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anonymityisfunwriter · 2 months

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"Slut!"

Pairing - Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader Summary - It was perfect. Lovelorn and nobody knows. Love thorns all over this rose. You almost forgot just how hard the fall back to reality is. But if they call you a slut, it might be worth it for once.

Steve Rogers Masterlist | Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

"She goes through guys like a train-"

You immediately change the channel. The next one isn't better. You don't know why you thought it would be.

"The Stark last name and the long list of ex-lovers, that's her claim to fame. I mean, let's be honest here, she's a slu-" The tabloid reporter is abruptly cut off as the screen before you goes dark.

You look up to find Steve with the remote in his hand. He glares at the screen like the reporter was still talking, "You shouldn't be watching that."

"I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't be. It's despicable. They were - the things they're calling you-"

"A slut," you finish for him.

His eyes dart to you, that furrow between his eyebrows getting deeper and deeper with every word spoken, "It's not true. This isn't journalism, it's slander."

You weren't sure how this happened. Sure, it was only a matter of time before they found you out. This wasn't the first time. Not the second or the third either. If the press was to be believed, you were love sick. Love struck with a new man every week.

It wasn't the first time someone called you a slut. It certainly wouldn't be the last.

You stopped living your life in fear of what people would say a long time ago. Being this young was an art. And up until now, you thought you mastered it.

It was simple. You even had your rules. You followed them and no one got hurt - or at the very least, it minimized the damage.

They were going to stare at you. Strangers. Press. The flashing cameras. It came with being a Stark. If they're going to look, you gave them something to look at. You didn't so much as step out on the street with a single hair out of place. You were flawless. Always.

You were nineteen, and on the heels of a breakup with your second ever boyfriend, the first time someone spit that word at you - "slut!" It hurt, but it didn't hurt as much as you thought it would. It almost made you laugh. You realized that they didn't really care about your love life or about the trail of broken hearts you were supposedly leaving behind. They wanted a spectacle. They wanted a show. If you're going to be drunk, might as well be drunk in love.

It was easier after that. You knew the truth. The people around you knew the truth. You let everyone else believe what they wanted. You did what you wanted. You lived your life without worrying about being called a slut. They were going to call you one anyway. And if they call you a slut, you might as well make it worth it.

You gave just enough to keep them satisfied. Never anything too real. Never too much. Just enough that they wouldn't dare peak behind closed doors. Just enough to be able to live your life.

There were was a cost, of course. No one took you seriously. You dealt with the vague humiliation of the rumors constantly swirling about your hips and thighs and whispered sighs.

And though you inherited the Stark genius, no one cared about what you thought, what you had to say.

In that, the reporter was right, your love life was far more interesting than your thoughts on quantum mechanics or the military industrial complex. That was what you were known for.

For the most part, you were okay with it. You were willing to pay it all.

That was until you fell in love with Steve Rogers. Suddenly, you weren't willing to give them crumbs. You weren't willing to expose a love that felt this delicate.

You sit on the couch, huddled in your sweatpants, pensively staring at the blank screen.

This time, it was different. This wasn't a show, not a spectacle. It was real, an exposed nerve that the world decided was fair game. You were fair game and it was open season.

Steve settles beside you, draping an arm around your midsection. He kisses your temple, "Tony thinks it's probably best that you lay low for a while."

"Yes, well, my brother is the expert on PR damage control."

It wasn't the same though. You both knew it. Tony had done far worse with far more women. Yet, he would never pay the price you were paying in this very moment.

Steve's arms tighten around you like he's shielding you from the storm, "It's not right. It's not fair that you're being forced to sequester yourself. You're being punished but what exactly was your crime?"

"I fell in love with Steve Rogers, that was my crime." You fell for the man everyone wanted, the man who was in the wrong place at the right time.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against the crown of your head.

"For what?"

"You warned me this would happen."

It was true. You told him exactly what would happen, but even you didn't anticipate exactly how bad things would get.

You'd been with Steve for just under a year. And up until a week ago, only a select few knew. You both agreed to keep it a secret from the public. You felt protective over the love you shared, it was more real than anything else you'd ever had. You wanted to keep it to yourself, out of the hands of people that would tear you both to shreds without a second thought.

Steve felt the same. Though he was more worried about the enemies he made over the years.

It made sense to protect the relationship, to protect yourselves until you were both ready. You wanted to protect him from what you knew was lurking around the corner. Steve was still so new to the 21st century. Dating in the public eye wasn't easy. Dating a Stark wasn't easy. For almost an entire year, you used every publicity trick in the book - and it worked.

But then, you heard it, the whispers, rumors bubbled about your newest future ex-lover.

You only agreed to going public because everyone told you it was time, because they promised that the timing couldn't have worked out better than this. It was better to do this on your own terms than have it leaked.

No one knew how bad it would get.

"Are you sure? There's no going back after this," you whisper, standing in the hallway of your apartment. You could practically hear the cameras flashing outside your apartment. You'd never been this nervous to leave your apartment before. You'd been through the plan a million times. You'd be exposed to the cameras for a matter of seconds. Happy was already waiting with the door to your SUV open, ready for you to jump in. You'd walk outside holding Steve's hand - a sort of silent announcement to the world. "It won't be easy."

"I don't care," Steve promises, kissing the palm of your hand. "I'm tired of hiding. I'm proud to call you mine."

You tenderly stroke his cheek, "And if it blows up in your pretty face?"

He smiles down at you, "You're worth it."

"We'll pay the price, I guess." But deep down, you know. You'll pay the price, he won't.

The cameras had never been that loud before. Even though your announcement went off without a hitch, even though your publicist couldn't have been more pleased, not even they could have predicted how bad things would get.

It seemed like the whole world was calling you that four letter word.

At first, it was mostly online. People were mean, you knew that. You were prepared for nasty comments. Steve's most staunch supporters thought he could do better. People rejoiced in the spectacle your love life turned into. You were a laughing stock all over again. All that you were prepared for. Then some rabid fans leaked your phone number.

You decided that it would be a good time to disconnect anyway.

But it didn't end there. Not even close.

The day after you were expected to make an appearance for a charity you founded. It was just a quick 2 minute speech. And though the event had been throughly vetted, you'd never forget the way your blood ran cold when mid-sentence someone screamed that four letter word over and over again until security dragged them out. You continued until your speech was done, but there was no hiding the way your hands trembled.

From what you heard, the video was still making its rounds online.

You were expected to make an appearance two days after that. An event honoring your father. An event you poured your blood, sweat, and tears into to make sure it was impeccable, an event worthy of honoring your father. The same event you were practically uninvited from.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's just me. I come in peace," Tony jokes.

"I'm glad," you sigh. "I was worried I was going to have to get another number."

Tony sighs into the phone, "How are you holding up?"

"I've been better."

"I'm afraid I don't come bearing good news."

"What now, Tony?"

"That event you had Friday night, the one for dad?"

You pinch the bridge of your nose. You already knew were this was going. "What about it?"

"They want me to take over for you."

You bitterly scoff, "This week just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?"

"You say the word and I'll tell them to fuck off."

"No, don't do that. It's for dad."

"You planned this whole thing single-handedly. You deserve to be the one up there." You don't say a word. He's right, you both know it. It doesn't change the situation you've been put in. "You are still going, right? Come on, you have to go."

"They broke into my house, Tony."

"What? Are you okay?"

"Happy just told me," you explain, sparing Tony the most gory details. "The one in L.A. Apparently, it is now covered in spray paint. You wanna guess what they wrote?"

"Where was your security?" Tony demands.

"Here. Trying to keep people off my sidewalk."

"I'm so sorry."

"I just - I don't think it's a good idea. At least until I get more security."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm glad you've got Steve there. At least I know he'll keep you safe."

You almost smile. Tony was never his biggest fan, but you mostly credit that to him being an overprotective big brother. And the situation you'd found yourself in did nothing to win Tony's over good graces, "It's not his fault, Tony."

"It kinda is, but I digress. Listen, we'll figure this out, alright? I'll go streak in front of the Tower if that'll take some heat off of you."

And though you effectively doubled your security in the last two days, nothing would change anyone's mind about you. You were the villain tainting their hero.

You broke down after that call, violently sobbing against Steve's shoulder. He just pulled you in even tighter.

It reminds you of why you're doing all this. So you can be together, out in the open. That in a world of boys, he's a gentleman.

You squeeze his hand, "You're worth it."

"I'm not worth having your reputation torn to shreds."

And maybe they're right about you. Maybe you do get love struck. Maybe his eyes are like the world's strongest liquor, and it went straight to your head. Maybe you do get love sick. Sure, your life has momentarily fallen apart. It's magic, madness, heaven, and sin, all rolled into one. But if they're going to call you a slut, it might be worth it for once. "But what if all I need is you?"

Steve Rogers Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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dimepdf · 1 year

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★ 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘, 𝐈'𝐌 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒. + 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

masterlist. / taglist. / any request?

synopsis. you were a sucker for jealousy sex, man.

pairing. toji fushiguro x reader

genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni, established relationship, domestic fluff, dilf!toji, milf!reader, tattoos, jealousy sex, exhibitionish, Toji being childish, cowgirl position, hints of subby Toji | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍 800+ w.c.

Dilf!Toji who comes home from picking up Megumi and your daughter Nya from their kindergarten after-school activities.

Toji scolds the two for running down the hallway as soon as the front door opens, their little pitters from their feet slapping against the wooden floor as they rush into the living room where you were lying snuggly just to tackle you into a hug.

The two are all smiles and giggles as they kick off their sneakers and snuggle up next to you.

They were practically glowing with excitement, as if they hadn't seen you just hours before, on the same day you had taken them to school. "Mommy! Mommy! Can I show you what I made in art today?"

Despite posing the question, the girl had already started unzipping her bag and shuffling through the strange, cryptic amount of things she had packed inside of her small Hello Kitty backpack.

If you hadn't had quick enough reflexes, you'd have thought she was trying to take your eye out by shoving the bendy wire figure right into your face.

"Oh wow, honey, it looks so creative; I can tell you worked really hard on it." You honestly couldn't tell what it was—fuzzy purple, red, and green covered wires all bent into some sort of shape that you could only assume to be a figure, but you put on your best motherly smile for your child.

"It's you, mommy! Can you tell, I even gave it a big butt." When Toji came into the living room, slouching his shoulders on the back of the couch and leaning forward.

Looming over the exchange, you decided to change the direction of the conversation before he could get remotely lewd about his favorite body part of yours.

"Did you make anything, Megumi?" Despite not being your biological son, the coal-haired boy still showed the same amount of admiration for you as your own daughter did.

But it was still very clear that Megumi had all of Toji’s attitude, with the boy showing no interest in his sister's show-in-tell and not even bothering to cover up his glare at her art project. "That looks like crap," Megumi states bluntly, earning a dramatic gasp from Nya.

The girl held the figure to her chest as if she were protecting it from him.

"You look like crap." Toji teases, no better than the children. As the three start bickering back and forth with each other, you reach for the TV remote and pause the Netflix show that you were trying to binge.

It was like you were raising three kids, as the argument only became pettier by the second.

"Why don't you tell mommy about how Itaduri’s mom liked your tattoos?" Megumi shrugged, your brow furrowed in surprise as the two children abruptly switched teams to go against their father.

"Is that why she was touching your arm?" Nya asked naively, unaware that she had just unpinned a grenade.

Your palm pushed away Toji’s face as he tried to distract you with a kiss, curving him as you dug for more information between the two. "And what was daddy saying while she was touching his arm?"

“He said thank you.”

Now that you understood the cost of having a super hot husband, you weren't blind to Toji’s charm, but over the years of being in love with him, it was pretty easy to say that he was just blessed with his attractiveness.

Having women throw themselves at him was nothing new,it was just another daily problem added to the things that Toji had to go through.

It's not like he entertained any of the women that came up to him because he truly only loves you, but that didn't mean that you weren't allowed to be a little needier sometimes.

Plus, he wasn't complaining much while lavishing you with affection. His hands lingered on your body long after the kids had fallen asleep for their naps.

It was daring, having to straddle his lap on the couch in the family living room knowing that the kids could wake up at any moment, but for Toji.

It was just another goal he was willing to complete, seeing how fast he could make you cum in that circumstance.

Handing his hand down to your thighs, he gives them a squeeze as he catches his breath, watching you ride him with an admiring glint in his eye. "You're so fucking beautiful, you know that?"

"Really? more beautiful than that other bitch?" You knew Itadori’s mother wasn’t a bitch.

If anything, she was a kind lady who knew how to make really good brownies.

You’d probably scalp her if you ever saw her skirting with Toji again.

No hard feelings, but she should know better than to touch what was yours.

"So much—ah, you’re the most beautiful woman I know." Toji whimpered, reaching his tattooed hand in between and sharing some attention to your clit.

You were a sucker for jealousy sex, man.

🔖 @chloee0x0 @yazmunson @kawatabae @haitaniwhor3 @pluzo @hey-gurls69 @momoewn @kogoshidied @disaster-rose @hoohoohope @pidwidge @jadeisthirsting @zuuki @watyousayin @tojishugetiddies @rumi-rants @justanotherkpopstanlol @awkwardaardvarkforever @lexiinanime @melty-kisses @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @ficti0nalslxt @Morpheus_sturridge @sheluvzeren @kodemzx @IplaytheTromboneandI’maMhasimp @elisedylandy @Sacvh

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not me making another milf!reader man,,

#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ]#toji smut #toji x reader #jjk smut #jjk toji #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader

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rederiswrites · 6 days

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You can train your tastes. You can choose what you see beauty in.

Lemme go further, actually. You are constantly doing so--or letting others do it for you.

Nearly two decades ago, when we were planning our wedding, I made a very firm decision not to look at any wedding planning magazines or anything with marketing material for wedding products. I wanted our wedding to be uniquely us, and I also wanted not to be bombarded by product advertisement and beautiful photo shoots of very expensive weddings. Consequently, maybe we wasted a little bit of time reinventing the wheel, but we had a wedding we were very happy with that only cost perhaps four thousand dollars at most, probably not that much, spread out over our finances and those of both our families. Our guests went home with live potted plants that we'd paid pennies for at end of season, our florist had a great time getting to design a bouquet that tested her skills because I didn't have any preconceived ideas, my dress was utterly unique--and I really do feel that those magazines would have had a corrosive effect on all that.

