didn’t say. Instead, you undid the clasps holding his defensive skirt and turned to leave it with his lorica, giving him enough privacy to rearrange his long tunic in an attempt to keep some decency.

“Come with me,” you muttered, looking over your shoulder, before you jumped back into the lake.

Trusting you felt easy, the right thing to do—and so he dived after you.

The water bit at his skin, colder than anything Marcus had ever experienced before. That didn’t put him off and swam with you until you both reached the centre. The silence was only broken by the splatter of water.

You sank a little, your chin submerged, and the resemblance of a smile curled your lips. “Big breath, my lord.”

And then you disappeared under water. Following your instruction, he took the biggest gulp of oxygen before submerging.

For a moment Marcus doubted if his eyes were open for it was pitch black beneath the surface. He couldn’t see anything, blind as he was in this realm he’d not ventured to before. But your delicate hand took hold of his, and together you dove to the depths of the unknown.

And there, on the bed of the lake, a sparkle illuminated this abyssal world. Excalibur, mighty as it was, caught the reflection of the moon, and Acacius felt its calling. It whispered his name, pulled his soul and heart towards it.

Filled with purpose, Marcus came closer. Looked at you—your hair floating around your face like the Medusa garnishing his lorica—and when you nodded, he grabbed it.

A thunderous feeling ran up his arm, but Acacius didn’t let go. It burnt through him, fingers clutched around the hilt, and a groan escaped his lips in the form of silvery bubbles. The sensation was fleeting yet intense, and as soon as it came, it went.

You swam closer to him, one hand stroking his shoulder while the other cradled his elbow. Your eyes were no longer black, their true colour now showing—beautiful and glittering, full of life. He just got lost for a brief second, before you gestured to go back up.

Holding his empty hand, you pulled him upwards until both of you resurfaced—Excalibur secured.

Your eyes, black again, glistened under the moonlight, and the smile plastered on your plump lips had only gotten bigger.

“Let’s go back to shore,” you said cheerfully, the sad veil haunting your features forgotten.

A minute later, Acacius stood up on the edge of the lake, feeling the weight of Excalibur on his right hand, as you came out right behind him. A rush of energy coursed through his veins, excitement and purpose becoming clearer in his mind. With Excalibur in his power, he would defeat all of Camelot’s dissidents.

“One prophecy has been fulfilled today,” you husked, reaching for his pteruges to help him dress again.

“One of many to come,” Acacius agreed with a smirk, his eyes searching for yours.

In silence, you wrapped his skirt around his waist, securing it properly. You were so close, it was a bit too intimate. Not uncomfortable though, there was something about you… about your presence… the way you carried yourself, that pulled him in. You smelt of lilies and salt, like the fresh breeze coming from the ocean. A musky scent that inundated his brain, clouding his mind.

You glanced up at him through your wet eyelashes, and Acacius saw your tongue darting out to lick your bottom lip before you averted your gaze to focus on the last knot. It had been an innocent look, but one that ignited a longing he thought himself unworthy of.

He just couldn’t resist—would you taste as delicious as the water of this lake? A taste of heaven. That was all he needed for his thirst couldn’t be quenched with anything else.

Marcus bowed his head, lost in the moment, as your eyes drifted up to his. He paused, searching for answers, looking for resistance, and found none. His forehead touched yours as one of your hands travelled up to gently cradle his cheek. Your thumb brushed him bottom lip, and Marcus saw the fight within you. The same war he was waging against himself.

You went on your tiptoes, just enough to caress his lips with yours.

“You shall go now, my King,” you whispered, your mouth softly moving against his with every heartbreaking word you spoke.

“And you?” he couldn’t stop himself.

“I shall stay here until I fade away,” you confessed with a sad, trembling pout, closing your watery eyes before you took a step back, leaving his half embrace.

“Fade away?” he hushed in a panic.

“Without the presence of the sword in the lake and with every passing full moon, I’ll slowly vanish. Return to The Morrígan’s side until I am called back to this world. My destiny has been fulfilled. For now,” you admitted, avoiding his eyes.

“No,” he breathed out, panic building up and shaking his bones, as he reached for your hand. “I won’t take it then.”

“You must, my King. Your kingdom depends on it,” you mumbled with a quivering smile, your thumb stroking the back of his hand.

“Then I’ll come back. Every full moon, I’ll come back to you. I’ll return Excalibur to the lake, then retrieve it again,” he said desperately, but with a determination he’d not felt before.

“Would… would you?” you husked, eyes bright with hope.

Your features softened as you squeezed his hand in yours. The look of faith in your eyes had his mind swirling, his heart pumping so fast he could only hear the rush of blood in his eardrums. Whatever this feeling was, Marcus wanted to hold onto it for however long he could.

“I wouldn’t. I will, my lady.”

King Acacius kept his promise. Every full moon, he came back to you, Excalibur on hand. Didn’t miss, not even once. The man was hardwired to return, find his way back to you, no matter what.

You had seen him at his best, but also at his worst. Had laughed with him, cried with him, listened to his dream of Camelot, the battles he’d left behind and the ones he foresaw, pondered about life and death. You had healed and kissed his wounds, nursed him back to health when his life hung by a thread. Because he would crawl out of war, bloodied and terribly injured, and that wouldn’t be an impediment for him to come back.

And with every meeting, with every little detail you discovered, you just loved him more. How could you not? Marcus was fierce in battle but was fiercer in love. He hadn’t said the words—neither had you—but his acts spoke louder. You felt so at ease with him, you’d told him how you ended up here, in this misty lake, regent to the netherworld—a lingering soul trapped in limbo, stagnant in this curse, keeping vigil of a sword. You told him how the sword had taken your life and hence, would be linked to it for eternity.

Every time he left, your heart sank to the pit of your stomach. You’d hear the whispers carried by the wind and sinking in the water like the rotten petals of a water lily. You would watch out for any murmur of his name. Wondered when you would see him again. Not because you didn’t trust his word—you did, blindly so—but because you were privy to his fate.

Providence would always bring him back to you for the King’s destiny depended on you—rested on your shoulders heavily, a constant nagging at the back of your mind. You knew of the battle of Camlann even though were unsure when it would happen—and you knew Marcus would return to Avalon. To you, for you to mend. To coexist in this otherworldly plane. It was only a matter of time.

You remained in your dormant state, conscious and anxious. Waiting. Always waiting.

Then the caw of the Chough rang firmly and loudly, rippling through the water.

A familiar pull tugged at your heart, waking you up from your sunken slumber. A force of nature propelled you up, your hands reaching for the void above your head until they cracked the surface. When your face breached the water level, you took in a deep breath, your lungs expanding and filling up, easing up the sense of dread blooming in your chest.

You blinked rapidly, sloshing some water while eagerly looking around.

The big, red-billed crow flapped its wings before it settled down on the branch it always did.

And there, right by the shore, amid the heavy mist, knelt King Acacius. The second his eyes landed on you, his whole face lighted up—the doom casting a shadow on his eyes, on his features, lifted; his eyes sparkled at the sight of you, wide and attentive.

His cupped hands let go of the remaining water and Marcus quickly stood up on the edge. He stepped forward into the water and, uncaring of his outfit, walked on the lake’s bed towards you. As if he couldn’t wait to have you in his embrace any longer. As if he’d been needily craving your presence besides him. The same way you did him. Silently so, though.

You swiftly swam towards him and met him a few metres away from the shore, when the water kissed his knees.

You stood there for a never-ending second, lost in his brown eyes, until gravity pulled you into his arms. Marcus wrapped you in his warmth, the palm of his hand resting on the back of your head. You slid your hands towards his lower back, pressing his armoured body into yours, and burying your face in the curve of his neck.

If home ever had a smell, it was his. Your home amidst the chaos of the underworld. Because your home was a person, not a place.

But this one hug felt different. Warmer, calmer. Definite. Steadfast.

Loving.

“My soul has been aching for the absence of your presence. Now I shall be at ease, my lady,” Acacius softly delivered words caressed your forehead, his lips mellow on your cold skin.

They reached deeper than you would have ever allowed. They took root in your core, hugging your fears in a way you had never felt before. They were sincere, purposeful. Truthful. A blooming heat spread across your chest and for the first time in an eternity, a sliver of hope settled in your heart.

Perhaps The Morrígan was wrong. Perhaps he could live. Even if that meant you would never truly have him by your side.

Because love, as painful as it was, meant letting your loved ones go when the time came.

Perhaps this was the time. Or perhaps not.

“Every time you leave, I find myself adrift in the mists of Avalon. Yearning, longing for the shore of your embrace, my King,” you confessed, looking up at him through long, wet lashes.

Your heart pounded hard in your core, your eyes diving in his for clues. Marcus looked at you in utter disbelief, as if your admission was the last thing he hoped to hear. Had you been untoward, misread his words? His meaning?

As the silence stretched, your resolution faltered. Averting your eyes, an unusual sting poking the back of your eyeballs, you took a step back.

But before you could fully escape his embrace, King Acacius held both of your wrists and gently pulled you towards him. One of his hands let go of yours, drifting up to cradle your cheek, his thumb stroking your soul.

Your eyes met, the same gravitational pull that got you out of the lake tugged at your whole being now.

“I love you,” Marcus whispered, both trembling with anticipation.

There. The words you had imagined yourself saying aloud, but that always got stuck in the back of your mouth.

You didn’t answer, you acted.

Draping your arms around his neck, you pushed him towards you, reaching up to trap his lips in a vacillating kiss. Marcus quickly reciprocated, his mouth opening in warm invitation. His tongue ventured in yours, soft and gentle. And what was first a shy kiss, soon became a needy exchange.

His arms threaded around your waist, then dropped until his forearms were below the curve of your buttocks. And when he picked you up, you locked your legs around his hips.

Without breaking the contact of your lips, Marcus walked you both to shore. Your mouth dipped down, kissing his chin, his cheek, his jawline—his beard tickling your lips. A feeling you would grow to crave, no doubt.

