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strangesem · 11 months

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hobie brown x shy/quiet!reader headcanons

spider-punk x reader this is not a drill

long as hell I’m so sorry

a/n: reader is mentioned as being a mom friend but imo that can be gender neutral so this can still be read by anyone!! if that makes you uncomfortable though please skip this post :)

I also imagine hobie as being 19-ish so it’s kinda implied reader lives alone but can def be read as younger!!

most people didn’t notice you at first.

you were quiet; really quiet. you’d mumble your thank you’s, whisper apologies, and generally go out of your way not to interact with people as a whole.

I feel like that gentleness/softness would almost draw hobie to you though?

he’d definitely first meet you as spider-man; saving you from some sort of robber or attacker. and then he’d see you be so shy about thanking him and apologizing as if it was your fault??? he finds it sweet but also kinda concerning for you tbh

and over time he begins to notice you more and more during his patrols; something about you just draws him in.

he definitely likes that you don’t try to tell him or others what to do lol

after talking to you enough as spider-man, and you start to open up, he begins to like you even more

you listen to some of the music he likes? your humour?? not to mention how genuine you are???

(also very useful if you happen to be a “mom friend” type who keeps first aid, candy, etc on you at all times!! he’d definitely appreciate a lollipop to help with the pressure changes while swinging around or a bandage for his cuts)

speaking of which if you ARE the type to have those things on you he may start seeking you out if/when he gets hurt

and after that even when he’s not tbh he’ll just pretend to have a headache and eat some of your candy on your couch lmao-

one time though he comes with wounds a little too serious looking for the standard wet cloth and bandaid treatment you had been used to; and it scares you

you raise your voice a bit louder than he’d ever heard, in a scared tone that was different than your normal anxious voice, and you tell him he should probably definitely go to a hospital

“but I like you so much better” he leans in a little too close, holding on to you a little too tight to keep himself steady, and you suddenly realize the reality of you situation

spider-man is in your living room. he’s bleeding a lot. and you’re the first person he thought to come to; because he likes you? not like that obviously- unless it is like that? NO. people barely even notice you, no one would ever feel like that type of thing for-

“you’re staring” you can feel the shit eating grin on his face; it’s practically burning through his mask

you stutter out an apology and after stammering around for a moment you get him to sit down and do your best to treat his injuries

you can tell the disinfectant stings by the way he flinches whenever you apply it, as well as his teasing that he “thought you were supposed to be nicer than the nurses” but he does his best to sit still and let you dress all of his wounds

you both remain still for a moment, and you think you can feel his eyes on you but you’re too scared to look up. your hands are shaking; they have been this whole time.

“that’s everywhere right? I didn’t miss something?”

he takes off his mask to look you in the eye and tell you he’s okay but you’re just like ????

ANYWAYS you are once again staring bc you now know spider-man’s identity???

I feel like he’s gently hold your face and just give you a quick peck to make sure he wasn’t crossing any boundaries

but if you kiss him back? he’s NEVER stopping

he’ll start randomly crawling through your window with excuses of missing you or wanting to show you something

and soon he’s staying the night at your place or he’s swinging you over to his so you can stay with him

I think dates would definitely be super chill and more like hanging out at each others places than anything else

but if he does a show for his music he’d definitely want you there!!

he’d also probably pick you up and start swinging around the city with no warning just for the way you’ll grab on to him so tightly-

but ofc is you asked him not to he’d stop immediately!

doesn’t get super jealous or anything, he’s a pretty chill guy, but he will get sorta bothered if someone’s aggressively pursuing you even after knowing you two are together

like if someone doesn’t know and flirts with you he’s just like “yeah I’m lucky”

but if someone ever went so far to imply you should be unfaithful and/or should leave him he’d probably tell them to back off and either leave with you or put his arm around your shoulder and glare at them until they leave

either way he’s not starting any fights or anything though; he’s super comfortable in your relationship and hopes you are too

genuinely thinks you’re the most beautiful/handsome person ever like he WILL flex to the other spider-people if relationships come up

he’s really not in to pda though; he’ll put his arm around your shoulders/waist but that’s it. maybe hand holding depending on the situation.

but when you guys are alone he likes physical touch; don’t expect to be on top of each other or anything but having your/his head rested on the others lap or him just resting his hand on your leg is pretty common

he’s also not very big into gifts (he doesn’t buy into the capitalist need for abundance and all that) but he does like giving you jewellery/other wearable items bc he likes to see a reminder of himself/your relationship on you

pls make him a bracelet or something he’ll literally never take it off (also jewellery for any of his piercings is fair game)

he values small intimate things in a relationship; like painting each others nails, listening to each other rant about things you’re passionate about, etc

overall he may not be big and showy but he’s an amazing boyfriend and would love you like a lot

he’d also definitely write songs about/for you bc you’re so important to him and he wants the whole world to know that :((

I haven’t written fanfiction in forever but if anyone has any hobie requests I could write as headcanons I’m open to them!! :)

#not proofread #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #spider punk #spider punk x reader #across the spiderverse #marvel #hobie brown x you

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httpiastri · 2 months

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snowy mountains & hot baths – op81

you, oscar, and an empty spa can only lead to one thing.

genre: very short smut 😶

pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

warnings: uhhh public sex.... unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it yall!!

author's note: happy valentines day :) wish i had oscar here to celebrate with me... anyway. idk about this one guys 🫠🫠 started out alright but then i hated half of it so i deleted it and rewrote it but it just got worse. and i know that if i don't just post it rn, i will likely procrastinate and never end up posting it at all. yay. hope u enjoy anyway! i also have another oscar fic done that's at least a bit better than this lol.

f1 masterlist

18+ content below, minors do not interact!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

a low groan leaves oscar's lips when he dips his feet in the warm water. he instantly turns around, eyes finding you standing by the door you've just walked through to get to this outdoor area of the spa. he holds his hand out towards you, beckoning for you to step closer.

"it feels so good," he promises, gaze following your every move as you let your robe slide down your arms. his eyes widen when you reveal your newly bought bikini – papaya orange, of course – and a shudder passes through his body at the sight of the tiny material trying it's best to cover you up.

he thanks all the gods he can think of that there's no one else around.

goosebumps grow across your skin now that you're exposed to the sub-zero temperatures, toes curling in the short layer of snow on the deck. you stroll over to him, making sure to let your hips sway a little extra with every step because you know he's watching and you know what he's thinking. the sight of him gulping as his eyes wander up and down your body can only mean one thing.

taking his hand in yours, you let him pull you into the water with him, letting out a content sound when the water envelops your legs and brings the temperature of your body up again. oscar gives your hand a squeeze and leans back, his back hitting the water as he submerged into it. you dive in right after him, making a few strokes beneath the surface before coming up for air again. your hands come up to wipe away the water from your face, before brushing over your hair and tying it up in a messy bun on top of your head.

"this is just what i needed," your boyfriend says, drawing out an agreeing hum from you. it's been a long day – a long week, really – filled to the brim with skiing, hot chocolate drinking, skiing, cable car-rides, and then more skiing. oscar doesn't usually get a lot of time off work, and when he does, he wants to make the most of it. and as his partner, he thinks you should be doing the same, and that's why he's woken you up in the early hours every morning this last week, practically bouncing from how much he aches to go out in the swiss alps yet again.

the hot tub is big enough to swim around in, but oscar makes his way to the side and sits down on the built-in seat, arms stretching out and resting on the edge of the pool. you swim over to him, easily slipping onto his lap and letting your hands rest on his shoulders. oscar tenses up when you sit on him, and you're not surprised by the length already poking up at you – he's just a man, after all – but you decide not to do anything to acknowledge it just yet.

"it's really beautiful here, don't you think?" you ask, looking to your side. the sun has only just set, so the little village isn't completely dark yet. the moon above your heads casts a soft hue over the mountains you've spent all week conquering, stars twinkling among the tops.

"not as beautiful as you, though." there's barely any lightning out here other than the little candles scattered across the floor, but you see the fire in oscar's gaze clearly when you look back at him. he's staring at you like you're the most perfect work of art, the most beautiful thing to ever exist – and your expression matches his, because he truly is your favorite thing to look at in the world. your heart flutters at the contrast between how cute he looks with a few locks of his long fringe curling along his forehead, and how incredibly sexy his body looks with the little droplets of water decorating his muscular chest. he's just stunning.

"you really did a great job with planning and booking all of this, you know," you start. "i may have complained quite a bit when you dragged me out of bed at six am, but... it's all been perfect."

your hands find the space just below his jaw, and it takes all of your strength not to blatantly stare at his thick neck when you feel the muscles under your touch.

"well, perfect except for the fact that my legs are so sore right now."

oscar chuckles at this confession, hands leaving the edge of the pool and dipping into the water instead. "let me help you out with that, then..."

a jolt of electricity shoots down your spine when his palms meet your bare thighs, fingers pressing into the skin and stroking you softly. your eyes flutter closed, loving every second of his massage and growing hotter when his hands make their way further and further up. it doesn't take long before oscar can't hold back anymore, reaching up to press his lips against yours.

you sigh into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling yourself further towards him, your crotch brushing against his as a result. the moan he lets out is so hot that you instinctively begin grinding down against him, wanting to hear more.

oscar gets the hint, but finds himself reaching for your shoulders, holding you back as he leans out of the kiss. your lips chase after him, a frown taking over your face when he doesn't give in. you open your eyes to look at him.

"are you sure... that you want to..." oscar's voice is low but genuine; he knows you aren't a fan of exhibitionism, and that these situations usually only make you uncomfortable.

but the look in your eyes is impossible to misinterpret. "there's no one around..."

he looks around the area once more just to make sure. choosing to go to the spa at 8pm, the exact time when the restaurant at the hotel was the most crowded, was oscar's best idea yet.

he doesn't say anything else. he just grabs the back of your neck, pushing you down to his lips yet again. it's more rushed now, messy kisses pressed against your lips and his tongue swiping across your bottom lip hastily. his other hand caresses all the way down your back, gives your butt a quick squeeze, and then moves to your front instead. his fingers trace the edge of your bikini before dipping inside of it, finding your clit with ease.

your upper body is completely leaning onto him by now, little sounds slipping past your lips as he starts drawing circles onto your already sensitive bud. in no time, he's slipped past your clit, one finger sliding into your core and pumping you a couple of times before being joined by another finger. you can't help but clench around him, exhaling into the kiss.

"please, oscar..." you whine against his lips, and oscar nods, pulling out of you and breaking the kiss. he holds your hips away a little to make space for his hand undoing the knot that holds up his swim trunks, before pulling his dick out of them. he lifts you up, fingers pushing your bikini bottoms to the side but pausing when his tip meets your core. he waits for your nod of consent before finally entering you.

the water helps him glide into you, a throaty moan rumbling from his throat when he bottoms you out. he doesn't give you even a second to adjust, hands on your hips pulling you up before sinking you onto him again.

"fuck," he lets out, throwing his head back when you start to roll your hips against his. "you feel so good..."

you lean forward, forehead resting on the bend of his neck as you bounce up and down on him. your hands move to the back of his head, fingers getting lost in his locks, and it doesn't take long before your movements get sloppier. you gasp when oscar begins thrusting up into you, meeting your downward movements in a steady rhythm.

his grip on your hips grows firmer, rough fingers pressing into your skin and surely leaving marks for tomorrow. he's getting closer, too – you can tell by the string of moans he's letting out in between a bunch of swearwords – and you use your last bit of energy to pick up your pace and help him out. your walls contract around him when you come, and you feel him reach his own high not long after, twitching and shooting into you as you ride out your orgasms.

his hands are more gentle now, brushing up and down your back and following the bumps of your spine. when you finally gain the energy to speak, your words vibrate against his skin. "well, we're never coming back to this spa again." you lean back slightly, looking up at him for the first time in a while. "or the town, for that matter."

his blissed-out eyes meet yours, soft and glossy as he raises his eyebrows. "why's that?"

his flushed cheeks make him look so innocent, but his heaving chest tells another story. "did you not see the cameras?" you question.