When we moved to this property three years ago, I spent a LOT of time looking at images online, trying to form a coherent vision for a property that was at the time a fairly blank slate. I found myself scrolling through a lot of Russian dacha Instagrams, of all things, and they unlocked something for me. Seeing the same homey make-do decorations and techniques I grew up around a continent away, the same plywood cutout old ladies and tractor tire flower planters, somehow chewed through that last binding cord of classism, and suddenly I saw the art in it. The expression of a desire to embellish and beautify, even when you have very little, even when all you can afford is things the more well-to-do consider trash. I saw the exuberance of human love for beauty in a brilliant flower bed planted next to a collapsing shed--it didn't need to be perfect to be worthwhile. They didn't wait til everything was pristine to start enjoying things. And now I earnestly and unironically covet my own version of the tractor-tire Christmas tree at the farm down the road.

We've spent centuries now idolizing the manicured estates and quaint country retreats of the European wealthy elites. We've turned thousands of miles of living ecosystem into grass deserts in service of this vision. We need to start deliberately retraining our tastes. Seek out images of a different idea of beauty and peace. I'm not telling you what it'll be. I'm telling you this is not involuntary. You can participate. You can look at the many beautiful examples of native xeriscaping for arid climates, or photos of chaotic tangles of wildflowers, tamed by narrow paths, a bench under an arbor overwhelmed with wisteria. Maybe instead of trying to get lawn to grown under your mature trees, you'd actually get far more joy out of a patch of dirt. A hammock. A firepit ringed with log sections for seats.

You can free yourself from harmful conventions of taste and beauty, and you do it through imagining something better.

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lost-and-ephemeral · 2 months

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Imagine: Not Yours (ft. main trio)

You chose another man.

Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader (seperate)

Tags: angst, no comfort

A/N: i woke up today and chose pain. it can contain spoilers, content under the cut

-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´-

Zayne

He had no right to fall in love with you in the first place.

And he knew it.

But now, watching you walk down the street, holding another man's hand, Zayne felt a suffocating sense of emptiness somewhere in his chest.

It's better this way, right?

His feelings only put you in danger. Over and over again. Loving you was so dangerous and so painful, yet Zayne was willing to give anything to make you happy. Even if it meant letting you go now and live 'your happily ever after' with someone else.

Still, his Evol doesn't hurt as much as this new feeling.

He won't stop looking for a cure for you. Your health will remain his top priority, but the feeling of love will be buried in the depths of his frozen heart.

It's better this way.

Rafayel

Rafayel felt betrayed when he saw you in the arms of another man.

All these long years of painful agony ended in even more agonizing feelings. He's angry, he's desperate. His attempts to bring back your memories have come to nothing. There is no love in your eyes.

Not for him.

Rafayel is ready to turn into sea foam and dissolve again, as in fairy tales, just to end this feeling.

All his new paintings are imbued with a sense of hopelessness and despair, which raises questions from critics and admirers. He can't stop pouring his pain onto the canvas.

And he doesn't care what anyone else thinks.

Only art has always been able to help him cope with his strong emotions, but now there are so many that it doesn't help at all. It seems to be getting even worse.

How dare you forget about him?

Xavier

He shouldn't have been so selfish.

Xavier found out about your relationship with another man by accident. But it put him completely off-balance. It shouldn't have been surprising, since he was the only one who had carefully treasured the memories of your love all these years.

Yet that didn't make the situation any less painful.

It was Xavier who vowed to find you again, no matter what it costs. He was the one who selfishly believed that you would always be his and his alone, even in other universes and timelines.

However, life always has its own plans.

He was willing to do anything for you. Even drown out the glow of his own love if you were happy. Xavier would do anything to protect you so that he wouldn't have to watch you die in his arms again.

Even if it is his last spring on Earth.

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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piratefishmama · 10 months

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Fake it 'till you make it | Part 5

Eddie was almost half certain that he was either hallucinating, or still asleep and dreaming the whole thing. But Steve Harrington was in his living room, perusing the mug collection as if it were fine art or some shit, and he wasn’t there to buy drugs. The van had gotten uncomfortable pretty quickly after Eddie’s tragic realisation, and while his Uncle was definitely there, and giving Eddie a very obvious what the fuck Ed’s ‘look’ while he made them both coffee, Steve seemed pretty at ease in the place.

He didn’t look like he belonged in any way shape or form, with his mega-bucks hairstyle, the polo that probably cost more than Eddie was making per day on those dates, and the jeans that probably—okay he needed to stop pricing up what Steve was wearing.

Needed to stop making assumptions about him.

“You take sugar, kid?”

“Uh—yes! Yeah, uh, cream two sugars, please. Thank you.” If Steve noticed the surprise on Wayne’s face at the presence of manners well… he didn’t seem offended by it. in fact he was still pretty amazed by the mug collection. “Where’d you get all these?”

“Spent a few years’a my life as a long haul trucker before Ed’s landed on my doorstep back in the day, the road ain’t no place for a kid so I packed it in, but there’s always lil knick knacks in pit stops along the way, had people say they’d probably be worth somethin someday, bit‘a history an all that, but… that ain’t why I have em. Each one has a memory attached to it, makes somethin as mundane as a mug, precious.” Memories, the walls were littered with memories.

Such a small space packed with so much. So many little bits and bobs, clutter that told stories, personalities told by clutter.

Steve loved it. He found it… comforting.

Eddie couldn’t stop the foot he so ungracefully stuck into his mouth however with the quip “must seem messy to you, huh?” That wiped the smile right from Steve’s perfect face. Replaced it with a little frown of confusion.

“Hm? No… no, not at all, what? What makes you think that?”

“Well, I’ve seen your house dude, it’s looks straight out of a showroom or somethin.” Couldn’t take the foot out of the mouth now, best just chew on it until his uncle whacked him round the back of the head with a newspaper, hissing,

“Manners don’t cost nothin boy, I raised you better than to be a little shit to guests. The hell’s your problem?”

“I honestly have no idea.” Eddie didn’t even complain about the whack, it didn’t hurt, but it did dislodge the foot from his mouth, allowing him to level Steve and his confused face an apology “sorry man, I’m just…”

“Defensive?”

“Mmhm”

“S’fine, I get it.” And wasn’t that just fucking heartbreaking. Especially since he smiled so sweetly when Wayne gave him his own little steaming mug, it had mickey mouse on it. “For the record though, I like it. The collection I mean… I think I’d like something like this in my own house someday, just… memories everywhere… neither of my parents are big on collections, I think the only ones they have are my mom’s vinyl’s and my dad’s wine.”

“Your mom has vinyl’s?” The wine collection was predictable but vinyl’s?

“Mm, up in the attic, I’ll show you sometime.” He had a player in the sun room, could probably bring a few boxes down and let Eddie rifle through them someday, maybe even convince his mom to bring some of them with them to the chalet, Eddie might get a kick out of at least a few of the records in there. “If you still wanna be seen with me after all this” an if she wouldn’t take them, best get the idea that they could still be friends after it all out in the open!

Eddie wasn’t bad, and Dustin adored him, constantly trying to get him to give Eddie a chance, sneaky little shit setting this up, probably had ulterior motives, so… why not?

Eddie didn’t get a chance to answer though, although his mouth was open ready to speak, Wayne beat him to it. “Now, it’s none’a my business but… what do you mean by all this?” Leaving Steve awkwardly sipping his coffee, looking at Eddie over the rim of his cup in question. Was it okay? Would it be okay to talk about it?

“As much as I’d love to say, ‘Steve’s invited me somewhere for a week!’ and have that be totally believable and not cause you a stress aneurysm… Wayne’s cool, Steve, you good with me talking about it?” There was obvious hesitation, more strangers who knew the riskier it could be for him, but— he nodded. He’d trust Wayne, as insane as that was, he didn’t even know Wayne, but… the man gave off a weird kind of trustworthy energy. And Eddie vouched for him so, “You know how I do that whole… date thing to freak parents out for girls? Stevie here needs my services.”

“You aint plannin on doin what I think you’re doin, are you boy? Are you out of your damn mind? Do you know how danger—”

“It’s okay!” Steve blurted cutting off the expected worry rant “it’s safe, I promise, my parents are… well… they might seem really detached from reality but—you don’t know them. I recently realised that neither do I… he’s not… gonna be freaking them out either, he’s just… playing a part to get them off my back for a while… I’m uh… I’m—” he looked at Eddie, briefly but long enough to catch the little nod of encouragement. It was okay. It was safe. So far things had been fine for him coming out, so far he’d been okay, there’d been no danger, and maybe doing it so many times had made it easier or something because it just… came out “I’m bisexual, they know, and have been throwing both women, and men at me trying to get me to finally settle down with someone and… while I agree, that’d be nice… I would love to do that, i’m not jazzed about the quality of the people they’re throwing at me.”

“…Your parents. The Harringtons, rich folk. Those folks… they’re safe?”

“Apparently, my dad’s even restructuring his company values to include people like me, trying to make it a safer place for us, and this was before I told them.” Something he’d had no idea about, something that he couldn’t believe, hence why he kept bringing it up, it was insane to him, how little he actually knew his parents, how wrong he’d been about them.

How wrong everyone had been about them.

“His parents are takin him to this chalet in Canada next week, Steve thinks they’re gonna ambush him with some random person that he’ll have to spend a whole week avoiding, so… he’s hiring me to act as his boyfriend. That cool with you, Wayne?” He didn’t have to ask. Eddie was a grown adult, he could do whatever he wanted, go wherever he wanted, but… Wayne deserved to know.

“… Can I meet em before you go?”

“Of course!”

“Not a chance.”

The worst part was, they both spoke at once. And Steve’s very positive answer, happened to be louder.

Part 7

#PirateWrites #FakeItTillYouMakeItFiclet #Steddie #No Upside Down AU #Waaaaaaayne #i love wayne #Wayne deserves the world

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flowerandblood · 10 months

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The Impossible Choice (10)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: oral sex, angst, smut, fluff, sexual tension ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm's End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

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She knew that he was furious with her. She saw this in the look on his face as soon as he joined her in bidding farewell to her family. He stood next to her, not even giving her a single glance, standing straight, his hands clasped behind his back.

He didn't say a word to her.

Her heart ached at the sight, but she couldn't say that she hadn't expected it. Part of her knew that his closed, cruel nature would be furious after such an event.

She decided not to impose herself on him.

She tried her best to smile and not to cry as her father and brother came to say goodbye to her, hugging her and kissing her forehead. She didn't return Royce's gesture, allowing herself only to touch his arm, not wanting to frustrate her husband even more.

All her sisters said goodbye to her more or less coldly, but when Floris came to her and embraced her with her trembling hands she did not return the hug.

She didn't even give her single look, recognizing that after what she had done she was no longer her sister but some stranger that she didn't want to know anymore.

As soon as their carriages were on their way, her husband turned his head and left, leaving her alone. She sighed, knowing that she had to wait out the storm that raged inside him.

She had no other choice.

She knew that imposing on him would only make matters worse and she would lose her self-respect as well.

She wanted his approval, but not at any cost.

Instead of him, she decided to focus her strength and attention on her relationship with his sister, whom she involuntarily liked very much and considered her only ally worthy of any trust.

The other ladies-in-waiting were also trying to win her favor, but she knew that they simply wanted to profit from her marriage by strengthening their position at court. She decided that she wasn't going to make it easy for them, and she certainly wasn't going to expose herself before them either.

They asked her curiously what her husband was like in private when he was left alone in his chamber, is he just as mysterious and dangerous as always.

She replied to them with amusement that they should ask him themselves.

She and Helaena spoke a lot, walking together in the gardens of the Red Keep for long hours. She realized that the princess was as lonely in her marriage to her brother as she was, though her husband, at least as far as she knew, did not drink as much as his brother nor had she heard of him bedding his servants since they were married.

Helaena, however, had to watch and patiently endure the humiliation her husband brought upon her.

She seemed to lock herself in the world of her mind, isolating herself from reality, so as not to go completely insane.

She hardly ever complained, trying to focus on light and pleasant things, so they spoke about art, books, philosophy and history.

Every morning she watched how her husband practiced sword fighting with Ser Criston sitting on the windowsill, wearing only her nightgown, all around her the quiet chirping of birds and the loud clungs of steel.

She acknowledged that her husband was an even better fighter than her brother.

She had never seen Prince Aegon join him but he apparently held his daily routine sacred; she liked the fact that once he made his own rules, he stuck to them, she knew that he never broke a word once, which is why he chose them so carefully.

She got a dangerous idea to join them.

She missed training with her brother and she knew that no one would see them at this early hour anyway, so, excited by the thought, she dressed appropriately and ran to the courtyard.

She was shocked and horrified to find that her husband's reaction to seeing her was more cruel and aggressive than she expected, the cuts of his sword were quick and sure, as if he really wanted to hurt her.

He aroused adrenaline in her, the desire to defend and defy, but she still had to acknowledge his superiority when he threw the sword from her hand.

And then he took her to his temple.

From that moment, when he took her to the pits, from the moment when he wept in her arms, something had changed between them, although they did not speak about these events. She had the feeling that some kind of wall had fallen down between them.

That her husband had decided to grant her at least a little of his trust.

Since then he had decided that he wished her to help him with his bath everyday, instead of his servant.

She tried not to show it, but was delighted to do so.

Every afternoon after his training with Ser Criston, before the Small Council and the supper, his servants would fill the tub full of water in his chamber at her command.

She knew that he preferred it hot, almost burning him.

She selected the oils herself, which she then poured into the water, knowing that the gentle scent of herbs and lavender relaxed him.

When he returned to his chamber, everything was ready.

He then undressed unhurriedly, looking at her, and at first she turned her gaze away from his bare body, but then several times during the night he hissed to her what he thought of it while fucking her from behind, and she stopped doing it.

She had learned to derive satisfaction from watching his beautiful, naked, muscular flesh, his manhood always throbbing and hard at the sight of her.

He craved her relentlessly.

She was well aware that he didn't like to converse during this quiet, relaxing act and it didn't bother her.

She was able to enjoy this silence.

He would then step into the water, laying down in the bath, tilting his head back with a quiet murmur of contentment. He rested it against the edge of the tub, closing his eye, feeling that the temperature of the water was just the way he liked it.

She would then approach him meekly, stepping over him from behind. She always began with untying the black ribbon from his hair, loosening his braided strands. Then she would take a small jug, prepared by herself earlier, and fill it with water. Next she took gently his chin in her soft hand and tilt his head back, so as not to pour water into his eye while she would wash his hair.

