#should finish some writings

[godnectar]

replaying re8 rn only to see my fav pretty ladies 🥹👌

[themeraldee]

The Price of Love - Part 2

[Masterlist] [Part 1]

18+ Only | 3.8k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Early Season 2. Voyeurism. Dark themes. Breaking and entering. Manipulation. Fraud. Gaslighting. Office sex. Unprotected sex. Homelander being his own warning. I'm not really sure how to tag this properly tbf.

Homelander’s devious plan starts when he perfectly times when both you and your spouse leave your apartment empty. He knows you’re at the Vought tower, assisting Ashley in organizing photoshoots for the next issue of Vought Sports. Just the thought of that makes him roll his eyes. He’s got a four page feature with the Yankees, something about the importance of baseball to the American population. 

No. He can’t get distracted like that. Not when he’s already been so careful. Work can wait. 

He lands on your small balcony, testing the door handle. It budges immediately. Homelander grins at the revelation. You’re clearly one of those people who don’t think to lock the doors and windows just because you’re high off the ground. He’d have thought that after knowing him you’d know better than that. 

Homelander steps into your apartment. He’s planning to be thorough with his little impromptu visit. It’s only fair. Thanks to your job you have pretty much unrestricted access to his penthouse. You’ve seen what his space looks like. He should get to see yours too.

The first thing that hits him is just how this space doesn’t smell like you as much as he’d want. He can almost taste the bitter scent of your spouse in the air. Yuck. Homelander immediately walks through, exploring the kitchen, the living room for anything substantial at all.

There are letters with angry red words, shouting about bills being past due. Medical bills pinned to the fridge with some generic city magnet. Coupons and budgets all crammed on the small space on the fridge. Clearly, something isn’t working. Homelander has zero sympathy regarding your spouse but he cares about you. He doesn’t want you to suffer and with him, you’d never again have to worry about unpaid bills or having a roof over your head. 

He scoffs to himself. What kind of irresponsible and unreliable spouse have you got? You’re clearly working hard, he sees you relentlessly keep your head up at work and with your position only rising and more responsibilities being piled up on your plate he can imagine you earn a decent wage.

Clearly, it’s being drained somewhere. Whoever your spouse is, they’re a good-for-nothing leech that’s holding you back.

He could pay them off. Threaten them. Torture them. Kill them even. A thought that sends a thrilling shiver down his spine. But no, this has to be your decision. You need to be the one to decide to leave them. You need to seek him out. 

Homelander continues with his little exploration trip. Already forming a plan in his mind. What he saw the other day wasn’t coincidental. He feels a rift. Ever since that night he watched you pleasure yourself to the thought of him he knew it wasn’t a one-off. But for the first time Homelander gave you the ammo. He told you to your face that he’s interested. He allowed you to lean into these fantasies at the cost of having no leverage in his petty mind.

He can’t wait to put his plan into motion. 

Looking through the rest of your apartment should make him feel upset, agitated. Instead Homelander walks around with a huge grin on his face as he looks at the few framed pictures on the wall. They’re old. You don’t look like this anymore so decidedly your spouse hasn’t done anything worth remembering in recent times. Perfect. This is all working perfectly towards his plan.

Your spouse doesn’t value you. Clearly. He notices more signs of this behavior throughout your belongings. The cheap perfume that he smells on you everyday is so uninspiring he’s never even heard of the brand. The makeup is cheap, terrible enough quality that should only be used by teenage girls that are discovering themselves, not for a professional woman like you. Your clothes tell a similar story. You have a few nice outfits that you wear to your job. You only ever dress nicely for him. The rest of your closet feels like plastic, uncomfortably stiff and scratchy, it’s unlikely to last another season.

You will have none of these issues with him. Homelander will buy you only the best. Top of the line. All designer, original or handmade. Anything you’ll want, it’ll be yours. Only the best for his lover.

The more time he spends in your apartment the less he’s angry and upset about your initial rejection. He sees it now as a cry for help. Secretly, in between the lines you were rattling the bars of your prison begging him to save you.

And oh he will. 

The cherry on the top is the cheap ring that sits on your bedside table. No special case for it, no display, you don’t even carry it around with you. Maybe unconsciously you know how little your spouse values you. He picks it up to feel it. Cubic Zirconia on a small sterling silver band. Less than $100. Homelander scoffs at the cheap representation of your bond. So easy to scuff and crush. Maybe it directly reflects your marriage. 