"oh, you think we're the first ones to do this here?" you gasp at his wording, splashing some water his way. he laughs. "what, do you really? i reckon this happens here at least once every day. maybe even more."

"oscar!"

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anxi-aashi · 2 months

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SJCKEBCEJGNF I LOVE YOUR WRITING BABES! Honestly your pirate series and giving childe a bj was hot omg- Can I request like Husband! Childe x Wife! Reader? Like childe wants a another kid or smth even thought they have so many XD and just you know breeding reader or smth- Ajfjehfjrjff anyways you're amazing!!!!! love you :>>>> <33333

a/n: TYSM this took me absolutely way too long to finish BUT im officially on spring break now so hopefully I'll be able to write some more again!

cw: breeding (with intent), praise, fem!reader, fingering, kids (derogatory), not proofread, lmk if I forgot anything!

At last, your crotch goblins were asleep.

It felt like years had passed just trying to get them to settle down after dinner, much less convince them to get into bed; your youngest spent about fifteen minutes arguing with his dad in the bathroom before finally brushing his teeth.

And yet, as you and your husband wandered past the doorways of all five of your kids, watching them sleep without a care in the world, you felt a sort of contentness fill your chest knowing you’d probably have to do it all over again the next night.

While watching your third shift in her sleep, drooling, Childe joined you, resting his head atop yours and rubbing a palm on your arm soothingly. “Phew! That took forever,” he remarked in a whisper.

You snickered along with him and turned to meet his eyes. “You’re pooped, too? Thought you were all about the thrill of danger.”

He snorted softly. “Right, nothing more dangerous than five gremlins who napped a little too long after lunch.” His gaze slipped to your third behind you, now passed out flat on her stomach, and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Let’s follow their lead tonight, hm?”

With that, he led you to the room you both shared. The two of you went about your nightly routines in comfortable silence, you brushing your teeth while Childe picked out something for the two of you to watch together before bed. Or at least, you thought he was.

Childe was not doing that. Instead, he watched you, his wife. Wife. It still hit him every now and then that you were his, no matter how long you two had been married. What did you see in him that made you say yes when he proposed? When he first asked you out? He’d probably never know.

He knew what he saw in you, though. And somewhere in that long list of qualities (that he had written on his phone), was your pussy.

The same pussy that birthed his five kids. The same one that got so wet every time he whispered something filthy in your ear. That hugged his dick so perfectly.

Fuck, he was hard. And you were none the wiser, simply rinsing the toothpaste from your mouth like normal.

Childe’s eyes trailed down to your ass as you bent over the sink. Down your legs, up to your stomach covered with the fabric from your fitted tank top. He pictured it— remembered it— stretched out and swollen, round with his kid growing inside. You had looked so good pregnant. Every time.

And suddenly, he really wanted to see you pregnant again.

Hands snaked around your waist as you washed your face, drawing your attention to the mirror in front of you. “Hm, what’s up?” you asked his reflection.

Childe remained silent, opting to take his time feeling you up instead. His hands idly roamed around your stomach, grazing the sides of your breasts, leaving tingles of goosebumps in their wake, until finally landing on your hips and pulling you flush against him.

A squeak of surprise escaped you, a question close behind, but the motives behind his behavior became clear when you noticed his hard-on nestled snugly between your ass cheeks. “Ajax! You can’t wait five minutes for me to finish here?”

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” he mused, ignoring your protest.

You bent over to rinse the soap from your face. “‘A while?’ Did you already forget how you practically jumped me the other day after the kids went to school?”

“I mean since we had one.”

You paused at his clarification, standing up straight to meet his eyes through the mirror.

He had that look in his eye— one you had seen many times before. Five times, to be exact. Childe smoothed his hands over your hips, the pressure combined with the dull throbbing of his cock against your ass making you dizzy. “You always look so beautiful carrying my baby. Let me give you another one?”

You forced yourself to think around the growing arousal simmering in your blood. “You want another baby or you just want to get me knocked up again? Pretty important difference, there.”

His grin was devious as one of his hands migrated to slide into your panties. “I think six is a much better number than five, don’t you think?” A finger grazed your slick folds. Childe’s grin only grew wider. “Kinda feels like you agree with me.”

You tilted your head to lean against his shoulder, relishing in the sensations of his fingers teasing your sex. “Please,” you breathed.

That was all he needed to hear. Ever the gentleman, your husband transported you swiftly to the bed, wasting no time pulling your sleep shorts and underwear down your legs while you rid yourself of your top. Your hands tangled themselves in his hair to pull his face to yours, lips meeting in a messy kiss.

Childe ground his hips into yours, sending waves of heat pulsing through your limbs and encouraging more slick to seep from your cunt. He moaned into your mouth, the kiss becoming sloppy as impatience and need had you panting rather than meeting his lips. You were hot, so hot, desperate for any sort of attention that would soothe the steady ache building in your core, that when he finally dipped a finger into your drooling cunt, a loud moan ripped from your throat.

A hand slapped over your mouth, muffling any further sounds you made. Childe panted down at you, panic and lust etched into his face. “Shh, baby,” he whispered, “Don’t want to wake the little ones up, do we?”

You shook your head, pleading to him with your eyes to keep fingering you.

“Good girl.” His finger slowly pulled out of you, only to sink back in up to the knuckle; again, again— another finger joined— again, again, until the steady pace he set had your pussy singing his praises in lewd squelches.

Grateful as you were for the stimulation, it wasn’t enough. You brought up a hand on top of his that covered your mouth, lifting it up just enough to gasp, “Please, please, want you inside me, wan’ you to fill me up.”

The dark chuckle Childe let out was almost patronizing. “Aw, my fingers aren’t enough for you? So impatient tonight,” he cooed, curling his fingers up to tease your g-spot before pulling them out.

“Don't worry, I’ll fill you up soon.”

And soon came faster than you expected. This time, you’re thankful that Childe’s hand was still so close to your mouth, otherwise the whine that you let out would’ve had you answering some very concerned questions from your kids. His cock sunk into you with ease and without warning, and you were suddenly reminded of how whole you felt when he gave you the piece you were missing. A shudder rippled through your body as he rolled his hips into yours, rutting with a need that you could tell was out of his control.

But just as it was starting to feel good, he paused, moving his hands to grip the back of your thighs to fold you into a mating press before you could complain at the loss of movement.

With your cunt bared open to him in the new position, the tip of his cock kissed your cervix with ease, grazing by the gummy spot hidden within your walls with every pass. Childe hissed in a breath when he felt you squeeze around him, hips stuttering into a steady pace that gave you no room to breathe.

The room was getting hot. Or maybe that was you? Childe always did have the nasty habit of fucking you out of your head, and now that he had a purpose in mind, you had a feeling you were going to be walking a little funny the next day.

Every slam of his cock sent your knees knocking into the mattress beside your head. Every slap of his balls against your ass as he filled you to the hilt with every thrust had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Every filthy thing your husband uttered without shame triggered another wave of slick to coat his cock, making it all the more easy for him to fuck you however he wanted.

“Can’t wait to get you pregnant again,” he panted. “I hope it's a girl— your tits always look so— hah— so much bigger with a girl.” The bed was creaking. “We’re gonna get it right on the first try, ‘kay? Not wasting time with a negative test. ‘M just gonna have to fill you enough tonight so that it takes. And you—” A hand of his left your thigh to swipe vigorously over your swollen clit. Your back arched, mouth dropping open with a whine. “--- You, are gonna cum as many times as you want. Got it, sweetheart?”

“A-jax,” you whimpered. “I— gonna—”

“Ohh, already?” he crooned. “Go ahead, cum on my cock. Want you to feel good while I knock you up.”

Your first orgasm of the night ripped through you, the coil in your stomach snapping. This time it was you who covered your mouth the block the gutteral moan that threatened to make itself heard. The walls of your pussy clamped down on Childe, a small squeak accompanying the juices that spurted around his dick as he worked you through your high.

“Fuuuck, yes, just like that. So good, mmmh.” A bright flush glowed from under his pale skin, covering his face and sweat-soaked chest. His thumb stopped its assault on your clit to catch a dribble of your cum that slid down your ass.

You were almost a little disappointed when he didn’t offer it to you for a taste, but the sight of him licking it clean was more than enough to make it up. And enough of a distraction from the steadily building overstimulation of Childe’s cock still, albeit slowly, rocking into you.

A tear slid down your cheek, prompting Childe to lean over you to lick it up as well. He propped himself up by your head, his tongue dragged lightly across your cheekbone, then followed up with a multitude of kisses around your face. He finally reached your lips, rewarding you with a languid kiss, rimmed with the tang you recognized from your cum.

Against your lips, Childe continued to mumble praises in between sloppy kisses, each sentence egging him on to chase his release. “You taste so good.” His warm breath graced your mouth as he spoke. He was too close, too warm, you were too warm, the heat radiating off the both of you so palpable you swear you could touch it. And it was his fault. “I wish you could see yourself right now. So fucking beautiful. Mother of my kids.” A hand of his drifted down to palm your tummy, pressing down until you could both feel his dick rearranging your guts beneath your skin. “Feel me here? That’s where I’m gonna cum. Gonna fill you up so much it’ll be dripping out of you and I’ll just have to fuck it back in.”

You yelped as he buried his head into the crook of your neck to better focus on drilling his cock into your g-spot. “Ajax!”

“Fuck, yes, say my name. Say my name. Who’s pussy is this?”

“Yours, Ajax, it’s yours! ‘S your pussy— please cum, please, please,” you sobbed.

“‘M almost there, almost— ” he cut himself off with a groan. His thrusts turned sloppy, steady pounding shifting to erratic jackhammering before his hips stuttered, and he pushed himself to the hilt again before spilling his load into you.

You sighed in bliss, basking in the warmth settled in your belly. As Childe caught his breath, he picked his head up to look at you quizzically.

“You didn’t cum again.”

You shook your head with a raspy laugh. “It's ok.”

Inside your cunt, you felt his cock twitch. He arched an eyebrow at you. “You’re right, it is. You’ll cum again soon anyways.” Childe slid out of you, making you whine at the loss before wrapping an arm around your waist and carrying you with him as he sat up, plopping you in his lap.

“Because I’m nowhere near done with you.”

#snail.writes #snail.answers #childe smut #childe x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #childe #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia smut

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softlyspector · 1 year

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ill say it once and ill say it again, when marc spector gets comfortable enough around you, the praise kink is gonna come out and it's gonna come out hard, and lemme tell you, there's nothing that man loves more than being told he's doing a good job and hearing how good he's making you feel - i'm literally not taking any arguments about this

and you shouldn't hear any arguments because it's just so correct.

marc spector x reader smut under the cut.

~1.6k words

The first time it happens, you think it's a coincidence. You tell yourself it's coincidence - the way Marc keens in your ear, comes so hard his eyes roll back, fingers latched into your skin like you're the last person on Earth, like you're the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

It's a coincidence surely, that you'd threaded your fingers through his hair moments before, tugged gently, and whispered, "Good. You are so fucking good. You are so good to me."

He doesn't mention it, afterwards, and you don't either. How he'd practically wailed, how his grip left little divots in your skin, crescent moons left behind like a brand.