She rubbed them with the oils that she herself used, to make his hair stronger and softer; he never complained about the end result, so she did it as she saw fit. Then she sat on a small barstool next to the tub, taking a soft cloth in her hand, dipping it in the water and gently rubbing his body with it − his face, his neck, his shoulders, his chest.

She noticed that she herself was comforted by this quiet closeness, by the fact that he was no longer allowing any servant to participate in this intimate act involving his naked body.

She knew that he was showing her in this way that although frigid in familiarity, he was being loyal to her.

She watched as his body, sore and tense, slowly relaxed, surrendering completely to her tender, soft treatments. Sometimes she had the impression that he even fell into short, blissful naps, after which he would open his eye lazily, letting out a quiet murmur of satisfaction from his throat.

By the time she had finished the water was usually no longer so hot and then, following his wishes, she would join him. As soon as her naked body was in front of him, his arm drew her close, pressing her back against his chest, his nose nestled against her cheek.

Her tender treatments made his cock swell with arousal, his hand slipped between her thighs with his hum of contentment.

"− you smell wonderful, sweet wife −" He murmured, not wanting to interrupt their calm, intimate, unforced closeness, running his fingers over her hot, puffy womanhood, teasing her bud with slow, light strokes. She closed her eyes then, tilting her head with a quiet sigh.

He loved this sight, loved it when her body spilled into his arms, completely surrendered to him. His other hand then reached up to her soft breast, playing with her nipple, pulling and rubbing it with thumb, drawing a quiet, sweet moan of pleasure from her throat. He brushed her neck and shoulders with his full lips then, caressing and massaging her like this until she came, all hot, writhing before him in pleasure, begging him not to stop.

Then he grabbed her in his arms with a loud splash of water, lifting her with him, turning her to face him, walking with her towards his bed. He would settle her on it and stand in front of her, stroking her chin.

He always wanted the same thing.

The first time she helped him with his bath, he explained to her what he desired.

"− I want you to take it into your mouth −" He said, stroking her cheek with his thumb, looking down at her, and she blushed, embarrassed and frightened.

She wondered if this was what her sister had wanted to do to him when she came to him that unfortunate night.

"Would that make you feel good?" She mumbled uncertainly, glancing at him with her large eyes. She saw his gaze darken, his jaw tighten as he swallowed loudly.

"Yes." He whispered.

She thought that she wanted to make him content.

She wanted him to sought such pleasure with her than with his servant.

He was her husband and she had long since learned that their intimacy was solely their own affair.

That's why she sat down comfortably, kneeling before him on the bed, waiting expectantly at his instructions, saw how he involuntarily licked his lips, delighted by the sight and her obedience.

"− take it in your hand and lick it −" He commanded, looking at her with misty eye, his lips parted slightly in accelerated, excited breath.

She trembled at his instructions, embarrassed by his words and what he desired, looking at his swollen, throbbing manhood and took it gently in her long fingers.

She heard him almost moan as she touched him, a strong shudder ran through his body.

He wanted to say something, but his voice trapped in his throat as she leaned over him, her tongue running tentatively over his entire length, from the root to the very tip.

She felt him slide his hand quickly into her hair, letting out a loud breath of air, delighted, his hips involuntarily coming out to meet her.

"− gods − yes − just like that −" He gasped out as if in a trance.

She liked the sounds he made, how involuntarily vulnerable he was in the act.

His skin tasted of freshness and soap, so she was not repelled; encouraged by this discovery, she repeated the caress, pressing her her tongue a little harder against his length and he tilted his head, tightening his fingers in her hair in impatience.

"− put it into your mouth − as deep − fuck − as deep, as you can −" He muttered, looking at her pleadingly, on the verge of something that she couldn't describe.

She could see that the whole act was giving him indescribable pleasure.

She looked at him surprised and swallowed quietly, frightened, feeling her heart pounding like a crazy in her chest.

She figured that since he had never hurt her so far, she would trust him and try to comply with his request.

She directed the fat head of his cock, already leaking from his own moisture against her mouth and slid it slowly between her lips. She heard a loud, low sound of pleasure break from his throat, his hips thrusting it deeper, all the way down her throat, causing her to gag, her hand to still hold what she couldn't fit inside her.

"− just like that − now be a good girl, and suck −" He exhaled, beginning to pant loudly as she complied with his command, her lips clamped around his manhood.

His hips began to move slowly inside her mouth, sliding it in and out with lewd click of her saliva, holding her head in his hands, not letting her escape. She felt tears come to her eyes from the exertion, the place between her thighs pulsing hard because of his panting and moans.

"− if you want me to − fuck − to slow down − hit me on the arm −" He mumbled out, losing his temper, the sight before him made him drift off, his click disappearing and reappearing in her mouth at an increasingly rapid pace, she felt him throbbing hard between her lips, each time hitting the back of her throat, making her struggle to hold back her vomit reflex.

"− gods − looking so innocent with my cock inside her mouth − " He gasped out, speeding up, making her squeal softly, clasping her hands on his hips, she breathed loudly through her nose to keep from suffocating.

"− just a little more, 'm close − gods − s-swallow as much as you − fuck! −" He groaned low and she sobbed, almost choking as she felt his hot release flowing down her throat, warm, sticky and a little salty.

She swallowed some of it with difficulty, the rest spilling out the corners of her mouth, running down her cheeks.

He slid his manhood out of her mouth with a sticky plop and lifted her chin, panting loudly with her, surprised by the sensation.

She had never seen him like this before, fulfilled, delighted, completely disarmed.

He rubbed the remnants of his spend from her mouth with his thumb, breathing heavily.

"Did I caused you pain?" He asked uncertainly, and she shook her head, not yet fully understanding what she had just done.

He surprised her when he drew her head to him, pressing it against his hard abdomen; she put her arms around his waist, not expecting such a gesture, this kind of closeness. He stroked her hair with gentle, slow movements of his large hand, his body still pulsing restlessly, she could feel his heart pounding har.

"So good to me." He hummed, combing his fingers through her hair, looking down at her. She closed her eyes, enjoying the moment, the fact that she finally felt that her presence was not indifferent to him.

Afterwards, she helped him get dressed for the Small Council meeting; she combed his long, white hair, tying it partially back with a black ribbon.

She knew that he enjoyed it.

With sure, quick movements she fastened the buckles of his leather tunic, focused on her task, dressed only in her nightgown, and he watched her without saying a word.

He always kissed her goodbye.

It was one long, warm, moist, drawn-out kiss.

He always summoned her to his chamber for the night. At some point he began to grow impatient with the fact that he had to repeat himself every day and send his servants to bring her to him, so he ordered her to wait for him in his bed every evening.

She tried not to show an expression of delight at his words.

He fucked her almost every day, eagerly filling her with his spend, letting her rest on certain days when he knew that her insides were sore from their constant approaches.

She was aware that if he could, he would do it with her all the time.

Their intimacy awakened a femininity in her that she had not known in herself before; she changed and matured in a way, understanding better what she wanted and desired.

He surprised her one night when he returned to his chamber late in the night. Usually he would not wake at that hour, allowing her to sleep, but this time that did not happen.

Instead of taking her from behind, however, as was his usual custom, he turned her onto her back and spread her thighs in front of his face.

She squealed and tried to push him away when he leaned down between her thighs, his lips running tentatively over her soft womanhood, enveloping it with his hot breath. Her hands clenched in his hair, something came out of her throat, probably a question of what he wanted to do, until she finally moaned, surprised, as he sank his mouth into her fleshy folds, nuzzling her bud with his nose.

It all became clear to her when, after a moment, emboldened by her reactions, he began to slide the tip of his tongue into her slit, merely teasing her, she threw her head back, feeling that she was hot, her walls clenching greedily around nothing in pleasure each time he rubbed against the wonderful spot inside her.

"− does my wife still wish to sleep? −" He hummed, licking her more and more boldly, sliding deeper and deeper into her with the slick click of her moisture. She clenched her hands on her pillow, her body writhing beneath him from the soft, revolting sensation.

"− no − please, husband − do not stop −" She mumbled and he chuckled low, delighted with her state.

"− greedy little thing − so fucking wet just from licking her −" He gasped, sliding his tongue into her rough, fleshy interior again, she tilted her head back, surprised by the intensity of the sensation, a loud, helpless whine erupting from her chest.

The tip of his tongue massaged her wonderful spot with the wet, perverted click of her juices, she involuntarily clasped her fingers in his hair, wanting to feel him deeper, her hips responding to his every movement with desperate rocking.

"− please − please − please −" She moaned sweetly, writhing in front of him, feeling her fulfilment approaching, her nipples completely hard and swollen, her puffy lips parted in delight.

She leaned back and drew in deeply, her eyebrows arching almost in pain as she sobbed loudly, her orgasm surging through her like a hot, tickling wave, making her body tremble, depriving her of sight and hearing for a moment.

She mewled loudly, trying to push him away as he licked devotedly everything that leaked out of her, her walls overstimulated and sore from fulfillment.

"− I read about it in one of my books, sweet wife −" He hummed, the tip of his tongue teasing her opening once in a while, making her whine softly, delicate and sensitive. "− did it feel good? −"

"− yes, husband − gods, it felt so good −" She mumbled, barely able to see with her eyes, her mind clouded from the pleasure that she had just experienced. She heard his satisfied purr as he rose, untying his breeches.

"Perfect. Now it's my turn."

Although they didn't speak to each other much, she felt that he had somehow allowed her to get a little closer to him. She knew that he didn't want questions, so she didn't dare ask him about his eye, his childhood, his relationship with his siblings or even his thoughts.

The thought that he craved her presence was enough for her.

She reasoned that they didn't need to rush.

What was quickly coming to her ears, however, were rumours; especially the ones that Lucerys Velaryon's rights to inherit Driftmark had been challenged by his uncle, Vaemond Velaryon.

The tension could be felt throughout the keep.

She saw that her husband spoke even less than usual, his gaze dull impatient during his baths, his jaw clenched in anger and something that she could not comprehend.

He led to even more frequent close-ups between them, fucking her as if he were insane, apparently trying to relieve the tension that was building up inside him, seeking relief and comfort inside her.

She noticed, however, that he couldn't sleep, sitting by the fireplace until the late hours, gazing into the flames, tense. When she came to him he would let her ride him, clasping his hands on her bare buttocks, cuddling against her breasts, but he would not reveal to her what he was thinking about, what lurked in his heart.

One morning, as Lyanna combed her hair in her chamber, she learned from her that the heir to the throne, her husband and their children would come to King's Landing to face Vaemond Velaryon in the presence of the King.

The King had been only lying down for a long time and she knew that his condition was getting worse.

It was rumoured that he had been given poppy milk to relieve his pain, but also to rule on his behalf.

Although her husband pretended that his father's state did not move him, she knew that it was not true.

That he must have feared what would happen if his half-sister claimed the throne.

"Our prince is surely displeased that his nephew will arrive here." Said Lyanna, tangling a few of her strands into a small braids, which she then tied together in a bun. She looked at her surprised.

"Why?" She asked, not understanding what in his person could upset her husband.

She remembered his nephews from their wedding and while she didn't really see them speaking to each other, she didn't think there might be any conflict between them. Lyanna looked at her with wide eyes, as if it was completely obvious.

"Prince Lucerys took your husband's eye."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @diosademuerte @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol

Others: @dreamymoomin @thedamewithabook @dc-marvel-girl96 @zillahvathek @helaenaluvr @tssf-imagines @heavenly1927 @hiatuswhore @it-is-getting-better @linkpk88 @luna-salem @toodlesxcuddles @happinessinthebeing @siriusblackrunmeover17 @alaaaaaaa @ladybug0095 @barbiegirlaemond

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shoyoist · 1 year

Note

any thoughts on which blue lock men would absolutely be one of the best fathers out there? <33

ﾟ+* ꔫ — 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 + 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒

content: fluff. f!reader. marriage. mentions of pregnancy, child birth. an: sobbing they are all such sweet dads nonnie it was so hard to choose </3 gave us four best dads in no particular order because i could not rank them if i tried.

featuring: kunigami rensuke, mikage reo, isagi yoichi, oliver aiku.

° 𐐒𐐚 . kunigami rensuke!

he's a caring father. a little over protective, and a little confused — but he works hard to be a good husband and a good father to your kids, and that makes him perfect<3

he's the perfect man to have as your husband & as the father of your kids. chivalrous, a total sweetheart, doesn't get swayed easily, somewhat stubborn and oh, so loving. he's patient and caring and always available during your pregnancy, and he remains steadfast with those traits when the kids do get here.

he's way more into planning the baby's rooms than you are, honestly. stresses so much over the little details — wallpapers, curtains, sheets and number of pillows, exact furniture placements, everything.

he drives your baby girl and boy to school every single day, steals your duty of fixing their bentos for them, loves braiding your little girl's hair, and cries ("rensuke, are you crying?" "n—no, i'm just feeling a little emotional, a'right?") about how one day they'll be all grown up and people of their own.

none of the blue lock men EVER miss a sports meet, that's for sure — but kunigami? he helped the school arrange it. none of those boring lemon-on-a-spoon games. he pushes the school to replace the regular games with football related ones. a dribble race. the baton in the baton relay is replaced by a football.

one teacher makes the mistake of telling him "but sir, these are football games. what about the girls?" he gave them a whole lecture on how little girls can play and be interested in football just as much as little boys.

his enthusiasm is masked by his gruff exterior, and often it's just you that's left to placate him when your baby girl and boy get tired of listening to their dad explaining football rules and positions to them over and over again.

"rensuke," you hum, walking over to share the seat with him when he flops onto the sofa in defeat. "don't look so down, honey. they're only five and six years old. they just don't have the attention span."

"just wish i knew more ways to spend time with them." he confesses, running a hand through the spikes of his orange hair. "football's all i cared for when i was a kid, y'know? so i'm not sure what else to do."

he's so sweet :( and he feels better right away too, when you kiss his forehead and tell him he could take them to the aquarium next weekend. "they've been dying to go see the penguins."

"really?" he mutters, that contemplative frown that you've gotten so used to seeing and fallen in love with creasing his brows. "hmm, i'll see if i can take the day off."