Once on the edge of the lake, your feet touched the mud of the shore. A break in the kiss gave Marcus the opportunity to thumb your bottom lip, his eyes full of adoration, a sparkle of want in them.

You needed him. More than what you cared to admit. If this was to be the last time you saw him, you wanted it to count. To be memorable. To show him how much he meant to you, how much his promise to return kept you alive.

It wasn’t that you were indebted to him, but that you were in love with him. Wholeheartedly and irremediably so.

You grabbed his hands, your eyes searching for his. Directed them to your hips, and curled his fingers around the grey fabric of your linen dress. You heard Marcus inhaling sharply, his hands tensing beneath your touch. And then you helped him lift your dress up, just a tad.

“I want you. I need you,” you cooed, going on your tiptoes to kiss him again, delicately this time.

That was all he needed to be spurred on. With determination, he finished the job you had started—lifted the whole dress over your head, leaving you completely exposed to the elements. To his gaze.

Your skin crawled with the sudden cold, but Marcus’ evident hunger made your body flush with heat. You’d never felt this way—like you belonged. Did he feel the same? Did he find comfort in your presence? Did he consider you his home?

He didn’t need to say the words, for his expression told you everything you longed to know. That, no one could fake. Not even a king.

“You… are divine, so beautiful, my sweetheart,” Marcus husked, a careful hand tracing the outline of your right breast. Not quite a touch, but the ghost—or the promise—of one. “A godsend.”

Your lips curled into a smile, and you grabbed his hand, cupping it with yours, to bring his closer to your bosom. And when his warmth enveloped you, you sighed, eyes closing with content. Marcus massaged your boob delicately, testing the weight on his rough palm, before his thumb flicked your nipple.

You bit down your bottom lip, reining in a moan. Your nipple perked up immediately, greeting him, and you saw his Adam’s apple bob in response.

“My King…” his title slipped like velvet on your tongue, his warmth commending.

“Marcus. Please, call me Marcus,” he whispered in response, bowing down to kiss the swell of your breast.

Your skin bristled at his intimate touch. It burnt through you, leaving nothing but need in his wake. And then his mouth dropped, kissing your nub once. And when you gasped, hand darting to the nape of his neck and fingers fisting a bunch of his silvery curls, Marcus gave your button an open-mouthed kiss.

He lathered it with his spit, before trapping your nipple between his teeth and pulling gently.

“Marcus,” you moaned, your head lolling back, a ray of desire coursing through you.

You’d never used his first name, not out loud. But it felt natural, easy. Something you could get used to.

He wrapped his arms around you again, picking you up in his embrace—still latching, his tongue swirling. Marcus moved with you in his arms, but not too far. Breaking contact, he settled you down on a wide, flat and smooth stone by the edge of the lake.

You sat up, glancing up at him. His face was injured, a fresh cut running through the bridge of his aquiline nose. Marcus looked tired, his wild unkempt curls pointing in every direction, and yet, the desire his eyes emanated was… intense.

He knelt before you, and irremediably you reached out, cradling his warm cheek. Marcus closed his brown eyes and kissed the palm of your hand, the intensity brewing inside his orbs evolving into something softer, yearning.

“Let me worship you tonight, my lady,” he muttered, leaning down to kiss your knee.

Your thighs involuntarily pressed together, the meaning of his words taking root. Your face became hotter, your hands slightly trembling. Marcus cupped them with his and pecked your knuckles, feeling your hesitation.

“However you want me to,” he reassured you. “Whatever you want me to do, I will do for you.”

His calm demeanour, his adoring eyes, his thumbs stroking yours… You trusted him. Wholly.

Slowly, you coaxed your legs apart, and Marcus’ sight eagerly dropped to watch the revelation—the gates to Heaven. He took in a deep breath, and you felt the pulse between your legs.

This should have been somewhat nerve-wracking, but it just felt natural—letting him see the whole of you, letting him take everything you had to offer. Only to him.

The King kissed your knee again, his lips moving north on the inner side of your thighs while his hands stroked the back of your knees, holding you open for his attention. His warm breath reached your cunt and shamelessly, he traced your wet slit with the tip of his nose.

Marcus’ tongue darted out, testing the valley between your pussy lips, before sinking it in. You sobbed in need, your fingers raking through his hair while Marcus pushed up your legs, so the backs of your thighs were resting on his shoulders. And then, dove in.

His tongue circled around your gushing entrance while the tip of his nose nudged your throbbing clit. You whimpered, crossing your ankles on his back to keep him exactly where he was. Marcus ventured inside your hole, all the while you leaked your pleasure on his tongue.

“Marcus,” you moaned, looking up to the night sky.

The stars greeted you, sparkling, and the moonlight bathed the landscape in its grey hue. But you could only see colour behind your eyes when you shut them.

Acacius moved slightly higher, and the moment his tongue flicked and licked your throbbing pearl, you couldn’t withhold your needy whimpers any longer. He kissed you so intimately, so sweetly, your cunt palpitated around nothing, a wave of energy surging up your spine. And when he suckled on your clit, your grasp on his greying hair became tighter.

“Oh, Gods,” you wailed, feeling a coil forming inside you, low in your tummy.

Marcus gave you no pause, no truce—he sucked, and lapped, and licked, and kissed, and fucked every inch of your beating cunt. He even slid a couple of fingers in your leaking opening, stroking the perfect spot, gathering your arousal on his fingertips to taste the insides of you.

“I… I…” you stuttered, unable to find the words.

The coil tightened; your whole body tensed.

“I know, mel,” he whispered, lips moving against your bottom ones, before pecking your clit. Marcus curled his two fingers inside you and slowly pumped you. “Let go for me, sweetheart.”

With Marcus’ tongue and fingers working your sweet pussy diligently, you couldn’t help but give in to the crippling sensation between your thighs. His digits bottomed out and he kept them there, his mouth smothering your bundle of nerves.

And finally, you came apart, fisting and tugging at his hair, your back arched, face looking up to the sky. Marcus fucked you and sucked you through your orgasm, drinking every tasty drop you leaked on his mouth.

Your heart was racing so fast, you could only hear your own heartbeat thrumming on your eardrums. You were heaving still, coming down from such a high, while Acacius kissed your mound and unburied his head from between your legs.

His smile was almost blinding, his nose, beard and lips glistening with your cum.

“Pure ambrosia, you taste better than I could ever imagine,” he husked, kissing your left breast, then your right one.

Coming off his knees, Marcus towered above you to unclasp the leather straps that kept his breastplate in place. You reached up to hold it for him and then placed it besides you on the flat rock.

His hands dropped to the belt that held his armoured skirt and halted for a second. His eyes asked for your permission, and you nodded in reply, biting down your bottom lip.

“Let me help you with that, my King,” you offered, eager to see him in all his might.

Your fingers worked the belt fast, and soon enough the skirt was on the ground. Only his worn tunic remained, and Marcus graciously pulled it over his head, revealing his body to you for the first time.

You reined in a gasp. His arms were very defined, so was his chest. His tummy was softer than the rest of him, defined by a pronounced V line—a beautiful sight. But what made your mouth water was below the enticing hairy trail.

His cock was at half mast, throbbing and thick. The feeding vein on his underside was working overtime—you could see it pumping blood. A base of unruly curls, his heavy balls hanging low. And the tip… was already leaking precum, a pearl topping it and sliding down the underside.

He was just gorgeous, in and out. Here he was, in all his glory, just for you. Longing for your touch.

You hadn’t realised how long you had been staring at him until you gazed up and found his dark eyes. Lust swirled in them, pupils blown and hungry. A ferocity you had not seen before—controlled, passionate, fervid. Such a contrast to how gentle and mindful he’d been with you—and you loved both versions of him.

Neither of you needed to speak, the silence between you was loud enough. Eyes locked in on his, you raised your left hand and cupped his balls, taking the weight off. They were warm and velvety, a good size to fill your palm. A sigh of relief rumbled through his chest while you massaged them softly.

His eyes shut, mouth slightly agape, when your other hand darted to his shaft. Curling your fingers around his girth, you gave him a gentle tug. Marcus groaned, his own hand wrapping around yours to lead the way. Under his guidance, you pumped him delicately, squeezing him from time to time. You revelled at how his dick responded, getting harder, warmer and heavier under your attentive touch.

Swiping his slit with your thumb, you buttered the precum on his reddened glans. He was literally weeping for you, silently begging to find refuge. And you could give him just that.

Leaning forward, you pressed a kiss on his mushroom head. His cock twitched on your hand, his balls tensing. You licked the precum off your lips, eyes travelling up to his. You were Marcus’ sole focus—as if everything around you both had vanished, as if everything was muted and there was only him and you.

You smiled at him, and the one he gifted you with almost stopped your heart. He looked so handsome, so worry-free… How could you not fall in love with someone like him? It was destined to be.

Maintaining eye contact, you opened your mouth and took him in. His cockhead was warm and tacky, soft and musky. Sealed your lips around his girth and swirled your tongue around him. Marcus growled above you, one hand landing on the back of your head—not demanding, just commending.

Your eyes shut close, your fingers working his cock while suckling on the tip. You sloppily slurped around it, taking in a quick breath before diving right back in. Pushing his throbbing length down your throat, you let him reach the back of your mouth, then bobbed up and down his dick—revelling in his manly taste, in how full your mouth was, in how natural it all was.

A potent pulse thudded on your tongue. Marcus was close to release, and the most primal part of you wanted him to come in your mouth. Wanted to gulp down his seed, swallow all of him.

His thumb stroked your cheek, and then he gently cupped your chin to push you off his cock. Your eyes fluttered open to look up at him, confused, missing his weight on your tongue.

“Mel, please, I need to be inside you,” Acacius almost begged of you.

You shuddered at his humble request, your clit ticking in your seam.

Scooting towards the centre of the rock, you leaned on your back and parted your thighs for him, exposing your dripping core. Marcus’ chest rumbled at the beautiful sight, and quickly joined you, kneeling between your trembling legs.

Holding your boobs, you felt Marcus dragging the tip up and down your slick fold. And when he tapped your clit, you squirmed and whimpered, lust-stricken.