Homelander leaves your apartment exactly the way he found it and over the next few days he watches. He watches you interact with your spouse, looking for any chink in the armour of your marriage and oh my does he find plenty.

Your spouse doesn’t deserve you, they don’t treat you with the same respect you give them. There’s room for insecurity to worm your way into your brain. He knows that now. You have sex at most once a week and even then it doesn’t look like it scratches the itch for you. Don’t worry, he’ll have you writhing under him in no time.

But it needs to be at your own pace. He knows you’re loyal to a fault, you’ve proven yourself with such quality over your time working for Vought. You won’t leave your spouse without a good reason. Besides betrayal. You clearly can deal with a non-spectacular life and even less remarkable sex life. But betrayal? A total annihilation of trust? Well, he knows you won’t be able to shake that off.

With that, he sets his plan into motion.

Nothing he does is by his hand of course, he needs to be invisible in all this. Instead he pays lackeys and he bullies Vought employees into scamming your spouse, stealing your shared banking details without them knowing any better.

Over the next month he periodically withdraws a sum of money from your shared account, slowly making his plan come to fruition. He keeps you busy at work. Really busy. You don’t have time to keep up with your household and worry about budgeting. You pull away from your spouse—a bonus he didn’t see coming. It’s even worth the stress it’s causing you. Each day you come in with dark circles under your eyes, tiredness just seeping out of your pores. But it’s okay. You can go through a bit of hardship while he plans your rescue. Things always get worse before they get better.

At the same time, your bills are going up, rent has skyrocketed—something about a new ownership, company you wouldn’t recognise as it’s outlined in the letter that came in the mail. More than ever now, Homelander sees you not skipping any overtime. Good, you spend most of your time with him now. He watches the late night arguments you have with your spouse about pulling their weight and how you can’t do everything yourself. Yes. Yes, it’s finally happening.

You haven’t even seen the main act.

When the next medical bill comes out and there’s not enough money in the shared account he waits it out. He’s planted all the seeds. All the money periodically taken out by the planted escort services. The bank statements laid out plain and clear. The call logs coming and outgoing to the same establishment. Your spouse’s lack of interest in sex with you only reinforced this notion.

Homelander isn’t there to watch the fall out. He’s too excited. Already waiting for you to spring into his arms at a moment’s notice. 

But you don’t.

Each day he gets more and more irritated. You should already be shouting his praises, showing him your signed divorce papers but instead you’re moping around like a sad dark cloud, raining oh his parade. 

Okay fine, he’s gonna have to nudge you a bit. It’s not going exactly according to his plan but that’s okay, he can adapt.

The next time you bring over some talking points for him to read and memorize, he stops you. He stops you from spilling out your rehearsed words, his gloved hand raised tearing you out of your mindless monologue you’ve been told to parrot back to him. You blink up at him, a little confused. You haven’t had many interactions these days so Homelander can’t blame you for acting like a deer in headlights.

“Hey, you okay? You look tired. Are you sleeping fine?” He gives his words the perfect amount of care and softness. Breaking through the shell you’ve put up around him. He gets it, you’re trying to be a strong woman—ladidadida. Normally he likes that about you but now you’re messing with his plans.

You sniffle and he smells the waterworks before they even burst the dam. One little question and you take two steps back, your back hitting the wall of the meeting room and you slide down onto the ground. Whimpering out a little wet ‘no’ you bring your knees up burying your face in them.

“Hey hey hey… what’s wrong?” He lowers to the ground in front of you.

“Everything’s wrong. My whole life is falling apart!” You sob into your knees. You start spilling as if he’s the first person to ask you how you’re doing. You rattle off an unintelligible ramble of hiccups, sobs and half-spoken words. 

Homelander was lucky that you still had your face buried in your knees because he could not stop the grin spreading across his face as he heard you hiccup the word ‘divorce’. After the little indulgence, he trained his face back into a sympathetic pout and he ran his hand down the back of your head, petting your hair.

“Slow down, say what now? Did you say you’re getting divorced? What happened?” If only Vought productions could see this Oscar-worthy performance they’d be making more interesting movies than the cookie cutter action flicks he has to waste his time on.

“Yeah…my…well, my ex now. They cheated on me. I mean they poured all our money down the drain, spent it all in a strip club or on some escort or whatever. Fuck. I don’t even know. I don’t want to know the details.” You look up at him and in that moment Homelander has never seen anything more beautiful. The tears in your eyes, the swollen red rim around them. All because of his doing. This is the start of a new chapter. 