You've always praised Marc, let him know how good he made you feel. You've always known that he needs that. But you think that's the first time he's let you see how much it affects him.

Sometimes, you feel as though you'll never really know him. Not all of him, anyways. But you don't mind, there'll always be something to uncover and you love a puzzle - even one with sharp edges.

Years, you have been with him. It's been years, and still vulnerability came at random times, usually with a stony expression and a look in his eyes that said he expected to be found wanting, or ridiculous.

But it's not, he's not.

The sound of his pleasure is so sweet, so good, you can't imagine how he'd kept it inside for so long. The way he absolutely ached for you has always been obvious, but this is new.

And you want to hear it again, you want to see him desperate again, desperate to please you and hear your praise.

So you try it again, and soon, a few days later, when he's buried between your thighs, fingers digging delicately into the plush flesh of your thighs, fingertips skimming up to your hips, the dip of your waist. His shoulders are propped beneath your thighs, legs draped delicately over his shoulders and biceps.

You wait until he's focused, lost in you and far away, to say - "You're doing so well. So fucking good." And then, "You look so pretty like this."

His eyes flash up to yours before they flutter shut, mouth tightening around a groan, fingers digging tighter into your skin.

He likes it. Marc likes it when you tell him how good he is.

Your breath catches. To know is one thing, to hear the desperation is another things entirely.

You want to draw it out of him slowly, torture him with the sound of how fucking adept he is at making you lose your absolute last brain cell.

His breath is warm against your cunt, chest heaving in tight little pants.

His shoulders may as well be cut from marble, just like the rest of him. The smooth glide of muscle as he shifts like a beacon in the night for restless tired eyes. You could spend days tracing the shape of his collarbone alone, licking away the glow of sweat on his skin.

"God, do you know, Marc? You always make me feel so good," you slide your hand through his hair, tug on the ends of his curls. "Do you like hearing me say that?" You ask, teasing him only a little. "I like telling you. You're fucking gorgeous and too good to me."

He’s nodding into you, hips rutting against the mattress, weak groans slipping past his lips. "I dunno, I don't fuckin'-,"

“You like knowing how good you make me feel, huh?”

He just keeps nodding.

Your mouth fills with saliva. You want to watch him make himself come, drunk on your words and the pressure of his cock rubbing against the sheets.

"You like hearing it." This time it isn't a question, and he stills suddenly. "I like knowing you like it." Marc doesn't look at you this time, focusing his attention instead back on your pussy, on the slick, swollen folds, the mess that is his doing. You've lost count of how many times he's made you come, and your brain is slow to catch up to the self-deprecating twitch of his lips.

He looks into you like the answers of the universe could be found there as long as he avoided your gaze. His eyes are hard again, focused, like he thinks you might be making fun of him and doesn't want to call you on it.

His mouth is wet, chin damp with your arousal, and you want to tell him you like that too, how thoroughly he ate your pussy, all in hopes of hearing how much you liked it, of hearing how good he was at it and how good he is for you.

How good he is for you in every way, especially when he's broken you down into pieces, into almost nothing, having drowned you in pleasure and stripped you bare until there's nothing left. He's reassuring himself that he's good for you, that he belongs there with you.

Still, he must know.

That he makes you see God.

Even the tip of his nose is wet, for fuck's sake.

Marc releases the grip of his hand on your hip, dragging it under your thigh to push your knee down, spreading you wider as he laps at you gently. He doesn't hold back the rumbling moan though, when you curse at the sensation of his mouth against you, barely touching, like the breath of a barely there brush of air.

"Marc," you moan, tossing your head back when he does it again, just breathes on you, skims his tongue lightly up your folds, so delicately you really aren't sure it's happening.

But when you glance down, hard umber eyes are watching you closely, brows lowered over a tense gaze. His eyes flick away again, the warmth of his large palm dragging down your thigh where he'd pinned it against the bed.

He circles your entrance delicately instead with one finger before he notches his thumb there, slowly pressing into you. You dig your fingers into his other arm, sweeping your fingers down his forearm, before hooking your hand against the crook of his elbow.

You whine, waiting for his mouth, but he just slowly pulls his thumb away from you, sealing his mouth around it instead, sucking away the musk you left on his hand. "I love seeing you like this," you try again. "You look so pretty." Your voice shutters, and it's an effort not to slam your eyes closed when he crocks two fingers inside you, stretching you open carefully, with a focus that makes your head spin. You catch him nodding though.

To be the center of his world, is to feel like you're burning, like you're drowning or flying and you can't decide if you need to surface for air, or if you might plummet to the ground if you try.

"So pretty. Make me feel like I'm -,"

He moans on the word pretty, and doesn't seem as embarrassed as he did a few minutes before. When your hips rock up off the bed, because the tips of his fingers are brushing something inside you that your own can't reach, and his mouth has sealed around your clit, you dare to whisper, "Good boy."

Marc's whole body seizes, shoulders stiff where they're pressed against the backs of your thighs. "Fu-uck," he groans out, nose nudging against your clit and you moan again, twitching against him, hand gripping the edges of one curl to tug hard until he looks up at you. "Baby," he licks his bottom lip, brown eyes drowned in the black of his pupils. "Please. You're fucking killing me."

He punctuates the sentiment with a forceful plunge of his fingers, the tease of his touch against your cervix deep inside you. You gasp and yank on his shoulder until he pulls his hand away from you and follows your mouth with his. Marc doesn't protest, lets you lick into him with a hum, lets you pull him close and slot him near you.

When you reach between you to palm his cock, you find him impossibly hard and leaking. He shutters when you touch him, when you whisper praise into his ear. "You're so good to me. You always make me feel so good. No one else has ever made me feel like this. No one else can do this to me."

He's preening under your touch, under your words, the caress of your hands against his skin like fire on coal.

He's listening to you now, quiet and breathy and desperate. You don't stop talking until he licks into your mouth, jaw jutting forward as his tongue slides against yours, over the tips of your teeth. "Y'gotta stop."

"Why?" You gasp, his hips flush against you when you guide him inside you.

You clench around him and he groans. "Because 'm gonna fuckin' come if you don't."

"S'okay," you keep your gaze level with his when he presses his nose against yours, breathing him in, the sheen of his skin in the low light, the smell of him like something you'd willingly bury yourself alive in - like something primal. Sweat and the raw scent of his skin and sex. He smells like you too, you think distantly, pussy clenching tighter around him at the thought. "I want it. You deserve it, you've been so good to me. Made me come so many times."

"Fuck, baby."

But he's moving now, hips jerking against yours. "You always make me feel like -,"

You don't get to finish that thought again, Marc fighting to devour you as he fucks you.

You'd let him, you'd let him consume you, you'd let him steal your soul. You break for him again, as you jabber more words of praise, desperate to see that look again, desperate to watch his eyes roll back, desperate to know only you can do this to him, only you can tell him how good he is.

#marc spector x reader #marc spector x reader smut

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levithestripper · 9 months

Text

Wanna Bet?

summary:

“Jesse’s hands meet your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into your clothing. ‘That’s a lotta big talk there, baby. Want to put money where your mouth is?’ You smirk, putting on a show of pretending to think it over. ‘I’m game. I bet you’ll go to every single class and love it.’”

or, Jesse wants to take a woodworking class, and you propose a bet.

warnings: gender-neutral reader

length: 2.1k || read on ao3

notes: this has been sitting in my drafts for god knows how long, i hope you enjoy it!

Sharing his rented condo with you is everything Jesse could ask for and more. Having moved in a handful of months ago, the two of you were settling in nicely, making a good home for yourselves. With you around, Jesse regained something he lost when he began cooking with Mr. White: a sense of normalcy. Never having been in a committed, long-term relationship before you came along, this newfound feeling of stability in his chaotic life was a godsend. Gaining a new safe place allowed Jesse to discover new things about himself. He finds himself doing things he never used to enjoy, like watching sitcoms and cheesy made-for-television movies.

But if Jesse was forced to pick one thing he likes most about living with you, he’d pick watching you do the things you love. He doesn’t know what it is about watching you put together a puzzle or draw in your sketchbook; it just fills him with insane amounts of joy. It lit a fire under him, inspiring Jesse to rekindle the old hobbies of his childhood, specifically woodworking. The thought of returning to woodworking excited him yet filled him with anxiety at the same time. After a week of keeping his worries to himself, Jesse asks for your advice over dinner one night.

“Yo, so I was thinking—”

You snort, interrupting him, “No wonder I smelled smoke earlier.”

Jesse makes a face at you, rolling his eyes. “Oh, shut up. Anyways, as I was saying, I was thinking about taking up woodworking again.” He broke your gaze, looking down as he picked at the food on his plate. “What do you think?”

You hum with a mouthful of food, finishing your dinner. “I think that’s a great idea, love. You said you were good at it in high school, right?”

He nods, still picking at his food. “You think I’ll uh… you think I’ll still like it?”

“What? Of course, you’ll still like it! Why wouldn’t you?”

Jesse sighs, slowly finishing his dinner, stalling for time. He mumbles something unintelligible, regretting bringing it up.

Being practically fluent in Jesse-ese, you sensed something was up, not like it was hard to notice. You knew there was no use in trying to pry whatever was wrong out of him, so you didn’t waste time trying. Instead, you take a different approach. “Jess, I can’t blame you for being worried. You’re stepping out of your comfort zone; that’s hard for anyone to do.” You reach across the breakfast bar and grab his hand, giving it a squeeze of reassurance. “If anyone can do it, it’s you; I believe in you.”

“Thank you, baby.” Jesse offers you a small but sweet smile, which you happily mirror. “You’re sure ‘bout this?”

You kiss each of his knuckles, making him chuckle like always. “One hundred percent sure. When am I ever wrong?”

He raises an eyebrow, teasing you. “You really wanna go there, sweetheart?” Jesse’s confidence returns quickly, his anxiety curbed by your words.

You get up from your chair and walk to his side of the counter, sitting on his lap, arms draped over his shoulders. “Mmm, I don’t know, maybe I do. After all, I am always right.”

Jesse’s hands meet your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into your clothing. “That’s a lotta big talk there, baby. Want to put money where your mouth is?”

You smirk, putting on a show of pretending to think it over. “I’m game. I bet you’ll go to every single class and love it.”

“And what do you want if you win?” he asks, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. His hands migrated from your hips to your back, sliding under your shirt.

The unexpected sensation of cold hands touching your skin made you shiver, only fueling the fire you had lit within Jesse. “When I win, you mean.”

“Yeah, whatever, babe, just tell me what you want if you win,” he replies, a smug look on his face.

“When I win, I want you to make me something with the skills you learned from the classes.” Your fingers twist the short hair on the back of his neck into points. The tingly feeling ran up the base of Jesse’s skull, pulling a shiver from him; revenge for touching you with freezing hands.

Jesse grumbles at you in a half-hearted attempt to appear apathetic, but you see right through it with practiced ease. “If I win, which I will, you have to do whatever I say for twenty-four hours straight.”

“Deal, but your demands must be within reason.”

“Deal.” Jesse tugs you down for a kiss, sealing the bet with a smug grin.

———

Once he found a co-op offering free beginner’s lessons, Jesse signed up for two months of classes. Every Friday night after dinner, Jesse kissed you goodbye before leaving for the co-op, never hinting that you were winning the bet. And he hated it, hated how you were right—like always. Jesse had forgotten how rewarding it is to create things. It took nearly all his self-control to keep himself from living at the woodworking studio. He revels in every moment he gets to spend there, questioning why he ever quit in the first place.