° 𐐒𐐚 . mikage reo!

he's the fun dad. the life of the party even in the family. he starts off a little rocky, but after that he's so very supportive, lifting his son up into the light and paving the way for his future with everything he's got.

reo didn't have exactly the best relationship with his parents. it was great when he was a kid, but as he grew up and became a man of his own, his dreams and the dreams his parents set for him became obviously separated from eachother — which ended with him getting estranged from them himself.

which might lead one to believe that he would avoid doing that with his own child at all costs — but for reo, it was a shock at first when he realized his son had no interest in football.

"he's into art." you stroke his hair, letting him lay in your lap and mourn the loss of his personal father/son dreams. "he wants to paint, baby. look at him. only five years old and he's already so good at it."

"maybe he'll get bored of it in a few years." reo muses, rolling over in your lap to press his face into your stomach. "maybe he'll get into football later."

"reo." you say his name sternly. "don't push your own dreams onto your son." it's a simple reprimand, but it hits reo hard. he fixes his mindset instantly after that.

he's ready to bribe Tokyo's best art schools to let his son enroll in — but with the amount of top quality supplies, world class teachers and expensive classes reo has made available for his little artist son, he gets in without a hitch.

he takes so much pride and joy in knowing that his son is an art prodigy — showers him with gifts and praise, takes front row seats at every award ceremony, takes him out on celebratory dinners, and he pays for everything.

he'd also find it incredibly funny to buy his son art-related gag gifts, pretending he's innocent and doesn't realize what he's doing. "mom, can you tell dad to quit buying me the cheesy aprons." your son complains to you, showing you the OOPS! DRANK FROM MY PAINT CUP AGAIN! apron that reo had bought him online.

you don't tell reo to quit, though. you're just glad your husband has a happy, healthy relationship with his son.

° 𐐒𐐚 . isagi yoichi!

he serves as the closest and wisest mentor for his kids. he's a little nervous about his duties sometimes, but any time his children need someone to lean on, he's there. and he's there for you, too.

isagi knows what it's like to be average. he knows what it's like to dream. and he also knows what it's like to work hard, hone himself and make those dreams come true.

when the doctor tells you both that you're going to have a child — and when the doctor confirms that it's a boy — the first thing isagi does, is teach himself that your child is going to be a separate person from him, that will have separate interests and dreams of his own.

he's fully prepared to love and support his son in every way, no matter how alike or different he turns out to be from isagi himself. takes a lot of time off for you, especially during the later months of your pregnancy. he's so antsy too, always half-awake and jerking up every time you cough or mutter in your sleep.

checks on you so many times throughout the night that it gets in the way of your sleep and irritates the fuck out of you. he's just doing his best :(

and when the baby gets here, he's so on board with making sure you get enough rest and continue to get enough to eat.

scoops your baby boy up from your arms as soon as he's done feeding and takes him to the living room, telling you to make yourself comfortable in bed and take a nap. hours later, you wake up and head downstairs to see him sitting on the sofa, dozing off with the baby swaddled in his arms.

gets super nervous at parent meets but he attends each one. listens carefully to the teachers' feedback and scolds his son as due — but so gently, in such a reassuring tone that it's impossible to throw a tantrum or get upset with him. he's a real nice dad <3

and he's so lucky both his sons (because you get another little boy two years after the first) are into football. he coaches the school teams sometimes, coming over to give pep talks and offer tips before important games.

tells his boys to stay humble no matter what the outcome, but secretly takes so much pride with each goal they score<3

° 𐐒𐐚 . oliver aiku!

he's his daughter's daddy. his happiness comes in tow with yours and your daughter's happiness. you're both the lights of his life. people say oliver was tamed when he met you — and softened when you both had your little girl. and in a way, it's true.

(dilf dilf dilf dilf) loved showing you off when you were pregnant, and he loves showing of his baby girl to literally the whole world. buys you and your daughter the prettiest matching dresses, and brings you along to every event he attends.

"meet my girls," he says, shaking the host's hand firmly, giving the man a proud smirk as he puts an arm around your waist and brings you closer. "this is my wife, and our daughter."

"everyone knows, oliver." you roll your eyes, picking your daughter up and pressing her to your chest. she clutches the neck of your dress and buries her little head into your neck, tired already of the crowd, the noise and the flashing lights. "what do they know?" he grins, pinching your cheek in response to your eye-roll.

"that i'm your wife and she's our kid." you answer, letting him lead you to the seats reserved for the aikus. "i'm sure you've introduced us at least five times already. they'd know — if the news about our wedding and our baby weren't enough."

"hey, but isn't it fun?" he leans in and kisses your cheek — you just know people are snapping up pictures. tomorrow morning, your friends will send you the latest headlines: mr. oliver aiku is such a romantic!

"hmph," you huff, because it's true, he is a romantic. a show off, but a romantic one nonetheless.

spoils your daughter thoroughly — buying her dolls, pretty clothes, the trendiest school bags, cute shoes, whatever she asks for. and he always pulls up at the school gates in his most expensive car when it's time to pick your daughter up from school.

"you're gonna give her a big head if you keep spoiling her like that, oliver." you sigh, when he comes home with yet another dollhouse set for her. "she's my little princess." he shrugs, smiling nonchalantly as you cross your arms over your chest. "and a little ego never hurt anyone — mhm?"

walking over to you, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in for a kiss, whispering in your ear, "and it's not like i spoil you any less, is it?"

#₊˚ପ⊹ REKHA™.#₊˚ପ⊹ IMERA.#blue lock fluff #kunigami fluff #reo fluff #oliver fluff #isagi fluff #kunigami rensuke fluff #mikage reo fluff #oliver aiku fluff #isagi yoichi fluff #kunigami x reader #reo x reader #oliver x reader #isagi x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk fluff

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weirdmarioenemies · 9 months

Text

Name: Binoculars

Debut: Super Mario 3D Land

Wow! What a large and crisp render of Binoculars. This is more than a lot of enemies get. And it's all for Binoculars!

It is nice to see binoculars as an installed apparatus for public use. It reminds me of those binoculars that are sometimes at parks or zoos where you can put in a quarter and get a limited amount of time to look at ducks more closely. Let's look!

Wow! There's a North American Ruddy Duck! in this pond! That's my favorite duck! The blue of the male's bill is probably my favorite color, and they are so cute, especially with their funny proportions. Their head looks too small for their body, but their feet look too BIG for the rest of them! Their feet are large and further back on their body because they are divers who swim down to find food, unlike the dabbling ducks, which keep their butts above the water while foraging. Oops! I forgot that this is a Mario Post and that we aren't actually watching ducks at a pond!

Anyway I just found out those kinds of binoculars are called Tower Viewers. More like Quacker Viewers. Ok on to Mario for real now! Mario, sadly, does not view ducks with these binoculars. They are free, however, which is nice! I'm glad there are ways for everyone to enjoy the Mushroom Kingdom's landscapes at a distance and at no costs. In fact, Mario is sometimes rewarded for using them, as a Toad will throw him a Star Medal upon being seen! A Toad who really wants to bee looked at and goes HAH BAH.

Mario can also see a UFO through the binoculars sometimes! This is often brought up as a Creepy Easter Egg despite the fact that aliens have been present in this franchise since 1989!

With all that about the 3D Land binoculars out of the way, I am really here to say that the binoculars in Odyssey are BETTER. They look like ROB, and overall are a Funny Robot, so they are obviously better by default! They even move around on their own as if they are looking around, and they are really so good at looking, since they are binoculars. I think the binoculars themselves are bird enthusiasts and watch them in delight constantly!

These binoculars even have LORE as seen in the art book, and shared by Suppermariobroth! They are made by the same company as the 3D Land binoculars, and are an older model not capable of stereoscopic 3D! They were installed by the sightseeing company for onsite investigation, and someone has to come and collect the logs from the devices every so often. I seriously love this all sooo much! It is so cute and wonderful that they put this much thought into humble little Binoculars! BinocuLORE!

I would now like to talk about just how these binoculars work! Upon being Captured, they shoot up using spray propulsion (not jet propulsion!!!) and let Mario scope out the area from the sky! Mario got extremely lucky that he happened across these specific binoculars when he happened to have the ability to Capture them, because anyone else using this would be in extreme danger. Please hang on tight!

Binoculars most recently appear in Super Nintendo World, where they are now real! They use the 3D Land design, which makes sense knowing it is canonically the modern design. You can even look at certain things to get little rewards just like in the game! Super Mario in real life! Wa Who!

#binoculars #super mario 3d land #super mario odyssey #super nintendo world #mario #mod chikako

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hidden-poet · 4 months

Text

President Snow part 3

Previous chapters; 1 and 2

Summary; After Lucy-Grey there was you.

warnings; slavery, Uncon, angst, dark!Coriolanus snow.

3/3

"Did you hear? Y/n L/n was sold into maids standing by her father last year". Festus creed plopped another Hors d'oeuvre into his mouthlike he was talking about the weather.

Coriolanus feels his body still at his words. The drink he pushed to his lips couldn't make its way into his mouth. He had looked for you at every social function. Even called upon where you once lived, only to be turned away by a new family living there.

He had assumed you had married and your family followed to where your new husband lived. If he was a manufacture he properly lived closer to the districts. The thought made him sick.

But no. You had been waiting for him. Training for him for the past year in maid training.

"I was thinking of adding her to my collection of the fallen"

Coriolanus's blood boils at the thought.

"Who?" Clemensia asks matching the almost bored expression of Festus.

"You know Arthur's daughter. The Banker who was stealing from the Pamen National bank. His daughter was a few years below us. Used to play on the volley ball team".

"When does she go to auction?" Clemensia warms at his words. She remembered her after all.

"Why so you can steal her from me?"

"What use would we have for a girl trained in fine arts and history? it won't make her a better floor scrubber. Right, Coriolanus?"

"i am still not sure who you are talking about" Coriolanus lied.

----------

Coriolanus returns home later then usual. He had gone to a party but normally he only made a quick appearance for an hour or two before returning. But this time he returned well into the night.

You wouldn't have minded if it hadn't of got so late. You were tired and he hated to come home to find you asleep. When you heard the door unlock you knew you would only have to stay up for an hour more.

As he entered the room to find you laying on the bed watching TV, he doesn't crawl over to you or demand you help him undress.

Instead he takes a dress out of your closet, that was mostly filled with his extra clothes, and tosses it to you.

"I have a surprise for you. Get dressed".

You do as your told taking off your nightdress in front of him and putting on the dark blue sun dress.

He eyes you slowly before taking your hand and leading you down the hall to the living room.

You wondered about the surprise and the need to dress for it. Normally his surprises entailed the exact opposite.

It made sense when you turned the corner and saw an elderly man sitting on the large white couch.

You heart leaps at the sight of your father sitting in the living room.

"dad" you cry tearing your hand from Coriolanus . He gets up upon seeing you and you both throw your arms around each other.

"Oh my baby". His arms felt safe and secure.

Coriolanus is quick to breck up the scene, taking you back into his grasp with a tight hold on your wrist. He brings you to the other side of the couch, away from your father.

"given your rise i thought you might like the opportunity to buy back your daughter" Coriolanus spoke with a cold hard tone.

Your toes curled in excitement. You were going home and you were going home a lady.

Your father straightened his back and shook off imaginary weight from his shoulders.

"I sure would. How much did you pay?"

"Less then what she is worth and less then what she is currently worth after my teachings".

You shudder. He was going to make this more difficult then it had to be.

"Lets start at a thousand panars".

"Let me show you the door at a thousand panars. My shoes cost more".

You wrap your hand around Coriolanus's wrist as he held yours. That was a good offer he spat at.

"Please Coriolanus" you beg.

-------

Coriolanus had a private showing at the slave quater the very next morning.

It was the earliest he could convince the owner of the house to have a showing. Which still wasn't early enough for him.

He paced through lines of young girls trying to find you. He remembered what you liked like at the Academy but people had a awful habit of changing.

He stopped in front of one girl who could have been you. Roughly the same height as he remembered. Same color eyes, although he never saw them up close so he couldn't be certain. Her hair seemed a lighter shade of Y/H/C and her nose seemed larger.

He continued satisficed that she most likely was not the girl he was looking for. He continues through the line of girls all dressed neatly in simple white dresses. They were more like potato sacks with arm holes.

They were organized according to training and skill. The girls who had been with the house the longest and received the most training were shown first.

He skipped the queue, you wouldn't be amongst them. He started in the middle and grew more frustrated as he neared the end. He knew once he spotted you he would know.

He scanned ahead looking for your hair color and height.

He saw a possibility far off and bee lined for it, ignoring the words of the owner as he took off.

Once he stood in front of you, he knew without a doubt that you were her. His Y/N.

You had barely changed from his memory. You had lost a little bit of weight no doubt from the stress of it all. Your eyes had dulled over a tad and your hair was less shiny and neat, but all the same you were as he remembered.

"President Snow, she is only trained as a house maid. She wouldn't be trained adequately for you", the owner of the house explained.

"Good then I don't have to train her out of annoying habits".

You looked worried, and he wondered if it was at the thought of being chosen or at not being chosen.

"Open your mouth" His first command to you.

You do and he pretends to check your teeth. Not an unordinary practice for a buyer but not of interest for Coriolanus.

He had longed to exert control over you.

Walking to school he would day dream to make the trek bearable in his tight shoes.

He dray dreamed he would find you at school and pluck the flowers out of your hair. "Don't wear these. They make you look childish" he would say.

At lunch time he would take the liberty of filling both your plates with food of his choice while you trailed close behind him.

You would wait for him after each class at his place of choosing. sometimes waiting just outside the door while he astonishes the classroom with his hard learned knowledge. He was sure he was going to get the Plinth prize and go off to university. There would be no need for you to do the same.

But his poverty kept him shackled and your money (however so dwindling) kept you safe.

Before if he told you to open your mouth for inspection you would laugh at him, now if he told you to hop on the spot, you would hop.

"how much?" he asked the sweaty little owner.

They agreed and you were tossed in the sold cage while Coriolanus filled out paperwork. He tired not to seem egger to collet you.

He had never personally brought a maid and had no idea it involved this much paper. He only glanced at whatever he was signing, trusting the person who explained each document to him.

When he was finally allowed to go collect you, he found himself stuck at the door.

How would he approach this? should he call you by your name to show he knew you or place the burden on you to make the connection.

You never even talked to him in school but perhaps you shared the same quiet fascination with him.

If not, he was still President Snow, and you were a loyal subject. He could image you would be awe-struck at the opportunity to serve him.

He yanked open the door and walked with powerful strides. You were sitting in the holding cell, curled into a ball on the floor.

