#or whatever it is after i read that fucking book

[unpretty]

How did you get so good at writing??? Did you take classes? I feel like you should get paid all the money for this! (I subscribe to your website!)

after i dropped out of high school i found a torrent of like 5GB of OCRd romance novels and i read like 3 romance novels a day for a while

read enough romance novels and you will realize that they live or die entirely on technical skill. if you are new to romance novels then even bad ones can dazzle you with novelty but by the time you are on your 30th historical fake engagement between a bluestocking and a rakish duke you can grade them and you know when they've failed. when two books have what should be the same main characters hitting the same plot beats, but one of those books is delightful and the other fucking sucks, you learn some things. some books are bad and still delightful. other books are good but they just don't hit. you start to see the seams in the bad ones. 'oh, this is a weird out of character moment because she wanted to have the kabedon moment and didn't know how to get there'. 'she didn't want the ust to end but couldn't think of a better reason than this deus ex cockblock.' that kind of thing.

you could probably do this with other genres but i like romance because the plot is two people fall in love. that's it. everything else is set dressing. if you can figure out how to make that work you can carry it over into whatever other genre you feel like. mysteries would give you a different skillset around plotting that i don't have.

anyway after that i wrote a lot.

[lightseoul]

a/n. once again, i have been inspired by a random instagram reel. i didn't even watch it, really—i just saw the keyword and was immediately spurred into writing this. enjoy <3 (0.9k)

you feel his gaze on you before you even think of meeting it.

“what,” you state more than ask when he doesn’t let up after a minute, not bothering to look up from the book you’re reading.

a scoff resounds from his direction. then: “too lazy to even move your shitty eyes?”

“don’t have to,” you retort as you finally close the paperback, shifting in your bed to regard him. “you’re boring holes into my face with all that staring.”

from where he’s seated at your dining table, bakugou grumbles, although he doesn’t deny the allegations. your face softens when you realize belatedly that he’s being awfully quiet—a jarring juxtaposition to his usual brashness.

something’s up.

but you know better than to pry it from him.

you mentally sigh. the roundabout way it is.

“what, am i extra pretty today?” you joke out of your ass, and that catches him off guard because he chokes on his own spit. that wasn’t part of the plan but you can’t help it—you laugh as he coughs his lungs out, somehow managing to throw in a curse or two in between rasps.

“shitty fucking—” he hacks some more, and when he finally recovers: “i don’t know why i fucking put up with you.”

you shrug, not at all hurt by the otherwise scathing statement. he’s said that to you too many times to count and yet, he’s still here. hanging out with you in your apartment on a friday night, no less.

you don’t point out any of that, though, confident that said knowledge is true enough for the both of you to leave it unspoken. so instead, you continue down the jesting route. “you wouldn’t know how to talk to girls without me, that’s why.”

“fuck off,” he tosses without missing a beat. “i can get the fuck by without your shitty ass guidance.”

that makes you grin, because no, he definitely can’t. how can he when he refuses to do the very first step? as in, choose a girl to talk to?

you know, someone who isn’t you.

his reluctant (best) friend.

and as if he read your mind, he shoots you a pointed look. “and i told you,” he hisses, “you use up all my fuckin’ tolerance. can’t have another girl around because you drive me crazy enough.”

“thanks, kats. i love you, too.”

“whatever,” he answers petulantly as he looks away, although you catch wind of the faint tinge of pink spreading across his cheeks like it always does when you shower him with affection—to his chagrin.

“so…” you start when neither of you says anything for a moment, “am i extra pretty today? or do you wanna share, i don’t know, something.”

“if i spit it out, will you fucking stop badgering me about how you look? you haven’t even showered today, for fuck’s sake.”

a pillow is flung across the room before you can think against it.

“wha—” he gets out instinctively before dodging it with ease. you roll your eyes as he flashes you a victorious smirk. of course. of all the jobs he could have in the world, he had to be a pro-hero and have the signature pro-hero reflexes.

his countenance then morphs as he stares at you expectantly, waiting for an answer, and you have to bite back the fuck you that’s dangling at the tip of your tongue. instead, you give him a curt nod, feigning nonchalance to further coax him into spilling whatever’s in his mind.

“go on,” you press when he doesn’t follow it up immediately after.

“i’m getting to it, alright? jesus.”

a pause.

then, another.

and when you’re finally convinced he’s just playing with you and won’t reveal whatever secret he’s got hidden behind the vault he calls his lips, he says it.

“i’m getting a vasectomy.”

you blink at him.

that was not what you were expecting.

“wh—what?”

you can only watch him in utter bewilderment as he flushes, covering up his fluster with a glare. “you heard me.”

“but, kats,” you begin, not knowing how to say the next bit, “…you’re a virgin. and you’ve never been with anyone romantically.”

the pink from earlier instantly deepens into a scarlet. “so what, hah? you’re the one to talk!”

“no, no,” you manage to respond, slowly shaking your head. you have no idea what’s happening. “that wasn’t meant to be a roast. like, at all. it’s just…why?”

bakugou doesn’t answer right away, instead choosing to press his lips into a thin line.

“you said it yourself, didn’t you?” he says after a while, voice uncharacteristically hushed, as if he doesn’t want you to hear him. you lean in ever so minutely, straining to listen from a few feet away.

“said wait?” you ask, matching the stillness of his tone.

“that birth control fucks you up.”

at that, you barely manage to school your shock into a neutral expression, although it’s definitely your heart that’s suddenly hammering wildly against your chest at his admission. you open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. his gaze is dizzyingly penetrating as you struggle to get your words out, until you finally manage a warbled “y-yeah.”

he probably meant that birth control fucks you—women—up, and not you you.

yeah, that’s definitely it.

with this new strand of knowledge, you’re able to muster a genuine smile his way. “that’s very thoughtful of you, kats.”

and just because you like to be sure of things, you throw in the next thing for good measure.

“she’ll be very lucky to have you.”

silence.

“hah?!”

(the keyword was vasectomy lol) (petition for more birth control methods for men)

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra

[kingkat12]

neurons (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, mentions of sex, foul language, author knows nothing about neurons lol

summary: Roman Godfrey is most certainly not the best study partner to have the night before an important test. what a shocker (not).

word count: 1,106

a/n: kingkat is BACK!! exams are fucking killing me, so when that is over, you best believe I will be back to my usual uploading schedule!! however, I scrapped this together for y'all (and also for myself because pls I need a Roman to get me through this study period). also, WARNING, I don't know anything about chemistry and neurons, I just had to think about anything other than my test rn which is in 6 hours... ENJOY<33 (also the gif is from @godfreysteel if I remember correctly, pls kick my ass if I'm wrong ouf)

"A neuron is an excitable cell that fires electric signals called action potentials across a neural network in the nervous system. They are located in the brain and..." Roman peeked up from the chemistry book with a rather offended look streaking across his face; "You're not listening to me, are you?"

Realizing I was being spoken to, I raised my head from the bed, flaunting a nervous smile. Honestly, I had nearly dozed off. "I am, I am! I swear, I was just!--"

"Listening with your eyes closed?"

Fuck. With a groan, I buried my face in the duvet I was lying on. "Look, Ro, I really appreciate your help, but I'm not going to learn this the night before the test... We should just give up,"

I knew that Roman Godfrey wasn't known for being the best at school-- however, he was the only person in my contacts who was available at midnight, and I was having the biggest case of brain fog known to man. Nothing was sticking. Seven hours and forty-six minutes until I was supposed to be seated in the auditorium at school, taking the dreaded midterm exam in chemistry, this was my only option. This test was supposed to be notoriously hard, so of course I hadn't bothered looking at it before now. Of course. 