As weeks pass, your excitement grows as you wonder what Jesse could be working on. You’re hopeful he’ll bring a project home with him, but it never happens. Every Friday night, a routine forms between you, beginning with dinner in front of the television. As he’s getting ready to leave, Jesse kisses you on the forehead and says, “See you in a couple hours; love you.”

Every week, you ask how it went, and Jesse replies eagerly, happily talking about what he learned. But when you inquire about what he was working on, all you get is a variation of, “Nah, it’s nothing special. Don’t wanna bore you by talking about it. It’s coming along nicely, though.” Jesse’s uncharacteristic defensiveness plants a seed of worry within you. You hope that his reasoning for brushing off your inquiries was that he was nervous to show you his work, nothing else.

———

Moonlight filtered in through the living room curtains, illuminating the room in a soft glow. You sat at the breakfast bar, working on something unimportant, the TV playing in the background. The front door opened, quickly drawing your attention away from your laptop. You stand to greet Jesse at the door, but he beats you to it, rushing over to the counter to give you a kiss. Fumbling with the TV remote, you turn it off, far more interested in your boyfriend. “How was your last day? Finish everything you were working on?” you ask, sitting back down.

Jesse sat down across from you, nodding as he did. “Yeah. Place had a real great vibe to it, you know?” He gnaws on his bottom lip, eyes flitting between you and his lap. “Might sign up for a higher level class. Haven’t done this since high school; I forgot how much I enjoyed it.”

A loving smile spreads across your features. “I’m proud of you, baby. Wish I could’ve seen the pieces you made.” You don’t miss the subtle blush that dusts itself over Jesse’s face, the sight making your heart flutter. There’s a pause between you two, and you’re quick to fill the heavy silence. “You know I’d never make fun of you or your work, regardless of how good or bad it is, right?” You take his hand to reassure him, worried he didn’t bring anything home for fear of criticism.

Giving your hand a squeeze, Jesse fixes his posture, leaning against the counter instead of slouching. “I’m sorry I’ve been so secretive about,” he motions with his free hand, “all this.” He scratches his head through the black and yellow beanie covering his hair. “I know you never would—” Jesse stammers, “—would be scared to show you anything.” You sigh with relief, Jesse’s words lifting a weight off your chest.

“Then why did you hide your enjoyment from me?” you ask, sadness laced throughout your words.

Your question pulls on Jesse’s heartstrings, only now realizing how his actions had affected you. He squeezes your hand again, kissing your knuckles apologetically. “Close your eyes, and I’ll explain?” he offers, pulling out the big guns: his patent pending puppy dog eyes.

You look him once over before complying, wondering what he has up his sleeve this time. Whatever Jesse was doing, he was quick about it as you were opening your eyes after what felt like mere seconds of having them closed. The first thing you see is your boyfriend nervously fidgeting with the drawstring of his hoodie and chewing on his bottom lip. The second thing you see is a small trinket box. It’s stained a deep, rich color and sanded to such perfection that you could almost see your reflection. You look at the box, then at Jesse, silently asking permission to touch it, which he gave. Gently opening the lid, you saw the inside was patterned with a different style of wood, something striped to contrast the solid color on the exterior. “Oh, Jesse,” you whisper with awe, “This is beautiful, a work of art.” Your fingers trace the edges as you take in his stunning craftsmanship. “Is this what you’ve been working on the whole time?”

Jesse nods, still playing with his hoodie’s drawstrings. “Took forever to get it just right. The inside is zebra wood; I had to wait a week for it to get restocked. Made one like this back in high school. Loved it more than anything; even my parents liked it. Everyone said I should gift it to my mom,” he pauses, needing a moment. “I almost did, too. But I traded it. Barely got twenty bucks of pot for it.” Jesse shook his head as if he were dismissing the bad memories from view. “But that’s not why I remade it.”

Engrossed in his story, you do your best to reign over your emotions, rubbing your eyes free of tears. “Why did you remake it then?”

Jesse motions for you to turn the box upside down, which you do. “Your answer is on the bottom.”

Looking at the underside of the box, you find words—along with the year—carved into the woodwork.

Thank you for believing in me ♡

—J

Once he’s sure you’ve read it, Jesse continues talking. “Remade it so I could finally have the chance to gift it to someone I love.” He meets your gaze for the first time since he revealed your present.

You got up from your chair without saying a word, rushing around the breakfast bar to pull your boyfriend into a near-bone-crushing hug. “What did I do to deserve someone as perfect as you?” you ask rhetorically, face buried in his neck. “I don’t even know where to begin; I love it so much.” Jesse wraps his arms around your midsection, hugging you impossibly tighter. He peppers soft kisses over your cheek and jawline, holding you close to his chest.

“I should be the one asking that, little bird. You have no clue how nervous I was, worried you wouldn’t like it or it wouldn’t turn out how I wanted it to,” Jesse sighed against your skin, and you could feel all that anxiety he spoke of leaving his body. “Not mad at me?”

You can’t help but giggle as you lift your head from his shoulder. “Not mad. Although, I’m not used to you being so lovey-dovey and mushy like this. Kinda like it, if I’m being honest.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jesse rolls his eyes with a smirk. No matter how badly he tried to hide his amusement, you could tell he liked it, too. He moves a hand to your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss. One kiss turned into two, three, four, all soft and full of stupid amounts of love. Jesse squeezes you tightly once more before releasing you. “Just wait; you’ll like what I make next even more.”

“Oh yeah? You sound pretty confident about that,” you smirk, tugging teasingly on the ends of his hoodie.

Jesse bit his lip, looking up at you with a glint in his eyes. “Oh yeah, you wanna put your money where your mouth is?” he snarks back, his hand moving from your cheek to the back of your neck. He uses his newfound leverage to drag you back in for another kiss, only this one has the heat of a promise behind it the previous ones did not.

A promise of a long, sleepless night for both of you.

#jesse pinkman #jesse pinkman x reader #jesse x reader #jesse pinkman breaking bad #jesse breaking bad #jesse brba #breaking bad fandom #breaking bad fanfiction #breaking bad fic #breaking bad x reader #breaking bad x you #brba x reader #brba x you #brba fandom #brba fanfiction #x reader #x you #gender neutral reader

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somebluemelodies · 5 months

Text

DAY FOUR OF SPIDERBIT THEME WEEK STARTED BY @anonymous-dentist! :D SELECTED THEME: KISS took a new approach with this one bc i really really wanted to write an absolute soft fluffy mess and i present to you: a compilation of different types of kisses :> this is kinda long sorry guys-

Chaos. Pure, unadulterated chaos.

Everything is a hazy blur. Everything. Waking up and finding Felps. Breaking Felps out and reuniting. Stumbling into the room overlooking the massive dungeon and finally being able to send coordinates, desperately hoping that someone, anyone, will see them and come, despite everything he’s done.

Did they all get their letters?

(Did Roier get his letter? The amaranths?)

If they won’t come for him specifically, maybe they’ll come for Felps’s sake.

And then, after God only knows how long, people show up. A lot of people show up.

And they’re rescued. They’re freed. It’s a mess of voices shouting, swords clashing, armor clanging, and heat. Cellbit barely has the energy to hurry, mentally and physically exhausted, but he’s being ushered along and he has no choice.

(People care. They came. They care.)

The first moment of clarity, oddly enough, comes when he’s standing on the roof, and he’s just indirectly proposed to Roier— oh, God, is this actually—

And Roier accepts.

(Were they even dating in the first place?)

(Does it matter? Anything could happen at any moment. The last few days are an example of just that.)

Well, nothing about them is normal, anyway.

There are arms thrown around his neck, drawing him back from his mind. Roier is laughing, and warmth blooms in Cellbit’s heart as he laughs alongside him, arms wrapping right around his waist as they rock in place.

(Incredulousness. Surprise. Happiness. Love.)

When the laughter finally calms, and they still, Roier pauses a moment before moving back one of his arms, tentatively cupping Cellbit’s face.

The investigator’s eyes widen slightly, heat threatening to creep up his neck, and it takes all of his willpower to try not to lean into the touch.

(He fails, borderline miserably. But the fondness in Roier’s eyes runs so deep he isn’t sure he can be embarrassed.)

Roier presses a kiss to his cheek, then, and his stunlock must be visible, because Roier laughs again, dark eyes crinkling and God, he just looks so happy and perfect and Cellbit thinks he might melt and die right here and now—

His cheeks flush and the spider-hybrid only laughs more, burying his head into Cellbit’s neck. Cellbit breathes in, but a smile splits his face once more and they’re both laughing like idiots again, holding each other tighter all the while.

(Love. Love. Love.)

…

“Don’t fuck this up” repeats like a mantra in Cellbit’s head; over and over and over again. He feels impossibly lucky Roier even agreed to let this date happen, nearly physically wincing at the recollection of all the events that had transpired prior to this point.

(Roier deserves better than him, really.)

(But if he’s who Roier wants after all, then he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try to be at least half the man the spider-hybrid deserves.)

All things considered, though, the date is going really well. Although the investigator is still kicking his own ass at his carelessness, things are finally returning to a semblance of normalcy, and for that he’s eternally grateful.

Roier spends more time talking between the two of them, but it’s perfectly fine by Cellbit; he’s always been more of a listener, anyway.

(It’s not like he’s too distracted by the man himself to make any extended commentary. No, not at all!)

Roier is fun to watch, though. Captivating. He’s expressive, charming, practically everything adoring under the sun. And he’s, well, beautiful.

Really beautiful.

(Handsome? Pretty? Beautiful?)

(Does it really matter?)

The lighting in the taqueria isn’t spectacular by any means. But if anything, the slight dimness only makes the spider-hybrid more distracting pretty. His eyes twinkle with fun and mischief, and his smile could light up the whole taqueria itself, Cellbit thinks fondly. And—

“Cellbo?”

Cellbit blinks, snapping back to reality. “Yeah?”

Roier is a rather cute mix of puzzled and amused, quirking an eyebrow. “¿Estás bien? You spaced out or something; you okay?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, yeah. Sí. Sorry.” The investigator rubs the back of his neck.

“No worries, man,” Roier dismisses. And much to Cellbit’s admiration, he backs up a bit in his story and continues right on.

At some point, Cellbit’s eyes drop to their hands on the table, a short distance apart from each other. And a thought starts to creep into his head.

(The mantra repeats itself. Don’t fuck this up.)

Gingerly, Cellbit takes Roier’s hand in his, thumb brushing along his knuckles. The spider-hybrid doesn’t make any moves to pull his hand back, and, to the other’s surprise, his momentary surprised pause doesn’t even disrupt the flow of his story.

They stay like that for a short while, and Cellbit’s adoring thoughts amble back to him as he listens to Roier.

(Him. Him. Him.)

Before the investigator even fully processes what he’s doing, he’s lifting the spider-hybrid’s hand and pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles.

This makes Roier actively pause, and Cellbit’s heart drops for a moment, eyes widening.

(Don’t fuck this up, don’t fuck this up—)

(You’ve fucked this up—)

Roier starts smiling, cheeks tinted the faintest of reds. Nothing is said, but he lowers their hands to the table, lacing their fingers together.

And they stay like that until Leo reappears with their food.

…

Both of them have barely been able to stop smiling since the ceremony began, when Cellbit stepped onto the aisle and their eyes locked.

Everything is a bit of a haze. But a pleasant one. Hands clasped, the world seems to get smaller and smaller until it’s only them at the altar, Father Peta’s voice a hum of white noise in the background.

It’s something that’s felt like a long time coming, oddly enough. Thinking back, the pieces seem to fall into place, like a puzzle.

