isthiswhatshameis

[isthiswhatshameis]

Seal the Deal

Chapter 1 (current) || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3

Chapter 1 (current) || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3

Here's my latest comic, Seal the Deal! Based on this post.

If Kleo and Aisling sparked joy I could be convinced to make more parts if they get enough love, I have a lot of little adventures as they navigate being suddenly married bopping around in my head.

Tips welcome on my Kofi!

Here's more comics!

[isthiswhatshameis]

Strap Up

Amelia Shepherd x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, pure unadulterated smut, strap, sex (duh), I'm really bad at labeling smut for warnings so just tell me if I'm missing something and I'll add it, explicit language, NSFW Word Count: 2k

Summary: You and Amelia decide to use a new toy for the first time. How will it go? (Hint: it goes really well.)

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Amelia asked, running a hand through your hair.

“I’m sure,” you assured her, pulling her down to your mouth for a kiss. Your hands ran wild over her body, desperate for more. You felt Amelia sink into you, her thumbs at the edges of your eyebrows as she deepened the kiss.

“I just–” she stuttered, pulling away. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Amelia.” You grasped her chin in your hands and looked at her, hard. “Just strap up and fuck me.”

She exhaled deeply, letting her eyes roam all the way down your body.

“If you’re sure…”

She got out of bed and started pulling on the strap she’d prepared earlier, at your request.

You lounged, hands folded behind your head, and watched, trying not to laugh.

“What?” she asked, adjusting the straps while you stared at her.

You giggled. “It just looks kind of silly!”

She grinned mischievously and crawled toward you on the bed. “Y/N Y/L/N! Are you laughing at my dick?!”

You chuckled and squirmed as she tickled you, pinning you under her body. “Penises are objectively funny!” you argued.

Amelia kneaded your breasts in her hands, slipping her tongue into your mouth. You let out an involuntary whine and she smiled into your lips. She bit your ear and you couldn’t help but arch your back.

“We’ll see how funny you think it is when you’re coming,” she whispered, her breath hot in your ear.

You cradled the back of her neck, grabbing the hair at her nape and jerking it slightly. She moaned, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Make me then,” you said, your eyes meeting her deep, blue ones. God, you could lose yourself in them.

Amelia ran her tongue down your throat, planting open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. You felt like you were floating as she made her way lovingly down your body. It wasn’t that she was always gentle–she wasn’t. And you usually had the marks on your body to prove it. It was that she was reverent, almost worshipful. It was as if she lost herself in you. And there was nothing that drove you crazier than the feeling of her, the weight of her, on top of you.

It’s not that you minded giving. You really enjoyed it. You were a switch to your core. But Amelia? Amelia was a giver. And, god, you loved to let her. Whatever she needed to do to you, with you, to get you off–and therefore get herself off–you were down for it. At least, except for the strap. Until tonight.

Amelia ran her fingers through your slick folds and you moaned, pushing your hips toward her. She circled your clit with one hand and brushed your bangs out of your face with the other.

“Are you ready?” she asked, looking at you with so much love, so much concern that, honestly, you would have done anything for her. You nodded, lightly stroking her thigh.

“Okay.” She planted a firm kiss on your forehead before brushing the tip of her strap against your glistening entrance, making sure to coat it with plenty of lube.

You whined in anticipation, your chest already heaving. Okay, so maybe you were a little nervous. The only things you’d ever had inside of you were fingers and tampons. And the strap Amelia was wearing, though it was one of the smallest she owned, was still significantly bigger than either of those things.

You felt your body start to stretch as Amelia slowly pushed the head of the strap into you. You groaned as the pain hit you, grabbing at the bedsheets with your fists and clenching your jaws.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” Amelia asked, concerned. You could tell by the rough tenor of her voice that she was very turned on, but that she would turn it off just as quickly if that’s what you needed.

You shook your head, eyebrows furrowed. “No, keep going. Just… slow, please.”