You got up upon seeing him, and came closer to the bars.

"Here" he held out a cold water bottle that he got from the owners assistant. He wished he drank some of it. He would have spat in it if he had registered that he was going to give it to you.

his action took you both by surprise. But you take it.

"Thank you, President Snow".

He gained no sense of familiarity with your words.

He waited for a 'we went to school together' or a 'I always knew you were going to be President of Panem'.

But nothing came. You drank your water and even separated yourself from the bars.

You gave no sign you recognized him from the Academy days. You gave no plea to his sense of fellowship, or tried to give yourself false standing upon your upbringing.

When he had asked about your standing you had told him you were born into your situation. A bold move to someone who held your paperwork in his hand. The entire history of you, as well as your in and outs.

Still he didn't correct you. Perhaps you were waiting to pull the secret past card for a rainy day.

"Your name is Y/N? is that correct"

two could play the i don't remember game.

You nod.

"Well Y/N, in about 10 minutes two peacekeepers will come and take you to a van where you will be escorted to the Presidential estate. From there the Headmistress will make you presentable and begin your training as my servant".

His hands curl around the bars and he pushes himself closer to you.

"I have high expectations of you. Don't disappoint me".

-----------

'Coriolanus please. I'll come back any time you want me to. Do anything for you. But please let me return home".

Your words took his mind breifly to imagining a different life with you. They never caught him for cheating and with the Plinth prize under him, he took your hand in marriage.

And yet still, in his imagation you stood in the living room, perhaps better dressed, and said the same words.

He really did just want to own you.

Coriolanus said nothing and turned his eyes back to your father.

"You made a deal with Mr Grenge for 300 million panams. So my price for Y/N is 300 million panams"

"that's everything" he father mutters.

'She is everything". You didn't believe it. Not to him.

"I-I Can't. I'd be ruined again".

"You could always sell her back. At a discount of course".

'Please" you try again.

"It would be a fun 18 hours for you" Coriolanus taunts.

"we could pay in instalments" you father tries.

"Do i seem like a patient man?"

"Patient enough to wait for your time to strike" Your father is seething, "It wasn't surprise I felt about her being here, only dread".

Coriolanus smirks trying to hide it by rubbing his forefinger across his bottom lip.

" I saw you every time I picked her up from school. Lingering in the background like a parasite. Coriolanus Snow's got eyes for my daughter, I thought to myself, how harmful could he truly be".

He dad crosses the boundary of the living room table. His face contorted with anger.

"Then I saw you dangle that poor district 12 girl in the Hunger games. You were no harmless school boy, I realized, you were your fathers son. And that is a very dangerous thing to be".

"Careful. You don't speak to that school boy now. President Snow is who you address, and you've said enough to get yourself hanged".

You place a hand on Coriolanus shoulder as if to keep him pinned to the chair.

"Y/N I am so sorry. He was gone when I sold you. I thought you'd be house maid to one of the lady's. I never thought he'd get his hands on you".

The old man takes you into his arms. His baby daughter who he threw directly into the mouth of the wolf.

"No sale has been made yet" Coriolanus reminds him, "Do we have a deal of 300 million panems or are you touching some one else's property?".

--------

The first few months in the presidential estate were terrible and Coriolanus saw to it.

You were beaten for everything for quick training. Even things you were sure you did right were wrong.

He had to give it to you, despite your privileged up bringing, you were a hard worker. Every time he checked on you, which was often, you were never found sitting down. Always on the move scrubbing something, dusting something, organizing lien cupboards.

He only caught you once reading a passage from a poetry book kept in the library. Old habits die hard, he supposed. He remembered you loved to read.

You would often read stretched out in the sun during lunch time at the academy garden. Coriolanus would watch from the schools library window, when he should have been studying. You again were interfering with him being the best he could be.

He called upon you during your dinner time. Requesting your presence in his office.

When you entered you saw your headmistress standing on the opposite side of the desk.

Coriolanus sat in his chair, looking bored. His head resting in his hand, not looking at the headmistress or you. Just staring blankly at his desk.

As you enter you can see the wooden Cain and the poetry book laying flat on the desk. Your legs turn to jelly the closer you got.

"President Snow. Headmistress" you greet.

"Which poem was it that caught your eye?" The old women grumbled.

You bring your hands to your chest and wring them together. You were still sore from your beating last night. You weren't sure you could take another one.

"i was only checking the book. The pages seemed loosed".

"Are you suggesting that the presidential estate would house such a book?"

You try and back track on your lie. Blaming lack of sleep and food for your mistake of the falling pages.

Coriolanus reaches for the book, flipping it to a random page and placing it back on the desk.

"Place your hands on the desk and read it" The headmistress demands, picking up the cain.

You face Coriolanus who watches you from his seat. You eyes swell with tears that spilled on it the page. He would keep the book in his draw rather than the library.

''My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk''

The headmistress brings the cain down upon your back, and your sentence comes out as a yelp.

"Or, or, or emptied some dull-ll opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had-saH-Sunk!".

It strikes after each pause. Your hands curl into fists upon the page.

"Tis,not,through,envy,of, thy,happy,lot" You rush and two strikes come down upon your back.

"Cheeky girl!" your headmistress reprimanded.

"But being too happy in thine happines" you slow.

He closes his eyes to the sound of the Cain coming down and images the school garden. Both school children again in the red uniforms. You lay in the sun together. Coriolanus rested his head on your lap as you read out your poem. You stroke his hair and he feels the warm sun on his face.

Your desperate act pulls him from his day dream. He looks at the women before him. A women he owed.

No school children in sight; the President of Panem and a slave take their place.

You finish your poem looking up to him for salvation. You do not receive it.

"Again" he demanded.

He wouldn't leave during your nightly flogging. He would lock the door and free his cock from his trousers. He loved the thought of you so vunruable, so brusied and battered at his command.

He would image you with your dress down, tied to the whipping post as he brought the whip down on you. He imaged your squirming and crying for him. God, there was nothing he loved more than control.

He would wait until the flogging was announced to be over before he would return home.

He was always so sure that you would come to him the very next morning and beg for him to save you from the whipping post. Exchanging anything in return.

-----------

"I am so sorry. I have your mother to look after. She's not been well Y/N"

"Dad you can't leave me here"

"We'll visit" He insisted.

"No you won't"

You both turn to Coriolanus in his chair, half forgotten he was there.

"We'll write to you"

"It won't be delivered"

"I am sorry" your father finally accepted, 'Maybe once I make more money".

"Daddy please" you whine. He won't be given another chance, you know it. You weren't sure this chance was entirely truthful.

"I am so sorry" he repeats pulling away from you. He rushes to collet his things. You aim to go to him, to hold him one last time but Coriolanus rises from his chair.

He takes your hand in a tight grip.

"You'll find a maid downstairs. She'll help you to the door".

Your father looks at Coriolanus with hate filled eyes, but nodded his head in understanding. President Snow held all the cards, you both were nothing but pawns for him to entertain himself with.

'So sorry we could not do business together".

Your father doesn't answer too overcome with emotion of selling his daughter for a second time. He rushes away in shame and you fall to your knees.

Coriolanus lets go of your hand so you could curl yourself into a ball on the floor.

He lets you sob and heave on the floor by his feet. He knew telling you to stop would be a waste of breath.

He waits until you can control your breath again before he crouches down next to you.

He snakes a arm under your side to pull you to his chest. His arm curls around your shoulders to keep you there, while his hand cradles the back of your head. He rests his cheek against the top of your head while you sob. Loudly and painfully, you sob into his chest.

You can hear footsteps pounding down the hall way and you knew it was Clemessia.

"Get her to stop or I'll hang her by her feet in my study. She'll wake the children".

Coriolanus raises his eyebrows at her but does not uncurl his body from you to follow her command.

You quieten anyway. It's fine, you tell yourself, you've lost nothing.

You hold your breath counting to a slow ten and then release it a couple of times. It helped regain your composure.

Coriolanus unhooks himself from you and reaches into his breast pocket to pull out his handkerchief. He wipes your face clean from snot and tears with an emotionless expression.

You weren't sure you could walk so when he picked you up and took you back to the bedroom you were thankful to not have to find out.

----------

Coriolanus spits his tea back into the cup.

There was nothing wrong with it. But he loved how panicked you got.

Your lips would part, your eyes fell wide, your chest would puff up.

How could there be something wrong with the tea again.

'i am so sorry, President Snow. I'll make another" You go to take the cup back.

'What's the point? You disturb me every time you come with another pot".

"I'll try not to in the future, Sir".

"what good are your efforts. I've watched you try for the past six months. You only slightly improved".

'i can do better. I will do better".

He loved the grovel.

"maybe the night without supper would help to refocus your mind?"

Your body tensed, and he could feel the anger radiating off you, even if he couldn't see it upon your face.

'Is that a good idea?" he teased.

"Yes, Sir" You tried not to spit the words.

"Good. Then it's settled. Go about your chores".

The next day he offered you a biscuit from his tray, and said nothing about his tea. Even through this one was too sweet for his liking.

It was the first time your hunger overtook your pride. You took it with a small thanks, excusing yourself at the first opportunity.

he watched the camera link. You had gobbled the biscuit down as soon as the door closed behind you.

Once a lady now a beggar.

-------

He took you to the bedroom and laid you down.

You didn't move. You couldn't move.

He talked as he undressed you.

"I know that was painful for you but you needed to see it".

He yanked your dress over your hand, leaving you in only your panties.

You turn from him to your side but he flips you back.

tears still run down your face but you make no noise.

"Why. So you could see it?" you bit.

"At some point you have accept your life here".

He slides your panties down your legs, leaving them on the floor.

"was it true?" you ask, "that we both went to the Academy".

"yes. I had a terrible crush on you for many years". Crush he called it but it couldn't be further from the truth.

"i never even noticed you all those years". The sentence stung him a bit.

He places his lips on your neck and bites down. You wiggle under him, pushing on his shoulders.

"You are making me suffer because you had a school boy crush?"

He rises up and undresses himself from his many layers.

"i am making you suffer because I can". He makes haste with the many buttons on his vest.

His sentence quietens you. He could make you suffer just because he wanted to. he could make your family suffer just because he wanted to.

He rips the clothes from his body, leaving them a messy pile on the floor.

He drags you to the center of the bed and crawls on top.

"In any case who would you rather, me, President of Panem, or some old business man, bored with his wife. That's who you would have gone to".

You try and turn to your side again but his hands catch your shoulders and bring them flat on the mattress again.

"You should really say thank you". He pumps himself over you.

You don't say anything, and your ungratefulness resulted in a harsh hold on your chin.

"Say it. Say thank you" he demands.

"Thank you" You spit hard and fast.

"Thank you, President snow". He nudges your legs further apart and lines himself up to your entrance.

"Thank you, President SNow" he enters you without warning and starts a steady thrust.

It had been years with him. Sex with him wasn't something you even blinked at. On occasion you could have even been called a participant.

But not tonight. You couldn't even rock your hips for your own feeling. You just lay there and take it.

Something about night had made Coriolanus feel like a school boy again, and he took it out in his hard and rough thrusts. He was President Snow and you would remember it.

He begins to sing the national anthem of Panem.

"Oh, Horn of Plenty One Horn of Plenty for us all! And when you raise-ah- the cry The brave shall heed the call And we shall never falter, hmm"

He grunts in your ear. He pushes himself upright where with his new position he places both his hands on your hips and pulls you closer so your legs were hooked over his hips.

"And when we raise the cry-y the brave shall heed", he huffs, "the call and we shall never fall"

He new position gave him deeper thrusts. As the song ends his hips loose their rhythm.

"Oh, Capitol Your glorious diamond shine A tribute to' The darkest days behind Oh! One Horn of Plenty for us all"

He bucks his hips as he leans back over you on the bed, a hand resting by the side of your head to keep his weight off you and the other used to keep your leg over his hip.

He never fully leaves you before he slams back in.

He groans as he cums, letting you milk him of anything he had left. Even after that he remains in you.

Coriolanus lets out a short breathy laugh, dropping your leg and pushing his body down on you. You huff in protest but he doesn't care. Placing small kisses and bites along your skin.

You remain still. Numb from the events of the night. You didn't even say goodbye to your father. You knew you would never see him again.

Coriolanus spent by using you, rests his head on your chest.

"Someday some one will kill you for your wrong doings, Coriolanus". You warn.

He chuckles in response. It won't be by his doll.

----

Years later you stand in the crowd watching Katniss Everdeen raise her bow and arrow at Coriolanus.

You smile waiting for her to let go. You could see Coriolanus's eyes searching for you in the crown, unable to find you as hide amongst the people, before his settles on the eyes of his executer.

"MockingJay, may your aim be as true as your heart is pure".

The arrow flies but enters the heart of the Coin.

Coriolanus begins to laugh, blood spilling from his mouth as he does.

As the blood coats his shirt it is a reminder of his misdeeds. Against his people, his family, and importantly you.

You charge taking along a crowd of people with you.

#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus x reader #dark!coriolanus snow #dead dove do not eat #tom blyth #president snow

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buf309 · 7 months

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Pose Reference Resources

I promised Dia (aka aerequets) that I will make a collection of pose references in the reply of one of her art posts, and then I completely forgot about it. Until now. I'm sorry for my bad memory.

So, yeah, better late than never I guess?

The pose collection I use the most is no longer free. They used to let you download a whole album (more than 8GB worth of data) to use offline, but now you have to pay $40/package or $200 for full sets. I still have the zip file for a very old version of theirs, but I can't legally share it. So, let's skip to the other options.

1/ First, you heard of those 3D dolls program that let you model your own reference pose? This one is an online one and for free, the whole ordeal. Of course since it's online and free, you can't save your model for next time, and it costs quite a lot of time to set the model up. So, you should take as much screenshots in as many tricky angles as you need once you done with the setting. Best using for complicated scenes where those below don't have what you need already available.

2/ This one is free and in 3D, you can rotate the model to any angle that you need. The only set back is the numbers of poses are quite limited. This one is best for using as a basic blocks then build up what you want to draw, or just as a practice to improve your understanding of human anatomy.

3/ This one is free for personal uses and the pose collection is massive. The setbacks are the language barrier (it's in Japanese, English is sometimes tag-a-long) and you have to search through their pages for what you need. The pics for each pose is static but they are in different angle in almost 360 degrees. There are many 2-person and 3-person poses too. Great for illustration inspiration.