“Shh, it’s alright, my love,” Marcus cooed, voice raspy with need. He swiped his crying cockhead on your overstimulated bud, using himself to pleasure you. “I’ll be right where you need me soon.”

You furrowed your brows, needing him inside you now. But when he insisted on rubbing your clit with the tip of his dick, you felt that coil forming again. Only this time it was happening faster, the tightening more intense. Pinching your own nipples and with the tension building up, you felt that familiar, delicious pulse right in the middle of your pussy.

Marcus sensed it too, and caressing the back of your left thigh, he spoke. “Come for me again and I’ll give you everything you desire, my lady.”

That was it. His words, in combination with the incessant flicking on your clit, was your undoing. For the second time tonight, a massive wave washed over you, your legs shaking on either side of him while he held your thighs in silent support.

Still blissed out, coming down of such satisfying climax, you noticed the knob of his thick cock nudging at your quivering entrance. And then Marcus rutted into you in one smooth move, burying himself down to the hilt, fully seated in your welcoming cunt.

You moaned audibly, his throbbing dick filling your entire pussy. Marcus laid on top of you, taking most of his weight off by placing his shoulders to either side of your head. Bowed down and kissed you, staying still above you. It was such an intimate moment—tasting him, while his cock sat snugly in your cunt—you never wanted it to end.

Slowly he pushed back, almost releasing the whole of his length, to then hammer back in. You hugged his neck and mewled into his mouth, while Marcus picked up a relentless, almost punishing, pace. He drove in and out of you with extreme ease, your puffy pussy lips kissing his girth, your cunt clumping down around him, gushing for him.

He nipped at your chin, your cheek, your jawline, your earlobe—his teeth were everywhere. King Acacius literally fucked you into the stone, almost becoming one with nature. And with every thrust, your heart beat faster and your hole squeezed him harder.

You palmed his shoulder blades, digging your nails in his flesh in an attempt to remain steady below him. With every prod, your whole body rocked under his weight. It didn’t work—the fierceness of his desire had the stone scratching your back. You draped your legs around his waist, crossing your ankles and pressing on his butt with your heels.

“Marcus, oh Gods, my King…” you whined, tearful and overwhelmed.

“Your King. Always and forever,” he promised, kissing the tears running down your temples goodbye.

His pledge made you swoon, for you believed every single word. They carried a meaning that tugged at your heart—only if you could stretch this moment in time, freeze the universe so he’d remained exactly where he was, forever. But you didn’t have such power—wished you did, though.

Marcus pounded into you, both of your breaths fusing into one as you kissed, teeth colliding amidst the vigour of his shoves. He pulsed and your pussy responded out of her own accord, kneading his shaft between your walls.

“I love you,” you breathed out, gleefully delirious.

“So do I,” he muttered against your agape mouth.

The overpowering sensation took hold of your body when Marcus slipped a hand between your sweating bodies and petted your clit—quick, precise circling motions that had you on the verge of a cliff. You couldn’t contain yourself anymore, your arousal leaking everywhere as your pussy clenched around Marcus’ stiff cock, milking him dry.

Your orgasm signalled his own, and unable to disregard your commending charm, Acacius followed you into the abyss. His warm seed spilt inside you, ropes of white painting your walls the most beautiful of colours. He filled you up to the brim, his cock beating in unison with your heart.

You were still shaking with the intensity of it all, and so was he. Marcus buried his face in the crook of your neck, his cock softening inside you, but not pulling out.

“I wish I could stay here with you,” he said breathless, a gurgling chuckle arising from his chest.

Something twisted inside you. Something dark and unsettling. For you knew how this all would end. But you couldn’t say—couldn’t intervene in his future, for the consequences of your actions would be significantly worse.

“So do I,” you echoed his words, hugging him tight, so he could not see the tears forming in your eyes.

Your eyes snapped open underwater, the whispers of tragedy rippling their way to your ears. Anxiety peaking, you looked around, only to see the dark vastness of the lake’s bed. Nothing around you had changed, yet it all felt different—colder.

Sunk in the bottom of the lake, you swan to the surface like you did every full moon to meet your beloved.

When your face breached the surface, you eagerly looked towards the shore.

Marcus wasn’t there. On his stead, the Chough that had been following him since his birth was on the shore, drinking from the lake. When it felt your presence emerge from the depths, it greeted you with a caw.

Then you heard the tapping of heavy hooves against the ground further away in the woods. A small group was approaching.

“Bring the King to the Lake!” you recognised Merlin’s voice, cracking and frightened.

Your eyes shot back to the crow and then, for the first time, you saw him.

taglist: @cuppajoel @almostfoxglove @bluesweaters15 @iknowisoundcrazy @joelmillerisapunk @galacticactually @romancherry @somedayheaven @mind-misschieff @iknowisoundcrazy

[pluralthey]

what steps do you go through to draw in your current style? do you have any pointers about it? its absolutely one of my favorites

i'm not sure if i think of my process in steps. in my head, i'm just straightforwardly drawing the shapes the characters are made of at angles that look right and building on that... luckily, i stream when i draw every day, so i have a ton of videos of myself drawing. example:

i haven't bothered to upload a lot of the modern streams to youtube because my video editor can't handle editing 4-8 hour files even if i'm speeding them up and technically making them shorter because of the way video editors interact with files, and the freeware i use isn't able to make proxy files. the act of downloading and editing and combing through all the footage is a ton of time and memory space and it's just not what people are usually looking for from me, so it's not where i wanna put my time.

but that's neither here nor there. what i mean to say is these vods are really long. so you don't want to rawdog those. but you can just download a video speed controller extension to your browser and it's extremely easy to cruise through the backlog of vods at ~15x speed.

i've gone ahead and highlighted some of the recent videos to separate the chaff from the wheat. i tend to take long breaks to eat or walk my dog so there are big periods of Nothing Happening. i'll try to skim some more and do the same. unfortunately, i don't have any good videos of me coloring, since twitch deletes vods after like a month, and i've just been focusing on sketching.

but yeah, in general, it really depends on how good i'm feeling on a given day -- sometimes i will sketch multiple times for just one panel and sometimes i won't sketch at all. i use paint tool sai 2 and a pixel brush usually 2 pixels wide with no pen pressure. for comics, i have 1 layer for the panel borders, 1 layer for the sketch, 1 layer for the lines, 1 layer for the colors, 1 layer for the text, and 1 layer speech bubbles. sometimes there are special effects that overlap borders and need their own special layers. when i start sketching a new panel, i will usually put it on its own new layer, and sometimes for multiple characters i will put them on another new layer at a different opacity. this is mostly to move them around without constant cleanup. once i've gotten a sketch pretty finished, i merge all of the layers into the sketch layer. the line layer is usually just the sketch layer cleaned up and paint bucket tooled black. but basically, the vast majority of my time working on art is spent trying to fix small things like tangents, fitting speech bubbles into panels, thinking about how to lay out a page, checking continuity interaction with other pages, that kind of stuff. the complex technical parts of the process are to save time on those in ways i can without compromising quality. the other portion of working on the art is like "step 1: draw head circle (or jessie head diamond). step 2: draw the rest of the owl." i don't know if this was helpful at all y_y if you want more pointers i might be able to offer clarity on more specific questions!

[wh0re43van]

And they were roommates (Peter Maximoff X Reader)

Description: You and Peter are long time best friends and now roommates. Things take a weird turn when he admits that he found your sex toy drawer.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving)

A/n: this is based off this request! I’m sorry if this isn’t up to your expectations, I’ve been having writers block. I’ve also been a bit inactive bc college rawdogging me without lube rn :/ (also I left this open to possibly a pt 2 with pegging Peter?? 🙊)

Peter sits on the edge of the couch clad in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, playing that mindless video game that he loves so much. His skilled fingers move in a blur across the plastic controller, the sound of the rapid clicks on the joy stick and buttons are drowned out by the blaring music coming out of the stereo. The music is so loud in fact, that the boy doesn’t hear you stumble into your shared home, dropping groceries and cursing at him as you stagger towards the table.

“Goddamnit Peter!” You groan after dropping off the bags of food, stomping into the living room as you dodge empty bottles of soda and dirty clothes on the floor. “Peter!” You gripe, now completely out of patience. But Peter is so fixed on the game and the music is so loud that he isn’t even aware of your arrival.

You let out an irritated sigh before ripping the cord to the stereo out of the wall. “Peter Maximoff!” You shout, crossing your hands over chest. He jumps a bit, startled by your sudden appearance, but soon enough his signature smirk is plastered on his stupid face.

“Hey babe! Where’ve you been?” He asks nonchalantly-choosing to ignore your obviously pissed off stature- as he shifts his attention back to the video game.

“Are you- oh my god,” you groan, completely exasperated as you pinch the bridge your nose. “I’ve been out for three hours getting shit for my party tonight. The one thing I asked you to do was clean up this mess!” You pace infront of the tv like a disappointed mother- a feeling you’ve become all too familiar with since renting an apartment with your man-child of a best friend.

“I don’t think four girls in their 20s getting wine drunk and talking shit for hours on end counts as a party,” Peter snickers before he zooms around you, now between you and the television with his nose nearly pressed to the screen in attempt to finish his game. Your blood is boiling at at this point.

“Beats locking yourself in your room and playing with your dick to those old VHS tapes you still have from high school,” you roll your eyes. “Atleast get with the times and use the internet,” you add with your lips pulled taught in an unamused line, you reach down to unplug the console. Peter of course grabs your hand before you reach the plug, his eyes still glued to the screen.

“And abandon my girls? Come on babe, don’t be ridiculous. We have history!” Peter snickers, unfazed by your attempt to humble and embarrass him.

Peter finally beats the level, sounding off the victory music. With a proud smile, he sits down the controller, finally giving you his attention. “Plus, don’t act like I don’t know about your drawer of toys. Neither one of us are getting laid,” Peter laughs casually as he walks back over to the couch, leaving you with wide eyes and blushed cheeks.