A chapter dedicated to you and him.

He stops himself from smiling widely, he’s meant to be supportive now. Sympathetic. He nods as you continue.

“I’ve been breaking my back just to afford the insane rent and bills and this is what I get back?!” You flip flop between bouts of rage and fresh tears bursting at every other word. 

“Shhh, shh come here.” Homelander pulls you in close to him and back on your feet. He lifts you off enough where you feel the floor underneath your feet but most of your weight is being held up by him. As if he’s saying ‘you don’t have to carry it all on your own’.

“I’ll help you, okay? Anything you need. I’m here for you.” He cooes into your ear, rubbing soothing circles into your back as he hugs you close to him. 

Homelander knows you’re meant for him. But to actually have you in his arms for the first time is different. He wants to bury his face in your neck and inhale as much of your scent as he can. And forever carry that with him.  

But he doesn’t have to wish. Instead you pull away from where you buried your head in his neck, you place your hands on his jaw and you forcibly kiss him. Take the air right out of his lungs. Homelander immediately squeezes his eyes shut, doing his very best to not moan out loud. That’s it! Finally, he’s got you right where he wanted this whole time.

He squeezes you closer, his one hand slides down to your thigh, hoisting your leg up. And like the good, obedient girl you are, you bring your other leg up with him, wrapping yourself tight around his waist.

The taste of you is sweet and salty at the same time, the pure flavor muddled with the tears your ex doesn’t deserve. It doesn’t matter, Homelander kisses you desperately regardless. Hungry for the taste he’s been dreaming of for months. 

“Do you still want me?” You breathe out, less actively sobbing and choking on breaths, now the tears are just freely going down your cheeks.

“Always.” Homelander looks at you in reverence. You’re welcoming him in so freely. He doesn’t even need to push you to it. That’s how he knows you’re perfect for him. Barely just free out of the prison he rescued you from and you’ve already come running to him.

“Make me forget.” You kiss him again and Homelander swallows up everything you have to give. He pins you against the wall, his hands gliding from your thighs to your ass, the leather of his gloves sliding up the sleek fabric of your skirt. Through it he squeezes handfuls of your ass, before pushing the fabric up and out of the way.

“Please…make me feel good.” You sound broken and in need of good fuck that Homelander’s sure you haven’t had in years. Right, he can totally do that for you. He supports your weight easily, pinned between his body and the wall. One hand slides down from your ass, giving himself enough room to slide in between your legs, cupping your pussy. 

“I will. I will. Don’t worry about anything anymore. I’ve got you.” His fingers pinch the sheer tights and with a snap, he rips the fabric, immediately pushing your panties out of the way.

He brings his hand to his mouth, biting the leather of his glove by the fingertips, pulling it off his hand. His bare hand goes back down in between your legs immediately dipping his fingers in your wetness. He feels how excited you are. How for the first time in years your body is finally gonna feel satisfied. You yearn for this. He can almost taste it. 

His lips part and he moans at the feeling of your pussy just inviting him in. So hot and wet just for him. He strokes the back of his fingers up and down your slit, making your legs buzz with excitement. All nerves coming back to life. He sees that in you, the way you light up. Your heart rate elevated, breaths shallow, your muscles twitching. Homelander takes pride in the way he can make your body sing with just a few well-placed touches.

He turns his fingers around, gently, precisely, rubbing circles around your clit. He kisses you. No, he devours you. Parting his lips, he pries yours open, licking the taste of him into your mouth. He grunts into the kiss, moaning with each press of your lips. Each time you shove your tongue into his mouth he shudders, full of want. 

His fingers eagerly move down, pressing two digits steadily into you until he’s knuckles deep, grinding them into your pelvis, shallow strokes in and out. Crooked upwards and thick inside you.

He’s so hard it hurts. Achingly throbbing against the uncomfortable rigidity of his suit and he cannot wait to just fucking bury himself into you.

As if you were reading his mind your hands blindly and clumsily reach for his belt, unclasping it. Eagerly with more dexterity than he expected you to have in a moment like this you undo his pants, pulling them down along with his underwear.

Homelander hisses through his teeth, throwing his head back as your hand touches his aching cock. It’s so overwhelming he barely catches your awe at seeing it. 

“Oh fuck… Can I have you? Please?” You squirm in his hold your hand wrapped around his cock, stroking the head up and down. 