4/ This one will only show reference photos of human head, at whatever angle you rotate the model. The web interface is easy to use. There are options like searching based on gender, ages, emotions, glasses, facial hair or not, etc. Good for practicing face drawing.

5/ This one will show reference photos for human body parts, at whatever angle you rotate the model, read the instructions for how to do it. The web interface is quite hard to use at first, just tinkering around for a bit, and you will be fine. There are options like searching based on gender and which particular parts that you need refs for. Good for that moment when you go "huh? how is this <body part> will look in this <situation>????"

6/ This one will only show reference photos of animal heads, and only the head, at whatever angle you rotate the model. The accurate skull refencence list is their best point. There are enough common species in the drop down list. Tbh, I don't use this much because I often need refs for the whole animal most of the time. But it's best for furry artists, I guess?

7/ Real model photos. They sell pose reference in themed packs, but there are enough free packs to use as drawing practice too.

8/ This is the best for general background reference. Lots of options. Not really good for very specific location results, but good for random background in drawings.

9/ Lastly, for specific objects or background references at strange angles, I often search for 3D models on this site then take screenshots of whatever I need.

That's all, folks. Hope this list can help ease some of the struggles that we will encounter on our quest of learning the art of drawing things 😂

#reference #digital art reference

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teyamsatan · 11 months

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𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟 𝕄𝕖 | ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕍: 𝕀𝕥'𝕤 𝕀𝕟 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕀𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝕀'𝕞 𝕄𝕒𝕕𝕖

Pairing: Neteyam x (f)Omaticaya!Reader

synopsis: Neteyam's actions leave you aching and shamed, and life is made difficult by your attempts to avoid him at all costs, until it dawns on you that, much like your entire relationship, nothing good ever happens without reciprocation.

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, aged-up! Neteyam/Reader, enemies-to-lovers, angst (mentions of violence, battle, blood, death), smut (oral - m receiving, orgasm denial), strong language, neteyam and reader being horrible to each other lol

wc: 6.4k words

a/n: we're in it now, besties. the plot thickens, much like reader/neteyam's steamy enmity and desire for each other. i hope you enjoy this chapter, and as always, thank you for asking to be tagged, commenting, sending me asks, it really keeps me going and i appreciate you so so much (thank you very much also to @cinetrix for her amazing Neteyam art and the prompt which inspired me so much and got me out of my writer's block ily bestie x)

na'vi compendium: yawne - beloved, Tsakarem - Tsa'hik in training, ketuwong - alien, txepvi - spark, teylupil - teylu-face, kurkung - asshole, skxawng - idiot, eveng - child, tsìltsan rewon - good morning, Oel ngati kameie - I see you, sa'nok - mother, ite - daughter, srane - yes, kä - go, Olo'eykte - female Olo'eyktan, tam-tam - calm, mawey - calm, oare - moon

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I'm only whatever you make me And you make me more and more a villain every day But you don't know, you reap, you sow Whatever you give to me, from yourself, you take Well, if you're a hater, then hate the creator It's in your image I'm made

The absence of his fingers, of him, from you, as he abandoned you, with your thoughts and insecurities, left you in a state of deep shock and shame - so much so, it took a good hour to finally get the strength to move the few steps it took to get to your tent.

Your mind was spinning with more thoughts then it could process, and as you continued worrying about the consequences of your actions, about all the ways Neteyam would find new ways to torture you and make you miserable, as you reeled from the ache that settled deep in your core from the emptiness he left behind, as you tried to understand the convoluted ways his mind worked and the reason he would ever do something like this to begin with, you found consciousness slipping away from you and in no time, you were asleep, taunted by dreams that you couldn’t find in you to call nightmares anymore, dreams about him finishing the job. At least in these dreams, you were safe, and he was nice, and his touch healed instead of breaking you further and further each day. You realise now it’s not what happens in these dreams that makes you think of them as nightmares, it’s the reality juxtaposed against them that sours their taste on your mind. It’s funny how even the purest, happiest moments can turn to ashes in your mouth when the backdrop is haunting and inimical.

It was evening when you woke, and the headache that accompanied your newfound conscious state was heightened by Lo’ak’s harsh voice, as he shook you back to a reality that still ached, that couldn’t have been better than the fantasies you just left behind.

“Lo’ak, stop shaking her, just give her a second.”

“Look, we have no time for pleasantries. She’s going to thank me for this.”

“Teylupil. Kurkung. Skxawng.” You curse in a hoarse, barely audible whisper, eliciting a laugh from Kiri and an exasperated groan from her little brother.

“Is this how you talk to the man that’s going to save you from an evening of misery?”

“What’re you talking about, you irksome little -“

“Just get up and I’ll tell you. What’re you doing asleep at this hour anyway?”

“Kiri, remove your brother before I remove him, and take one or two fingers with me.”

“Come on, Lo’ak, let’s make sure you’re still alive by Eclipse.”

You rose from your mat with a small wince as your head throbbed in pain.

“Are you alright?” Kiri’s hand was cold and soothing against your skin, and you placed your own hand on top of hers, grateful that she was here, if not for anything else, to dilute the intensity of Lo’ak’s personality while you were still recovering your strength. You couldn't look at your two favourite Sully siblings properly, not when the shame stung and dulled your senses, not when their eyes would remind you of his, and what you did.

“I’m fine, just… tired. I… broke up with O’i’en. Or actually, I guess he broke up with me.”

“Shit. Did he find out?”

You considered how much you should tell your friends about what transpired, knowing they’d have questions, knowing the answers might lead to more questions, some of which you couldn’t possible begin to explain.

“Yeah… Neteyam told him.”

“Fuck. I still don’t know what you possibly ever did to make Neteyam, who happens to be the most boring and calm person to walk this planet, so angry at you.”

You scoffed at Lo’ak’s statement, so obvious and speaking to a mystery that has plagued you for the last 7 years.

“Yeah… I love living my life paying for an imaginary slight he feels the need to remind me of every day.”

He thought about it for a second, his fingers stroking his chin in an obviously exaggerated contemplative manner.

“How do you know it’s imaginary if you don’t know what it is?”

The roll of your eye reminded you briefly of the headache that tried you, and how it was getting worse with each passing second you had to entertain this conversation.

“Look, even if it’s not, don’t you think it’s a little extreme?”

With a raise of his shoulders, Lo’ak continued.

“I guess… but it’s not like you make it easier for yourself.”

You felt your anger picking up speed, making your pulse quicken and heat rise in your cheeks.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you are just as bad to him. You’re both horrible to each other. Don’t get me wrong, it’s hilarious and we all get a kick out of it, but - OUCH, KIRI!” Lo’ak yelped in pain as soon as his sister’s elbow found its way in his ribs, and the theatrics continued as he collapsed on his side, until his head was on your lap.

“You’re the worst.”

“I still maintain my view that you both just need to fuck. Maybe this mateship is going to be the solution to all your problems.”

The flush of your cheeks brought about by anger only deepened at his words, that instilled memories that you still didn’t know whether you were trying to forget or imprint on your brain, memories that had no business flashing in front of your mind’s eye now, memories that might infer the beginning of the end of the world: Lo’ak finally being right about something.

“Yeah, cause what successful lifelong commitment hasn’t started with two people who despise each other?” You didn’t want to harp on a subject that you’d do everything to never have to talk about again, so you quickly changed the subject.

“Moving on. Why are you guys here?”

The two siblings exchanged awkward looks.

“Mum, dad and grandma were talking about you and Neteyam… about the ceremony and everything.” You could tell Kiri felt uncomfortable talking about the subject, and you were happy at least one of them was sensitive to the situation. “They want to sit you both down and pick a date. Grandma said something about the sooner the better. We thought you’d rather eat a Talioang tongue than do that, so we came to give you a heads up.”

Well, so much for changing the subject. You groaned, moving Lo’ak out of the way so you can raise your knees and place your head in between them, trying to make the world stop shaking and your heart stop trying to escape out of your chest. This can’t be happening. Not so soon.

“What did Neteyam say?”

“Neteyam hasn’t returned home, which isn’t like him. Have you seen him at all today?”

“No.” You lied.

That was weird. Why would Neteyam not return home? It’s not like he had any reason to hide, unlike you. You’d think he’d be the first one back in the tent, waiting to see if you’d show up for dinner, with a smug smirk plastered on his face, so ready and willing to taunt you for your momentary lapse in judgement and for being able to rub in the fact he won one more battle in your never-ending war, that until now was even, but now, felt completely thrown off balance.

“Do you want to get out of here?” The magic words, spoken to you almost like in a dream, pulling you out of your intense musings about the speaker’s older brother.

“It’s almost eclipse. You’re gonna get in trouble.”

Lo’ak snickered and rolled his eyes, almost upset that you would ever think that’s something he should care about.

“Come on. We can go to the labs, chill with the humans for a night.”

“As tempting as that is, I don’t think aiding and abetting the Olo’eyktan’s kids to leave after curfew is going to improve my situation in any way. You should go back. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Lo’ak huffed and puffed, but did as he was told, not before he left you with one last nugget of information.

“By the way, Norm and Max intercepted some new intel about a mission the ketuwong are planning. It’s in two days. Dad wants us all in strategy meetings and training all day tomorrow. That includes you. As soon as eclipse is over.”

“Roger that. Now go.” You kissed both of them on their foreheads, and watched as they left you with your thoughts.

Questions and worries plagued your mind, all, like most times, revolving around the oldest Sully sibling. Ponderations of how or why, of when or what, all swirling, all fluttering away, none of them settling enough to be thought about in detail, all of them flailing about, knocking every other thought from your consciousness until you were a panted mess of breaths and ringing heartbeats. You couldn’t be here.

Curfew has always been more of a suggestion to you than an order, so with that mentality deeply embedded in you still, you picked up your knife and bow and made your way out, walking past the Sully tent and into the thick forest, to a place you haven’t been in since that night Mo’at announced your engagement. You tried to shake the unnerved feeling that still haunted you as you remembered what last transpired there.

As you trekked past foliage and snuck past apex predators that were out hunting for the night, you eventually reached the meadow you've always loved so much. You didn't have time to breathe out a sigh a relief as you noticed a navy blue form turned away from you, toned, muscular back full on display. You would always recognise this body and the man who inhabited it, now and forever, as long as you would live, but still, you almost couldn't believe what your eyes were clearly showing you.

Neteyam was deep in thought as his feet dangled in the lake in which you liked to bathe and relax normally, that used to be a sacred place for you, one more thing he ruined in the time you've known him. He didn't hear you, you realise suddenly, and you were glad. He was the last person you wanted to see and you didn't know what you were feeling in this moment as you watched him, so unlike the Neteyam you always got to experience, so far removed from the man that always had his guard on around you, that was smug and arrogant, and primed to hurt you with every possibility that presented itself to him. This felt more like the Neteyam you used to know and love, that everyone else still gets to know and love, that you hear so much about on a day to day basis - the peaceful Neteyam, the considerate and shy Neteyam, the golden son, the epitome of what made the Omaticaya special.

You stayed hidden in the shrubbery that concealed the meadow, just watching him, and as the time continued, you found yourself relaxing, your own thoughts percolating and settling one at a time, until you processed as many of them as you had the strength to. A few things became clear to you. The priority right now were the Sky People. You had to fight, and you had to do it well - too many people relied on you for you to give anything else than your 100%. Neteyam was a distraction you couldn't afford - not right now, and not until this was done. Avoiding him at all costs seemed like the smart thing to do. Revenge could wait... for a little while. You pushed the reminder of the ceremony discussion from your brain. You didn't have enough power to consider the implications of the talk the Sully patriarch and matriarchs wanted to have with you and Neteyam. It was too soon.

Other things, you were more confused about than ever. In the end, you left with more questions than you came with, leaving him to his own devices, knowing you'll soon regret not having gotten at least a couple hours sleep before the two days ahead, both difficult, both with enough power to take more from you than you were willing to ever lose.

Why is he here?

What is he thinking about?

Were you on his mind at all?

Did you even want to be?

Could you stand it if you weren't?

You made it back to the village right as Jake and Neytiri came out, a sleepy, uncooperative Lo'ak following close behind.

"Ma eveng, tsìltsan rewon. Oel ngati kameie."

"Oel ngati kameie, sa'nok."

Neytiri made her way to you with wide, gentle steps. She always reminded you of these humans you once saw in a video the scientists showed you when you were younger, called ballerinas. She had so much poise, so much gentle, quiet power, that you have tried to emulate your entire life. Despite it paining you to admit, Neytiri was more your mother, more a role model, than your own mother ever had been. When she reached you, her hands found your face, that she stroked gently, running her thumbs under your eyes.

"Please tell me you've slept, 'ite."

Your tail stilled midair as you were caught red-handed, and you knew you either had to lie, a concept only familiar to you after being around humans, and one that you have to admit you found useful in certain circumstances, or deal with a long lecture, that you were much too tired for.

"Srane, sa'nok."

She gave you a skeptical look, one that told you she didn't quite believe you, but knew better than to probe, at least not in front of the Olo'eyktan, who would give you the ass kicking of a lifetime if he knew you weren't going to give your 110% over the following days.

"Kä. Get your bow and quiver and meet us on the training grounds."

You did as you were told, changing quickly while you were at it, realising briefly you have been in the same garbs for a long time now, something your mum would have told you off about. She always looked her best, always beautiful and presentable, always the most sought-after woman in the village. She had no grand aspirations, not like you, or like your father, who wanted nothing more for you than to be a warrior and a fighter, to be the best of the best, the best of them all. If it was up to him, you would be Olo'eykte. You tried to make both of them proud in their own ways - your mother, by continuing her secret weaving technique and always wearing the special garbs that only your family knew how to make, and your father, by becoming the pride and prodigy of your clan, and sharing that title with only one other person, none other than the prince of the Omaticaya.

Your heart picked up pace as you reached the grounds and in front of his parents stood Neteyam, looking perfect as always, not a single stray hair on his head, his braids flowing softly in the wind and chiming when the beads adorning them knocked into each other. You've always loved Neteyam's hair. It was always perfectly braided, and so weirdly emotive and... alive, sometimes looking like it moved on its own accord, a little like the tail that you saw moving in a circle, a sign he was not happy - what else was new?