“What the fuck! H-how-Peter! Dude! What-what the actual fuck!” You look at him dumbfounded, now twice as furious and extremely embarrassed.

“Oh, so you can go through my stuff, but I can’t go through yours?” He smirks as he takes a swig of soda out of a two liter bottle, looking at you with pure amusement on his face.

“I-I don’t go through your stuff, Peter!” You shriek, looking down at your feet in attempt to escape his gaze. When you do, you notice a bright orange plastic rectangle on the ground amidst various snack cake wrappers. “Th-there’s a tape literally laying right here!” You chuck the VHS at him, he catches it, sitting it on the couch beside him.

“Alright you’ve got me,” Peter holds his hands up in defense with playful grin. “But you can’t blame me for snooping. You don’t exactly make an effort to keep quiet. Our rooms are right across from each other ya know,” he chuckles as he settles into the couch, wiping his Cheeto covered fingers on his grey sweatpants. “So yeah, maybe I was curious to see the loud ass vibrator that you abuse most nights of the week, and maybe I found a lot more than I was looking for,” Peter laughs at how red your face is. He’s clearly enjoying your utter humiliation.

You feel mortified. You can’t believe he would just reveal that he knows you about your dirty habits so casually. Had he seen everything?

‘Why would I keep everything on the same place,’ you internally facepalm as you imagine Peter digging through your underwear draw to see your Hitachi, the vibrating dildo, the strap.

‘Jesus Christ does he know I have a strap on?’ Panic begins to set it. ‘How long has he known about this?’ Your mind is racing almost as fast as your heart.

You swear you’ve never felt so embarrassed in your life. Despite the snow on the ground outside, you feel like your skin is on fire. You’re a clammy, stuttering mess that wants nothing more than to vanish into thin air, but you can’t even will yourself to move.

“Y-you can hear it?” Is all you dare to ask sheepishly, your eyes still wide in horror at the conversation that’s unfolding between you and your best friend.

“Mhm,” Peter snickers as he stands up, nonchalantly stretching and flexing all the muscles in his bare torso. You think for a moment that he might be flexing on purpose as he walks over to inspect the groceries you’ve brought home. “And I Gotta say,” Peter hums as he pops open the new box of twinkies you got for your party. “I’m really not impressed with the settings on that thing,” he says through a mouth full of yellow sponge cake.

You don’t know what to think of the situation. You wrack your brain trying to figure out what he’s playing at, but to no avail. He seems to be amused more than anything; at the very least he doesn’t think any less of you.

You sigh, walking over to the boy, prying the blue hostess box out of his hands. “T-these are for tonight, Peter,” you make a meek attempt of scolding him, but you can’t even look him in the eyes right now as you trip over your words. This only fuels Peters teasing.

“I’m serious babe,” he grins as he slowly rests his hands on either side of you. His bare biceps and chest tense as he grips onto the table, trapping you right in front of him. “I can show ya real speed if you’d let me,” his voice is low and silky smooth as he lets out a small laugh. You blink at him, not sure if you’re understanding him right.

“I-uh…well… if-I uhm-” Your voice is shaky as you stare up at him with wide eyes. At this point you’re sure that your face is as red as those cherry slushies that Peter always gets from the corner store.

“Am I making you nervous?” Peter asks as he leans ever so slightly closer to you. His sultry tone sends heat straight to your core.

“N-no,” you whimper. As if your tone didn’t give you away, you instinctively pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

“You’re such a bad liar,” he says lightly as puts a gentle hand on your face, his thumb pulls your lip out from under your teeth. “This always gives it away,” Peter hums.

You feel ridiculous at how worked up Peter has managed to get you. You chalk it up to being dick deprived and attempt to pull yourself together before you literally start drooling. But before you speak, Peters next words make your mind go blank.

“These pretty lips of yours are always getting you in trouble, huh?” Peters voice is husky as he drags you lip down with his thumb, focusing on your mouth with a lust laced gaze.

He’s right. Your entire time growing up together your nervous habit of chewing on your lip has always gotten you caught in your lies. It’s a little weird to think about all the adolescent trouble you and Peter got into as he’s standing only inches away from you; very obviously not that little boy anymore. No, Peter is definitely a man now- his mind may not have matured past 15, but his body absolutely has.

He brings his other hand to the back of your head as he steps closer to you. You can feel his warm breath fanning on your face, as your knees begin to go weak.

“Okay Peter that’s enough teasing. You got me. j-just clean up your mess so I can get ready for my party,” you say quietly as you examine his face, taking in how truly handsome your best friend is.

“Oh come on, we have time,” he smiles. That seductive tone is one you never thought you’d hear from Peter, and it’s definitely going to get you in trouble.

Peter dips his head down, his nose brushing against yours, making your breath hitch. Butterflies erupt in your stomach from the small contact. He teases his lips over yours, gently ghosting over the skin as if testing the waters.

The moment your lips touch, you’re a goner. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into an intense kiss. Peter laughs into the exchange as he grabs onto your hips.

You never thought of Peter in this way in all the years that you’ve known him. Sure, he’s an objectively attractive guy- anyone can see that- but he’s just never really been ‘your type’ and aside from casual flirting like he does with every woman he comes into contact with, he never showed any romantic interest in you- as far as you were aware at least. But right now, you’re completely desperate for your best friend.

The kiss quickly becomes anything from innocent as Peter grabs your ass, sitting you up on the table so he can stand between your legs. Your hands run through his hair, tugging on the silver stands as his grips onto your lower back, keeping you as close to him as possible.

Reality sets in as his lips trail down your neck where he stops to nip at sensitive skin. As you catch your breath you stutter, “W-what are we doing Peter? Are we really gonna risk our friendship just because neither of us have gotten laid in a while?”

While you are concerned for your platonic dynamic, you just can’t bring yourself to push him away. His warm lips on your skin and his strong grip on your body is too intoxicating.

“We aren’t risking anything, dude,” Peter smiles into the crook of your neck as his hands run up your thighs, his fingers disappearing under the hem of your short dress. “Just two friends helping eachother out. Nothing wrong with that,” he hums. You’re silent for a moment, considering his words.

Peter Steps aways from you, leaving you to whimper at the lack of contact.

“But if you don’t want this, I understand. I won’t press-“ he begins with a small grin as he continues to slowly back away. Without thinking, your hand shoots out, almost causing you to fall off the table. You grip his arm as you look up at him with desperate eyes.

“Please Peter,” is all you have to say before he’s back on you. Smashing his kiss bruised lips to yours.

Unbeknownst to you, Peter has been waiting for this moment for awhile. He wasn’t ‘totally in love with his best friend’ but you are the one person who knows him better than anything and his domestic partner and you’re smokin hot and he hears you masturbate in the room beside him a couple times a week- not to mention he hasn’t been with a woman in months. I mean, can you blame the guy?

You let out a small gasp as peters fingers brush against your clothed core. He gives you mischievous grin as he pulls you to the very edge of the table.

“Let’s get these out of the way,” he breaths as he slowly wraps his fingers around the waist band of your silk underwear. With in half a second, the thin fabric is gone- where to? You have no idea.- and Peter is on his knees below you, admiring your exposed core. “You must really be desperate. Damn,” the boy chuckles as he collects some of your wetness on his finger. You groan, kicking him in the arm gently. But you can’t argue with him.

“Ugh Peter if you’re going to-“ before you can finish whining, Peter has his arms wrapped around your thighs and mouth attached to your swollen clit, licking like his life depends on it. You let out a loud gasp at the sudden intense stimulation.

“At least now I know how to shut you up,” Peter chuckles against your core. Caught up in your own pleasure, you grab his hair and grind into his face. Peter let’s out a hum of satisfaction before he slips a finger in your entrance.

“Fuck,” you groan, throwing your head back. Peter is having the time of his life, struggling not to cum in his pants from how erotic you are. I mean yeah, he knew you were hot but he never would have guessed just how sexy your moans are or how good you taste. Call him a munch, but Peter could suffocate right here between your legs and die a happy man.

“Just like that Peter. Please don’t stop,” you pant out lowly, moving your hips faster against his face. You look down to see Peter who is already staring up at you. His silver strands of hair tickle the inside of your thighs as he laps at your clit desperately. The image of your best fiends head between your legs triggers a flash of embarrassment and guilt, but that’s soon forgotten as soon as you feel it.

Peter begins to vibrate his tongue as he sucks on your clit, his fingers curling directly into your g-spot with every thrust.

“Peter!” You shriek, pulling his hair. The sensation is nothing like you’ve felt before. You quickly melt into his touch as you revel in the pure pleasure shooting through every nerve in your body.

Peter replaces his tongue with his thumb before breathlessly pulling you into a kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, your legs beginning to shake from how much pleasure is flooding you system.

“I want you to cum for me,” Peter growls against your lips. You whine into the kiss as you clench around his fingers. The tightly wound rubber band in your stomach finally snaps, releasing intense euphoria through your body. “That’s it. Good girl, fuck, just like that,” Peter coos into your ear as the unholiest string of profanities he’s ever heard falls from your kiss bruised lips. You collapse into his chest, your legs shaking, head spinning, chest heaving.

“You okay?” Peter chuckles as he rests a hand on your back. You simply nod your head, trying to catch your breath. After a minute or so of recovery, you open your mouth to speak but are quickly interrupted by a loud knocking at the door. You jump up from the table, looking at Peter in horror as your release drips down your legs.

“My friends,” you gasp. Peter chuckles as he gently stands you to your feet.

“We’re not done here,” your best friend winks before he’s gone with a fwip.

In a Silver Blur, Peter zooms around the apartment. Within five seconds, the living room is spotless, the groceries are put away, and there are four glasses of wine are poured and set at the table with an organized array of the snacks you’d bought.

“Come on in ladies, y/n is in the kitchen,” Peter answers the door, allowing your friends into your home.

“Ew, why is your face wet?” One of the girls ask Peter as they turn the corner into the kitchen.

“And where’s your shirt?” Another girl asks as they exchange confused glances with each other.