Amelia nodded, guiding the strap into you at a snail’s pace, ready to stop moving whenever you said the word. But she felt overwhelmingly aroused watching her strap disappear into you. You were so tight. It had to hurt, she knew. She remembered her first time. It had hurt badly. More because it was a dumb boy who didn’t give a shit about what felt good for her. She wanted it to be different for you. She wanted it to be good. She wanted to make you feel good.

Amelia pushed slowly forward with her hips, watching you closely for any signs that you wanted to stop. When her hips finally hit yours, when she was fully inside you, she let out a shaky gasp. It was taking everything in her not to start thrusting into you, but she wouldn’t do it, not until she was sure you were ready for it.

Your face underneath her was red, and the occasional tear rolled down the side of your face. Taking advantage of this soft moment, relishing being inside of you, Amelia leaned forward, pressing her body into yours, and planted kisses all over your scrunched, burning face.

“You’re doing so good, bean,” she breathed, her own breath heavy and desperate. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, still getting used to the feeling of being filled. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt. It did hurt–badly. But it felt good, too, inexplicably good. You felt your walls contracting and releasing and pulsing around Amelia’s strap and you knew, even through the pain, that you wanted more.

You pushed your hips up experimentally and a wave of pleasure rolled over you as the strap hit at a new angle.

Amelia grinned at you, kissing you to swallow your moan.

“Amelia,” you said, breathing heavily.

She brushed a sweaty strand of hair out of your face. “Yeah, baby?”

“Go ahead,” you nodded.

“Go ahead?” she confirmed, grinning goofily.

“Fuck me,” you told her, then thought better of it and grabbed her hand. “Gently, please.”

She leaned down, cupping your face in her hands and staring into your eyes lovingly. She pressed her mouth to yours, and you felt her hips move, the strap slowly moving out of you, then thrusting inward, hitting parts of you that you didn’t even know could be hit.

You gasped in both pain and pleasure, grasping at Amelia’s back for dear life as she moved in and out, in and out. When you managed to open your eyes, you saw that Amelia was watching you intently, no doubt solving you like a puzzle to figure out what you liked and what you didn’t. She was a woman of science, after all.

It was as if your body was out of your control, as if it knew what you needed more than your brain did. Your hips bucked up to meet Amelia’s, your back arching, arms pulling her into you for more, more, more.

Amelia was moaning by now, too, the strap hitting just right against her clit as you pulled her hips to yours. You could tell she was trying hard to keep control of herself when what she really wanted was to chase her high. You knew Amelia’s body like the back of your hand. The way she got there was fast and hard, and she was doing her level best to put off her own pleasure and make sure you were comfortable and enjoying yourself.

You felt the space underneath your stomach tighten, and you knew you were close. You could feel your body pulsing, feel it tightening around Amelia as if it, too, just like your mind and soul, never wanted to let her go.

“Amy,” you gasped, your voice shaky.

She looked down at your wide eyes, relishing the way your breath came faster and faster, the way your body squirmed desperately against hers.

“I need you deeper,” you pleaded. “All the way in. Please, as far as you can go.”

Her brow furrowed. “Are you sure?” she asked, her breath heavy, a light coat of sweat shining on her face. “It might hurt.”

“Please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around her waist to draw her further in.

She didn’t need any more encouragement. Wrapping her arms around your body, she shoved into you as deep as she could, grasping at you, pulling you to her to deepen the thrust, then repeating the motion, again and again, until even she couldn’t control it anymore. She rutted into you, as desperate for release as you were, and nearly as close.

Amy’s head was next to yours, her arms around your neck as she pulled at you, shoving herself deeper, deeper. You were close, you were so close. Amy let out a strangled moan, her breath hot on your ear, and you were coming undone. You gasped and moaned, your hips jerking into her, nails digging into her back, as you yelled her name. “Amy!” you cried. “Fuck!” It felt like it would never end, waves of bliss washing over you, hard and rhythmic and so, so good.

Amelia’s hips rocked against yours, and she kissed you again and again. Your mouth, your eyelids, your nose, your eyebrows. She gasped, pushing herself harder into you.