Jesus. You’re begging for him so easily. He could cum just from this. Your hand, warm and soft around him, stroking his sensitive head all while you’re beginning for him to take you? Good god, if he knew you’d be this pliant he would have had your ex killed in an ‘accident’.

“Course you can.” He mutters out, strung out on the pleasure that’s sending sparks up his spine with each twist of your wrist. He takes his fingers out of you, sucking them clean. God you taste good. He definitely needs to come back to that. He shimmies his pants down lower, releasing his cock fully. “Course you fucking can. It’s yours.” Straining he whimpers out, positioning his cock right against your wet cunt, the head spreading you open. “I’m yours.” He almost sounds close to crying. All that effort was so fucking worth it. You are so his. Who else could you want after you’ve had him. He’s so close to euphoria he forgets that you were crying a few minutes ago.

He wraps both arms around the underside of your thighs pinning your knees closer to your body as he sinks deep into you with one push. You’re so fucking wet and warm for him he could cry out of happiness. You want him so bad!

“Fffuck me, that’s tight.” He utters, all broken and whimpering as he buries his head into your neck, inhaling the scent of you like he wanted to earlier while he stills his hips, his pelvic flush against yours.

He’s so overwhelmed with the physicality of it all. Even through all the layers he feels the heat of your body, the thrum of your muscles and the rhythm of your heart. It’s intoxicating. 

He pulls out just to sink himself into you again. And again. And again. The feeling of splitting you open with each slide of his cock gets him so worked up, his own breaths coming out stuttered. 

“Homelander please… just… fuck me. Need it.” You beg him to continue, and as much as he’s enjoying the warm welcome on each wet, loud slide he gets it. You just need him to pound you hard and make you forget. Erase all memories of your shitty ex and the mediocre sex you’ve learned to live with. It’s okay. You’re with him now. And everyone knows there’s nothing mediocre about him.

Homelander kisses the plea out of your lips stepping a little closer so that he’s sat deep, deep inside you. Every thrust of his pelvis is a short snap but you feel it so deep it rattles your spine with every move. The way he’s got you angled is just about rubbing his pubic bone into your clit and he can’t help but grin at the way he’s already feeling you desperately claw at him, trying to hold onto reality.

You moan for him sweetly, your body quivering around him. And he doesn’t relent. It’s frantic, sharp and needy. This is about that quick release. He will have plenty of time to explore your body and make you cum a thousand times over later. Ideally from the privacy of his bed where he can watch you from every angle.

When he feels you clench and pulsate around him he stutters, one of his hands landing on the wall, making a dent in it. More than anything he wants you to cum. He wants to show you how much better he will be to you. The pure euphoria of feeling you cum on his cock pushes him over the edge. He moans a deep guttural sound into your neck, parts of it muffled. As your pussy deliciously squeezes around him in a stuttered rhythm he empties himself into you. His cock gives you one last spurt inside before he slides out, letting you get back on the ground to regain your footing. 

He’s mildly delirious and the next thing he wants to do is take you up to his penthouse and hold you close. He craves the intimacy of the afterglow.

Unlike his fantasy you don’t look to be ready to be swept off your feet and carried to his penthouse for some quality cuddle time. You look almost horrified.

“Oh my god…” Homelander watches with a frown as you push your underwear back into place, your skirt down over your thighs. You try to make a sense of the torn, tattered mess of your tights but you decide it’s better to take them off. He takes the chance to tuck himself back in while you sort your clothing situation and the turmoil in your head.

Before he can even question what has you so upset you continue. “I’m so sorry. That shouldn’t have happened.” What was a warm buzzing feeling that made his whole body vibrate pleasantly just turned to ice. 

What the fuck do you mean it shouldn’t have happened? 

He doesn’t get a say in again as you continue before he recovers from the blow. “I just fucking used you. I’m sorry. That’s—That’s terrible! I’m no better than my ex. I–I—” You visibly panic, your eyes wide as saucers and looking around almost everywhere but him.

But your eyes land there anyway. He almost laughs with relief. This is your problem? How cute.

“Nothing like that happened. Hey, none of that talk. You’re perfect. You’ve done nothing wrong alright?” He took one step closer, his hands immediately cupping your jaw from either side. Only one hand ungloved, using that one to feel the skin of your cheek as he tenderly strokes you. 