“Oh-“ Well I guess Peter forget a couple crucial pieces of evidence. He wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. “What’s with the interrogation girls?” Peter chuckles as he holds his hands up.

Your face goes red in embarrassment as you walk over to great your group of friends on shaky legs- and with a bare core since you couldn’t seem to find your panties anywhere.

“Sorry, ignore him. Peters just leaving,” You smile at your friends then give peter a death glare.

“Oh, y/n, let me know once your little party is over. We need to finish that conversation,” he winks as he picks up a snack cake off the bar. As he ascends up the steps, you see your purple panties hanging out the pocket of his grey sweatpants. You send a silent prayer to every all-powerful incorporeal being you can think of that your friends did not see Peter with your underwear.

“Y/n, are you okay? What’s with-“ one of your friends begin to question.

“Wine!?” You cut her off as you offer-more or less force her to take- a glass of Pinot Grigio which thankfully is enough to shift the conversation.

You’re left in anticipation the rest of the night, half temped kick the girls out just so you and Peter can finish what you’ve started, but you decide against it. As you go commando for the next four hours, you think about how you’re going to get peter back.

[timelessbian]

had to book a new appointment today bc my pcp decided february was too far out so do we think she's just scary good at advocacy or should i start being concerned

it's all fun and games until the rheumatology referral enters the chat

[payasita]

Good job getting ADHD medication! I’m so proud of you :D

thanks so so much im very happy and so hopeful for the first time maybe ever but also it TOOK ME LIKE. A YEAR. A YEAR.

like yall for real?? for real. for real i have been diagnosed since i was like six. (funny story my teacher thought i was on the spectrum so my parents get me tested with the nodes and shit and according to mom, who loves this story, my neurologist did all that and talked to me and then just turned to my mom and went "she's not autistic. she just hates the other kids" but they DID find an adhd diagnosis in there so net win for all of us)

diagnosed since i was SIX. on stimulants until i turned 8, and you know why i got off em? my pediatrician retired. we could not find another who would take our low-income insurance. so i just had to rawdog The Rest Of My Fucking Life. diagnosed when i was six. legally neurodivergent for 20 slutty slutty angry years.

and it still took me like. a few months to get a psych appointment. a few weeks to reaffirm my diagnosis as an adult. a few more weeks for another appointment for meds. he doesnt Want to do meds first, because i must have been doing fine without them if its been two decades, right? i got a job and a car and everything. well gee fuckin shittickers Dr. Brain Guy, just WHAT was my alternative? would you prefer i be maladapted to the point of incapacitation; is that what it takes for someone to be considered? i cheated my way through school. every day after work i sit for an hour in my car because i dont have the executive function to stand up and walk the ten steps to my house. garbage just appears around me. i have three empty bags of hot chip and two cans of sprite on my desk as we speak, neither from today. at that point i hadnt had a debit card for six months because that would have required me to Drive To The Bank, a location that was new to me in this area, so i just did everything on credit. is this all normal? is this fine? am i GOOD, actually, Dr. WeirdBrain?

so we cordially agree that yes i should probably be medicated. i want to do a stimulant. he does not want to put me on a stimulant. "stimulants can mess with your heart," he says, "and you're young, you don't want heart problems." i say ok because i dont want to make him think im just looking for narcotics. even though i am. because they WORK. i agree to try some kind of antidepressant.

the antidepressant gives me tachycardia. i go to the emergency room after reading a heartbeat of, oh, 140 bpm, which is about like double what it normally is and juuuust below the You Are Having A Heart Attack threshold. i get to the ER and the doctor there is very obviously convinced i'm a local addict having some sort of episode. it is the most ironic experience i've had all year and i feel an abrupt and all consuming kinship with those birds in australia that will swoop you and peck at your face for seemingly no good reason.

so yeah, we narrow it down to the antidepressant. as it turns out, these particular meds are known to, semi-commonly, Mess With Your Heart. i have my next appointment with my psych and somehow refrain from pecking his eyes out. he puts me on a noreprinephrine inhibitor(iirc) that isnt actually FDA approved to treat ADHD specifically(i DEFINITELY rc) but it IS given to smokers to help them quit. i dont smoke. i may very well fucking start before this whole ordeal is at the point where someone listens to me

it obviously does a combined total of jack and shit, and the man waffles with this one because he has "had success" using it as treatment for other ADHD patients. he ups the dose. twice. three months on the smoker meds, which are also apparently notorious for destroying your appetite, but they didnt even do THAT. no change to the average amount of hot chip on my desk.

he wants to try quelbree after that. i finally tell him i'm tired of this shit and would like to have more than two hours of usable daylight to function before it all falls to uncontrollable youtube shorts binges and a daily experience i like to call The Weighted Nothings and i would very much like to PLEASE. TRY A STIMULANT.

he's been friendly enough with me over these past four or five or whatever months but at this he gets suddenly very very business-baseline. gives me the whole spiel about the north american shortage. gives me a spiel about how i absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, lose or sell this medication, because they will not refill it if i do. i am sitting here wondering if he he's telling the truth about having other ADHD patients at all like ever in his career, and also, am i nuts or should the "don't sell your prescription drugs" bit apply to EVERYTHING? i dont fuckin know man i just live here

he says he wants a urine test first. its scheduled for two weeks out. i take it.

"hey uh, your piss came back with cannabis in it" "well it'd be weirder if it didn't, we are in california and i am a kitchen manager" "you can't have weed if you want adderall" "fine i'll stop" "we'll schedule you another test in a month" "aight bet" it didnt go exactly like that but this is kind of what the vibe between us has devolved into by this point.

anyway i wait a month and get a good grade in piss. i get the meds prescribed. i go to fill out the prescription

all i really need to say to you are the words "prior authorization error" for most of you to get what happened next.

the psych isnt even aware. i wait another month for our next meeting, which was yesterday. i do not yell at him. he tells me to take it up with the pharmacy, and yell at them. i am going to yell at them.

so i go, and guess what, it actually went through a while ago! NO ONE TOLD ME OR DR. FEEL-BAD OVER HERE. but we can't fill it right now because its a controlled substance so come back in a few hours. hey it's ready where the hell are you? TAKE YOUR METH AND GET OUT

anyway i started it today, reorganized my pantry, and fixed the fire alarm in my hallway that's been chirping at me for a week. i no longer have to wear earplugs to bed.

and with my newfound executive function superpowers, i will be spraying my weed-free piss all over Reagan's grave.

[sasukeless]

what are your modern au sns headcanons?

i like to incorporate as many things from canon into modern aus as possible tbh so i kinda already joked about sasuke being probably hunted down by true crime obsessed ppl trying to interview him about his insane murderer brother and also naruto finding out later in life he might be a nepo baby and his father was a big political figure idk it’s funny to me

as for narusasu specific hcs

they met at an orphanage (because unlike konoha who lets children raise themselves i feel modern au they just get shove into the system)

growing up they definitely liked to vandalize places, especially monuments. or well naruto did and sasuke covered for him because he likes naruto.

naruto spends half of his time in middle and high school carving sasuke’s name into tables and walls. he says he does it so sasuke gets blamed but he’s just in love and has a sasuke brainrot.

naruto is a collage drop out and ends up working with plants (i refuse to let him suffer by going into politics) and sasuke also drops out with him but comes back later to finish some because he ends working with reptiles specifically snakes.

naruto loves buy matching stuff All the time but he never admits it’s matching. he just buys things like bracelets or mugs in purple and orange and that’s it. sasuke is very aware of this but he never complains and uses everything naruto buys.

after they start dating they do wear those stupid matching necklaces kishimoto drew.

in their free time, sasuke is really good at playing instruments whereas naruto is more into painting (he’s so into street art!!!). sasuke for sure has a electric guitar btw

sasuke did naruto’s first piercing (eyebrow one) when they were 14. it hurt so bad they had a physical fight. still, sasuke does the rest of naruto’s piercings too.

they fight a lot!!! everyone is weirded outtt. but it’s normal to them. and five minutes later they are making out. they have a thing for fighting during sex too so there’s always a black eye or busted lip in the morning.

i can’t really see them dating other people prior each other tbh. it’s like in canon they are The One for each other since forever. they have some surface level crushes here and there before they get together but it’s never serious or affects them.

naruto picks kurama when he’s a kid and mistakes it for a puppy. it is in fact a fox but like by the time he’s told that (an hour later) he has already developed affection so no one can do anything about it, that’s his pet.

neither has a driver license. sasuke gets too annoyed at the traffic and the people in said traffic. meanwhile naruto gets distracted all the time. naruto still has a car and drives it because he thinks it’s fun and since sasuke lets him get away with anything he’s okay with both dying in a car crash because naruto kept singing loudly.

naruto texts sasuke 24/7 and even if sasuke doesn’t reply to all, he does read them and remembers them. sasuke’s texts consist in these two emojis: 👍 and 💜

i disagree with the idea that either of them smokes sorry. naruto tries it once but sasuke says he doesn’t like the taste after he kisses him and it makes naruto want to kill himself so bad, he never again gets close to do it again.

yeah, they share toothbrush and all (gross)

they are super competitive over video games and it’s probably the reason of 90% of their fights

each of them has seen like ten psychiatrists through their lives but they never stick around nor follow any instructions. they are rawdogging it at life and it’s okay, they make each other happy that’s what matters

they get married at 18th on impulse. when their friends find out they disapprove and think it won’t last but they do! they never file for divorce or anything

these are all so messy but yeah i can’t see narusasu being normal in any setting, they also don’t want to be normal

[propertyofwhitney67]

Bailey finds the pregnancy test in the bathroom's rubbish bin. He pinches his nose in irritation: just which one of his brats had forsaken all common sense and decided to rawdog the town without any protection? Condoms weren't that expensive.

He grabs the trash bag. Not his problem yet. Now, whenever the brat begins to show... that will be a different story.

--

You've been acting weirdly distant lately.