“I'm close, baby,” she said, shakily.

“Hey,” you said, still out of breath, grasping her chin. “I want you to come inside me.”

Amelia laughed breathily, trying to get enough oxygen in to finish what she’d started. “You know this isn’t a real dick, right?”

“You know what I mean,” you said, guiding her hips with your hands, so that she pushed harder into you. “Come on, baby. Come for me.”

Her breath became more and more frantic, her hips jerking the strap in and out, in and out of you. You could tell by the way her breath caught that she was about to topple over the edge, so you held her tightly, pushing your own hips forward to meet hers. She gasped, thrusting into you as she rode out her high, the strap jerking sporadically into you as it matched her rhythm.

You’d never felt closer to her in your life than you did then, as she lay on top of you, completely spent, covered in sweat, face beet red, her strap still resting inside you. You wanted this forever. You wanted Amelia, always and forever. Inside you. Around you. Touching you. Laughing with you. Kissing you. Sleeping next to you. All of it, always.

You let out another tired moan as Amelia slid the strap out of you, unbuckling the harness and throwing it to the side. She crawled up your body and lay down next to you, both of you a sweaty mess on top of the sheets, breathing heavily. She shot you a cheesy grin, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“What?” you said, turning your body toward her and running a hand through her sweaty hair.

“Still think the strap is silly?” She smirked, a shit-eating look of absolute triumph on her face.

You chuckled. “The strap, no. Penises, yes.”

“How do you feel?” She traced the freckles on your arm. By now, she knew where all of them were. She probably even knew how many.

You exhaled. “Blissed out. Uh… stretched out, too. Probably sore tomorrow.”

Amelia nodded. “But you liked it?”

You placed a hand on your forehead, blushing at the memory. “So much. I feel like that Madonna song.”

“Like a virgin,” Amelia sang, tickling you, her voice wildly off key. “Touched for the very first time.”

You grabbed her hands, giggling. “Alright, Madonna. Shower?”

She kissed your cheek firmly before rolling out of bed. “Like a vi-i-i-irgin.” You rolled your eyes as Amelia’s voice faded into the background, mixing with the sounds of running water as she turned the shower on. “When your heart beats… next to mine.”

[isthiswhatshameis]

PART 3 Dark!ava thank you so much @simplyavatrice for writing the dialogue

Part 1-2 : https://www.tumblr.com/lovelooksgudonu/736870436191764480/colored-ver-darkava

[isthiswhatshameis]

No one asked for colored sketch but here it is anyway dark!ava

[isthiswhatshameis]

sometimes I think I was a bit delulu for this ship then I remember this is literally how Supergirl and Lena Luthor met

[isthiswhatshameis]

[OC] vampire x werewolf stuff🩸🐺

[isthiswhatshameis]

wc: 1182 warnings: cancer

also available on ao3

It’s movement next to her in the bed that wakes Sarah. When she looks over, eyes still half-shut, Crockett’s sitting on the edge of the mattress, his back to her as he pulls on his pyjama top and a pair of socks. He’s barely visible in the dim lighting, but she watches for a moment anyway while her brain wakes up. There’s a triangle of bare skin on his lower back where he hasn’t pulled his top down all the way, and she can’t resist the urge to reach across and press a hand against it.

He jumps, then turns to face Sarah. “Fuck. Your hands are freezing.”

She grins. “I know. Where are you going?”

“Harper’s awake.” He picks up the baby monitor on his nightstand, and Sarah props herself up on her elbows to take a closer look at it. “I think she was crying earlier, so I’m just going to see if she’s okay. I’ll be right back.”

Sarah’s chest tightens, and suddenly she’s wide awake. “Give me that.” She grabs the monitor and holds it against her ear. Harper’s whimpering and fussing, and Sarah’s whole body goes cold at the sound of it. “I’m going.”