For Cellbit, it started that very moment he and the other Brazilians were rescued off the boat. When the first face he saw on the other side of the glass, beaming and laughing and shouting, was already etching into his mind. Unforgettable.

(That was it.)

He didn’t know, then. He didn’t understand the little piece nagging him at the back of his mind. How could he know, when the future was so uncertain? An island full of mysteries, that was a mystery within itself. His priorities were elsewhere.

For a while, at least.

It’s a little blurrier for Roier, when things, feelings, started to grow more apparent. Their adventures got longer, more frequent. Seeking each other out with no excuse, supporting each other. The flirting stopped being just for the sake of flirting, of having a little fun. Cellbit made him nervous in a way not quite foreign to him, but a way that made him try to deny it. Try to hide from it.

And then Cellbit disappeared, leaving Roier to stare at a letter, a painfully familiar photo, and a bundle of red flowers. Amaranths.

(Everlasting love.)

And it became crystal clear then. He knew. Even if it was too late. God, had he hoped it wasn’t.

(He couldn’t take another loss.)

(But he wouldn’t.)

So, in a strange cacophony of events, for better or for worse, here they are. Admiring each other, exchanging vows that make both of their eyes glassy. They don’t need to talk about the interruption.

It’s all led up to this, one way or another.

“I now pronounce you married!”

Hasn’t it?

The ‘kiss cue’ has barely left Father Peta’s mouth before Roier is grabbing Cellbit’s face - quick but gentle, never harsh - and pulling him into a kiss he’s gotten rather impatient for.

(They were both getting rather impatient, but nobody needs to know that.)

It’s not much of a kiss at first, though, the way their noses bump first and they can’t stop smiling and fighting laughter against each other’s lips. But as it sinks in, that they’re married, they’re husbands, Cellbit holds Roier tighter, pulling him closer still. Their eyes flutter shut, lips pressing together in a way that feels nothing short of home.

(They’re finally right where they needed to be.)

…

“Espera- I want to try something.”

Cellbit shoots his husband a questioning look. Roier only grins.

The investigator folds his arms, watching as the spider-hybrid flicks his wrist up towards the ceiling, a thin string of web shooting out.

With an athletic grace that never ceases to impress Cellbit, Roier jumps and flips himself upside-down, suspended by the web.

They’re eye-level now— well, if Cellbit looks straight ahead then he’s looking at Roier’s chin, and vice versa, but his eyes lower to his love’s own. “Okay, and?”

(This feels oddly familiar. Is this the set-up for what he thinks it is?)

Roier’s grin doesn’t falter. “Kiss me.”

(Of-fucking-course.)

Cellbit wants to facepalm, flick his husband on his very kissable face, but the fondness in his heart is quickly growing, and he laughs instead, shaking his head to himself. “Que? Like the fucking movie?”

It’s the spider-hybrid’s turn to laugh. “C’mon, man! You know you want to!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Bésame, pendejo. Before I get light-headed and fall on my face or some shit. You don’t want me cracking my—”

Huffing another laugh, the investigator tilts his head up and cups Roier’s cheeks, connecting their lips and effectively shutting him up.

The angle makes it wonky and awkward, and the kiss only lasts a few seconds before they’re smiling and snickering, and snickering turns into even more laughter.

(How did they get here?)

Still holding Roier’s face, Cellbit plants kisses to the corner of his mouth, his nose, and his forehead in succession. “Te amo, guapito.”

Roier’s smile softens, eyes bright, and his husband is certain he’s falling in love with the spider-hybrid all over again. “Eu te amo, gatinho.”

#holy shit that took ages HBEJDJWD #BUT I DID IT #is this coherent? i’m not sure #i wanted a fluffy mess and by god i got a mess at the very least #but it’s my mess #and i love my cubito husbands and their love very much #qsmp cellbit #qsmp roier #spiderbit #qsmp #blue writes qsmp #a.d's spiderbit week

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bihansthot · 8 months

Text

I don’t usually post WIPs but I figured since this one might be long and might take a while to finish, I would. How are we feeling about it thus far? Feedback is appreciated. :) Also a title would also be really helpful. This will be a solo Syzoth x f!reader but there is an established OT3 with Bi-Han too because they’re all together and all happy because I said so, but Bi-Han won’t have a big role in his story. The main focus will be a desperate, animalistic, very much in need Reptile satiating his primal needs with the readers help. Again I don’t know if I’ll have this done by the game’s release, but I’m trying to, my partner is out of town for the next two days, so I have plenty of time to write, but I also have to look after Denny, so I’m trying to balance writing and park time. So, anyway I hope you loves enjoy the sneak peak of what I’m up to.

You yawn and roll around the bed groggily, you’re disoriented and groggy and more pressingly, cold. At some point during the night, your electric blanket had decided to turn itself off and you curse the automatic timer to yourself before burrowing deeper under the covers. Something feels off though, not right, and you roll over towards his side of the bed and realize he’s not there, “Sy?” You call out, unwilling to come out of your mountain of blankets as you search around the bed fruitlessly, “Bi-Han?” No answer from either, not that you expected the Grandmaster to actually still be in the vicinity of the bedroom, he had most likely been awake for quite some time overseeing mission paperwork and morning workouts. You shiver as you force yourself out of bed, very reluctantly, and throw on your heavy fur-laden robes as you make your way to the bathroom. You put your hair back before splashing some water on your face and scrubbing the cleanser onto your face, you take a moment to savor the hot water on your skin. You almost reluctantly pat your face dry with a nice fluffy towel as you set upon the rest of your morning routine, you yawn loudly as you make your face up, of course, both Bi-Han and Syzoth insisted your were beautiful as is, but you wore makeup for yourself, not for your lovers. Besides you didn’t like how sleepy and sickly you always looked without eyeliner on so you set to your task and draw a thin line of coal over your eyelids and make your final touch-ups. You change into your fur-lined day clothes and head out of the Grandmaster’s chambers.

You wander around the compound for a bit trying to keep an eye out for either of your lovers, but having little luck tracking down either. Slowly you make your way to the kitchen, breakfast was long over but if you were lucky you’d still be able to sneak a bowl of congee from the girls in the kitchen. Luck was in your favor as you enter the wonderfully warm kitchen and greet the girls, “Zhilan, good morning!” You call brightly as your morning fatigue seems to lessen upon seeing your favorite of the serving girls.

“Good morning my lady!” she replies happily, bowing lowly as a sign of respect for you, “I set aside a bowl of congee and some soft boiled eggs for you.”

“You’re a live saver Zhilan!” You smile happily as you take the bowl of piping hot congee from her before helping yourself to a nice hot cup of coffee. You take a seat on one of the wooden stools in the spacious kitchen as you begin to enjoy your breakfast, there was nothing particularly remarkable about the congee but it was hearty and warming and in the harsh climate of Arctika, nothing seemed to hit the spot quite like it. You take your time finishing your breakfast, but nearly gulp down the coffee, desperate for the satisfying buzz of caffeine. “Say, Zhilan, have you seen Bi-Han or Syzoth this morning? I can’t seem to find either.”

“The Grandmaster was overseeing the youth practice this morning, but I haven’t see Master Syozth, my lady, I’m sorry I can’t be of more help to you,” she looks down worried as Zhilan replies to your query.

“Ah ok, thanks so much, I’ll go pester Bi-Han then,” you slid the dishes into the sink before thanking the girls again and heading back out into the harsh cold. You make your way to the training grounds following the grunts and dejected cries from the young initiates, “Polar Bear, there you are!” You smile happily as you make your way across the training field and find the Grandmaster there sternly barking out corrections.

“Qīn, you’re finally awake I see,” he smiles playfully as he motions for Kuai Liang to take over directing the young warriors. He glares intensely at his students as he hears snickering and snide comments from a few of the more troublesome students, “you and you! See me after class. I have buckets with your names on them.”

You wince slightly at his tone and the harsh punishment of making the boys stand out in the cold for who knows how long holding heavy water-laden buckets with their arms extended. “Polar Bear, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have interrupted class, maybe go easy on them for once?”

“There’s no mercy in the Lin Kuei qīn, you should know that by now.” Bi-Han sneers before steering you off to the side, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong, I don’t think at least, I just can’t find Sy and was wondering if you had seen him,” you answer truthfully.

“I saw him early this morning, something seemed,” the cryomancer pauses for a moment as if searching for a phrase that wouldn’t alarm you, “off. His eyes seemed unfocused and his breathing was hard, I sent him to the physician. I’m not sure a human physician will be able to tend to a Zaterran though.” Bi-Han answers as he cups your worried face and his cold fingers caress your cheek trying to assuage your worries.

“Is, is he going to be ok?” You ask worriedly, torn between staying with Bi-Han a moment longer and running to the medical bay.

“I think it’s just a fever qīn, I’m sure he’ll be fine once it breaks, Syzoth is a strong, powerful warrior, something like a little fever won’t keep him down for long.” Bi-Han reassures as he pats your head, his tall frame dwarfing yours.

“I’m going to go check on him, maybe the healers will have some more information,” you reply before reaching up on your tip toes to give Bi-Han a peck on his cheek.

“I’ll see you for dinner qīn, I have to work through lunch, there’s so many contracts to go through,” Bi-Han sighs as he bids you farewell and heads back to barking orders at the trainees.

You wave goodbye to your lover and his brother before making your way across the sprawling compound to the healers.

#mortal kombat #bi han #sub zero #mk reptile #syzoth #syzoth x reader #current wip #implied bi han x reader #mk reptile x reader #Syzoth x f!reader #eventual nstf

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sunbearsophia · 2 months

Text

it's been so long since I uploaded art to my Tumblr, and since I've made so many pieces for Twitter, figured I would bring them over here, too! Works out better, since I have more space on Tumblr to ramble!

Anyways, I've doodled Eduardo in his later dad years at least twice, maybe even three times on my Twitter, but Laurel, I only ever drew once in her later mum years. So, I decided to draw her yet again to better figure out her design, and since I want to diversify how I draw body types anyways, my mind instantly went to "MOM BOD-"

Anyways, couple of notes of basically my thought process with the whole mum design! ^^

Definitely imagining she's probably in her mid-forties here, with her oldest Emmy probably in college by then and their youngest, Leo, being in middle school.

I definitely think since Laurel carried two kids, she's definitely got more of a pear-shape than she did in her youth, plus a bit of a stomach roll. It probably worried Laurel when she was younger when exercise and dieting didn't change that, but these days, Laurel's gotten past that, with time and self-love, plus an adoring husband who never ceases in telling her how beautiful she is, healing that insecurity and making her proud of her figure. <3

Has plenty of stretch marks, not to mention a leftover C-section scar from when she had Leo. She loves each and every one of them, they remind her of her kids, and she feels like she earned every single one of them.

Age has done nothing to slow Laurel down in terms of energy, however. She doesn't burn out or give up easily, always having time to spend with her husband, kiddos and friends, and still an actress for theatre and film alike. She knows to slow down and appreciate the important things, but she's still got energy to burn and passion to share!

She's perfectly happy with letting her hair grey, not feeling inclined to redye it or changing its color. She loves how it looks, as do the people around her. She does cut her hair, however, preferring the feeling of less hair to deal with, and likes the pixie cut. She just doesn't really need or want long hair for herself! (However, she LOVES Eduardo's middle-aged long hair, it's so pretty and relaxing to brush, especially since he barely brushes it himself lol.)

BODY. MODS. GALORE. I headcanon Laurel absolutely had a ton of piercings in her youth, something that age didn't stop one bit. She also still has matching MLP tattoos with Eduardo, and definitely has more that aren't pictured here. (Might try and design more at a later date!)