“I want to help you in any way I can. How about you move in with me until we sort this out, huh? I don’t want you staying with a person like that. Come on, I want you safe. And Vought’s got some great lawyers that can help you with the divorce.” He deploys his sweet tone, so persuasive, charismatic and charming. He knows what he’s doing and already you’re melting into his hands. Good. He grins at you. “Alright, sweetheart?”

You nod with your big watery sweet eyes and it’s then he knows that he won. Fair and square.

You were his long before you even knew it.

Finally, you recognize it too.

Taglist (you can add yourself to be notified anytime I publish a new Homelander story)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Reasons to play In Stars and Time: Canon Pronoun Warfare.

[gayalienwilde]

All the analyses I could write about why Velvet Goldmine is an amazing queer movie basically boil down to this

[i-already-know-im-going-2-hell]

Write two sentences from one of your WIPs, I dare you

@incesthemes @herestoevilskanks @supergaysupernatural

(or anyone else who wants to jump in or get added to the tag list)

In the spirit of fairness, here you go, two sentences from one of my WIPs I haven't touched in a bit:

"I know I'm getting off on this, but I've got a pair black eyes, you though," Dean bites his ear hard enough it might honestly be cut. Sam doesn't care, can't care with all the sensations warring inside him. "You're just naturally this twisted Sammy."

[faewaren]

After Noah Czerny comes back from the dead, after so long being colorless and skeletal in the Aglionby uniform he died in, he dresses in a way similar to a tropical bird. Blue is very delighted to help him explore this.

Also the first time he eats post death (and he wakes up hungry) he does unfortunately gorge himself on pizza and hot wings too fast and throw everything back up. Somehow that’s also sort of exciting, though. Even vomiting is a level of sensation he’s thankful for, after so long with all feelings at a distance except for the clutch of his grave.

[kawareo]

8, 33, 37 & 39 for the tav/durge party banter asks? 👀

8. Companion/romance death reactions

Romanced: "No! Not you, not yet!" "Shit!"

Not Romanced: "No wonder Withers stays with us, with all the business we give him." "HA!" "Oh dear. ... Have we agreed on who gets their armor?"

33. Party banter with Minthara

"You fight well, for a jaluk." "You fight well too; for someone who begged for our help after we kicked her arse."

"Say, Minthy, you ever get tired of being so full of yourself?" "Not as far as I remember - you might wish to try that, sometimes." "Har har, let's make fun of the amnesiac again. So creative." "Have you ever been in the Underdark, Strike? You do claim to be a drow, don't you?" "In theory. And yes, it wasn't much to look at." "Your ears twitch when you lie, in case you haven't noticed." "Shit, they do??" "No. But now you gave yourself away." "Oh fuck off." He doesn't like her, that's the main reason why he's on the side of the grove in act 1.

37. How would they respond to a player character prompting them with, "Tell me about yourself"?

"Which one of us has amnesia, captain? I'm a blank slate, in case that somehow slipped your hole-free brain. Or did you want me to do an exercise in creative writing?" He takes it as you mocking him so you get a disapproval

39. If romanceable, what lines would they say if a player character prompted them with, "Can I kiss you?"

"Thought we were past the point of asking." tries to play it off cool but he's into it

"Really?? Now?" as he's already moving towards them.

"What, you think there's a chance I'd say no, captain?" as he swoops them up (if they're smaller body type. If they're a small race, he kneels, for big body types, he steps closer and on his toes)

"If that's an order, I guess so~" same as previous

[splickedylit]

Can't believe I thought I was almost ready to start posting this GamKar winter soldier pastiche like two years ago on halloween it's grown by several hundred pages and 100,000+ words since then. Current count is 325 pages, 167,000 words, 15 chapters. fukkin UNIT of a fic

EDIT for my own personal satisfaction:

10/25: 167,000

10/29: 174,700

10/31: 180,460

11/7: 185,775

11/18: 189,500

[coolnonsenseworld]

A little promo with my little obsession on the side...........

Reminder all items are shipped from Poland - for details on shipping times check out FAQ or send me a private message!

 mmezzy.bigcartel.com

[lilacthebooklover]

'And something shifts in Shadow Milk's gaze, a sort of vindictive delight drawing that confident smirk into a vicious grin. "Well now, Pure Vanilla Cookie," he says, the amusement and anticipation dripping from his voice palpable. Pure Vanilla can't quite hide the way he tries to recoil, but the vice-like grip upon his wrist remains terrifyingly unrelenting. "This certainly changes the script up a little, doesn't it?"