Huffing, Roman spun around in my chair, looking both bored and frustrated. "I'm so glad I took this test last year," he muttered, just like every other senior did when this test had been mentioned over the past few weeks. "I'm aware that I can't help you with much, 'cause you didn't exactly call the designated nerd or something. But now that you've dragged my ass all across town to not sleep with me, you could at least listen?" He moved the chair closer to the bed, leaning over to poke my head. "Think of it like you're listening to an audio book, okay? My voice is nice, after all. Deep and warm, like--"

"Honey?" I chimed in, raising myself to look at him. 

Roman blinked. He looked at me like I was the biggest idiot in the world before he plainly answered; "No. Pussy," 

That was it. Having my fuck-friend teach me chemistry certainly didn't make me the brightest girl in the state. This was a bad idea; I groaned, rolling my eyes as I shifted on the bed, sitting up. "Keep going, then," I said, doing my best not to yawn. "A neuron is an... excited cell?"

Smirking, Roman shook his head-- I wondered whether this made him feel smart. He had taken this test last year and passed it, after all. It wasn't looking like I would be passing it, so did that make Roman Godfrey smarter than me...?

That was a mortifying thought.

"The neuron is an excitable cell, whatever the fuck that means," Roman pointed to the paragraph in the book. "Let me continue, maybe it'll make sense to you if I keep going?" He kicked back in the chair again, leaning his legs on my bed before he lowered his voice, getting into a rather caricatured character of a narrator; "They are located in the brain and spinal cord and help to receive and conduct impulses. Neurons communicate with other cells via synapses, which are specialized connections that commonly use minute amounts of chemical--"

I yawned. Loudly. I couldn't take it anymore.

Roman's eyes shot up from the book, wider than ever. I held my breath, ready to be told off once more for not focusing properly, yet the next words that left his lips were ones of charming amusement; "I see that this isn't making you very... excitable," 

I let out a relieved sigh. "I give up. Could we just fuck instead? That thought makes me excitable,"

Slamming the book shut, Roman grinned. "You never disappoint," he murmured. Getting up from the chair, he motioned for me to lay down again; he didn't waste any time making his way between my legs, pressing soft kisses to my thighs. His words were interrupted with every kiss; "If you don't pass the test-- I'll pay someone to-- tweak your scores. Don't-- worry about it."

My breath hitched as I smiled up at the ceiling. "Why didn't you say that-- fuck, earlier?" I squirmed beneath Roman as he pushed the soft pillows of his lips to my clothed sex, humming. Every kiss, every touch, felt electrocuting; I wondered whether the neurons in my body had anything to do with these bodily reactions. Did they? I had no idea, and I realized I wasn't going to know at the end of the night either. 

"Because," Roman said, a hint of a laugh in his voice as he kissed his way up my body, listening to my nervous giggles of pleasure. "I like feeling-- helpful. No one has ever-- asked me to--" His kisses were getting wetter, more eager; "--revise anything-- with them."

My hands went to his hair, tugging at the tips of his soft, brown locks. "Makes sense," Of course. Who in their right mind would call Roman Godfrey to help them practice for a test? I knew that the only thing on his mind was pussy and... pussy. Along with all the other things about the female body that made him excitable, certainly. 

Roman pressed teasing kisses to my neck, wrapping his arms around my tired body. "Are you gonna call me the next time you have a test?" he purred.

"Um... Depends,"

"On what?"

"On whether I'm planning on taking it seriously," I gave Roman's hair another tug, hoping he'd kiss me properly soon. "If it's a life or death thing, you're probably not gonna get involved. However, if it's another chemistry test..." 

Hovering above me now, Roman nudged my nose with his as he smiled against my lips. "I see where you're going with this, I'll take it. But let me redeem myself, okay?"

"Uh... how?" An impossible task.

"I'll teach you the one thing I actually remember," he breathed. Judging by how quickly his smile turned into a smirk, I could almost foresee the next thing coming from his mouth; "The neurons are connected to the nervous system, so they're responsible for making you feel this." 

Roman's lips pressed against mine for the briefest moment-- it was so gentle, so tentative, that for a second, I thought I had simply imagined it. This wasn't usually how he kissed me. This was different. This was gentle, sincere. My breath felt stuck in my chest as my fist in his hair faltered, feeling as though my body was on fire. 

Fucking neurons, giving me hope that I could both pass the test and have Roman Godfrey for myself. 

(thank u to Wikipedia LMAOOO I would go on and refer to the article like I've been taught but I'm SALTY so no<3 mwah)

[cryptid-killjoy]

Willem was always going to be a guy down for a HTH break in. It was just the sort of adventure Wild Will was in toespecially if it ended in chilli dogs.

Willem also wasn't sure he ever thought of himself as a father figure to any of the dolls yet. Caretaker? Yes. Father, somehow, he didn't see himself as that even of his own creations even if that might have been somewhat true. Thoughts for another, perhaps. Emotions that hadn't quite matured or been labeled, perhaps.

"A mother? Hmm. I guess I can see that. I'll think about that."

He left it at that for more pondering later. What he knew for sure and did not have to think any longer on was Figaro looked cool as fucking get out with a firearm like that. It straight up suited them. Willem decided it was hot and gave it a double glance, maybe two.

"You look like a video game... in a cool way."

The compliment felt needed.

But moving along into the Livvy's home. Willem wouldn't know Figaro would have expected, but he knew what to expect with how many times he'd made these excursions to check the dolls. He navigated the home with ease.

Figaro wasn't wrong for thinking it was sad. Willem knew it was. It was why they didn't mind when Figaro first chose to stay at the ball. Sad things like this were often easier done in private. Modesty for humility. Smalls said no judgement and Will felt safe enough he wasn't unaware of how it would come off.

They laughed about the shrine and even turned red to some extent.

"I'm pretty sure she's my number one hater wherever she is now and has a voodoo doll of me and with its nuts in a vice on a Battleship board and keeps tossing it overboard. I have a theory they had something to do with Pan's flood making the blizzard melt day randomly a double hard moment for us because only she would hate me enough right now to want to make every moment of my life as hard as it could possibly be."

Even saying his theory out loud made him laugh.

"I'd have deserved it though. From her mind. We broke up after sailing on a ship across the water. Trying to drown me just makes sense to me. Poetic Justice. Whatever better form of justice is there?"

Despite it being oddly morbid he said it playful with humoral candor.

Then Figaro agreed to head on out and search for Livvy's uncle's closet.

"Okay, that's good. You come find me then."

He was going to go looking for Smalls, but Smalls said they'd come back when they were done, so they changed their mind and would wait for Smalls to come back to them.

When Figaro headed out Willem went along with his routine of tinkering with each shelf. He'd careful take ever figurine and doll off one shelf at a time and neatly lay them on the bed while he dusted the shelf and then cleaned the figures themselves before standing each one back one at a time. As he did this, he'd make sure any soft ones were fluffed and their dresses were tidied, shoelaces or bows flounced, and hats properly straightened. If Livvy had told him anything particular about the doll, he'd go through that memory in his mind to pay it homage to what sentimental value it held in the secrets of their faces. To the one he had no information he sent the same appreciation because there's sentiment in the bond of a knick knack, a memento, a toy, that's far stronger than just a memory.