Has a million freckles, on her face, neck, arms and torso, and she loves every one of them. Might be a little jealous when she realizes Matt has more than she does, fuckin' MATT lmaooo.

Really loved drawing this piece! I feel like it's great and important to show more realism in body types and diversity in my art, so this was awesome to practice with! Plus, I'm just unbelievably proud of how she turned out! Laurel is such a huge fav of mine, and I definitely plan to make more art of her later years in my hc!

And yeah, def might try drawing Eduardo like this next, since I could use some practice with dad bods, too! Maybe Anna would also be a good choice to continue the mom trend, as well! But yeah, this was a celebration of older, female body types, and it makes me really proud of the final result and just getting to work on it! <3

#eddsworld #eddsworld fanart #eddsworld laurel #laurel eddsworld #ew laurel #eduardo x laurel mention #body positivity

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posebean · 1 year

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good rinky hanahaki morning

GOOD RINKY HANAHAKI MORNING!!!

sorry this is all i have to offer for u. i cant draw flowers </3

anyways more stuff under the read more :3 making it more concrete than just a "i just woke up and am rambling in sana's comments"

now that i have ur attention time to ramble MOREEEEE

rinne's is slow, just small coughs here and there, a petal or two. it started around a year-two ago, a single seed that was nurtured for so long, slowly rooted into his system and growing with the steady love he felt over the years, only getting greater and greater

it doesn't hurt. he's patient. he's waited for so long, he'll wait for eternity if he has to. he's strong and even if one day niki will leave him, maybe fall in love with someone that's not him, he'll still live on with them on his lungs, as long as Niki is happy he is happy, that's all he needs really. and if that time does come he'll just quietly let Niki be happy, stepping away and slowly letting the flowers engulf him.

so he hides it. its not much an effort to hide it, like i said his isnt super bad. he can easily pass it off as a cold or a chronic cough, and everyone (mostly) believes him. (while maybe the more attentive people have their doubts.)

he keeps his mask on and continues with every-day life, teasing Niki as always, being the Rinne Amagi that is known for being a troublemaker; niki asks one day if he got a new floral shampoo, unable to exactly discern the smell but just that its floral. rinne just laughs and is like how did niki~kyun know (proceeds to tease him) while he can feel the roots wrapping around his lungs, squeezing tight, leaving him breathless for some moments.

he'll never complain though, and has never even entertained the idea of getting them surgically removed.

now Niki... if Rinne's has grown slowly over time, his is the opposite. usually it starts off with bouts of coughing, shortness of breath. he immediately starts off with blood-speckled petals. its not gradual at all, its a sudden spike of pain in his chest, burning, searing.

maybe it all comes rushing in, maybe he's always felt this way, just suppressed the seed, which only kept growing more and more pressurized in containment until it burst forward with a sudden realization that Oh he really does love rinne but thinks that rinne only loves him out of obligation, out of a need to pay him back

so he tries so, so hard to hide it. comes up with excuses why he's been fatigued lately, says he was called in to work and cant make it to practice, etc. (but theyre all lies and hes just in some corner or in the bathroom, coughing his lungs out, petals, buds, flowers, blood falling out)

rinne notices immediately something is off. he cant figure out what, though. he knows niki is hiding something. niki's health is deteriorating rapidly, but niki refuses to tell anyone, let anyone know, not even rinne himself, and he cant figure out why!!! and its downright tearing him to pieces

Until he does find out, and takes a deep breath, ignoring the pricks of his own flowers, to grab Niki's hands and beg him to tell him who the flowers are for, who does he need to give Niki up to so that he smiles again.

And then its a whole song and dance of Niki refusing to tell him, as he is, not wanting to bother Rinne with his feelings. Telling him not to worry about him, even if he's coughing up fully bloomed flowers, a tell-tale sign that he doesn't have much time left. All while Rinne is in agony, trying to find who it is, looking everywhere, all around them (but ironically not down at himself). His hanahaki progresses a little, but it's still gradual. Yet even if its gradual, he cant ignore that searing feeling when he sees Niki bent over, unable to move as he coughs up flower after flower, petal after petal.

And then it all leads up to them arguing, Rinne desperately trying to convince Niki to get the flowers surgically removed, acknowledging that if Niki refuses to let him know who it is he should at least Live. Live without that love anymore, but still at least live.

And that's the tipping point where Niki shatters, yelling that, No, he doesn't want to die. He wants to live!! He wants to be able to enjoy eating again, he wants to be able to sing, to dance, to laugh, to cry. All while being alive!!

But he'd rather die than have to live without any love and memory for Rinne-kun anymore.

And then Rinne just stares at him, dumb-founded. Niki's straight up crying, aware that he doesn't have much time to live, readily expecting some sort of rejection.

But all Rinne does is laugh so, so painfully, the flowers on his lungs burning. And Niki glares at him and is like what are YOU laughing for I'm literally dying for you and you're laughing? And Rinne's like "Niki we are so, so, SO stupid" and then after coughing into his own hand for a bit, reveals petals, speckled in blood

And then he's like "Fuck saving this for marriage we both are literally dying" and before Niki can say a thing he kisses him and the flowers on their lungs crumble into ash, gone for good.

ok now that my minific is done (sorry i dont think ill be able to write an actual fic im not good at these types so please enjoy a ramble/minific)

and then idk abt the flowers cuz many have different meanings

i said rinne's were baby's breath (everlasting love ((his neverending devotion to Niki even if he was dying))) or primrose (i cant live without you (((yeah))))) but i also was entertaining honeysuckle (pure happiness((( for the 'honey' motif ))

I said for niki hydrangeas (gratitude ((because that's what he is for Rinne, an unconditional gratitude to the man that has been there for him, even if his ways were unconventional)))

ok anyways i hope u enjoyed the rinniki hanahaki full course :thumbs up:

#zakomoya #bean talk #rinky #i think ill just tag all rnnk stuff with that now because damn i only talk abt them lmfao #rinniki #blood tw? i guess its hanahaki #holy crap this is like. a mini fic. wow uh. have fun

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cottagecore-onceler · 2 years

Text

Chapter 5 / Onceler x Reader

Your head was spinning.

The blueprint you found between Onceler’s things was a project of an unimaginably giant factory. This complicated machinery’s purpose seemed to be remaking Truffula tufts into thneeds. Maybe it wasn’t his? Maybe it was an outside project which he, certainly, wanted to reject? Margin notes suggested otherwise. There it was, written in his handwriting: “smogue?”.

“Fuck this”, you thought hysterically, immediatelly wanting to dump his ass. How come he didn’t mention building a full-size, XIXth century style factory? What else was he hiding? You couldn’t believe you let him continuously lie to you. Suddenly you realised what the point of your vacation was. He was keeping you in here so you couldn’t see what was happening with his workshop. That’s why he didn’t want you to go to Greenville or pretty much anywhere else. You felt tears falling down your cheeks. You gave yourself permission to be vulnerable and it bit you back. You shouldn’t have done this.

You sat on the bed, closing your eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. Maybe this wasn’t so bad? Maybe it was just a practice drawing or some twisted form of a surprise? Building a giant factory doesn’t even compare to cheating, it’s just a… factory? Confusion replaced anger. You didn’t know how to feel about this. No one has ever built a secret factory without telling you. And where the hell was he anyway?

You knew you should confront him. Honest communication is the key to a healthy relationship. But he wasn’t honest, so why would you be? You quickly went back to his drawer and stuck the blueprint back between the shirts. You poured yourself a glass of wine, wrapped a thneed around your shoulders and went outside. Exceptionally bright, full moon emerged among the clouds, while you sat comfortably on your wooden porch.

You decided not to confront him. Moreover, you decided not to tell him anything at all. You wanted to see how it plays out and investigate a little on your own. If he didn’t want to talk about his work, you were gonna find other sources. After all, you were one theatrical bitch.

The sound of a car approaching brought you down to earth. You tossed the wine glass in the sink and ran back to bed, pretending to be long asleep. “This is definitely not a cab”, you thought as the engine was quiet, rather like a sports car than an old taxi. What was he doing driving around in the middle of the night?

The door opened and closed. He was extremely quiet while changing into his pyjamas. It couldn’t have been the first time he was sneaking out like that. He crawled into bed gently, trying not to wake you up, and put his arms around you.

You felt a sudden warmth in your chest. Your feelings toward him didn’t change. You knew there must’ve been a good reason he wasn’t telling you about this. But you weren’t gonna sit patiently and wait for him to finally tell you all about it. You needed to know, now.

...

You woke up. For a moment it felt like every other morning. Like everything that happened last night was just a dream. You quickly realised that wasn’t true.

- Good morning, y/n - Onceler was up and ready, making pancakes - how’d you sleep?

- Good - you lied - and you?

- Alright - he said with surprising confidence - what do you wanna do today? It’s the last day of my leave, we could do something fun.

“This is your chance”, you thought, “this is your chance to catch him in a lie”. And since you’ve established that he was keeping you here so you couldn’t see what he was building…

- Let’s go to Greenville - you proposed - I could use some human interaction.

- Really? That’s what you wanna do on the last day of our vacation? - his response was quick and almost nonchalant, but you could clearly notice a hint of anxiety unfolding in his eyes - let’s go to the lake.

- Again? - you sighed.

- How come you don’t want to go swimming? - he laughed nervously.

You shrugged your shoulders and decided to push it a little bit more to see how he handles it.

- I wanna go to Grenville. We could watch a movie.

- Actually, I just remembered - you could see him getting more and more anxious - I have to swing by work today. I’m not exactly sure how long it will take, but maybe I’ll get us some wine and we can watch a movie in the garden when I get back?

“Damn, he’s a good liar”, you thought. Suddenly, you came up with the most brilliant idea.

- That does sound good.

He seemed to be relieved.

- Okay, um… a coworker will pick me up in 15 minutes. Is that okay?

- Sure - you smiled at him.

You had to act quick. You put on a hoodie and leggings, dived into your wardrobe looking for a backpack.

- I think I’m gonna go on a little hike - you said, trying to sound natural.

- Cool! - he replied with a mouth full of pancakes, completely unaware of the true purpose of your comfortable attire.

You put on your hiking shoes and packed a big water bottle. “Maybe I should bring a raincoat?”, you thought, weirdly excited about your trip.

- Have some pancakes! - he looked at you with a smile - it’s the best source of energy.

“God”, you thought while quickly stuffing things into your backpack, “how can he act so natural?”. You finished packing and sat at the table next to him.

- Have some of mine - he stood up, put on a coat and gave you a kiss - I’ll be back soon.

- See you later, Once.

He went out. You quickly ran for your backpack and looked outside the window. You could still see him between the trees. You opened the door, as quietly as humanly possible, grabbed your bike and followed him.

(Broadcast - The Book Lovers playing in the background)

“If he sees me, I’m screwed”, you thought, trying not to breathe too loud. Your heart was pounding outside your chest. Was this a mistake? You walked behind him for about 15 minutes until you heard the sound of a car unlocking.

You quickly hid behind a tree as he looked around, stepping into a brand new Audi A5, on the driver’s side. “Fuck”, you thought, “that’s a nice car”. You hopped on the bike.

You rode right past him. It wasn’t exceptionally difficult as he seemed to be struggling, driving between the trees extremely slow. The picture of a giant factory appeared in your head. Was it built already? Or was he still working in it? Was there a tower with a secret office? Maybe a medieval style dungeon? You needed to know.

What worried you the most were the trees. You remembered the conversation you had half a year ago:

- Don’t you have to like… cut down the trees to get them?