The question is too light, too cheerful, too casual for what this truly means. For right there on Shadow Milk's face, painted in damningly permanent blue hues, is the unmistakable mark of a four-point crown. Pure Vanilla's forearm burns where his own identical mark has been exposed for all the world to see, Shadow Milk peering at it with a sense of sickening awe that's impossible to miss. Because there it is, imprinted on his skin and written in the stars: undeniable proof that they've been predestined to meet since the start.

Shadow Milk Cookie is his soulmate. And Pure Vanilla has never been more afraid.'

(Vanilla Milkshake fans, when I tell you I am COOKING-)

[abirddogmoment]

Rory has been trending a little bun-obsessed lately, probably because we have lots of bunnies in our condo complex and she has to practice a lot of impulse control as she can't chase or really fixate on them, so I've been looking for ways to help her fulfill her bunny-murder urges safely.

Unfortunately we don't have a ton of areas I comfortable coursing her (letting her chase buns until she can't see them or catches them) because our bunnies are mostly urban animals BUT I was at the bougie pet store for unrelated reasons and they had dried rabbit feets which gave me an idea!

I bought a few and got some paper bags and put Rory in another room while I hid them around the apartment to sniff out, destroy, and eat. I figured it would satisfy some of her murder urges, even if it's not the whole predation sequence.

She was pretty happy about it! I'll try to add this to our rotation of enrichment activities and maybe get a few rabbit feet to chuck at her outdoors sometimes. Hopefully it'll help vent those bunny frustrations so they don't build up and hurt my good dog behaviours.

[microwave-core]

Could you write a Rika (from pokemon S/V) with AFAB reader who has major anxiety and is super nervous because it's their first time having sex with Rika? Like reader's brain is noisy and won't hush up enough to relax. Whether Rika is using a strap-on or not is totally up to you. Comfort, fluff, smut (go as nsfw as you desire) and aftercare.

um this is from august. anyways.

This is more, like, broaching the topic of your first time. It's not my best work imo but I need to set this down before I keep fiddling with it. Also the keep reading break keeps moving stop that.

So, we all know Rika fucks. Even though I've characterized her as someone who's secretly a disaster behind closed doors because fuck she loves her girlfriend, she's gotten plenty of action before getting with you.

To Rika, sex is just all about making each other feel good. She's had many partners before, a casual fling or two here and there. It's not a big deal to her, but she understands that not everyone feels that way. So when you draw boundries at touches that were too close and intimate for you to handle, she backs off, careful to not pressure you into anything you aren't alright with.

It starts with a simple make out session, her body practically glued ontop of your own on the couch. The proximity, her warmth, the tongue exploring your mouth, it's all so much, your head buzzing, above the clouds. You can't help but want it to continue forever. That is, until, you feel her hand, the one previously perched upon your hip, travel down, finding a new home on the waistband of your pants.

Rika pulls back the moment you pull your lips away from her own, face flushed, clearly nervous. It takes her a moment to realize that she took things a bit too far. She apologizes quickly, cupping your cheek gently, asking if you're alright with moving any further, and when you say no, that's that. She presses another kiss to your lips, this time chaste and quick, content to cuddle for the rest of the night (not before taking care of herself in the bathroom first).

She was dissapointed that things ended early, sure, but youre her girlfriend. Her sweet, lovable girlfriend. And the last thing she'd want to do is make you uncomfortable, push your boundries in a way you wouldn't enjoy. She gives you a bit of time, a few days or so, before bringing the topic up again, wanting to understand where you fall on all of this.

It's a simple question, really. "Why didn't you want to go any further?" No bitterness, no upset, just your girlfriend wanting to know where your boundries lie so she understands how to best navigate the intimate aspect of your relationship.

When you tell her you're a virgin, she really isn't surprised. Again, Rika's been with many people before, some who are wise beyond their years with experience and other's having none. Your shy touches whenever she was so close, the clumsiness in your actions and uncertainty of where to place your hands, it all was a give away, honestly. Not that she'd tell you, though. The last thing she wanted was to make you feel ashamed for something that really wasn't a big deal.

So she waits. She tells you as such. She'll wait for you to feel ready before trying to press forward again, but she does let you know that she'll be treating you to the best night of your life if you came around to the idea.