He once considered memories like pages in a book of who a person is. They can be turned and re-turned again. He could read the same chapter more than once as many times as he liked for fun, but never truly relive it. A souvenir or memento of a memory is simply that, a small token. It could be thrown away or lost, but the memory still exists. The chapter can still be filed through in one's recollection. A doll however, a toy with a face, for some reason feels different to Willem than some token. Even silent it looks back. It gives the feeling it experienced all your eyes saw in that same memory. It experienced what you did. A shared experience becomes a friend not a souvenir. One can look into those non-moving eyes and think they were there. Maybe it was nuts? However, if you were a person who could also take those same dolls and bring them to life if he wanted the idea might not seem so farfetched. Lifeless dolls might seem more important than just some old attachment that needed to be let go of.

To Willem's credit he hadn't gone as far as bringing any of Livvy's dolls to life, but it had entered his mind. He was under no delusion he'd ever see Livvy again and he didn't want his old girlfriend's living dolls being a drain on relationships. He was bright enough to realize that could be a deal breaker moving forward. He just hadn't gotten to the fully moved forward part yet.

Okay, so he'd done a little messing around. Zero existed. Even Piper existed, more new, Nutmeg. These were not people who were ever going to be in Willem's life in a permanent way. They were when the mood hit kind of friends. These were complicated friends, not actual relationships.

All that said, none of it was on its mind now. Just the dolls were. When he finished with the cleaning, he'd pick up that mermaid again and sit down on the bed. It had a tendency to get the most favor and longest time being held. It had the vast majority of memories attached for Will. He laid back with it. He sat it on his chest and admired its face as he relaxed. He'd glance over at the shelf and give it a smile. Then he'd smooth over the mermaid's glossy hair. Motions like had a way triggering other past memories like turning Livvy into a doll at Barbie and Ken's party. He remembered the texture of her hair and the sand. He recalled the paints. He could relive every brush stroke of the artwork like muscle memory as porcelain slid under his his fingertips.

He sang one of the lines to the song he wrote Livvy just above a whisper. "If you don't feel that this is real then I'll just walk away. Way deep down I know I found the that proof that love can save. So take some time to figure out what this thing is all about. I hope some day you feel it too. I promise that I'll try to love the best I can. You make me a better man. Whatever this is leading to. For the first time I'm gonna listen to my heart."

Then he took a big breath and sat up. He kissed the little figurine. "I guess it all led me to you pretty lady. I saved you from the boxes. I can live with that."

Then he shined up her face one more time before placing her back in her proper place knowing full well his heart would always be with the dolls. It would be a big enough win for him.

"Thanks for being a part of that." He added as he tapped one finger tip on the glass after closing the shelving unit back up.

It left a smudge.

"Woops."

So, he went to Windex the last spot before he was completely done with the room. He cleaned it spotless enough for a bird to smash into. He was pleased with his work. He joked to the dolls, "Lucky this thing isn't a patio door."

“Now that would be entertaining to see. Especially if you two do the awkward dance of trying to pass each other but stepping in each other’s way,” Figaro said. Bright sides, sunny sides, you had to have the light to be able to have the dark too. Figaro tried to keep the balance.

Chili Dogs. Now that sounded good. Just the thought of it was enough to get the hunger going, the saliva flowing, despite being in this stink of a place. “Fuck it, we’re sneaking into Halloweentown one of these days. Once you try one of their Chili Cheese Dogs, your life isn’t going to be the same.”

Hansel as a handsome guy though? “It’s weird,” They said. “I feel somewhat … almost maternal over him? Guess I kind of am a parent now.”

What an odd thing to think about. What an odd thing to realize. In Funkytown, the dynamic hadn’t really changed. Figaro was in charge but hardly ever acted on it. It felt - wrong, somehow, to try to take control, having watched Gepetto give them their own autonomy, their own thoughts, their own actions. So Mr Punch kept being uncontrollable. Hansel kept living in the walls and being a bit of a pervert, his human body still having human feelings, thrusting against a wall while watching through a peephole.

“Yup, keeping this on me,” They agreed. It was not a good smell. Eventually all of the flesh and organs would rot away and then it would just be bones, which didn’t have as bad of a smell, but right now, it was pretty rank. The place needed some sort of Fabreeze cleansing. Or maybe Frank and Delta spent so much time up in their castle, they didn’t even know that it smelt so bad down here. They needed some sort of comment box, in Figaro’s opinion.

All of their information about guns came from movies and videogames. They knew at the very least to turn on the safety for now, until they would need it. “All I need are some green plants, and we’ve gone totally Resident Evil in this bitch.”

Great minds think alike. Figaro was also all about upgrading their setup at home. Getting a bigger TV, though the vintage one had been moved into their room, because they weren’t going to get rid of Gepetto’s things, other than giving some to Willem, of course. But it felt like he was one of Gep’s kids too. The stuff was THEIRS. Not just inherited by Fig. Better sound system, more gizmos and gadgets.

Figaro let Willem take the lead since they didn’t know their way around the apartment block. They had the gun in hand, waiting for a chance to use it. To ‘blast them’ as Thomas would say. Their knowledge of annoying curses and animal speak wasn’t the most useful for a zombie situation, except to get birds and other animals to let them know where the zombies themselves were. They had to bring out the big guns.

They didn’t say anything about Willem having the key. It just made sense, given that he came to visit the dolls. Others might have found it a bit romantic, perhaps, that he kept visiting his ex’s apartment, taking care of her things. But Figaro just found it practical.

The two of them went through the building, checking around corners, making sure that there wasn’t something waiting on just the other side. But it looked as if the building had mostly been cleaned out. Any life that was here that would have drew the zombies in, disappeared a long time ago. Still, once inside of the apartment, Figaro turned the lock on the door to feel a touch safer.

Though they were anxious to get at that Hawaiian shirt collection that hopefully had not been eaten away from bugs or faded by light coming in through the windows, they were curious about Livvy’s room, and would follow Willem inside. It wasn’t exactly what they had expected.

The shelves were new, and taken care of, that much was clear. It wasn’t covered in dust and cobwebs like everything else. The dolls seemed to be in a place of prevalence. They stood out, like they were an important item in a video game or something, rendered more predominantly.

“I’m a little surprised,” They admitted, hands on their hips, looking at the girliness of the room, the teal color that was on everything, the bit of a mess of clothes from when Livvy was deciding what to pack all that time ago for the big boat trip. “I was expecting a huge shrine to you,” They said, looking to Willem. “Or did you get embarrassed and take that down?”

They weren’t trying to be funny or teasing, that’s genuinely what Figaro thought that they would walk into when it came to Livvy’s space. A whole wall plastered with pictures of Willem, maybe some with Fig but with Fig’s face cut out or something like that. Pieces of his hair, his toenail clippings, on a shelf. This was a voodoo town after all, it wouldn’t be hard for some white girl to get their hands on some sort of love potion or DIY-Voodoo-Doll set. But it was actually pretty … relaxed in here.

They were watching Willem more than the dolls after that, making sure that he was going to be alright while doing this. But maybe it was something that he just needed to do, the way that some people just needed a big cry. Something about it being cathartic.

‘Miss her if she comes back.’ ‘Don’t get too lonely.’

It was … kind of sad.

“Yes, I’ll leave you guys to talk and gossip and … do whatever it is that y’all do in here, no judgment,” They said, putting their hands up and backed out of the room slowly. “I’ll come find ya once I finish raiding that closet.”

[letmelickyoureyeballs]

Yummy Yummy Eye

Finally indulged in my fantasy of licking Silco's mutated eye and decided to write a reader insert fic of it.

Not beta read, and can also be found on AO3 here.

Word Count: 2.6k

Relationships: Silco x You, Silco x GN!Reader

Tags: Eye Sex, Eye Licking, No Smut/Sex, But heavily suggestive, Some Fluff, Shimmer, Inappropriate Use of Shimmer, I guess?, Trust, Biting kink, Only mentioned though, Established Relationship, Teasing, Suggestive Themes

Summary: You’ve been dying to lick Silco’s mutated eye since the first time you both met.