Not that Bailey has ever had a normal relationship with you, much less one in which you've had any sort of real emotional intimacy, but it's still odd. Your snark, your brattiness, the way you'd glare at him when he called you into his office for a fuck, the dramatic sigh when he sneaked into your bed at night - not... gone, exactly, but dampened. Almost like you're merely doing those things for the sake of doing them.

He'd be more concerned if it impacted your ability to pay rent, or if your morose state managed to somehow land you into Harper's clutches, but as it stands, he'd rather pretend nothing's wrong.

Makes it easier for him.

--

"The fuck was the bright idea?"

"I decided to follow my calling to the faith."

Bailey's eye twitches. He paws at your new chastity belt for a moment before he realizes he has no real way to get open.

"I can still suck you off," you offer.

"You're gonna get this shit removed as soon as you wake up tomorrow."

"This shit lets me get an extra two-thousand a month. That, and it keeps perverts away."

"Fine," Bailey acquisces. He'll find some other way to open it. Surely someone somewhere has tools that work on this bullshit.

--

You stop sleeping at the orphanage. Bailey knew the temple allowed its members to live there, but he hadn't thought you'd choose that. Not when you had a pepper-spray lab in the loft he pretended to not know anything about (and would never do anything about - urgh, the loft), or your brat friend Robin, and all the other brats that looked up to you like you hung the sun up in the sky.

A week passes by and Bailey goes to collect his money. He could have accosted you after school, driven you back to the orphanage, but that would be too public. Too much of a display of concern, whether true or not.

No, he goes to the temple instead. He finds you dressed in one of those baggy habits, mostly black in colour, head covered like any other nun or monk, praying to the statue in a way that would appear devoted to anyone other than him.

No, you aren't being devout. Bailey knows what your devotion looks like. It's the way your voice squeaks when you cum on his tongue, how you look at him when he pushes you down his cock until you gag. The way you envelop him oh so nicely whenever he drags you into his office for a fuck.

None of these prudes will ever know your devotion. Neither will that god.

"Time to pay up."

--

He sees you every week only briefly, until you start giving him your rent in advance. Bailey isn't complaining about that part - goodness knows more orphans could stand to learn to make money from you

Bailey tells himself you'll show up eventually. The temple will show its unpleasant side and you'll be forced to realize it's just as fucked as the rest of town.

It's merely a matter of time until you run back to him.

--

Harper calls him one day in the middle of the night.

"What?"

"It's one of your wards. They're in labour and will need you to pick them up."

"Do I look like I have enough time to drop everything at -" he glances at the clock "- 2 in the fucking morning?"

"Good luck getting them back then. I have no idea how they'll get themself and the kid back after all the drugs and antibiotics I had apply to them."

"So?"

"Do you want your ward to trip and die in the streets somewhere?"

"...fine."

--

It's you. Of course.

"Hey Bailey," you give him the biggest smile you've ever given him - slightly bigger than a flat mouth. "Wanna meet your kid?"

Bless you anon

He pretends not to care but it really gets to him that you're just ignoring him and staying as far away as you can. When he finds out you're pregnant and it's his you are never leaving his sight and when he lets you one of his goons always go with you. He's not letting you or his kid get hurt by some stupid fuck on this town

[teatitty]

Skippin the stuff to do with Hal's side of the story [it's just him and Guy catching each other up and their goings on] here is why they didn't fall for the Parallax Bug!

Things quickly spiral from here once they get to talking about their respective alliances and dealings and Guy mentions that him and Ganthet were gonna deliver Krona right to Atrocitus

You'll find out in a second that this fight is partially high temper stress and partially them finally being influenced by Krona's hold on the rings - but it is really funny that this basically boils down to them going "No I'M gonna be the suicidal sacrifice!!!!" well done boys I see neither of you has gone to therapy for anything ever

Hal is the first to realise they're being influenced so they decide the best way to Stop All That is to disengage from their rings entirely. IE: beat the fuck outta eachother until their power drains and the uniform disappears

Guy puttin some ice on his bruises to soothe his pains meanwhile Hal is rawdogging this shit as per usual. Seein them in their regular clothes together feels so intimate are you gonna hold hands [Guy is practically naked to me after I got so used to him being in uniform 24/7]

[sokkawordbender]

Akatsuki No yona

Ch 267 my honest thoughts, I'm going to be very harsh and critical.

look away fellas if you think yona is a victim and are willing to defend her, also think Hak is hot stuff. Sorry I'm allergic to such people, had to put in a disclaimer.

I was not going to read it BC I knew I would be rage baited. But I read and I got baited and I am raged.

Towards my future, so the fate of country and everything's about her lineage was all hyped up all the way to the last volume, ended up being about her future? I'm not surprised. Please, why bring her into monarchy and play her in front lines when she is going to think only about herself. Not once did she think, oh no my country is going to perish because of my existence and actions.

Thinking of her companions where she resides alone? Highly Debatable. She is not alone neither in heaven nor on earth. She always has charmed dogs who mindlessly follow her like she is entitled with their loyalty as her birth right. Even when she is in her final showdown and what's supposed to be hell and be the final challenge for her, she is lying on a bed of flowers

OK first of all as much as I wanted the reunion this was not how I expected. Just the way they are shielding her ughhh.... Bish please nothing is gonna happen to her, she is already protected.

When she was swallowed by the swarm of those flowers, I was genuinely expecting her to confront the corrupted dragons ALONE. But no her dogs are already following her with an invisible leash. I'm starting hate anyone who now shields her. Everyone is "I'll do anything for yona dear". Core.

Zeno looks dead on the inside(poor baby).

Yona...he wasn't protecting shit. He was ....just watching.

Also, I was awaiting yellow dragon's presence and his role. Turns out, it was just to be their convenient ride from heaven to earth and be the OP ally against corrupted dragons. So this was the only reason for yellow dragon to exist outside the heavens? Just be convenient plot armor to help her give a piggy ride? And are there only five dragons in heaven?

Once again yona is not facing the ultimatum with her own efforts. She is whining crying, begging and showing her desperation. I know ... I understand... After all what can a person do against these beings, but her getting a convenient way out is always off putting. I was hoping her to be helpless in the hellhole for a while.

How is it right? She is basically rawdogging.

They are giving me empty headed people with no thoughts of their own and no perspective. They are here for filling convenient plot holes whenever FL needs it and we are here for you to sacrifice cuz we know how to bear pain instead of you. They basically filler characters now.

Why? Why??? I wonder.

Also, jaeha's leg and shinah's eyes were pretty to me and they didn't deserve that. Just remembering the generational trauma and pain that dragon warriors suffered, Indeed I wonder why?

I'm starting to hate when jaeha calls her yona dear because its now just empty character style. No longer it is a title of adoration to me.

This was interesting to me because what was earth like before the dragons descended. Were humans a wild specie? Lol. Did they really have no sense of living and were they savages to the point that a dragon had to be descended in human for to BLESS them with divinity so that they become 'more human'? And by that logic, will common sense of living with peace and morality disappear and wars continue if dragons were to disappear? What a joke.

Humans have and will continue to flourish the earth. It has always been power of people. In these 2k years that zeno suffered, dragons didn't do shit. Human civilization thrived on its own.

Seeee. She isn't alone. And after reading this I feel sorry for the dragons to a certain amount because maybe the love they feel must be immense considering they were immortal beings and it affected them greatly that red dragon sort of abandoned them for lesser beings.

Her monologue is very funny, gurl don't tell us things we already know. She basically said milk is white. I was at least expecting her to understand their root cause of insanity and how much they wanted red dragon to be with them after seeing that memory but instead she just says"ah.. So This is the memory" idk maybe she is viewing the memories as a third person and not her own?

Her, as a princess of the nation (bc she kept emphasizing on her self as the daughter of KIng Il and the kingdom as the country of her father) wishes for her reason of existence as this? Did somewhere along the way the prophecy and the whole fiasco got into her head and this persona of master of dragons became more important than the reason of going against Soowon? She was so hell bent on understanding why Soowon wanted to rule the country like so and blah blah as if she cared about people in earnest. And when the revelation came to her, there was no significant response either. Like it just happened. Reading Yonhi's diary and truth about her father didn't even make her flinch. Its just that she understands him a little better.

This right here is what she considers about in earnest. This is her when she truly is desperate. She wasn't this desperate for her people. I still think her role in politics was played the worst way possible and her aura max portrayal was just cringe and she didn't deserve those screen panels during the war.

So, ruining the state of equilibrium and shoving country into darkness at the expense of her going back to earth did not stop her or even made her think once, but the thought of harming Hak did? She looks horrified at the thought. But was not horrified when the dragons said that if she goes back the country would plunge into darkness???? She didn't give a second thought before going headfirst into earth even when she knew what would happen to the country and the people. Maybe she considered her self a magical girl who if went into darkness, the darkness would disappear by her OPness and problem solved. At these moments, I remember what Soowon said, "any country that values wellbeing of single person above the wellbeing of the nation is bound to fall"

The way she is reaching out, I swear if she comes out of that crest portal thingy right into Hak's arm, I'd be pissed. Because yay another damsel moment. I'm starting to hate their interactions. And if Soowon ended up pining, or ended up being sacrificed or ended up being overshadowed infront of the GREATNESS OF YONA.... I'll burn all the copies. The blind following these people have for religion and its embodiment is crazy.

Also, Soowon you look gorgeous in that panel at the end. That shirt is *kiss*

[rollingblakely]

Hey there, welcome to the chaos. ✨I'm disabled, chronically ill, neurodivergent, and proudly intersex—and if you're any of those things too, I hope you feel seen here. 🫶🏻

Dynamic As Hell 😎

I'm an incomplete paraplegic with dynamic disabilities-meaning some days I can pivot off a foot with assistance, and other days I can't scoot myself up on the couch because my arms are like "bestie no." | use a manual chair with power assist when I can and a power chair when I can't. (Shoutout to my Quantum Edge 3-coming soon to a hallway near me.)

My very unsexy but educational medical resume:

Congenital Myasthenic Syndrome (CMS): A rare neuromuscular disorder where my muscles and nerves straight up ghost each other, causing muscle weakness, loss of sensation, fatigue and joint subluxations (my joints out here freelancing).