- At first I thought so too! But then, since it came out that I’m not gonna be knitting that many of them… I found a way of harvesting them, which doesn’t disrupt their growth at all.

He wasn’t knitting that many of them. What if he was now? What if he started cutting the Truffulas down? You still couldn’t really picture the size of this in your head. How well was it going that he was building a factory? He must’ve been selling… hundreds per day? Thousands? Then you thought of another vital question: what kind of money was he making? The car, the suit… the bracelet.

You looked down your wrist. There it was, suddenly filling you with guilt. Tears went down your cheeks. What a fool you were, trusting someone so much, thinking everything could possibly turn out so perfect. You should have…

A sudden, sharp pain emerged somewhere around your forehead. Everything froze.

(Sin Fang, Sóley and Örvar Smárson - Citrus Light playing in the background)

For a few seconds, nothing was real. The world was spinning. Your body was… on the ground? It seemed like it. You grabbed your head where it seemed like the throbbing was coming from. It was a natural reflex meant to stop the pain. Instead, it intensified. Your hand was warm and sticky. You looked at it. It was blurry. And red.

The last thing you saw before losing consciousness was a weird, sort of car-shaped machine with axes attached to its front.

- Are you okay?

- Someone come here, quick!

- Call the ambulance!

- No, let’s call the boss.

- Are you sure? That’s a lot of blood.

...

You woke up blinded by the harsh light of fluorescent fixtures. The pain in your head was excruciating.

- She’s awake! - an unidentified female voice screamed. You looked in its direction. A blurry figure was staring right at you - are you feeling dizzy, honey? Try not to move too much, you’ve had a terrible accident.

You opened your mouth to reply, but what came out was completely unintelligible. A big tide of nausea went through your entire body.

- Shh - the blurry figure gently put its hand on your shoulder, keeping you from getting up - You’ve had a concussion. It’s much better now, but you still need to rest. Are you feeling nauseous? Nod for yes.

You nodded.

- I’ll get you something that might help. Just try not to move too much.

As the blurry figure disappeared, you had a look around the room. Your vision was slowly getting better; you noticed white furniture and sterile, medical equipment. You were in a hospital. It wasn’t the Greenville Hospital though, you were sure of it. You’ve been hospitalised there once, due to a bike accident. This room was small and much nicer than the ones they had.

You decided to get up and have a little look around, but shortly realised you couldn’t really move your arms and legs. For a moment, you felt pure panic. Were your injuries that bad? Then you realised this wasn’t the case. You were strapped to the hospital bed.

- No, no, no, no - you whispered. Suddenly you remembered what happened last night.

- Y/n! - you heard Onceler’s voice. He ran toward you and kissed you, holding your face tighter than ever before - I was so worried.

He was wearing that green suit again, with a top hat. You pushed him away, as much as you could with your hands tied.

(Elita - Sour Switchblade playing in the background)

- You were worried?! - you yelled - you did this to me! I know everything.

- What exactly do you mean by “everything”? - he smirked, sitting next to you.

- I know you’re building a huge factory and cutting the trees down - your memory was getting better as well - you’ve been lying to me.

- I had to - he said with a smile - I needed to show you.

- Show me what?

- The life we could have! - he stood up and started walking around the room - just look outside the window. It’s all ours!

- If you haven’t noticed yet - you replied with discontent - I’m not exactly able to move.

- Were you following me? - Onceler asked, changing the subject - yesterday. How did you get here?

- I’m not talking to you until you untie me - you said angrily.

- That might actually come in handy - he smiled - you shouldn’t be moving too much.

- What is wrong with you? - you almost screamed - untie me!

Onceler kneeled next to you and grabbed your hand.

- And what are you gonna do? Run away and get yourself in trouble again? I don’t think so.

You didn’t know what to say. It felt like a dream. The few seconds of silence felt like eternity.

- I’ll tell you what you’re gonna do - his smile was getting more and more creepy - you’ll stay here and get better. Then I’ll show you around. There will be no more secrets between us. Then, I think you’ll prefer to stay here with me. But we’ll see. How does that sound?

You looked him in the eyes.

- Get away from me - you whispered - you disgust me.

- It’s normal to feel a little agitated after a concussion - he stood up - but with all the medical professionals I’ve gathered here, you’ll get better in no time! Get some more sleep, I’ll be back in the morning.

- I don’t recognise you - you said - this isn’t you, Onceler.

- Don’t be stupid, y/n.

- Untie me! - you cried.

- Y/n, I won’t let you go back to your cabin, so don’t even try.

- Why? - you asked genuinely.

- Because now you hate me - he kneeled next to you again, putting his hand on your cheek - and I don’t want you to act on it. But I’m pretty sure you’ll stop hating me soon. And then we can talk.

You stared blankly at the wall, trying to figure out what to say.

- How do you know I’ll ever stop hating you? - you asked - after all this.

- Because I know you - he kissed your hand - you will want to stay here with me.

- I won’t - his face was inches away from yours.

He smiled.

- You will.

#I'm writing my dissertation rn which is why the chapters are very much late sorry <3 #thank yall for reading #hope u like it!!!#lemme know #ilu #the lorax #the onceler #onceler x reader #onceler fanfic #onceler fanfiction #greedler #greedler x reader #oncelerxreader #oncelerfanfitction #oncelerfanfic #greedlerxreader

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stellarred · 1 month

Text

ONE MORE TIME, PLEASE

In STP S2's Monsters episode, I thought it was Bashir that Picard was in the therapy session with.

Surprise! It wasn't Alexander Siddig (?), but actor James Callas of Battlestar Galactica fame.

Anyways, I looked him up, and in his filmography on different websites and in Memory Alpha Star Trek, his credit is not Julian Bashir, but Maurice Picard/ "illusory" psychiatrist!

This then raises the question again, Was it actually Q disguised and playing the psychiatrist? 😳

If Q was involved, either actively or passively, it's either one of two choices:

A. It WAS Q because he was trying to help Picard figure out that his father wasn't a monster, thus guiding Picard to * suddenly* realize that Q wasn't one either and that Picard should "know" Q (love him). And that by the psychiatrist literally handing him the Sun model and drawing, it reminded Picard of something he loves, which is Q.

Picard said that the therapy session was antagonistic. Sounds like a certain desperate and in love omnipotent entity scrambling to help his beloved capitaine confront and overcome long-standing CPTSD, so that he could open his heart to love before said entity died. Q was literally running out of time before his death. He would've HAD more time if the writers hadn't been farting around so much with all of the other characters' dramas. But, I digress.

The psychiatrist practically needles Picard throughout the therapy session about him being closed off from his heart and slams his decision to engage in a suicide mission just so that he didn't have to face his feelings. Sounds like Q is trying to save Picard AGAIN! This "psychiatrist" was really pushing pushing Picard during the therapy session.

It makes me think of what JDL had said about Q in Season 2:

"The intentions (towards Picard) are the same. I'm still Picard's main squeeze. And I'm pushing."

Or...

B. Picard's own mind came up with this psychiatrist because he desperately wants to heal, not hide away his feelings.

Therefore, if Picard's own mind is being so emotional about hiding AND inserting Q's Sun representation twice, which then makes Picard wake up and tell Talinn all that Qcard stuff about the lesson being about *knowing* him, then Picard is internally struggling to overcome his resistance towards his feelings--of love--for Q. 😭😭😭

When I first watched this episode, I couldn't figure out why Bashir was the mysterious psychiatrist because he kept vascillating between mocking and deriding Picard's call to duty, and then showing deep concern that had an almost personal pain to it for Picard's closed off heart.

Siddig and Callis do look practically alike.

But for this Qcard lover, knowing that it's definitely not Bashir changes that whole episode for me.

#qcard #star trek q #john de lancie #patrick stewart #star trek #q #q and picard #james callis #star trek picard season two

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ravangie · 2 months

Note

Your style of characters is so beautiful!! How did you learn/develop/practice to draw like that?

Ah!!! Thank you!! 💗💗💗✨✨

Here comes a long rant, get ready

Talking about your own art style is kinda tricky, I feel like to artists it comes as second nature, so one doesn't really see it as a so-called separate "style". Rather they see it as a continuation of themselves in a drawn form (at least i do). But if i had to, i'd say that one's art style consists of two things:

1) What comes naturally.

I look at 5 year old kids drawing and see that each one of then has their own unique style. Already. Without even trying.

I've been drawing my whole life and I never tried to shape my drawing style into a box that I could call "my style". I just let the lines flow naturally and followed where they led me.

I started going to live-drawing sessions again recently and my friend told me that she could see "my style" of drawing that she sees in my digital works in those quick sketches that I make during these sessions. I think that's because when I work on digital illustrations, I don't think about how I should draw this or that. I just do it.

So, practise! With time, the ways you personally draw things will flow to you. When you draw one thing a 100 times you start to notice simularities in all of the 100 different examples, and then you systematize what you've learned and put it to use drawing your 101 drawing. After a while you won't even think about it before drawing them in the usual for you way.

I like to draw freely, not picking up a pencil from paper, with my lines just flowing naturally everywhere that I want them to. And I try to keep that same feeling in my finished drawings (where there is lineart still visible).

Here, found an example of a quick live sketch without any boobies for ya (just to be safe) and a linework for one on my more recent digital works. See how I try to keep the lines alive in the same way. And add highlights where I deem them necessary just for something interesting to the eye.

2) Your inspiration.

Everything that you see and like impacts your style, whether you mean it or not. My friend (other friend) watched Wolfwalkers the other night and immediately texted me saying she could see the inspiration that I've drawn from that movie. And she was right. I am a fan of the artstyle of the whole studio, so it's only natural that i, maybe even unconsciously, took something that i liked from their works and incorporated it into my own art style.

When I asked my friend what exact simularities she saw, she couldn't pinpoint them, she said it's just the vibe that she's getting. And i was content with that answer. Means i didn't copy and paste, but rather interpreted what i liked in my own way.

Also. Very important. You have to love what you draw. You're gonna wanna spend some extra time and add those extra couple of strokes that don't add anything in meaning, but are there to just be pretty. Sometimes those couple of strokes make the biggest difference. I think it's is very important to take time to just sit with your work and listen to what it needs to make it truly finished. A drawing can go from empty and unfinished to fantastic in just a couple of lines.

So. There it is. Sorry for the long answer. Or maybe you're welcome? Anyway hope it satisfies you!💖💖

#maybe some time later i'll make a compilation of my nude sketches if you all are interested #there are some really lovely ones with some fat ladies

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avatarrecom · 7 months

Text

Day 1: Handjob

Pairing: Poly!recoms x Recom!reader (can be read as character x reader)

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: First time writing smut, so it probably sucks lol. Also, this is more a them receiving, because Z-dog and Walker obviously don't have a dick. I'm using the tag #Kinktober Avatar_Recom for my kinktober stories.

And I'm starting to use the tag #Avatar_Recom writing for all my other writing, so be sure to follow those tags!

Kinktober masterlist

🌍 Recom Miles Quaritch He would never give you full control. When you give him a handjob you’ll try to take as much control as you can. He’ll entertain it for a little while, letting you think that you actually have full control. But he quickly shuts it down when he thinks you’ve gone too far. You’ve been stroking his cock slowly, trying to edge him the best you can. Like I said, he’ll entertain it for a while, but he takes back control any time he sees fit. So the moment he thinks you’ve had your fun, he’ll grab your wrist in a bruising grip and he tells you that you better get him off, otherwise he’ll teach you how to properly edge someone… All night long if he has to. It drives him crazy when you lightly trail your nails over his cock, just a ghost of a touch. When he takes back control he’ll start moving your hand for you with a warning look in his eyes that tells you you’re gonna be in trouble if you don’t obey. When you’re finally doing what he wants, he’ll relax against the headboard, one hand still on your wrist, the other drawing lazy circles on your hip. He’ll let out breathy moans at your strokes. Shudders when you run your thumb over the slit. Refuses to cum on your hand, he only wants to come inside you.