A couple of months later and after some slight conversation with him, it looks like you’ll finally get your wish, and it'll help ease that itch inside you that desires the unknown.

You couldn’t stop staring at his eye. The brilliant orange and black that it was. You just needed to do this. To curb the itch that just wouldn’t go away.

Just one little lick. One little taste and it’ll all be good.

Gods you were salivating at the thought. This desire had been hounding you since the moment you had met Silco in all his intimidating glory.

A chance encounter when you decided to drink at The Last Drop and found yourself entranced by the striking man smoking a cigar in the far dark corner of the bar. What hooked you first though was his glowing orange and black eye that seemed to be staring through you. You weren’t one to waste an opportunity and had decided to join him at his table.

With a little talking and some exchange of ideals, you both hit it off fairly well. 

Now months later found you both in an intense relationship of power and trust, with you currently sitting on his office’s couch, watching him read over reports at his desk. His damaged eye occasionally flickered a brighter shade of orange when something piqued his interest.

The Shimmer has to add some flavor. Hmm, fruity perhaps? No, no maybe salty with some spice? Would he even let me try?

A deep sigh brought you out of your musings, and you glanced up to see Silco staring at you with a hint of amusement and annoyed curiosity.

“As much as I generally love your undivided attention, I am trying to work at the moment. I can see that you’re thinking about something, so please, spit it out already.”

While the words were a bit sharp, you knew intrigue was overtaking the displeasure of being interrupted while working.

You glanced down at your hands, fiddling with a book you had given up reading a while ago, as you tried to stay nonchalant. Silco would instantly know if you tried to lie or avoid the question, so there was no use in bothering to bypass it. Besides this relationship was deeply built on trust and loyalty, and you weren’t about to forsake that. With a small hum and shrug of your shoulders, you replied almost boredly, “Just curious about your eye.”

Silco put down his pen and leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking softly in the otherwise quiet room. Whatever annoyance he had before melted away as deep curiosity took place with a slight gleam and flash of orange in his eye.

“You already know how it came to look this way, and the burdens that came along with it.” A slight tilt of his head as he stared at you questioningly. “What more can be ascertained from it?”

Usually, you had no qualms about what you asked about. Both of you had been open books with each other once the relationship was officially founded. It wouldn’t even be that outrageous of an inquiry compared to past conversations.

But this…felt different. Felt personal in the way that it could be too weird. That Silco may finally deny a request from you. Granted he had also encouraged any weird fantasies either of you had. Zaun knows you were both a little fucked up in the head, especially being from the Undercity. Vanilla was a foreign concept to either of you.

Yet licking the reminder of why he had become a Chem-Baron? The reminder of the life he had lost? The one noticeable physical weakness that he had? That felt too close to prying open an old wound.

But you knew this conversation would come up sooner or later. You weren’t exactly subtle when it came to your fascination with his eye. He knew how much it riled you up. How much you loved it when it glowed that deep possessive orange that occasionally flickered red. How you stroked the skin around it with an almost worshipping fervor.

Yeah, you’re honestly surprised he never questioned you about it sooner. But it seems now it’s time to own up to the fantasy that’s been looping through your mind.

Putting the now-shut book you were holding on the table next to you, you looked up, focusing on the eye that haunted and possessed you with such desires. With as much honesty and longing as you could muster you finally let it spill out.

“I just really want to taste it. You have no idea how much I’ve been dying to lick your eye, Silco. It’s like an itch that’s festering into an open wound the longer I think about it.”

With that, you waited with bated breath to see what the most powerful Chem-Baron in the Undercity would think about someone licking his fucking eye.

For a few agonizing seconds, Silco made no comment, as if he hadn’t heard your question at all, but if the increasing glow of his eye was any indication, he definitely found your question very affecting.

You still held your breath in anticipation, trying to convey that you meant the question truthfully and weren’t messing with him. The more his eye glowed the hungrier you became, and the stronger that inner itch gnawed at you. 

You would describe the itch as a yearning for the unknown. When you saw a carrot you knew the experience you would have eating it. You knew the feeling of it crunching between your teeth. The natural sweetness that enveloped your taste buds (or bitterness depending on if it was grown down here) but you knew what it would feel and taste like before you even put it into your mouth.

Silco’s eye (and many other past tastings) were unknown. You had no idea what the taste or texture would be like, and it ate you up inside wanting to try it. Sure you could theorize it to past things you’ve had the fortune of trying, but that still didn’t appease the innate itch to try the unknown. Yes, you knew that tears were salty, but tasting tears didn’t equate to licking an entire eye in your mind. And with the Shimmer that Silco injected into his eye, you knew it had to add some flavor.

I wonder if it tastes different depending on when it’s glowing or not?

You could feel yourself becoming frenzied at the idea. Nails bit into your pant legs where you were gripping your thighs, muscles tensed, but to lunge forward and forcibly try a taste or to run away you didn’t know.

Finally, Silco reacted, with a hum and a slight uptilt of his lips, eye still flaring brightly, he walked over and joined you on the couch. Sitting down with the gracefulness of a predator he turned towards you and patted his lap encouragingly. 

You didn’t hesitate to slide onto it, facing him as he rested his hands on your thighs. You weren’t one to waste an opportunity after all, and it seemed like Silco was more than attentive to your desire.

You placed your hands on his shoulder, one of them scratching through the hairs at the back of his neck. Focusing on his face you saw him deeply looking at you, no, looking through you.

He chuckled softly in the dimly lit room, “I knew you were only interested in me for my eye. So all that desire I saw was just so you could lick it? My my I knew you were fascinated, but this wasn’t something I predicted. And an itch that feels like an open wound you say? We don’t want that now, do we?” Throughout this he had started rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs, causing you to relax into him more and release some of the tension you had still been holding.

You knew he wasn’t poking fun at you, and after he finished speaking you saw that besides the inherent interest still present in his expression, he now seemed to have a spark of his own desires showing as well. His eyes raked hungrily over your face, stopping occasionally at your mouth.

Composing your thoughts, you looked into his good eye and felt yourself curl in pleasure at the acceptance he was giving you. With some confidence from seeing your desire reflected back, you smiled softly and murmured, “You know I love you for all of you.” You paused and smirked, “But your eye is definitely a captivating sight, and the thing that garnered my initial interest in you when we first met.”

Silco feigned a wounded look, “And here I thought it was my rogue charm and wit that had captivated you.”

You snorted a laugh, “Those too, but there’s just something so delicious about your eye.” You gazed longingly at it, licking over your lips and teeth. 

He watched amused. “I thought you said you wanted to lick it, not eat it.”

You rolled your eyes in mock offense. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t go that far. As much as I enjoy feeling you on my teeth, I don’t desire to bite your eye.”

He looked fondly at you. “How reassuring. But you still haven’t said why the urge to lick my eye feels like an open wound.”

You shrugged, “It’s like I’ve mentioned to you before when I’ve eaten something I shouldn’t have. I can’t control it. I see something that may taste interesting and I get an intense desire to follow through on it. The longer I try to avoid it, the more it eats away at my thoughts until I can only think about trying it.” You had explained this before a few times when Silco had caught you eating stuff you really shouldn’t have, so even though it still scared him at times, he knew you were being truthful, and nodded to show he understood.

Tilting his head in thought he replied carefully, “So I’m to assume you’ve been wanting to lick my eye since the first time we met? That’s an awfully long time then. In fact, the longest I’ve ever seen you try to avoid trying something was a few days, and that was with Sevika forcibly holding you back. How have you managed this long with my eye?”