Glycogen Storage Disease: My body stores energy like a toxic ex- inefficiently and with long-term consequences.

Dysautonomia (IST): My heart rate is the only thing about me that knows how to hustle.

Also living with: ME/CFS, cluster headaches (ow), fibromyalgia, incontinence (fun!), Hashimoto's, skeletal abnormalities in my spine (lost the genetic lottery) and chronic pain so consistent it's basically a roommate.

Intersex + Gender Is A Journey, Baby! 😮‍💨

I'm intersex and nonbinary, a proud blend of both. l've had male characteristics since I was 9, and when I got my medical records as an adult, I learned my original birth certificate just said "O." I don't fit in any binary box-so I don't try to. I'm both. I'm neither. I'm a little beard, a little glitter, and a lot of "what gender feels correct today?" I never know if I'm gonna wake up feeling like a glam queen or an Adam Sandler character. Either way, I always slay. 😉

Raw Dogging Mental Health:

I'm healing out loud after a childhood of abuse that started at 9 that contributed to my C-PTSD, ADHD, OCD, autism spectrum disorder, and agoraphobia.

I can't take SSRIs, atypical antidepressants, or antipsychotics due to my conditions and genetics-so l'm rawdogging my mental health journey and somehow thriving anyway?!? 👀

I'm at the gym 3-4x a week (yes, even in a wheelchair-accessibility is radical), exposure therapy, shadow work, and finding the delicate balance between respecting my body's limits and pushing through executive dysfunction. I’m unlearning all the cruel ways of thinking my parents taught me growing up, and learning to be comfortable with being uncomfortable. Some days the healing looks like deep inner work. Some days look like watching reality TV and crocheting until mv hands cramp.

It's messy. It's magical. It's all mine.

Breaking News: There’s No “Bad” Foods After All.

I'm healing my relationship with food. After years of chaos and a major health crash last year, I've lost 80 lbs total-12 of those since getting back on track. Now that my partner is my legal caregiver, l've got the support I need, and my body finally feels like it's starting to work with me, not just against me. I'm not chasing thinness-I'm chasing peace when I make a meal or shop for groceries.

My Little Joys

• Crochet: If it's practical, chunky, or a granny square, l'm in. Currently obsessed with amigurumi but forever starting five new projects before finishing one.

• Reality TV: Yes, I watch 1000lb Sisters, Teen Mom, and Sister Wives. No, I will not apologize. The tea is PIPING. ☕️🐸

• Financial Literacy: My partner and I watch Caleb Hammer while eating dinner. We paid off $10k in debt last year, and now that I have been approved for SSDI I'm able to support myself for the first time in years-and it feels so damn good.

• Art + Gaming: I love painting, drawing, and chill cozy games on the Switch (Paleo Pines, Cozy Garden, anything where I can grow fake plants and pet fake cows).

• Music: Raised by my grandparents = 60s-80s classics. Mom gave me 90s-2000s R&B/pop. Godfather gave me Latin music. Stepdad gave me Bob Marley. Theater kid brain gave me musicals. If I'm conscious, music is playing.

This space is for disabled joy, queer magic, healing energy, and a lot of chaos. Hope you’re hungry, cause baby I’m serving. 💖

[davekat-sucks]

To be fair to Karkat, while I don't defend the sexist remarks

*proceeds to defend the sexist remarks, say karkat has every right to be a bitter fuck, while also framing jade as a thirsty homewrecker that is desperate for dave to "rawdog" her, and saying she's so disgusting that that's why he doesn't fuck her, and the main party to blame for the RETARDED war that was used as an excuse for Karkat to commit genocide*

nah dog, i'm tired of the karkat stans, they are truly as bad as dave's thirsty fangirls that said terezi was at fault of being abused and that she cheated on him with gamzee, that dave did NUTHIN WRONG in breaking up with her and not defending HIS GIRLFRIEND from gamzee or helping HIS SISTER with her alcoholism and putting all the responsibility onto Kanaya. all while karkat did fucking NOTHING either.

karkat was ALSO the only canonical homewrecker that was so fucking horny of getting his micro penis wet that he always butted between jade and terezi's relationship with dave, and complained like a whiny bitch about how neither of those girls liked him better than dave, all while also writing a fucking SCHEDULE to quadrant share terezi with dave. because he never fucking saw terezi as anything more than a fleshlight, same goes for jade, because while jade was crying with jadesprite over their own mortality after sacrificing herself for John, Karkat's weasely ass got horny while he imagined them kissing. he's disgusting.

and if you don't agree, answer me, WHY did they switch this aspect of Karkat and gave it to JADE and ROSE, so they could frame BOTH OF THEM as a horny desperate homewreckers that want to molest/sexualize him and useless uncaring wombs, instead of MAKING KARKAT ACCOUNTABLE OF *HIS* OWN FUCKING MISTAKES?

because they are sexist, and want to sell merch of karkat getting rawdogged by dave.

so no anon, i dont give a single fuck about what meenah's dildo has to complain about.

go through the karkat tag on this blog or read this post on everything wrong surrounding his writing, i'm tired of this bullshit of woobyfying this manchild because everyone gaslight themselves into thinking he was always a good character.

https://www.tumblr.com/davekat-sucks/778993336378966016/look-im-sorry-but-i-just-cant-get-over-this?source=share

Very well said, Anon.

[myfandomrealitea]

Hey so i was wondering if you have a piece on how fanfics about real people. Been in fandoms since 2012 and well growing up in such places you learn ( just like you wrote in your fanfic’s are a restaurant, don’t order it if you don’t like it)

(All within reason)

You can enjoy what to read. Your business no need to push it down someone’s throat neither is someone pushing anything for you to like. Don’t like it, it isn’t for you, move on.

I wrote something recently saying how surprised i am I didn’t find fanfic’s on a certain actor, seen as there is always something for everyone. Then someone jumps my throat and says how unacceptable it is to write about actual people.

I remember vividly this conversation has been had in the sherlock fandom when Benedict found some fic’s about him and it started the conversation “ actor fanfic’s; okay or not”

I told this person to move on and mind their business. If it isn’t for you, move on. There is plenty of fanfics for henry cavill / jensen ackels and other known actors so what is the problem with me asking about a new person who is on the come up. It isn’t a niche choice i know that actor ( alan ritchson) is going to have quite the fanbase after the ministry of ungentlemanly warfare.

So please tell me, am i crazy? I remember the debate years ago on fanfic morality being settled with the verdict of “ as long as you are not a creep who is walking up to actors or bothering them with fic’s about THEM not characters and keeping to yourself as ang other fic… you do you”

RPF is a touchy spot for a lot of people, but in short, writing RPF is perfectly fine provided you follow the typical safeguarding measures such as using sites like AO3, using proper tags to enable blacklisting, ect.

RPF is not and frankly has never been the problem. The problem is specific individuals with no regard or respect for real life boundaries and proper conduct.

Celebrities know RPF happens. Trust me; they know. They know people are on specific websites writing the nastiest rawdogging you can imagine.

Celebrities are also aware of the means by which they can avoid it. They are not clueless little creatures bumbling around and accidentally finding the likes of AO3. They know.

Just like with fan-to-fan content, its our job as their fans to respect their boundaries and choices by giving them the appropriate measures by which to control what parts of our world they see.

(Its part of why you'll never see me on the likes of Twitter sharing fanfic, fanart, ect. The filtering tools on Twitter are frankly appalling and the knowledge that my monsterfucking eggpreg ABO dystopian smutverse could end up on Henry Cavill's homefeed would leave me actually killing myself with a hammer.)

[butchrindou]

i feel like rins the type of girl to fast w u.. like idk she doesnt even celebrate ramadan but if her girl isnt eating NEITHER IS SHE 👊🇺🇸🔥 can u confirm or deny this at all

THIS IS KILLKNB MEEE honestly. yeah and then she doesn’t even wake up for suhoor and thinks she can rawdog it .. she just does it for the bit like i see her as that one image that’s like muslim fellas will smoke drink fight whatever whatever and then say no to a bacon egg and cheese SHES THAT. SHE DGAF 😭😭😭 im typing this out while im having suhoor too immmm. my friend and i had a whole conversation about muslim htns cuz we alr hc them as half middle eastern LOL but they are the last people to ever do shit seriously for it

[lightlycareless]

Do you think when Naoya and Y/N decide they’re done having kids, Naoya would get a vasectomy or Y/N would go back on some sort of birth control or would they just settle for condoms until menopause lol

Hello!!

I was actually thinking that for this ask over here! I wanted it to be a "Naoya had a vasectomy done, but things still happen and there you have it, Naohime was born!" but since the possibilities are so low... I decided against it.

Anyways...

Let's be real. There's no way any of you would settle for using condoms. Nope, that ain't happening. Instead, the two would sit down and talk about what to do to prevent another pregnancy since neither want any more kids—the risks of doing certain procedures and such.

Naoya immediately thinks of a vasectomy. He doesn't care if his family is going to bitch about it, say it's "unmanly" and whatnot; he's done his due, gave the Zen'in a bunch of heirs to choose from, so he can finally do what he wants.

Also, because he knows the side effects birth control pills can have on a body and he doesn't want to put you through more risks after giving him a wonderful family + still having to undergo menopause.

However, I still feel like the two would want to be... safe; do something else just in case. In other words, freeze his sperm/your eggs if anyone changes their mind down the road. I truly feel they'd keep on having kids if it weren't so exhausting/demanding and bad to the other children on the long term; they just want one big happy family to love and cherish forever 😭

So there you have it, Naoya would get a vasectomy because it's safe, the best way to avoid compromising your health, and because he really, really doesn't want another child after the 5 little gremlins he's got back home (lol) + he can continue rawdogging you to his hearts desire :)

Thank you for sending in this ask!! ngl I was a bit startled to receive this because I was like "no way... I was thinking that too!!" lol but I still had fun answering it :>

Take care, and hope to see you soon!