She almost falls face-first on the floor trying to untangle herself from the covers, but she manages to get out of bed and throw on her Tulane sweater before Crockett can even think about stopping her. There’s a pit in her stomach, and all she can think about is checking on Harper. 

She doesn’t need a light to guide her down the hall to Harper’s room, but when she gets there, she flicks on a lamp and then beelines for the crib. In the golden lighting, Sarah can see that the few wispy curls she has left are stuck to her head with sweat, and as she approaches, Harper’s whimpers turn to pained cries. 

“Hey, chere, it’s okay. Mama’s here.” She reaches down to place the back of her hand on Harper’s forehead, and her heart skips a beat as she feels the heat radiating off it. “Kett!”

He joins them almost immediately, and Sarah suspects he didn’t stay behind in the bedroom.

“Kett, she’s burning up real bad.”

There’s a thermometer in one of her drawers, in the dresser where they keep all her medical supplies, and Sarah rummages around for it while Crockett picks Harper up. He’s whispering words of reassurance to her, and when Sarah turns around, thermometer in hand, he’s taken her pyjamas off in an attempt to cool her down. Her central line looks okay, but there are little purple bruises on her legs and stomach, and Sarah’s sure there are more now than when she put Harper to bed.

She runs the thermometer across Harper’s forehead, despite her protests, and her stomach sinks when it beeps and the number appears on the screen.

“102.8. Shit.”

“Shit,” Crockett echoes.

He passes Harper to Sarah, and as quickly as he can, checks that everything they need is still packed in their hospital bag. There’s no way of knowing how long she’ll be admitted for this time, and the last year has shown them that it’s always better to overpack.

Sarah briefly sets Harper down in the crib again so she can find her something to wear. The straps of her car seat are too uncomfortable for her to sit in just her diaper, so Sarah searches for something light for her. There’s an old t-shirt of hers somewhere, one that she never really liked but took to college with her anyway, and now it lives tucked in with Harper’s clothes. It’s like a dress on her, but it’s loose and flowy, and keeps her cool better than her own clothes. They’ll probably end up removing it when they get to the ED, but it’s a necessity for the car ride.

It only takes Crockett a couple of minutes to double-check the bag, so once Sarah’s got the t-shirt on Harper, they make their way to the front door. Neither of them cares about changing out of their own pyjamas right now, not in a situation like this, so they just grab the first shoes they can find and decide that’s enough.

“Have we got everything?” Crockett asks, keys in hand. He’d stopped to grab their phones from where they were charging in the bedroom, and he hands Sarah hers.

“I think s— Her juice. She needs a drink.”

Crockett nods, then dashes to the kitchen to grab a couple of juice boxes from the fridge. There are pouches of baby food in one of the cupboards, and he grabs a few of those as well, just for good measure.

“Okay, yeah, I think that’s everything,” Sarah says. She places a quick kiss on the top of Harper’s head, then follows Crockett out the front door and down to the car.

The drive to the hospital is less than twenty minutes, and Sarah doesn’t take her eyes off Harper the whole way. She sits in the back next to her, looking out for any changes in her breathing or signs that she’s going downhill, but she stays pretty much the same. It’s a small blessing.

When they arrive, Sarah takes Harper to the ED while Crockett finds somewhere to park. She’s done this more times than she can count, but it feels worse today, and she can’t figure out why. Her heart is pounding before she even sets foot inside, and her legs feel numb.

“My, uh, my daughter’s sick,” she says to the woman at the front desk. “She has a fever. 102.8.”

She’s met with a tight-lipped frown. “A fever of 102.8 doesn’t require an emergency room visit. Take her home, give her fluids and acetaminophen, and keep monitoring her temperature. Lukewarm sponge baths can also help.”

It takes Sarah a moment to realise what’s going on. She knows how she looks — a barely twenty-year-old with a baby on her hip — and everything that’s going through the nurse’s head has probably already been said to her by her own mother, but that doesn’t change the fact that Harper needs help. 