When Jake spotted you, he nodded in your direction, which made everyone's attention shift to you, including his, and when his eyes trailed over your body, widening minutely, mouth slightly agape, you felt your cheeks burn and ears twitch nervously. He gained composure as quickly as he lost it, the slightly taken aback expression far removed from the one now displayed on his face, that he reserved for you, that you hated with every fibre of your being. The moment of vulnerability you witnessed yesterday was long gone, replaced by his usual contempt he liked to emanate as soon as you entered his personal bubble. You wondered if he was gonna rub your nose in it, if he was going to declare it to the world, let his friends know that you were another name to add to the catalogue of women he's fucked, or if he wouldn't want anyone to know - his little secret, only for his twisted mind to keep and thrive on. Your own mind tortured you with scenarios, each one worse than the last, before Jake pulled you out of your nightmarish thoughts.

"Kid. Come on, now, you can't go all mellow on me today. Tomorrow's a big one, I need you here, I need you with me. Can I count on you?"

"Yes, sir."

By the end of the day, that now went well into the night, you were more tired than you could remember being in years, and between the strategising meetings, the weapon training, the military drill exercises, and the hand to hand combat that Jake insisted would, at some point in your life, become useful, your brain was fried and your body sore and covered in mud and twigs.

The dirt that covered every inch of you was the kind which would stick to your skin and your hair for days on end, without any sliver of hope that it could get removed. You knew your braids were ruined, and so were your garbs, that you worked so hard for, that were all you had left of your family and your ancestors. It was a good day, you tried to remind yourself. A successful day. That’s all that mattered -not your clothes, nor the man that you were trying to avoid like he was a plague, or his gaze, or the heat that emanated from his body, or the memory of his fingers or his torturous ministrations.

“Good job today, both of you. Now go wash the muck off of you at the river and be back in 30 minutes so we can go over it and discuss what went right and what could have gone better. Dismissed.”

“Um- can I go to the lake instead?” The thought of being alone with Neteyam made your skin crawl. Is that what that was? It had to be. Skin crawling… yes, not goosebumps and shivers down your spine. Skin crawling…

You cringed a little at Jake’s expression, and his raised eyebrow which most of the time, and especially now, indicated annoyance or grievance.

“The lake is far, plus you wouldn’t be able to make it back in 30 minutes, kid. And it’s still dark. Is there a reason the normal river is not to your taste anymore?”

Your tail stopped in its tracks at his slight admonishment, ears pushed back so far, they were flat against your head. You hated disappointing Jake, almost as much as you hated Neteyam.

“No, sir.”

At the sight of you, Jake’s expression melted away and was replaced with a soft smile, one exclusively reserved for his kids. He approached you quietly and patted your head affectionately.

“That’s what I thought. Now come on, off you go, you little troublemaker.”

It was a short trek to the river that most Na’vi used as a personal bathing station, that was now deserted for the night. The training lasted longer than expected, and you knew eclipse would be over in a short couple of hours. You felt Neteyam’s eyes boring into your back and you did everything in your power to forget that he was there, but alas, it was near impossible when his presence overwhelmed your every sense, when it took over any thought in your mind, when the embarrassment of your encounter still rings painfully in you, telling you to run, or hide, or get your petty little revenge so he stopped having the upper hand in this scenario. The latter option, much as it has for years now, seems like the most obvious, the most alluring one.

The devious plan, that was just a slight variation of his own, as it usually was, was taking a more defined form in your mind with each passing second, especially after remembering the little human snap bracelets that were stronger than any Na'vi rope you owned, that were light and easy to carry, and that you conveniently happened to have in the little pouch that dangled from your waist. You just needed the perfect opportunity, and you believed in making your own luck.

Without looking behind you, you got into the river, purposefully bending until your hands reached your ankles, that you started rubbing and cleaning, taking your time as you moved slowly upwards, your ass fully on display for the male you knew would be watching, as he, too, was cleaning the day off him.

"Can you be any more obvious, yawne? You might as well have a 'fuck me' sign plastered all over you. Is that all it took, three fingers in that pretty cunt and you forgot you hate me?"

You ignored his words and continued cleaning yourself, until you were so squeaky clean, someone could eat off your body, which now, you felt like you craved more than food itself.

When you were done, you got out of the river, once more trying to be as sensual and inviting as you could, and you smirked as you heard him get out as well, his presence inundating your senses as he approached you, the way it always did.

"Are you finally going to apologise and behave? I knew you would event-"

You quickly turned and pushed him backwards, until he fell, a pained gasp escaping his lips as his back made contact with a tree. The snap of the cuffs was more satisfying than you would ever care to admit as they tightened around his hand, and almost as satisfying to you as his realisation of what you’ve done, of the fact that he was trapped, at your disposal, at your mercy.

“Let me out.” The growl he let out was low and feral, unamused at best and frightening at worst. Lucky for you, you’ve never really been scared of Neteyam. The smirk that blossomed on your face deepened as you watched him, squirming and pulling at the cuffs with all his might, getting angrier with every second he couldn’t untie himself. His tail was moving furiously behind him, slapping his calf with erratic, uncoordinated movements.

“You know, Neteyam... For far too long now, it felt like you had control over our dynamic. I hated it, every day, feeling weaker than you. When you came and grabbed me by the throat, it was the first time in my life I almost felt scared of you. When you came and told O’í'en about us, I felt almost like life was slipping away from my grasp and you were the quicksand through which it was falling. When you… when we-“ it took you a while to compose yourself and subside the purple stain of your cheeks as you remembered how he left you. “You made me feel things I have never felt before. And then you left. And I felt almost ashamed. I had just got out of a serious relationship, I broke someone’s heart, and all I could think of, was your fingers. I felt weak, and I hate feeling weak.”

You took advantage of the way he was entranced by your words, too focused on you for anything else, and took his other hand and tied it on an opposing branch.

“Fuck! Let me go!” His legs were thrashing in front of him as he struggled to undo the human contraption, but if there’s one thing you learned, is that humans knew how to imprison and hurt other beings the best, and for once, you didn’t mind taking a page from their books.

“Tsk tsk tsk… no, Neteyam, what do you say?”

“Fucking let me go, you little -“

“Mmm…” you pretended to think about it for a while. “No… i don’t think that’s it. Y’want to try again?”

He hissed at you, a hiss that sounded more like a roar than anything else, and heat ignited in your core at its sound, mighty and powerful, wild and untamed. Still, you kept your composure and the sweet smile that you knew would anger him further.

“No, that’s not either. You say ‘please’.”

You knelt in between his thighs, thick and muscular, and put a hand on each one, steadying yourself as you found yourself on your knees, heart thundering in your chest at your plan, that, despite the adrenaline, seemed more and more deranged with every passing second. His breath stilled at your touch, as did his body, his legs now limp on either side of you. His expression shifted, from one of unadulterated anger to pure shock, and a flicker of muted awe, eyes wide and mouth agape, canines tucked away behind his beautiful lips, that he wet with a swipe of his tongue.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing, Ne-te-yam?”

Your fingers dug in the meat of his lower limbs, thumb trailing over his inner thighs as you moved upwards, massaging him, stopping right before the part of him you itched to touch most, smiling to yourself as his breath laboured with every inch transversed. You wrapped your slender digits around his loincloth, making quick work of the knot that would have been safe from most other people, but not you - you and Neteyam learnt this knot together, back when you were still you and he was still him. Back when he loved you. No matter how much he wanted to forget you and what you meant to each other, he would never be able to, because you’ll always be there to use those memories - that he banished from the night of his mind - against him.

“You see, Neteyam… I’m not the most creative person, unlike you.”

His cock sprung free and you swallowed a gasp along with the saliva that gathered instantly in your mouth. He was huge, and for the first time in your life, you found yourself thinking… pretty, too. There was something almost ethereal about him, deep contrasted stripes running alongside his length, the pattern of his luminous freckles so exciting, you wanted to run your fingers… or your tongue, over them, connecting them with your mind to uncover the pattern it would form, one you wouldn’t mind getting to know over and over again, until it was imprinted into you, into your skin, into your mouth.

You looked at him, back against the bark of a tree, just as yours had been before, his arousal, that he tried to hard to mask on his face, given away by the endless pits that were his pupils, which almost completely swallowed his beautiful golden-green irises.

“Let. Me. Go. Or I swear to Eywa, I will make you pa-“

“Pay, yes, yes.. I’ve heard the speech before. And you know what? I know you’ll make me pay. You’re good at that. You like to think of these new ways to ruin my life, all inventive and new, all of them difficult to stomach and so, so pleasurable for you at the time, aren’t they? Yes… I’m not very creative, so keep in mind that anything I ever do, is your burden to carry… yawne. You made me, everything you hate about me, everything I hate about myself…”

You wrap your fingers around his cock, hard and throbbing under your touch, and watch as he throws his head back and lets out a small, intemperate groan.

“… I learnt from you.”

Slowly, you start moving up and down along his shaft, taking your time, observing every twitch of the muscles of his face, all the ways he was trying to refrain himself from giving into the pleasure that was wearing his resolve down. His eyes were so tightly shut, you wondered if it hurt, and you hoped it did. You hoped it all hurt, just as it hurt you. You turn your attention back to his cock, that was throbbing in your hand, and noticed the glowy liquid now covering the slit of his pink-purplish mushroomy tip.

“Am I making you feel good, yawne? I must be, since you’re dripping all over my fingers.” The sense of deja-vu couldn’t be lost on the male writhing beneath you, and you hoped every second of the incident was playing through his mind, like it has been in yours, ever since it happened. Not being able to contain yourself any longer, you sank down until your lips wrapped around him, the sweet taste of his precum staining your tongue as you swirled it around his tip, licking it clean. The moan that escaped him was music to your ears, erotic and sonorous and so unbridled, despite his best efforts, that it spurred you on, that it made you want to explore every inch of him until every striation of his cock was imprinted on your throat.

And so you did. Your mouth stretched to accommodate for his length and girth, too big for even your best efforts, and your hand wrapped around his base to reach what your mouth couldn't. You gagged as his hips bucked upwards, driving his cock deeper down your throat, until the tip was tickling the back of it. You stopped yourself from thinking about your heart skipping alternate beats as soon as his tail wrapped tightly around your thigh, almost as if claiming you, bringing you closer to him, attaching himself to you, almost if his body was telling you a secret he tried his hardest to repress, one that he could never speak out loud.

You could tell he was itching to free his hand, to entangle his fingers in your hair and use you as his own personal toy. He was itching for the control he desperate craved when it came to you, that you denied him, that you now had over him, that made him weak and puny under your touch.

You hallowed your cheeks as you devoted everything you had to sucking him off, the saliva pooling down his shaft and balls facilitating the bob of your head, that got faster and deeper the longer you did it, the longer his moans, that could no longer be contained inside of him, filled your favourite meadow and your ears, nestling in your body and making their way to your core, that ached and throbbed, that begged you to ride his cock until you were both just a limp mess of limbs on the mossy ground. Your movements met his synchronously, working in perfect harmony, as his heels dug into the ground and he started wildly thrusting in your mouth, his self-control long gone, as the pleasure reached new zeniths and you knew he was close to orgasm.

"F-fuck! Fuck, oh, please!"

Hearing him beg brought you to the brink of your own release, and with a couple more strokes, you released him from your mouth with a pop, sucking on his tip just a little extra, as if he was your own personal lollipop, just like the ones Norm introduced you to as a child. This one was so much better, though.

His eyes opened wildly as the lack of stimulation registered in his mind, chest heaving and mouth open, tail untangling from your body and thrashing violently, as the high came crashing down abruptly, just like yours had. You smiled, flicking your index finger over your lips and chin, gathering the remnants of his arousal before you closed your lips over it, sucking on it enthusiastically, eyes locked onto his own, dark and feral, and for the first time in a really long while, completely lost in you.

“You taste fucking amazing, tsxepvi. Maybe next time, if you apologise and behave, you’ll actually get to cum.”

You got up from your spot on the ground, removing your knife from its sheath and bringing it to one of the cuffs that looked like it had marked his wrist, and with a careful swipe, you freed him. Without sparing him a second look, you turned around and walked away, speaking as you left him, still shackled by one hand, naked and vulnerable, happy with yourself, unwilling to consider yet again the consequences of your actions and how the fear of retaliation, that you knew would be painful and ghastly, would hit you with enough intensity to cower you, just as soon as the adrenaline wore off.

"I trust you can get yourself untied... yawne. See you on the battlefield."

A few hours later, you could barely think straight, by the time you were preparing your beautiful ikran for battle, as she was dutifully waiting on you to finish, trilling softly whenever you pet her in between chores.

“Tam, tam, Oare.”

You felt guilty at the way you’ve handled the past few days, as images of O’i’en swirled in your tired, progressively drowsier mind, at how it took you no time to do… everything you did with a man you hated, a man that more and more it seemed your ex was somewhat right about, despite how much you wanted to banish the thought into the pits of Hell, where it belonged. You started to regret the fact you have not taken the opportunity to sleep when the opportunity presented itself to you, and now you were about to go into one of the most dangerous missions of your life, one that may even infer the future of your clan, worn-out and distracted, body trembling under the weight of your mistakes.

You spotted the man that affected you in ways no one else seemed capable to, face and body painted in war patterns, just like yours was, and winced a little when you realised he was already watching you, deep hatred imbued in his features - you knew there and then you were in for a world of pain, if you ever survived this mission to begin with. It actually hurt, thinking of all the ways he could still make your life a living nightmare, his ingenuity knowing little bounds and never diminishing throughout the years.

“You ready, kid? I need my little star in tip-top shape today. We’re all counting on you, you know?”

Jake’s voice, usually soothing and calming, was grating to your ears, although you had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t the voice itself as much as what the voice uttered, words that you didn’t want to hear at all, words that pushed you near the brink of collapse, whose weight you always almost buckled under, but now, with everything else going on, brought you to your knees. Still, you nodded, the desire to please and make him proud of you outweighing anything else you wanted to say, like asking for permission to sit this one out, like how, right now, you felt more like a liability than an asset. You had to do this, and you would, because they needed you, because they relied on you.

“That’s what I like to hear.” He tapped the little choker that was tied around your neck. “Make sure this is on, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

The war cries echoed through the Hallelujah mountain as the full might of the Omaticaya clan erupted through the floating rocks, bearing down on the helicopters and ships that were looking and scanning for signs of life, that were ready and armed to kill and torture, to destroy and burn life to the ground. On top of your ikran, bow tight in your hand, you normally felt unstoppable. You were unstoppable. Before you even had time to register it, 3 helicopters fell at Neytiri, Jake and Neteyam's hands, crashing into the mountains before exploding into nothingness, never to be seen again.