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  fragilecapric0rn! @fragilecapric0rnn has written 22 fics in the Stranger Things fandom and 21 of them are in the Steddie tag!

@cheatghost recommends the following works by @fragilecapric0rnn:

It Might Be Worth It For Once

clown music at the disco

you can take the heart from your chest to use as a compass when you are lost

Catch Me (I'm Falling)

Anyway, It's About Old Friends

"Sen's body of work is like a truly love letter to the characters. No matter the universe, Steve and Eddie always feel authentic to themselves. Sen's love for classic rom-coms influences a lot of her writing and makes for really romantic, touching stories. It's an absolute delight to dive into a world crafted by this author!" -- @cheatghost

Below the cut, @fragilecapric0rnn answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I think in May of 2022 I was bit by the same bug as everyone else. Before I started writing Steddie, I was on a 4-year fic writing hiatus, and it was like seeing those two interact on screen zapped my brain awake. The chemistry, the potential, the fact that one half of the ship got ripped away from us too soon. All of those components really did something to my brain and I decided I had to write them and I haven’t looked back since!

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I love a idiots to lovers! These two really have the potential to fit that trope so well!

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Second-chance at romance! If you’ve seen any of my fics, you know that I love and will take any chance to write 90s older steddie, haven’t spoken or seen each other in years, who re-meet and fall in love. It is so them, it is my favorite version of them. It’s the version of them that lives in my head!

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

There are so many good ones to choose from, but I think I have to go with Show Me the Place Where He Inserted the Blade by the incomparable, the magnificently talented and outstanding Cheatghost. Lou, who I am very proud to call a friend, is one of the most talented people I know and I feel very lucky to have had them brought into my life via the Steddie brainrot.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Is it lame if I say no? LOL. Honestly, I have written almost everything I have felt the need to explore with this pairing. A lot of my ideas moving forward are expansions/continuations of ideas that I already started or have posted before. 

What is your writing process like?

Right now it’s at its most unstructured because I am rawdogging life without my ADHD meds for the first time in 7 years, which has been a whirlwind but I am managing. However, it usually depends on the fic I’m writing! For a lot of my longfic, I have a physical notebook that has an outline and major plot points I want to hit at certain times in my stories. Other times, for the shorter fics/one-shots, I just write them all in one go. It starts with a (usually silly) idea, and then I get possessed by the writing demons, and suddenly, I haven’t moved from my chair in 2 hours and I have four thousand words on my screen. I contain multitudes!

Do you have any writing quirks?

I am a victim of the: One word. One phrase. Lin breaks for emphasis. And I will be doing it until someone who is being paid real money to publish one of my original works tells me to knock it off!

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Again, asking if it’s bad if I say neither? When I first started posting fic again, I was very much writing it all and then posting it over the course of a few days. But now, I tend to write sporadically and post even more sporadically. And I prefer the latter! Fanfiction, and fandom in general, is a collaborative experience in its heart and soul. One of my favorite things about longfic is posting a chapter and seeing what people take away from it, because 9/10 it’ll be different then what the writer thinks they’re going to take away! And the chance to change and rework and let yourself be influenced by other fans of the ship is taken away when you write it all at once and post it all at once.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Anyway, It’s About Old Friends. Even in its unfinished form, it is my magnum opus. My white whale. I have done some of my best writing in it (chapter 2 MY BELOVED) and the fact that its so close to the end is both exciting and terrifying. It is a fic I wrote and continue to write for me, and the fact that other people are reading and enjoying it is a win!

How did you get the idea for It Might Be Worth It For Once?

HA! So, I was chatting with my friend Emily (JudasofSuburbia) about a potential Pornstar!Steve AU offhandedly back in the fall. Then, I got paired with them for a little fic exchange between friends, and it felt natural to take that one off little conversation and turn it into a fic for her. It was one of those fics that started out as a silly idea and then suddenly it’s been six hours and I wrote the whole thing in one go! After some polishing and editing, it became a Pornstar!AU with not as much smut as I expected. It was so fun to write, made even more fun as it was for a dear friend.

When writing Anyway, It's About Old Friends, what was something you didn’t expect?

I didn’t expect it to change and mold and morph in the way that it did. There is a version of this fic where they do hook-up earlier, there’s a version where they re-meet at gay club and not a wedding, there’s a version where Steve marries a Evie and Eddie is Raul. But, this version feels the most right. It’s a story about heartbreak, about finding love (in all it forms) in unexpected places, and it’s about found family most of all. All of that was stumbled on accidentally! My only intention was to write a Steddie-fied When Harry Met Sally fic, and accidentally flashed my heart and soul. Whoops!

What inspired clown music at the disco?

I used to be an opener at a coffee shop and there is something so disorienting and mind altering about having disco music blasting on the speakers at 4am. But, it was in one of those moments, where I was so tired I was nauseous, that the fic idea came to me! I had already been thinking of writing as my first fic, Steve and Eddie accidentally have a Devil’s Sacrament moment at the gay bar, but the line “But it’s Disco Night”, came to me at the ungodly hour of 4 in the morning. What a time!

What was your favorite part to write from you can take the heart from your chest to use as a compass when you are lost?

The Never Have I Ever Scene! It was the first time I wrote the entire party in one scene and it’s chaotic and a little messy but it was one of my favorite parts of the fic. It also made me realize how much I love writing ensemble scenes! Just everyone trying to talk over each other, chaos in its best form.

How do/did you feel writing Catch Me (I'm Falling)?

I wrote this fic in the span of like almost 3 weeks? I was sick and burnt out for most of the time I was writing it, but it was almost a compulsion. I had the idea and I just HAD to write it. No outline, just vibes and Steve Harrington in a cheerleading uniform! I took it down for a while because I was turning it into something else, but then had a change of heart and put it back up. And part of me is glad that I took it down for a moment because people love to be weird about the feminizing Steve’s character, and even though I was writing him as a cheerleader, I tried really hard to keep him earnestly himself, and in character.

What was the most difficult part of writing Anyway, It's About Old Friends?

Writing about San Francisco while being the most homesick I have ever been in my life. Also writing Eddie in those first few chapters as an asshole but not unlikable. I didn’t want him to be “fine” (because no one is fine in this universe, especially not in the beginning) but I also didn’t want him to do or say anything too bad. I think I got a handle on it pretty well.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

In Faces Freedom With A Little Fear, the first scene in the hospital with Steve’s sister. She storms in, threatens federal agents, all for her brother. JJ Harrington you will always be famous!

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Just my current WIPs! Anyway It’s About Old Friends; the When Harry Met Sally AU of my dreams. Hand on My Stupid Heart; the modern AU, where the UD exists but everyone has iPhones and Steve deals with his bisexuality!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Shout out to my boys! Kkpwnall, judasofsuburbia, figthefruitfaeth, gideoncharov, cheatghost, fastcardotmp3, snowangeldotmp3 you guys rule and they’re all so talented!!!! Thank you to whoever nominated me! I feel the love and give it back to you tenfold!!!!!!

Thank you to our author, @fragilecapric0rnn, and our nominator, @cheatghost! See more of fragilecapric0rn's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[bunnakit]

Not Me Episode 2 Music

this is kind of a boring day but there are some gems. thank you all for the kind words in the tags, pls know i'm not just rawdogging this. there is a spotify playlist of MOST of the songs (some are truly impossible to find) and i've listened to it on repeat enough i can recognize a lot of them.

So To Say - Taylor Crane

@williamrikers already touched on this one a little! This plays when White confronts the group about the plan and makes Yok reiterate the details of the plan as they're picking up the gas. (This song is also featured in episode 13 of Kinnporsche!)

??? - Tristan Barton

There's no doubt in my mind that the song playing during Dan's painting scene is a Tristan Barton composition, however, I cannot for the life of me figure out which one. It's very similar to 'Fighter' and 'Dawn Raider' - both would be very appropriate titles for this scene - but neither is quiiite right. Tristan Barton does often make custom songs for projects so it's entirely possible this was an original piece that is unlisted.

Finding My Memories - Sivan Talmor, Yehezkel Raz

Now we're into the interesting stuff. This song plays when White is confronting the image of Black and questioning why he's going to such extremes. It's fairly easy to interpret this as White desperately trying to find any key to Black's past, obtain any scrap of Black's memories to make all of this make sense.

'Freedom is the Oxygen of the Soul'

Guys I tried so hard. I spent about an hour scrounging every corner of the internet, demanding answers from Shazam and lyric finder sites, I listened to so, so many shitty songs.

@sparklyeyedhimbo had but one message for me after my hunt:

But you know what happened? @timetoboldlygo came in CLUTCH! (Kissing you forever Claire.)

Discover by Lane King is the song that plays during the motorcycle ride with White and Gram! I've been wanting to find this song for ages, it's so soft and relaxing and beautiful and I think it's a little breath of fresh air. It's the perfect song to accompany White's semi-awakening to what it means to be truly free, to make decisions for yourself and just breathe.

Light's Gone - Nylonia

Another hard hitter. Light's Gone plays as Black flatlines? Goes into cardiac arrest? Whatever the fuck is happening to that little freak (affectionate.) The light is quite literally leaving Black's body at the same time the light in White's life is trying to leave him. Ouch.

Lunar Eclipse - Marc Torch

Ahh, Lunar Eclipse my beloved. This song appears a lot in GMMTV projects particularly. It's in The Eclipse funny enough as well as another show I watched recently and cannot for the life of me remember (Enchante maybe?) Either way, GMMTV loves Lunar Eclipse (probably because it's royalty free and they don't have to pay anything for it) and to be fair so do I. (This plays immediately after Light's Gone as White stands up and begins changing clothes.)

Stronger - Lars Lowe, Jowen

The episode ends on this song as White and Sean have their completely heterosexual little race to the garage. I believe this song is supposed to be something hopeful, almost an encouragement or reflection of White's inner thoughts. He's getting better at this, he's improving and learning to be a better Black everyday, and he's going to be better and stronger at the end of this fight he's chosen.