“Please,” she begs, voice wavering. “She’s really sick, I can’t just take her home. You don’t get it, you don’t…” Her voice trails off, and she can feel her ears burning as the first tears start to fall. The words are there, but she just can’t get them out the way she needs to. 

“Everything okay here?” Relief washes over her when she feels Crockett’s hand on her waist.

“I was just explaining to your girlfriend here-”

“Wife,” Crockett corrects. “Is our daughter being admitted?”

“A fever of 102.8 doesn’t require an emergency room visit,” the nurse reiterates.

“She has cancer,” Crockett says. “Acute lymphocytic leukemia. Her last dose of chemotherapy was eight days ago. Does that warrant an emergency room visit?”

The nurse pales and immediately starts typing on her computer, then grabs a clipboard with a form attached and hands it to Crockett. “Treatment room four. Someone will be with you shortly.”

[isthiswhatshameis]

Sara finds Ava in the break room, her back to the door as she tinkers with something by the overpriced espresso machine. Her pantsuit looks freshly-pressed, and her bun is even tighter than usual; not a hair out of place. Sara stares at the stiff set of Ava’s shoulders for a moment before she clears her throat.

Ava whirls around, only to freeze the moment she sees Sara. Her expression hardens, a muscle jumping in her jaw as she clenches it.

“Ms. Lance.”

Sara flinches at the renewed formality, but Ava doesn’t even notice. She has already turned back around.

An avalance soulmate AU for AUgust day 1 prompt: sightless

[isthiswhatshameis]

Caretaker awakens to a silhouette standing in their doorway. They flick their lamp on, finding whumpee with their arms hugging their body and brows knitted together.

"Hey, you okay?" Caretaker whispers.

"I..." Whumpee mumbled, their voice causing caretaker to shoot up in bed.

"-You need pain reliever." Caretaker finished their sentences.

[isthiswhatshameis]

Soulmate au + reesker -cj

“I got home last night, and there it was,” Sarah says, holding her phone out to April.

The screen shows an awkwardly-taken photo of her stomach, a fresh tattoo of a penguin sitting just above her right hipbone.

“Oh, that’s cute! Whoever it is has good taste.”

🐧🐧🐧🐧

“So?” Ava stares at Connor expectantly, still showing off the photo of her brand new tattoo.

“Yeah, it’s uh- it’s nice. Why a penguin?”

“The beach near my apartment back home was full of penguins. I miss those little guys.”

[isthiswhatshameis]

80s inspired movie poster of my vampire & werewolf OCs🩸🐺

[isthiswhatshameis]

Can we get Jessie Fleming camera roll and social media, please? 🥺

ofccc 😌

POV your camera roll as jess’s gf;

[isthiswhatshameis]

Whumpee’s head lolling forward, their eyes dropping dangerously even as Caretaker works furiously to untie them from their chair.

They gently hold Whumpee’s face up, trying their hardest to give a reassuring smile.

“Need you to stay with me, okay? It’s okay, I just need you to stay awake. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

[isthiswhatshameis]

spare some vexleth? maybe? "i don't believe this"

‘i don’t believe this. i don’t believe you. you should have told us.’

‘and when was i - ow - supposed to do that? how? maybe when you were all the way across the continent in emon organising the armies, doing exactly what i was trying to do? maybe i should have - ah - told you then! can you please stop trying to make me sit!’ she growls at her helper—someone left behind by her right hand, who doesn’t deserve to be growled at, but if they touch her one more time… her growl deepens.

they scurry to the door, yanking it shut behind them to “give the tempest time with her guest” she hears from the antechamber.

across the room, vex purses her lips to keep from smiling; she’s upset, still, about keyleth’s wounds and finding out from esqoult of all people—whom vex considers an “idiotic blowhard tight-fisted hateful byblow of a rock” at the best of times—and the attack at the red centre and vax. unceasingly she is upset about vax. unceasingly, his death follows them both like feathers in their hair; he is their constant, dark companion. keyleth’s near death, however, is far more recent and unclosing wounds is a new and hellish experience that hurts them both.

anger crackles in her gut. she hasn’t the energy to shift forms but smoke curls in tendrils out of her nose, sparks smoulder in the one fist she can actually close. her other hand aches, split to bone.