Again you shrugged like it was the most obvious answer, “For the exact reason that it’s your eye. It’s not some random thing I found lying around, and I didn’t want to possibly make you uncomfortable. We both have our boundaries and I associated your eye as part of one.”

Silco appeared to accept that answer, again giving a slight nod, but it still seemed he couldn’t help but prod a little. “I’ve let you touch it before.”

Now you were the one looking at him amused, and with a sarcastic tone responded, “Touching is quite different from straight up licking it, Silco.”

He smiled all sharp teeth. “Perhaps, but it’s just a different kind of touch, is it not?” His smile grew wider, going a little feral as his eye pulsed eagerly, “And one that I’m not opposed to either. You know me. There’s very little that I would say no to you too.” His grip on your thighs tightened before loosening slightly, showing his interest but allowing you an out if needed.

You were not about to back out now. Months of craving even the smallest touch of your tongue to his eye built up in a tidal wave inside you. Tightening your hold on the back of his neck and shoulder you leaned forward, further encouraged by Silco who had moved one of his hands behind your head, guiding you closer.

You tensed back up in anticipation, tunnel-visioned on his eye. Nothing would be able to stop this moment now, you were in too deep and had to soothe that pulsing itch inside you that threatened to claw its way out.

With no other encouragement needed, you leaned the rest of the way in, but stopped mere millimeters away, breath ghosting over your long-coveted prize. Silco’s eye was flaring so bright it was almost blinding. Instead of diving in as you assumed Silco thought you would, you lightly kissed his eye, softly uttering a thank you, before slowly dragging the entire length of your tongue along it, savoring the moment and its smooth texture.

Silco’s hands tightened painfully when you sighed in pleasure, shivering in his embrace as you experienced what it must feel like to taste ambrosia from the gods.

As you had expected, Silco’s eye tasted divine.

Unsurprisingly it was salty but not overwhelmingly so, but quite unexpected was just how mouth-watering the Shimmer had enhanced it. A slight metal tang was quickly overpowered by a natural sweetness far exceeding anything you’ve ever tried. The closest thing you could think of in that moment was the one time you had licked off the pollen from a dandelion you’d found, but this was more intense than that. More potent due to the nature of Shimmer.

With one lick you felt like you were floating on ecstasy. This had far exceeded anything you could have theorized and the itch inside you quieted to a content purr. It didn't die away fully, and while that should have been a concern as it generally left after finally trying something, you knew that the desire to taste Silco’s eye would never truly go away now that you’d indulged in it. 

Pulling back slightly and glancing down at Silco with half-lidded eyes, you noticed him breathing heavily, a flush covering his face as he looked at you with more love and desire than you knew what to do with.

With a rasp, he snarled at you. “Did I say you could stop?”

With a huff and a slight shudder you finally dove in like you knew you both wanted. Lapping at his eye with no amount of finesse you moaned greedily. Each stroke of your tongue brought in that sweet sinful flavor, causing you to float higher and higher in euphoria.

By the time you had had your fill, you were both panting and shivering in satisfaction. It looked as if Silco had enjoyed that experience as much as you had.

With a content sigh and a lick of your lips you leaned back, feeling drugged. “That was so fucking good, Silco. Thank you, though I feel that this may not be a one-time thing.”

Silco leaned back resting his head on the couch, his eye fading to a low glow. His grip on you had loosed a bit and he pulled you down to lie on his chest, words still a little breathless, “I was thinking the same.” He chuckled warmly and caressed your neck and back. “It seems we both enjoyed that more than we thought we would, and from the looks of it, I’m guessing you’re feeling the effects of Shimmer, hmm?”

You grunted softly as his warmth enveloped you. It did seem that you had enacted a bit of Shimmer just from licking his eye, and as the floaty feeling fully consumed you, a wave of tiredness also fell over you. But he wanted a verbal answer, so with a slight mumble you agreed before pressing yourself closer to him and relaxing your whole body.

He took the hint. Both of you felt the drained after-effects of the moment. The lead-up plus the final climax in events left you both feeling sated and content to just rest there.

Grabbing a blanket from nearby, Silco maneuvered you both to lie along the couch with you still resting over him. He draped the blanket over you both before pressing a lingering kiss to your head.

Before you fully drifted off into a nice post-eye-licking nap, you heard Silco whisper a quiet ‘I love you’ as a hand continued to stroke your back.

[izabellalovesart]

Patrick x Art x reader

Trip to the bookstore

SFW

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“Oh my god can you hurry up!” You were standing by the door of your shared apartment (that mostly you and Art just paid for) waiting for the boys to finish getting ready so you could finally get out of the apartment and go see the new bookstore that opened up a few blocks away.

“We’re coming, we’re coming!” You heard Art call out.

Then a moment later they came out of the bedroom, giggling.

“I don’t even want to know what the fuck you guys are laughing about, let’s just gooo, I need new books.” You crossed your arms and tapped your foot on the ground in annoyance.

“Alright alright relax dude” Patrick giggled.

“Don’t dude me” You murmured as you opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

The bookstore was only a 15 minute walk. On the way you stopped for coffee, of course you got a fancy drink while Art and Patrick just got black coffees.

“Lemme try yours” Patrick said, grabbing your drink and bringing the straw the his lips. He swished the coffee around in his mouth before swallowing. “Jesus Christ that’s so much sugar, how the fuck do you like this?” His face was scrunched up as if he just ate a warhead, (god he was always so dramatic) it made you giggle.

“It’s yummy.” You said.

Art huffed loudly. “Can you stop leaving me out.” He grumbled.

“Aww, we aren’t leaving you out Artie.” Patrick said, walking up to him and tugging on his ears lightly. “C’mon let’s go” He swung his arm over his shoulders and started walking towards the door.

You smiled and followed behind them. You attempted to multitask and reach into your bag to grab your camera while trying to walk, it was a struggle, you almost tripped but you caught yourself and succeeded to grab the camera Art bought you for your birthday. You angled the camera and snapped a picture of the boys walking together and smiled to yourself, putting your camera away before jogging up to them and walking next to Art the rest of the way to the bookstore. Of course whenever you guys were out Patrick walked on the side closest to the street and you walked on the side farthest from the street, with Art sandwiched in between.

As soon as you walked into the bookstore, you separated from the boys and went to your favorite section in bookstores, immediately starting to skim through all the covers. After a few minutes Art and Patrick found you.

“See anything you want?” Patrick asked. “I’ll get you whatever.” He said, grinning.

“I’m gonna look around a bit more, you guys can go sit down or something.” You muttered.

Art and Patrick exchanged a look and shrugged, walking away from you and to a couch that was in the corner of the store.

As they chatted with each other, you walked through the entire store, reading blurbs, analyzing covers, skimming through the pages, inhaling the wonderful smell of fresh books.

After what felt like hours for the boys, but was actually just 30 minutes. You walked up to them, three books stacked in your hands and a bright smile on your face.

“I want these.”

Patrick sighed. “Three? Christ, when did you become such a reader.” He chuckled. Art giggled and elbowed him.

“I was in a slump before!” You exclaimed.

“Sure whatever, okay let’s check out, I’ve been oh so bored.” Pat said, pouting overdramatically as he stood up.

“Wow am I that boring to talk to?” Art scoffed as he stood up, stretching out his back by putting his arms over his head.

“No sweetie, you’re oh so fascinating.” Patrick cooed, patting Arts head.

“Fuck off” he grumbled.

You chuckled. “Okay, lets go.”