In the midst of all the chaos, you tried not to think about how hard it was to control Oare, how your own frenzied, disruptive consciousness was affecting her ability to fly and focus, how that in turn was making you miss shots you would have never missed otherwise, how that was further weakening your state, the whole endeavour a vicious cycle you saw no escape from.

"Mawey... mawey." you couldn't tell if you were talking to your ikran or to yourself, as you pet her gently, trying to return you both to a state in which you could be present and useful, the way you were expected to be.

The sudden pain that rushed over you was excruciating, worse than anything you’ve ever felt, worse than all your previous injuries put together, and with a trumping heart and fear poisoning your blood, that felt like it was spilling out of your body more with each passing second, you looked down at yourself, trying to assess the situation. There was nothing. The pain deepened as soon as realisation hit that the fatal wound and the ache that followed wasn’t yours, although it might as well have been.

“No…” your beautiful ikran, that has been with you every day of your life since you were 12, that not only witnessed, but facilitated every one of your victories, that was integral part of your life and happiness, that made you feel seen and understood, let out a screech so loud and filled with anguish, one that would haunt you for the rest of your life, that settled in your bone marrow and will forever have a home there, until your last day on this planet.

As she drew her last breath, you felt every ounce of happiness dissipate from your being, along with any sense of self, any sense of purpose. You had no time to dwell on your immense loss, not as your queues broke apart with her departure from this plane, leaving you in a free fall that would make sure that while you lost your sister, you would be following her close behind. The last thing you saw before you felt darkness enveloping you was Neteyam, and your last thought was how you must have imagined his panicked look and the tortured howl that left his body, as his hand reached out for you, his own ikran diving towards your falling form at full speed.

I sleep with one eye open and one eye closed 'Cause I'll hang myself if you give me rope I lost all my faith and lost all hope That everything means anything at all

taglist: @fanboyluvr @theycallmesia @afro-hispwriter @soleilmoon @crazy4books1 @bakugouswaif@randxmthxughts @xreadersstuff @sirezaya @kimberlyshailany-blog @gyuventure @jujudsmyst @kikookii @nxptury @nonniesworld @koing-slvt @bakugouswaif @isnt-itstrange @tpwkforevermore @alahamums @tallulah477 @gknj9495@aquamarine001 @itssomeonereading @yumimak@sweetbread-m@eqgroil @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @juneonhoth @yagirlheree @jackiehollanderr @legendarynoodlebowl @iameatingmyhair @justasimps-blog @hannabanana-09 @xylianasblog @misscaller06 @yeosxxx @myh3artttt @teyamsbitch

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cy-cyborg · 6 months

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Hi, I was wondering what sort of leg prosthetic would work well in a fight? I'm designing a magical girl OC with a prosthetic leg and want to incorporate a rather more pink and sparkly one into her magical girl form. I know you can get blades for running, but would those be better than a normal prosthetic for running and leaping around while bonking monsters with a magic stick?

Hey there, I think I remember seeing your question on my old account right? I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you!

So a blade probably wouldn't be ideal, but a hybrid might.

Blade prosthetics are very good for running, but are absolutely terrible for literally everything else, including standing or walking. Essentially, blade prosthetics are modeled off of digitigrade legs. For the non-furries on my page, digitigrade legs are what cats and dogs have on their back legs where it bends at the knee, then bends back the other way at a second joint before their feet.

[ID 1: A pair of black running blade prosthetics with yellow edges. Their wearer is out of frame but we can see they are running along a track. /end ID] [ID 2: A photo of a cheetah from the side. In the photo we can clearly see the structure of its legs, as described above. /End ID]

This is actually their ankle, and their "foot" is their toes. This arrangement makes these animals really fast and nimble, but it comes at the cost of lower balance. That's not an issue when you have another two legs to help keep you steady, but when you put that onto a human we start having issues. This is why if you watch any races where the competitors are using these prosthetics, they almost always fall over, especially the double leg amputees. Essentially, the shape and springiness of a blade gives you a massive speed advantage (so much so that amputee runner Oscar Pistorius had to be given disadvantages in order to compete in the Olympics with able-bodied runners) but it essentially moves the ankle joint and heel - the one our brains automatically know to weight bare through - up off the ground. The closest an able bodied person could get to the feeling of running on a blade would be to wear a pair of stilleto heels with the heal removed, and a spring on the bottom.

Hybrid feet though are a combination of blade feet and the regular feet amputees usually get. They are like tiny blades, but they usually have a foot-shell on the outside so you don't see it. These hybrid feet give you some of the extra padding and suspension you'd get from a running blade (which makes running/jumping etc more comfortable) as well as a bit of a speed boost, though not as much as the big ones, and they don't come at the cost of your balance, which you'r character will need when fighting.

Ossur's Flex foot range are a good one to look at for refeance, I used them when I was doing martial arts, as do a few friends of mine who are still doing it. This is a link to their website, it's got pictures of what they look like both internally and when people are using them, and I beleive theirs a booklet you can download on the page as well if you want to read into them a bit more. This isn't the only one of course, but it's the one I've used before:

I'm planning to do a breakdown in a little bit more detail about the different types of prosthetic feet and what they're good for eventually, but for what you described, I think this is what would work best.

#disability #disabled #writing #writeblr #writing disability #designing disabled characters #amputee #amputees #leg amputees #prosthetics

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iamsherlocked1479 · 1 year

Text

Admit it

Word count: 1.9k words

Description: Sherlock believes that lingerie is pointless so y/n decides to prove him wrong, no matter the costs.

Warnings: 18+, very angsty, BJ, P in V sex, choking, slut shame

A/N: this is my apology for not posting as much hope you like it! But chapter 11 is about halfway done atm.

“I don’t get it!” Sherlock shouted at the television screen, jolting you awake with his movement, you had fallen asleep on him again, which of course he didn’t have a problem with.

“W-what now?” You ask dazed from your sleep

“These adverts look at those women.” He pointed to the ad you had seen thousands of times for a designer company showing off their new lingerie.

“Its just an ad?” You say confused, this is your punishment for letting him get to intrigued in the reality tv shows you watch, his attempt of proving he could be a normal boyfriend.

“Yes but I don’t get why lingerie is so amazing.” He turned to you

“Because its a way to feel pretty, seductive almost.” You laugh

“But you don’t need lingerie to look beautiful.” He added

“You know you should use that line more often.” You laugh

“I really don’t understand society.” He sighed and turned his head back to the screen.

“So you wouldn’t care if i wore something like that?” You ask

“I prefer you in nothing, we both know that.” He squeezed your thigh

“No but its meant to make their partners want them more. A treat i would say.” You thought how you ended up explaining the use of lingerie to your boyfriend who was very much experienced by now in the arts of physical relationships with you.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does.” You laugh “its like when you wear that purple shirt that’s slightly too tight for you” you smirk as his brow raises

“That actually explains a lot.”

“Never mind the show is back on.” You point to the screen

“You’re just going to fall asleep again.” He smiled

“Would that be a problem?” You ask

“Never.” He added, and as usual he was right. You woke up the next morning in you shared bed trying to work out how you’d gotten there but then remembered your conversation from last night, maybe he would like it if you wore lingerie. You hadn’t exactly tried that before, you knew he was probably out on a case so you got dressed with your mission clear. Finding the perfect lingerie to seduce the great Sherlock Holmes, who also happened to be the man who never had physical relationships with anyone, in a physical relationship with you.

You started out with a few common clothing shops with nothing really taking your fancy so you decided it would be better to look in the expensive shops, like the one from the advert. You browse the isles being amazed by the different styles and colours in all shapes and sizes before finally seeing the perfect set.

On a mannequin in front of you was a purple laced bra and panties set. It was almost the same colour as his shirt so you knew it would be perfect, the bra was lace and obviously see through and the panties would fit your figure just right.

It was early evening by the time you got home, and Sherlock’s violin could be heard throughout the apartment. He smiled when he saw you, but didn’t stop playing. It was obvious whatever case he was on was really toying with his mind mind.

“I’m just gonna take a shower.” You yelled not expecting a reply, it was time to put your plan into action. You showered and washed your hair, whilst also performing for the various bottles of shampoo that probably wished they didn’t need to hear the same verse from careless whisper three times over. You towel dry your hair enough so it wouldn’t be dripping wet, without getting too frizzy the next day and slipped on the lingerie. And god it was perfect, there was no way in hell even Sherlock holmes could deny you didn’t look good, you weren't one for loving yourself too much but this made it difficult.

You left the bathroom wearing only the lingerie and Sherlock was still playing, but upon hearing you enter the room he began playing a careless whisper mocking your singing.

“Was I really being that loud?” You laugh

“I’ve heard worse.” He still hadn’t turned around, dam his stupid mind palace.

“So what case are you stuck on?” You ask moving to the kitchen and ignoring the severed human limbs to make tea.

“A soldier was murdered, found dead in the shower, no way in, no way out and no signs of a struggle. Just dead, it appears as if a ghost killed him.” He still hadn’t turned around, god he was arrogant sometimes.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” You ask

“Yes and is there any biscu-.” He stopped and finally laid his eyes on you. Your back was to him, your ass clearly showing.

“Everything okay back there?” You smirk

“W-what are you wearing?” He asked, you could have swore you heard a gulp.

“Oh this little thing? I picked it up today. What do you think?” You tapped the tea spoon on the cup and turned around, he watched your every move as you entered the living room. You place the tea on the table and walk over to him, now he was intrigued. It was time to play your game. “Sit please” you push him back into his chair and he falls back with a huff his eyes scanning every part of your body.

“I- I think its n-nice.” He watched as you teased him moving your hips as you turned around allowing him to look at everything.

“But you see I’m not sure about it, could you have a closer look?” You step towards him, and place yourself in his lap straddling his legs, with your chest in his face, his hands slid up your legs towards your hips, but you pushed them away. “Ah ah, remember I thought you didn’t see the point in clothes like this. In my opinion i’d say they’re pretty effective.” You could feel him twitching beneath you,

“Maybe they are helping a tad bit.” He shuffled in his seat trying his best to do as you said but he wasn’t going to admit you were right.

“Pitty, I thought they were working.” You began circulating your hips, grinding yourself against his growing length, letting out small moans of pleasure. You watched as he gripped the arms of his chair tightly at the sensation of you rubbing against him. You moved your hands to his chest and unbuttoned his shirt. His fingers moved closer to you tracing along your leg, but you stopped your movements and tutted. “Admit I was right and maybe I’ll let you touch.”

He grunted frustratedly he wasn’t one for admitting he was wrong, but here you sat in his lap grinding against him and he couldn’t even kiss you. “Shit” he sighed “fine you were right” you smiled at your win and pushed your lips against his and began moving faster.

“I can’t help myself around you, fuck baby.” He trailed his lips along your neck going in between the crevice of your breast with his tongue, he pulled down the straps of your bra and pulled your tits free. He took one into his mouth, nibbling the nipple slightly while gripping the other with his hand.

You gripped his hair pushing him further into your chest letting out more moans edging him on. You pushed your soaked cunt harder on him, making his cock rub against your clit beginning to causing the knot in your stomach to grow tighter, growing closer to your release. He purred into your chest as your wetness soaked through his trousers, which grew ever tighter with your work. You couldn’t hold it back any longer your hips jolted as you came,

“Oh fuck Sherlock yes, fuck you’re so hard its s-so good.”

“Mmm fuck i can’t wait any longer.” He stood up and carried you through the hall towards your bedroom, his lips still locked to yours as he kicked the door open and carried you to the bed. He dropped you there watching as you knelt below him, wiping the hair stuck to your sweaty forehead.

“Want your cock, baby, I need it.” You whimpered as you unbuckled his belt. You pulled down his boxers and watched as he moaned as you licked a stripe down his length before gently sucking on his balls as your hand pumped him slowly. His head knocked back with a sigh of relief as you reached his tip again, and slowly began bobbing your head down over it, working your tongue around him before sinking down a little farther. You tried your best to swallow around him he helped by pushing himself in gently letting out deep moans the further you got. His hip’s jolted again as you pulled back and worked on the tip again, he was becoming too sensitive and he hadn’t even fucked you yet. He pushed your mouth away and brought you to his gently gripping your throat.

“Don't think I forgot you wouldn’t let me touch you, I won’t let that go unnoticed. I’m going to make sure you can’t walk for a week.” He pushed you onto the bed and positioned his frame over you, he practically ripped off the panties and entered with a hard thrust causing you to yelp and grip to the bed sheets. He pushed hard into you the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room accompanied by your moans, you clawed at his back as he fucked you

“Look at you so cock drunk, you think you can parade yourself around like a little slut in my apartment and get away with it. Do you?” He asked

“N-no.” You whimpered, leaning your head back as your back arched

“No what?” He grabbed your chin making your eyes level with his dark blues

“N-no sir.”

“Good.” He flipped you over and knelt over you, slowing his pace, taking more time to push harder into you. “Now say you’re sorry.” He slapped your ass, hard smiling as a pink gleam appeared

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered

“Good girl, now we can enjoy this.” He sped up his pace and placed one hand under you, his thumb rubbing your already swollen clit. The pulse of you clit sent waves through you as you squirmed, he fucked you hard through your orgasm

“Oh fuck, sherlock just there, thats right!” Your voice was muffled as you buried yourself in the sheets pulling them from the corners.

Sherlock groaned, he loved the sight of you being this way around him, so cock drunk you couldn’t even hold yourself up. He too was reaching his end the way your pussy clenched around his cock was enough to set him off, spewing thick white ropes deep inside of you and collapsing onto you.

He took a moment to cat his breath, his cock still inside you before pulling himself off the bed,

“Looks like you need another shower.” He held out his hand as you turned and sprawled onto the bed

“I can’t, too tired.” You say breathlessly

“I told you you wouldn’t be able to walk.” He smiled while wiping the hair stuck to your forehead.

“Hmm” you groaned as your eyes fell closed. Sherlock fixed the sheets around you before wrapping your body in a cover and allowing you to sleep. He showered before going back to his violin, this time thinking only of you. Though he would never tell you, maybe just this once you were right.

#bbc sherlock #benedict cumberbatch #sherlock holmes x reader #benedict cumberbatch x female!reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock smut #smutty #sherlock bbc #y/n x sherlock #i am sherlocked #sherlockedit #spotify

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