‘sending stones aren’t working. our earrings aren’t working. sending—‘ she takes a moment to breathe. it hurts. ‘sending spells aren’t working, not that i have that anyway. and a bird,’ she grunts, propping herself against the headboard, ‘would take days at the very least. so tell me, lady vex’ahlia, when exactly was i supposed to tell you?’

‘i don’t know! but when you’re nearly dead, you make the effort!’ vex commands.

it looks good on her. keyleth can admit that in very private thoughts and fever dreams. maybe a death bed. she stares across at vex, who has only ever grown into her considerable beauty, and manages a shaky smile. command has always looked good on vex.

‘missed you. if that - i don’t know - helps.’

vex snorts. ‘yes, darling, i missed you too. obviously. i’m furious with you that you nearly died, oh and also we really must meet up when the world isn’t alarmingly close to being obliterated.’

‘brunch?’

‘girls day. i’ll invite pike.’

‘i thought - just you and me,’ keyleth says, trying on a flirtatious smile. it’s been a long time since she wore it last, some fifteen, twenty years. it feels weird so she stops trying. ‘ignore that. ignore me. i’m- death bed propositions.’

‘stop it. you’re not in your death bed.’

keyleth glances around the room. it’s empty, just her and vex, so she can admit, ‘feels like it.’

vex softens. she always does. she gets angry first, angry and scared, because she’s lost a lot in her time and she learned early and harder than most that the only way to stop that was to fight back with everything, anything. she does bitter and snide and bitchy and mocking better than anyone keyleth knows, but that’s because vex is better than anyone keyleth knows, and it all comes from the same heart. vex softens, and she comes to sit lightly on the side of keyleth’s bed.

‘what can i do?’

‘nothing. nothing. it’s all - there’s people helping me already. cursed flowers and potion stuff. bells hells.’

vex starts. ‘the ones who came to us? with her?’

‘did you -‘ she can move, a little. it hurts but hell, what in life doesn’t hurt? she covers vex’s hand with hers. ‘did you talk to her? i saw her - alive this time. she’s…sweet. strange but sweet.’

‘i know. at least, i thought so.’

keyleth slid her fingers over vex’s. ‘you gave her your ring.’

vex laughs, bitter-edged. ‘yes, and it made up entirely for all the shit that poor girl has been through.’

‘not your fault. it isn’t,’ she insists, when vex goes all stone-jawed and stubborn. ‘didn’t you - tell percy that? it’s true for him too. isn’t it?’

vex rolls her eyes to the ceiling. makes a wet, disgusted noise. ‘i suppose.’ after a long moment, she says, ‘how did she look? delilah’s doll?’

‘don’t call her that.’

‘my lookalike.’

‘she doesn’t look much like you,’ keyleth tells her. it’s a lie. she looks so much like vex had, like vax does in their memories. young. ‘i don’t know. they’re due back today, maybe tomorrow. stay. you can - ow - talk to her.’

vex nods. strokes keyleth’s clenched hand. ‘i’ll stay until you’re well.’

‘you’re a hero, vex. you’re needed elsewhere, i’m sure,’

‘keyleth, it’s war. the treasury is open. they don’t need me for that—they need my very expert clerks, gods bless them. i’m here with you.’ the stubborn look resolidifies. vex tilts her head in such a way that keyleth is sure her heart is about to fall right out of her split-open chest, and leans forward to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. pulling back, she searches keyleth’s eyes; whatever she finds there makes her nod, quite satisfied, and she smiles. ‘besides, your assistants are going to need a hero to keep you in bed and resting. i volunteer, as it happens.’

[isthiswhatshameis]

keyleth_is_suffering.jpg

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[isthiswhatshameis]

f1 supercorp commission for @cleareyesfullbeers

[isthiswhatshameis]