The three of you headed to the cashier. You placed the books on the wooden counter and smiled up at the older lady who was working at the store. “Just these?” She asked, with a warm smile that made her eyes crinkle.

“Yes ma’am” Patrick said, taking out his wallet.

The lady scanned then books and carefully placed them in paper bag with the bookstores logo on it.

“That’ll be $37.43 today” she said with a soft smile, placing the bag on the counter.

“What?!” Patrick exclaimed, his eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened.

“40 dollars for books?? Baby that’s insane!” He said his arm going over your shoulders. He huffed as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Sorry” you shrugged. “That’s todays economy for you Pat.” Art muttered, rubbing his shoulder, giggling.

Patrick sighed heavily and stood up straight.

The poor old lady was just standing there awkwardly, her lips working hard to stay in an upturned smile.

Patrick took two $20 bills from his wallet and handed it to the cashier. “Here…” he sighed, pouting slightly.

The cashiers smile widened and she took the money and opened the register to get the change.

“I’m sure you’ll love these books honey.” She said to you whilst handing Patrick the change.

“I Hope so, he just spent all his life savings on them.” You giggled.

“Y/nnn.” Patrick whined, burying his face in his hands.

“You’re such a gentleman.” The cashier said, smiling brightly. “Have a wonderful day you three.” She waved goodbye.

“Thank you so much! Have a nice day” you said, smiling happily as you walked away and towards the door, carrying the heavy bag that held your new books.

Art and Patrick said thanks and goodbye to the lady and followed you out of the store.

As soon as you were all outside, Patrick groaned, his shoulder slumping.

“I’m never fucking getting you anything again.”

Art laughed. “That’s dramatic but um why the fuck are books so expensive?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes playfully.

“I think you guys are just broke.”

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Someone sent me this idea but I accidentally deleted it so I couldn’t attach it 😣😣 but hope you like!!

[fawnning]

RED RIDING HOOD, duncan vizla x camille!reader

t.g: daddy-daughter stepcest, smut, reader calls duncan dad multiple times during sex, piv, oral, squirting, creampie, mentions of suicide, daddy kink (wc2.6k not proofread)

a.n: i had three hours of sleep and a dream, mini celebration now that my exams are over, no lurking please give me that interaction, minimal dialogue because i say so.. also hi mads fans.. no hannibal content anytime soon from me imsorry..

It's been like what, five- six years since he's taken you in? Duncan took up a gentleman's handshake with the devil, swearing to never grow close to anyone, to let another person bare the dread of living in constant fear. Yet he has you, up in the cabin where you could be mistaken for one of the lambs, blending in the pale, blinding snow whenever you wear that coat, consisting of wool and Duncan's blood, sweat and tears whilst he watches over you like a wolf, it doesn't help with those fucking husky teeth of his (your favourite quality of him), that snarl whenever he instructs you to tuck yourself away into one of the four corners of the cabin for every creak he hears in this already old, already rotting cabin.

Five years further from tragedy, every second closer to Duncan. That oath was long forgotten since he's met you, turned to fucking ash. Took you under his wing to raise you right, "proper training for the real world," he says. Whatever that means. He swore he'd never let a thing harm you, even if it meant sacrificing himself and his morals. He'd never expect you to repay him, it's not your responsibility to bare, at least it wasn't when you had to lay by his side for warmth, now you've grown accustomed to it, to admit it is one thing, to like it is another.

"Lunch," He mumbles, placing a hearty bowl of goulash paired with a side of mashed potatoes, delectable. "Specially for my girl," He ruffles your hair as you reach for the utensils across the table. It wasn't a lot to work with, yet he's given you the best. He displaces the resting cigarette from his mouth down to the stove, letting it light the butt up, he takes a long drag to recharge, closing his eyes as he enjoys his dinner. You chow down at the food like you always do, he gazes at you longingly, like he always does. This time it's completely different.

He breaks past your personal space to the dish he's prepared, his palm rests against the back of your hand, your wood chopping scars look like papercuts compared to his, laboured and scathed to give you a comfortable life.

You gasp, feeling he cold air around you grow humid, eyes widening. Not his first time expressing affection, no. Not his first time making you feel this dizzy, either. Sure, hypothermia causes you to see stars, just not the ones Duncan causes, ones like sparks from a gunshot. He savours a bit of the goulash, eyes shut to reminisce all his warmest memories, occasional drives downtown, reading a book by the fireplace, hugging you for comfort.

His pupils dilate, he flinches slightly as he breaks away. There is no fucking way in Hell he's even thinking about that last part in a "sweet", "happy and homey" way. No, he's finding solace in fisting his dick while you laid in bed by him, clueless of his intentions, expressions - the things he's wanted to do to you.

He rests on the swingset he built you the same day he's seen you circle on one of those old-ass catalogue books. By now, he's on his second stick, reaching into his pockets to find a light.

You join him after a while, "I did the dishes," You tremble at the cold, always a first time experience with it, Duncan pushes away before he cups his hand into a tight fist, his nails dig at his skin, accepting his fate. He can't stray past an already remote distance, any more and the bad guys will set out to get you, that's all you know, it's all you've heard. "It was amazing, thanks, Dad." Now you're exchanging roles, you break past his personal space to lean by his shoulder, you reach into your pocket, the lighter crackles as you light his cigarette. It'd be wrong to admit that he's proud of you, not like gentle parenting is in his cards anyways. "Mm," He hums, pleased. "Go inside, I'll join you in a bit." He instructs, you do as you're told, the weight of the snow dips, growing shallow for every step you take back to the cabin.

Duncan is a simple man — he's content living the way he is, been years since he's fucked, let alone get a girl to moan his name, it'd been a shocker to know that he can still get his dick up, it took him long enough, just until he'd met you. He likes to watch from afar, he watches you at a comfortable distance to not harm you, to watch you cluelessly angle yourself in positions where he could just rip off that nightdress of yours, get you to transition from "Dad," to "Daddy." Zero to a hundred in his head.

He puts the cigarette out, flicking it down to the snowy compound. He walks back to the cabin, pinching the bridge of his nose, he deserves a comeuppance for thinking like this, gun to the temple if you ever resented him for touching you. He shuts the door, loud enough for you to hear it.

The pale moonlight transpires after ages of hiding behind the foggy clouds. Duncan feels odd tonight, especially since you've debuted a cute minidress, it's a warm night in the cabin, the fireplace rages with the mixture of coal and wood burning. You head past the corner of the cabin to show Duncan, hair slithering to your shoulder as you give him a twirl.

He's watching like a rabid dog, it doesn't show past his mind, but holy fuck, it's like the devil's playing mind tricks on him. You would've expected a better response from him, annoyed, you inch closer to Duncan, resting on his lap, he feels as your panty clad ass rubs against the fabric of his pants, his throat bobs in fear.

"Dad, don't you ever feel alone up here?" You ask out of curiosity.  He can't just tell you as it is, right? Porn is a passable material here, as taboo as it is, no hooker is willing to freeze her tits off for a measly $20. "Yeah, it does — nothing I can do about it, either." He jokes, despondent as he grows older. "No one wants to fuck an old man, either." He lays all his cards on the table. "Everyone? Is that true, dad?" You play dumb, literally, it's not just for sure, you're just a very speculative girl with zero context clues. "Yeah, everyone, now go to bed," He retorts gruffly, "I'll be with you in a minute." You don't give up, yet you listen to him like you always do.