She doesn't show you but honestly she's so fucking excited. Being your first time? Setting the standard for any of your future partners, should you have any past her? Corrupting you? It's kinda hot to her. She wouldn't bring up the last part, though. Rika Corruption kink is real to me, but she's not going to spring that on you. Your first time should be sweet and gentle, about you and your pleasure. So she'll reserve that idea for when she gets off on her own.

The day you tell her that you think youre ready, she is over the moon. It's a little sudden on your part. You had been thinking about it for days, and wanting nothing more than to feel her all over you, over the most intimate parts of you, but were just too anxious to actually make the push. What if it wasn't all that you thought it would be? What if you messed something up? What if you did something really gross and it turned Rika off so much that she didn't even want to touch you? But your want eventually outweighs your worries.

It's a stammered confession, holding her hand, playing with her fingers as you get the words out, embarrassment burning up your face, thoughts going a million miles per minute, but you try your best to focus on Rika, the way her face brightens up at your words, the way she grabs your hand and squeezes it tight, her lips pressing on your forehead, the reassureance in her voice as she tells you that tonight she'll take care of you. Pamper you like you deserve.

Maybe telling her in the morning was the wrong decision, because you go through the rest of the day completely distracted, overthinking and worrying about what will happen when you get home, yet still excited at the prospect, left pressing your thighs together while trying to get any meaningful work done.

You get home before her that night, as you typically will, trying to act normal. Make some dinner, get cleaned up, don't overthink ever little thing. Normal nightly activites. Your heart stammers in your chest as you move around your apartment, but practically stops when the front door creeks open, a call of "I'm home!" echoing through the halls. She finds you quickly, pulling you into her arms, kissing you gently, complaing about the work day. You mention dinner, her face brightens, quickly returning to the kitchen to eat. Your normal nightly routine.

Rika's demenour is normal, but youre fidgeting and anxious. Bouncing your leg as you eat, trying to ignore the heated pit in your stomach. You can't think straight, simply nodding and humming along as Rika talks. How can you focus on her words at a time like this? She notices, obviously. She knows you, although anyone could look at you and tell something was up just by looking at you.

You're snapped out of your thoughts when her hand touches your thigh, not heated, just gentle, enough to make you look at her in the eyes for the first time since this morning, worry evident on her face.

"Do you still want to go through with this?" It's soft and quiet, for your ears only. You can only nod, placing your hand on top of her own. You were ready for this, you were tired of running away from what you wanted from overly anxious thoughts. A smile works it's way back onto her face, soft on the surface, but laced with an unmistakble heat, quickly standing up, ready to wisk you away to the bedroom. As much as she'd like to take you, taste you, right then and there, she was going to give you a proper first time.

[necrotic-nephilim]

as an apology for being gone for a month, have a uquiz i spent a week making! pls feel free to reblog with which character you got, i worked way too hard on this silly little thing. there are eight different characters you can get that are varying levels of unknown, with comic recommendations for each character <3

[betweenlands]

in honor of the new kenadian video, have the best and most finished contiguous bits of a fic i was trying to write for the @mcyt-builds-contest prison edition and never completed. personally, i think giving ken access to modded materials could only lead to good things.

previous bracket fic here if you haven't read it! image transcript under the cut! (surprise! this was arcosc all along!)

---------

“Why’re you so worried about this, anyway?” he finally says, because he’s pretty sure worry is the expression he’s reading on Legundo’s face.

“I have…” the King in the North says, grimacing, “a bit of prior experience with prisons, you could say. Both illager and player-made.”

Viking gets the feeling he’s touched a nerve, and nearly slaps his hand over his forehead as he belatedly remembers the first time the King in the North had mentioned some sort of dungeon built by – something about iron crocodiles, he thinks. Come to think of it, that building had come up earlier in this tournament.

“Forge, right? The Prison of the Iron Crocodiles that lost to Pandora in the first rounds?”

“That’s one of them,” the King in the North confirms. “Speaking of which, do you have any idea where Forge went after his dungeons lost the contest to this prison?”

Viking shrugs. “Nada. Maybe he just slunk off?”

“It’s not like him to vanish without any sign of reemergence,” the King in the North mutters, tapping his fingers against the table. “My version of Shadow, maybe. Forge? He should’ve caused trouble somewhere by now. Made some sort of uneasy or paranoid alliance with another person that lost the first round.”

“Come to think of it,” Viking says, “I haven’t seen that Asgaard guy anywhere after we shook hands and called it a good match. I was hoping he’d stick around for color commentary on worldbuilding or something, but maybe he just had a project to do?”