😈 Recom Lyle Wainfleet This man turns to putty the moment your hand closes around his cock. Loves it when you have a tight grip with a few fingers at the base, while you’re stroking the rest. Has experimented with cock rings, but loves it the most when it’s your fingers. Could totally get off on just seeing the size difference between your hand and his cock. Tries not to buck his hips into your hand, but does it anyway. Look at him through your eyelashes while stroking his cock, he’s an instant goner. Heavy breathing, hands fisted in the sheets while he tries to focus his eyes on you, with you preferably being naked ofc.

🍬 Recom Z-dog She doesn’t like not being in control and not being the dominant one with you. She also doesn’t really like receiving from you, prefers to give. You practically have to beg her, but she caves because she knows that in a way, it’ll bring you pleasure too. She’ll lean against the headboard, with you pressed to her side. You’ll have your fingers moving in and out of her cunt, while your thumb rubs circles on her clit. Her arms would be tightly wrapped around your shoulders. She’ll moan quietly, not because she’s vocal, but because she knows it’ll make you happy/proud that you can coax those sounds from her. Even while you’re fingering her, she’ll be more focused on your pleasure, than her own.

🥽 Recom Walker She’ll be so smug that you want to pleasure her. She’ll tease you the whole time. Won’t ever admit it, because she likes to tease you a lot, but you bring her more pleasure than she lets on. Won’t moan much or anything like that, because she’s too busy teasing you. She has to touch you the entire time. Tries to rile you up as much as possible.

😎 Recom Mansk Tries to keep his composure, but fails horribly. First he’ll start with heavy breathing and groans, but it soon turns to moaning. Definitely keeps you closely in his lap, likes to take in every detail and reaction of your body. Wants to know how you feel and what you’re thinking when you’re stroking his cock. He’ll want to keep his sunglasses on so you can’t see how much it affects him when you touch his cock. He’ll squeeze his eye’s shut when you make him cum with your hands. You have to force him to take his sunglasses off, you threatened him that you’ll never touch him again if he keeps them on during steamy time.

🧯 Recom Prager He’ll kiss you deeply while you’re stroking his cock, because he gets flustered when he hears his own sounds and when you’re looking at him, with him being the only one to receive pleasure. He pants and moans the cutest. He’s weak the second you even look at his cock. Very, very sensitive tip. Like when you touch it he almost cumes. So you usually avoid touching the tip until you want him to cum. And when I say that he explodes when you fondle his tip after stroking him for some time, I mean he Explodes with capital E.

⚕️ Recom Ja He fully relaxes when you start stroking his cock. Has you straddling his thighs. His hands draw lazy circles on your hips when you’re naked, or snap the waistband of your underwear against your skin when you’re not. Praises you so much and so damn good that you can almost cum from that alone. The fluffy end of his tail is softly stroking your back. He either moans, or hums with a satisfied, relaxed and droopy smile on his face.

🧢 Recom Brown Keeps you on his lap, tightly against his chest, trapping his cock between your bodies, making it kinda hard to stroke him, but you don’t mind. If he has to be naked so you can stroke him, then so have you. Definitely loves to feel the heat of your cunt against him. He 100% has his hands squeezing/spanking your ass at all times. He refuses to admit it, and you better never tell anyone outside your lovers, but this man purrs. Like full on, cat getting scratched behind the ears, mode. Speaking of ears, he loves it when you stroke him with one hand and the other is on the side of his head, stroking under and behind his ears. He’s literally a cat. But all jokes aside, he loves the intimacy of it.

📿 Recom Lopez He won’t accept being the only one who receives pleasure. Has to either have his fingers in your cunt or on your clit. Or he’ll grasp your hips, making you grind your cunt against his thigh. He loves it when you stroke him with alternating hands, that when your right hand is at the tip of his cock, your left already starts at the base. When he receives pleasure like that, he’ll go full Mexican. It’s like his brain just forgets English. Definitely bares his teeth in pleasure. He’ll nip at your neck the whole time.

⛓️ Recom Fike He’ll bury his face in your neck, trying to muffle his sounds. HIS WIMPERS OMG! His tail is tightly wrapped around your waist and his hands bruising your thighs, as if he’s scared that you’ll suddenly magically disappear. BUT HIS WIMPERS!! He’s so cute when you turn him to putty. Definitely babbles nonsense. He comes basically the second you touch him.

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bellshazes · 16 days

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I was going to reply on your post about C vs CC distinction but I couldn't, so I hope you don't mind me asking here - my brain wasn't cooperating today so I was struggling to read it and comprehend it properly as written. But does it basically boil down to the fact that it's difficult to create a distinction between what's considered "character" vs "creator" in the digital medium Minecraft offers for storytelling? That there's no real way to draw a distinction between "this PERSON did this in the game" and "this CHARACTER did this in the story's world" because it's told on a platform and in a way that makes it hard to find a non-fuzzy divide, and that we shouldn't necessarily try to find that line anyway? Basically that - when it's so hard to define canon when "canon" is influenced by the person both on and beyond the screen, and interactions between "characters" are often colored by the creators behind them, and when the story being told is never really fully concrete anyway, it's just...better and, honestly, more fun to just enjoy the nondefinable art form for what it is? Because if that's what you're saying, I wholeheartedly agree. ^^

When the story's medium is a sandbox game, it's much more fun to interpret canon and its connected fanon as a sandbox too, something malleable and formable and explorable in a flexible way that doesn't rely on defined boundaries to be enjoyed. It's sand. You can make a solid sandcastle for a while, but eventually the water that packed it together dries and the wind blows and things shift again, because that's what sand does. Just - let sand be sand. :3

(And if I've totally misinterpreted then I apologize, it's been a long day and like I said, my brain's not cooperating hah.)

~ Pixie

I definitely didn't get back to my original point in that rambling reblog, so I think you've gotten what I was trying for up until the idea that the SMP Thing is nondefinable. I really struggle articulating this all the time and people often do take it the way you have, so it's a failure of explanation on my part...

It's not resolvable into a single truth, but currently the dominanf response to that is to throw the baby out with the bathwater and say if there is no canon, everything is equally true no matter what the text says, because the text is as (un)real and unknowable as my own imagination. I comprehend that this is very fun and believe this approach has absolutely no moral valence. often this evolves into annoying (imo!) fandom standards that become quasi-canonical due to sheer popularity in the group sandbox but whatever.

However my patented peter bellshazes perfect world involve not this kind of overwriting being a dominant fandom mode, but people taking the lack of One Single Master Story all other pieces fit into as a joyous invitation to pick apart all the threads on their own and how they relate without forcing them into anything and seeing them more clearly. It's to me like the difference between trying to force jigsaw puzzle pieces to fit that are from different boxes and - I don't know, like a complex 3D sculpture that is one object but portrays different images at every angle its viewed from. And people discovering that instead of taking photographs to find the One True Angle in 2D, walking around to examine the previously unstudied backside.

that's abstract but in practice it means like... idk treating it more like a vivisection. I love taking different perspectives apart as standalones, and also interrelating them, but finding joy and spaces to explore and discuss and feel through in those individual examinations, and not forcing them to make sense in some master truth. It makes me appreciate different approaches to the medium more, how tone and technique contribute beyond C!Cubito Is This Trait or whatever. I like it when people articulate if we think about THIS event and how it was shown in THIS way (in terms of acting/performance, editing, cuts made or not made, ) then the story is like this and what's in the gaps or what if it extended or what would it have looked like if different choices were made from a craft perspective or how does that contrast with or contextualizes a different series or scenario. throwing nothing out but never looking for a grand unified theory of truth.

Again no moral valence but i just feel like maybe if I can articulate my brand of fandom joy people might want to give it a try! and I genuinely appreciate people who care enough to try and parse what the hell I'm getting at bc it's almost always only when I try and answer questions that I feel like I get better at explaining what I was trying to say, so!

#mc meta

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burnin0akleaves · 2 months

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Hey! Sorry for popping in as anon, I'm genuinely not sure if some of the things I'm going to say are going to be nice, and I am a coward. But this is regarding you quitting to post in the RA fandom. If you consider my opinion on this as unwanted/unnecessary, do not feel obliged to reply. (Though I honestly think you never feel like that anyway)

I first saw your art when I joined the RA tag a while ago, and I thought to myself: 'Huh. Nice art, not my cup of tea though.' Since then, you have changed my mind. Your obsession with TRR Will and repeated posting about it not only has changed my thoughts on your art (I've really grown to like it) but also on the character of Will himself. I was on Reddit during that massive TRR Will hate phase and some of these posts had really tainted my view. You changed that and I am so grateful for that. Not seeing your art anymore will be sad, but I suppose my own lack of interaction is to blame for that. I made my bed so now I sleep in it. Your reaction to stop posting is justified and understandable, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to miss seeing your TRR Will on my dash.

Who knows what the RA movie (if it ever does come out) will do to this fandom, but I hope that new faces might get things swinging enough again for you to rejoin the fandom. Lastly, I have to say that for me, you've been a legend in this fandom, and will continue to be one, even if you focus on other things from now on.

Well hello there, this was unexpected. First of all thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to write to me! The reception to that post has been overwhelmingly positive even though it hasn't been up for that long and it makes me feel very glad I finally pushed myself to write that official goodbye message.

I don't know who you are and I don't really have any guesses, your message implies you didn't interact with my posts a lot so maybe I saw you around only a few times (?), but you have no idea how much this means to me. Throughout most of my time in the fandom my main goal was always to change people's minds about TRR and more specifically, TRR Will. I've heard that I succeeded many times and honestly, that was one of the biggest reasons I could keep myself so pumped up about a book series I read all the way back when I was in middle school (<- an adult saying this)

Seeing people go from "Cool post, not my thing though." to "Well I can kind of see what you mean when you say it like that." to "I agree, this does sound pretty good!" was both my biggest source of pride and motivator here. Hearing you say I changed your mind just now has the same effect on me, it almost makes me want to rush to my computer to draw or write about Will.

Also, extremely bold of you to say you didn't like my art at first motherfucker /j

Speaking seriously though, my art style practically grew here. When I first joined the fandom I was NOT good; hell, I can't look past anything before July of last year still. Maybe it was just me improving artistically that helped you warm up to my stuff more. I really really hope the new artists have that kind of experience too! You get obsessed with a little guy and then your brain decides to level up as fast as possible. TRR Will is that little guy for me.

Your last words are so, so kind. The way you speak about me here in general is extremely kind. I'm glad I was able to leave a good impression. And you're right, maybe all I need is a break and when I come back this space will feel more fitting again.

Like I said, I still have lots of connections to this fandom via others. I'm still technically helping out with the Gathering stuff, so maybe I'll work on doing a prompt or two still! I'm also a mod in the NSFW server and I love that place, I'm not leaving it anytime soon. If more TRR books come out you can bet I won't be able to shut up about them anyway, if I don't make at least one post then assume I'm dead.

What I'm trying to say is, I'll be around! Our paths will cross again.

PS: The entirety of the RA subreddit can suck my dick. I'm gatekeeping older, experienced Will from all of them. None of them deserve him.

#sorry for how long this got #wanted it to feel like a chat with everyone since i dont know how many people will stick around or for how long #talking to my audience one last time /j #🍂 textpost

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