You hop on the bed like a bunny, inundated with the amount of blankets and throw-overs, you cast some of the fabric aside, leaving room for Duncan to lay closer to you. Just as you finish doing so, he softens the contrast of the lamp, strips himself until he's just wearing his sweats, he joins you, only at a distance, feasible enough for you to savour him, imagining your nails scratch at his back, tracing red marks over the ones that have just healed.

And so you do. You trail your nail over the hump of his back, slithering over his neck, you press kisses at his scruffy beard, feeling the hairs nick at your skin, your thigh rides up to his waist, "Jesus," He moans, manhandling you with ease, he lays flat, gets you to lay where his knees are, just past his dick, hard, it's hitting his stomach like it owes him money. You bite your lip at the sight, no fucking way you've been sleeping next to him without curiosity spilling and sticking like honey on the sheets, memory foam holds a heavy impression.

"Dad," You wail,

"What was that?"

"Dad," Once more.

He smacks the flesh of your ass, groping it to soothe the scarlet brand.

"Daddy," You sob out.

"That's what I thought." Honest to him, he hates it, hates the thought of it, hates the way they do it in porn, it's so forced, not even the same nose, same eyes, and they've got spirit. You definitely climbed up the ranks tenfold, nice to hear it come from you, nice to hear how reassuringly gross and fucked up his actions are, nice to hear how you reciprocate.

He slips his hand past the band of his sweats, lowering it as you scratch his stomach out of a gruelling mix of desire and fear. He interlocks the fingers of his free hand with yours, off a tangent to reassure you.

His cock slaps at the base of your pussy, he hums keenly, teasing you at your clothed clit, you bite your lip out of hunger. He looks up at you, savouring his little girl's movements, her miniscule reactions — twitching, moaning, shivers as he peels the fabric, pulls it to the side, you shift your hips slightly upwards, giving him more room to slide his dick in, which he does inadvertently, you're just too wet, Duncan is caught off guard, a breathy moan escapes his lips as well as yours. "Fuck," a small giggle at the end of his cue.

Up, down, up, maybe move into a more comfortable position, this one is kicking your ass, you lay by the flat side of his palms, he caresses your waist as he guides you, "Like that, you're doing so good," he praises, it's genuine, like all the times he's been proud of you.

"Dad, dad," You mewl, Duncan's eyes flutter shut, he's shocked to find that you take him so easily, more than that, he hates that he loves hearing you call him that — he does deserve a bullet through that skull of his. "Like that, sweetie?" You lose your composure. From holding his hands, you slip past it, luckily enough you manage to position your hands by either sides of his head, good enough for him. The two of you gain momentum, Duncan thrusts, the fervor piles on. The sounds of moans and skin slapping hits the air, it echoes like the howling winds right outside.

"Kiss me," He orders, you oblige needlessy. You sink in closer to Duncan, kissing him hungrily, he laps at your tongue with primal desire, lips pressing, his hand is at the back of your head. reeling you in closer to savor you a little more. He thrusts harder, the momentum is steady, but he's cracking at your cervix, Duncan evidently grows closer, you push away, "Dad— need to pull out," God knows where you've learned to talk that way, you didn't need it, the birds and the bees thing happened once yet you know your lines better than a pornstar. "You're– fuck, you're right," It just occured to him, yet he doesn't even act on it, pulling you closer like he's begging the inexistent gods to impregnate you, maybe one or two more rounds until it takes.

Duncan grows weak which makes it easier for you to pull out, you watch as his cum rivulet down your thighs. Breath heaving, you strip the dress off of yourself, it has no use, could look better clean instead of being tossed to the side after Duncan would very likely jerk off to it, you like that more than you'd admit, but you're better off with Dad cumming in and on you instead.

You lay on your side of the bed, by now Duncan grows hard again and your eyes widen, body jolting slightly, he grips at your wrists, cuffing you lightly, he pulls you to the end of his side of the bed, by the fireplace where you glow like ember. He gets on both knees, "Dad wants to eat you out, sweetheart, can he?" He questions, not like he's gonna take no for an answer, even if you're weary, you doubt this would resurface, so you oblige. He watches you nod, teeming with excitement, it doesn't show, a common occurance.

The broad of his tongue savours you past your flesh, like a sapling, you tremble as he spits on your clit, slick coating your walls as he repeatedly bullies your poor, swollen pussy, it's overstimulated, yet you don't give out. "Dad," You whine, "it's too much, gonna cum," He won't complain if you do, it's unjust if you don't.

"Look at me," You're slightly dumbfounded, mind evidently hazy, your lower lip is left hanging, drool flows, the thick of it hangs at the end, shaking with constant momentum, Duncan orders once more, "Look at me when you cum, got it?" You stare at him, heavy lidded, he watches as your breathing grows more laboured, he curls his tongue inside you, hands digging at either sides of your waist til' you're nearly bleeding, your eyes widen, body convulsing as your insides grip onto the flesh of his tongue like a vice, the other hand snakes to your chest, thumb swirling over your pebbled tits, sending your brain into overdrive, your eyes roll back, body shuddering, pressure whips at your clit, and you squirt — you twitch, over and over until you have to physically wrestle yourself out of Duncan's reach. He didn't want to scare you off, but he doesn't blame himself for wanting another selfish taste.

"You squirted," He states the obvious, it's bitter to say in reality, yet he relishes the sight before him."Your first one too," He gets back to the bed, you nod in embarrassment as you shift back to your side, "The bed," you point out meekly, "Don't worry about it," He insists, "Definitely not going to be our first time, get some rest." He mumbles to himself, resting facing the end of the bed.

[honourablejester]

Actually, going back and rewatching that final battle again ... I don't think that Jonathan stayed in range of Imhotep because he had no choice. He stayed in range specifically to pickpocket him.

I didn't realise before, but this whole battle starts with Evie telling Jonathan that the only way to kill Imhotep is to open the book and read the spell to banish him. Jonathan says it's locked, they need the key, and Evie then tells him it's in Imhotep's robes.

When Jonathan sends the priest mummies after Ankh-Su-Namun with the spell on the cover (saving both Rick and Evie in the process), Imhotep is coming right for him. However, Imhotep is then briefly disabled by watching the brutal murder of his lover all over again, and Jonathan ... could have run. There's a beat there where Imhotep is completely focused on something else, and Jonathan absolutely has the presence of mind to use that, but he doesn't. Imhotep, now incensed that Jonathan has murdered his lover, promptly spins back around and goes to murder him back, and is only stopped because Rick returns the favour from earlier and saves him.

At which point a lightly-strangled Jonathan stands back up and tells Evie he got the key.

He fucking stayed put on purpose because he knew they needed the key, that Imhotep had the key, and that he was the only person who could fucking pickpocket the BBEG mid-strangulation and get away with it, so long as someone could swoop in before the undead wizard actually killed him. Imhotep is immortal and immune to damage if they don't do something about that. This is a fight of attrition they cannot win. And his sister told him what they needed to stop it, so Jonathan went and got it.

He cheerfully calls himself a coward, and then he goes and fatally pisses off a lich as a distraction, and then stands still to be murdered for it in order to get close enough to pickpocket the immortal pissed off undead. It wasn't that he took the opportunity while being strangled, he set up being strangled in order to have the opportunity.

Say whatever the hell you like about that man, but he has never once failed to do something his family actually needed him to do.

I am deeply offended by this! I was reading thoughts on what D&D classes the characters of The Mummy (1999) would be, and there was a comment that Jonathan was obviously a rogue, but either a badly built one or one with shit dice rolls. And! Excuse you? Jonathan is a perfectly acceptable rogue! He rolls fine when he’s actually attempting to do something!

In the first movie alone, some of his greatest hits:

Successfully pickpocketed Rick on their first meeting, without Rick so much as joining the dots until later.