The King in the North shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I think something’s going after other people on the bracket. This other finals entrant – I know you’ve been busy on your own front, but have you seen them yet?”

“Nope,” Viking says. “And I haven’t seen the guy who looks kind of like they’d be my cousin if I was a catboy, either. Which… wait. Wait, that’s really weird! His entire thing is prisons and escape rooms, they should be at this match, he would definitely have something snarky to say about it!”

“About that,” a slightly familiar voice says. “I kinda got put in a tube.”

The catperson crouched on a chair at the far end of the room raises their hand with a wave and a wry grin. “Sorry I’m late. Train ran slow. Also the whole getting put in a tube thing.”

“You got –” Viking gestures. “Wait. First question. How did you get down here?”

Kenadian examines his clawed fingernails with one raised eyebrow. “Hopped around waystones for a bit until your hat layers loaded in on the tab screen. Composter glitched so I could look around underground. Saw a stronghold. Dug straight down. Don’t worry, I covered it back up.”

Viking unconsciously reaches up to his very unhatted head, adjusting his goggles slightly. Next to him, the King in the North seems to be in a very similar state of confusion. 

“Tab… screen?” he finally manages.

“Composter glitch?” Viking adds.

“Oh, we’re from a world that doesn’t have diegetic game mechanics, that’s just great,” Kenadian huffs. “Anyway. Aren’t you a ghost? Can’t you just chug a fire resistance potion and walk through the walls?”

“I already explained that to him,” Viking says, recovering from the brief shock of some random guy he’s only met once breaking into his secret underground headquarters base. “Phantoms can’t pass through obsidian or crying obsidian.”

“God you guys are hopeless,” Kenadian says, slapping one hand over their face. “Just make them not obsidian, then! You can literally just do that!”

“I…” Viking says, “what?”

Kenadian stands up again and tosses something onto the table with a loud clatter, crossing their arms with a smug expression.

Viking blinks down at the diamond-tipped chisel on the table with a confused expression on his face. “Why are you giving me a chisel?”

“Oh my god do I have to spell everything out for you,” Kenadian groans. “Bit blocks only carry so much internal info and most of it’s either transparency or whether or not they give off light. Just take a single voxel – oh, sorry, bit – out of any walls in your way and they stop being obsidian and start being bit blocks. It’s literally just that simple.”

[skitskatdacat63]

"Arrogant, ruthless, and by all reports (including his own) utterly charming."

(I don't know why I drew this but please take Revolutionary War British officer George, I think it suits him, okay!!!)

+ George Russell the type of guy to t-pose in front of rebels

+ the usual

Okay first of all, process, as always:

I drew this in one day hahaha....Actually really fun! I haven't finished anything in almost a month, and haven't painted for even longer, so I'm kinda dying at the fact that 18th century George Russell got me motivated 😭 Sometimes when painting, I realize I have free will and can actually just start painting over the lineart, and that's the best moment of every drawing process 🙏

Also I'm very proud of his face!!! I've said before, but art progression is such a weird thing. You'll keep repeating to your self "I'm no good at [insert art thing.]" And then randomly realized you can in fact do it. That's me with drawing real people's faces 😭 I'm just so shocked I got his face pretty good in one try!!!

Okay about the pose and quote. God its so fun to misappropriate quotes for my own evil deeds. Both of these are from this one officer from the Revolution: Banastre Tarleton. Idk, I randomly saw his painting in a history video, and it's stuck in my mind ever since. And then yesterday, bcs I spent a lot of time looking at George, I'm like "hey you know what he kinda reminds me of-" and thus we have this.

I just found that quote about him from some historian to be funny, so I put it as a caption, as I would with Napoleon. This won't be an AU by any means but. I think if George was in the Revolution, he'd be the most stereotypical, evil British villain in American media type guy ever. And Tarleton is kinda that guy tbh, to the point where him and others like Arnold Benedict are the poster boys of evil Revolution guys. He even has a mocking nickname! "Bloody Tarleton/Ban", very "Osama bin Russell," no? 😭

Some notable moments from Tarleton's campaign that I think fit George: Apparently killed a bunch of American soldiers after they surrendered, making sure everyone was dead(😭😭), threatened to burn an American general's house down to make him surrender and then took him hostage, went toe to toe with George Washington himself and Washington even taunted him and Tarleton got a shot in, has a helmet named after him(very slayful.)

[the-way-astray]

what if i told you

i wish keefe had actually branded sophie