Survives a pitched battle on a burning ship without a scratch, and somehow gets the key from a burning hook-handed enemy mook in the process. (“And did I panic? I think not!”)

Survives a pitched battle in the Hamunaptra ruins while drunk, through liberal use of cover and picking off targets at range.

Rolls a Nat 20 on his deception check to avoid being massacred by a large group of hynotised enemies in the museum.

Survives the final pitched battle with the undead (again, through liberal use of cover, hiding and running).

Successfully makes his intelligence roll to translate the Book of Amun Ra (with the Help action from Evie).

Successfully uses the resulting control over the undead mooks to even out the battlefield, including the genius brain move of sending them after Ankh-Su-Namun to both save Evie and distract Imhotep.

Successfully pickpockets a lich while being strangled by him to regain the key and enable Evie to use the book to banish Imhotep altogether.

Yes, he’s fairly flimsy in direct battle, and if at all possible refuses to get to melee range with anybody. So he’s a ranged rogue, and has a tendency to use the environment to his advantage. But he’s clearly designed around Sleight of Hand, Charisma, and a decent sprinkling of Intelligence, and prefers to use object interactions and battlefield control to even out his odds. For all that, though, he fully will stay in melee range if he has no other choice, and take the opportunity to pickpocket the BBEG while he’s at it.

He's a perfectly serviceable rogue, he’s just not optimised for straight combat. And even there, as the second movie shows, he’s excellent at ranged combat. He just doesn’t like getting up close and personal.

[crouteann]

i was struggling to exist today but needed to draw SOMETHING… so i did the art equivalent of jangling keys and redrew this old ref of uriel 💀

he is my beautiful bug and his eyes are HUGE… for looking at you with. and never failing an insight check. with his +11 modifier or whatever. love him

art yapping under the cut

back when i made him i had this image in my head of him having really delicate features but i struggled to draw those delicate features for a while honestly. i think thats why im enjoying playing around with the art nouveau insp in my art— delicate pretty wasnt really a thing i felt confident with drawing… in fact it was the thing i was LEAST confident drawing. lmao. i just couldnt pull it off bc i struggled with the balancing act of his proportions and emphasizing the wrong things

wild to look at!! who is that guy! i am cringing posting these but its crazy theyre only a year and some change old.

my depiction of “delicate features” swung a little closer to how i really imagine him when i worked on that animatic of him and strahd that i never finished…

but i still needed to do some practice re: consistency and proportion. i do worry he looks a little too babygirl in this current ref but its fine. i am enjoying the process and thats all that matters. thank u for reading if you read this <3 art is a journey

[ayrennaranaaldmeri]

ok ok its my fault for being on reddit but r/houseofthedragon rn full of people arguing that demon and his 99% neck lizard have a stronger bond than aegon and sunfyre and it's so fucking frustrating that its entirely condolt's fucking fault that this is even a fucking argument because he thinks the greatest bond between a dragon and his rider to ever go that fucking hard in this universe is pRopaganda and gives dae mon and car ax es more screentime. i'm just so fucking done man. never showed us sunfyre TRULY until it was time for demon jr the anime edgelord to attack him and aegon, never get the fact that sunfyre is literally on aegon's arms, never got the coronation flying, DIDN'T GET ANYTHING UNTIL IT WAS TIME TO FUCK HIM UP FOR THE PLOT.

i wish this mf would get fucking fired before he has a chance to touch these two anymore because I don't think i can handle how he will underplay and butcher the fact that this dragon literally fought tooth and claw with a broken wing to find his way back to his rider.

[prettyboishin]

my point was only fascist governments ban apps and that this is a PRELUDE to so many devastating hits to our rights and how we are this close to fucking up and losing democracy and how before REDnote (even with REDnote) it's one of the only widely used social media's in America without (or used to be) American censorship but go off I guess.

Actually, yknow what no

I have receipts.

Lets use what's happened to TikTok after they made whatever deal they made with Trump as an example.

I used to be able to say "Fuck Trump, Fuck the Supreme Court, Fuck the US Government" now I can't say any of that

This lil pop up right here makes my point for me.

The Holocaust and it's fucking WHAT????

Just think for five seconds why they would use the word "legacy", and why they would choose the guy who first wanted to ban them during their first term.

Yes, I am right, you ARE totally blind and ignorant. It's three feet in front of you, I shouldn't have to hold your hand and walk you through this screen shot by screen shot.

This right here is STRAIGHT UP propaganda. Point blank.

I'm not calling you blind to be mean, honestly, you seem to be taking that as an insult and it's not.

The ban was STRAIGHT UP a political stunt to get Trump more support.

Honorable mention to THIS warning on a video using the "Donald Trump is a white supremacist, full stop" sound

Receipts aside....

It's genuinely very obvious, and again I'm not saying you're blind and ignorant to be mean, you just are. And that's Okay!!!

And you're right! Information is everywhere! The internet is at or finger tips!

But for how long???

How long will we have freedom information, how long will we have freedom of speech?

First TikTok goes, then what?

AO3, perhaps. Yknow, the uncensored fanfic site.

After that perhaps Tumblr, because it stays getting around the porn ban

BOOKS ARE ALREADY BEING BANNED.

I'm begging you to actually READ what I'm saying without your "ur just addicted to ur phone" bias.

If yall really think you're losing your right to free speech because an app on your phone got banned, then I don't know what to tell you. How do you think people communicated before TikTok existed? I was an early user all the way from 2018 and ended up deleting it for good in 2023 because I noticed it was having a severe impact on my mental health and cognitive ability. You're allowing tech companies to make you rely on them!!! You can share information regarding Palestine and politics and global events on other platforms. The only reason you're upset is because you have become complacent and allowed short form content to take over your life. Your rights aren't being taken away. You are justifying your phone addiction.

[repotting]

people who don't normally read sci fi have such bad taste in sci fi 😭

[bereft-of-frogs]

so the 'Qimir/the Stranger is actually [ insert high republic character here ]' theories have started to escalate, Imri was one thing, today I saw someone suggest the Stranger is Cohmac and I laughed out loud.

But also sure. The Stranger is Cohmac. XD Why tf not. Except for all the, you know, 'humans don't live that long' and 'their descriptions and official character art do not match Manny Jacinto at all' 'it doesn't actually make sense' but people keep countering that with 'energy transfer' so I guess Qimir really could be anybody.

Wouldn't it be fucking hilarious if it was Azlin Rell. Fucking Azlin. That would be SO funny if he energy-transferred himself into Qimir to live another hundred extra years, to continue being the worst. It would be so funny. Absolutely no one else would find it funny but I would personally find it absolutely hilarious if 'scenic route guy' is Qimir

[astranauticus]

Do mechanites cry?

[technicolorxsn]

love how there are pretentious video essays that just repeat the book and meander and ramble about house of leaves. it's what zampanó would have wanted. it is not, however, what I want

[pwderedsugar]

Having manipulative sex with the over-eager offspring of his idols in one of the most perverse narcissistic power plays of his life... Cheating on his age inappropriate gf with an even younger bf... At least this one isn't asking for him to knock him up in a way that matters drop a BRICK on the gas pedal baby Richard is going to hell 🚗✨

If he’s already going why not go all the way? Sink lower Richard. Cheat on your controversially young gf with a controversially young bf whose mom you were just fucking. He’s almost 30 years young than you Richard but who caaaaaresssss literally who caaaaaresssss he’s blowing up your phone and looking at you with his “soulful eyes” and practically drooling for your dick approval. He’s a puppy waiting for you to throw the ball so throw it and pick up the phone when he calls.