#(the wip this is in reference to is why lol)

[noxemma]

Parts 1&2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

--- Sorry this part took so long. I thought I could avoid the AO3 curse by keeping it to tumblr but it hunted me down anyways. I'm still a little burnt out (being primary caretaker for two nonagenarians and still managing a 40hr work week will do that to a person) so I'm sorry if this is a bit shorter and heavier than the previous parts (I promise there will be fluff and regularly scheduled shenanigans in future parts) 🫠 --- Too many emotions swirl in Cas' brain for him to think past simply getting him and Dean away from his family and back to the relative safety and sanctuary of their room. He wants to close the blinds and pull Dean into bed and do his best to travel back in time to this morning when Dean's arms were wrapped around him. He wants to kiss Dean again. He wants to- "Dude, what- What was that?" Dean asks breathlessly, Cas assumes from being dragged down flights of stairs in his rushed escape, not daring to hope it could be from anything else. "What was what?" Cas answers, purposely trying not to understand. Because he knows he'll have to apologize for springing the kiss onto Dean with no warning, especially after he'd been the one to suggest minimal displays of affection in front of his parents and family. And the truth is, he's not sorry at all. Even though the circumstances were not ideal, not one molecule of his being regrets kissing Dean.

Not after he'd defended him in a way no one else had against the doubt he was up against. He hadn't truly even been aware of how heavily his own fears and insecurities about his ability to raise Jack had been weighing on him until Dean had declared, to everyone, how good he was doing. He'd wanted to cry in that moment, had felt lighter than he had in years to have someone, aside from Gabriel who really didn't count, tell him he was doing a good job, that all the stress and strain and worrying was worth it.

"You know what. That, the, uh, the kiss," Dean huffs. "What about the kiss?" Cas stalls again, their footsteps ringing in the stairwell. "I thought- I thought you said you didn't really have much experience-" "I don't," Cas confirms, cutting off the rest of Dean's sentence. "Okay, so, again, what the hell was that?" Cas spares a glance back and sees Dean's fingers pressed to his lip, green eyes burning into him. He gulps and opens his mouth to try and give some kind of explanation. "I, I don't know. I learned that from the pizza man?" "The pizza man?" Dean repeats incredulously. "I- uh," Cas starts, realizing they've stalled somewhere between the penthouse and their floor. "Castiel! Dean! D-damn you two are, are fast," Gabriel wheezes, placing his hands on his knees and gulping air. "Gabriel? You followed us?" "'course I did. Had to- Had to make sure you were okay. And I wanted to thank Dean for standing up for you," Gabriel manages once he's mostly recovered. He turns to Dean. "Seriously, I don't think I've ever seen anyone stand up to them like that. It was truly a pleasure. If you want anything I'd be more than happy to-" "Who the fuck is the pizza man?" Dean blurts not even waiting for Gabriel to finish. "The pizza man?" Gabriel asks in confusion. "We really should get out of this stairwell," Cas says, trying to distract them and cringing when Gabriel's eyes light up. "Gabriel, no!" "The pizza man! God, I almost forgot about that!" "Gabriel, please-" "Back when Cas was a teen and just sort of figuring everything out, he was kind of nosy and too damn curious for his own good. He found my stash of porn tapes and," Gabriel covers Cas' mouth before he can protest again, Cas clawing at his strong grip. "And it was sort of traumatizing to him. You wouldn't believe the questions I had to answer like 'If the pizza man truly loves this babysitter, why does he keep smacking her on the rear?' and 'why didn't the repairman and the pizza man kiss?' I tried to tell him that there's plenty of good porn, he just happened to pick a crappy one, but, well, he was thoroughly traumatized. Pretty sure it's still the only porno he's ever seen. Ouch!"

Cas finally gets desperate enough to bite Gabriel's hand. His brother jerks back with a pout, shaking the wounded limb but Cas just rolls his eyes. "Thank you so much, dear brother, for expounding on my porn preferences, or lack thereof," Cas growls in his direction, though he keeps his eyes focused on the stairs, wondering if Dean would hold it against him if he escaped down them away from the awkward bubble they're now in.

"Bullshit," Dean finally says, "There is no way you learned to kiss like that from just watching a crappy porno." "Well, believe it or not, that's the truth. You're the first person I've ever kissed," Cas huffs. He doesn't understand the edge of hurt and disbelief in Dean's voice and honestly doesn't have the energy to try and figure it out at the present moment. The bed, several more floors beneath him, calls with a siren's voice and all he wants to do is shuck the uncomfortable clothes he'd shoved himself into and hide from the world for a few hours, preferably with Dean. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! That was your first kiss," Gabriel states, eyes darting between Dean and him. "What? Pshh, no, we've just, uh, we've never-" Dean immediately responds, defending Cas yet again, though this time it hurts. Pain makes him go rigid, his lungs brittle.

Dean is lying for me, even when he doesn't seem to trust that I've been honest with him. Perhaps it's not just me then, maybe he's defensive of everyone? Or maybe he just sees me as someone to take care of, like his brother.

The thought is unbearable, so Cas blurts, "Gabriel, we're not actually dating." Two sets of eyes and slack jaws swing his way. "I'll explain, but can we please go back to the room." Neither Dean nor Gabriel objects nor stops him as he begins down the stairs again, only the echo of their footsteps breaking the silence. --- Once the hotel door has shut behind everyone, Cas heaves a sigh of relief and yanks off the button up so he's just in an undershirt and the slacks that will have to do until he's done answering the millions of questions he sees bubbling on his older brother's tongue. "Dean and I met several days ago when he accidentally abducted Jack-" "He what!" "Jack had heard me on the phone describing my fake date to you and Dean was supposed to be picking up his brother at the same corner I asked Jack to meet me," Cas continues on flatly, ignoring the concerned looks he's getting from both Gabriel and Dean. "Jack mistook him for the 'date' and got into his car. Dean had just worked for a long time and was too tired to realize it wasn't his brother. He returned him as soon as he realized his mistake and he offered to help me out as an apology and, well, things just kind of spiraled into him pretending to be my boyfriend and then my fiancé in order to get Chuck and Naomi to stop threating to petition for custody of Jack. Now if you'll excuse me, I plan to sleep for the next few hours so I don't go out, find a liquor store, and drink it." Cas finally finishes, throwing himself onto the bed as all his remaining energy leaves him. "Castiel-" Gabriel starts and Cas buries his face in the comforter to keep his brother from seeing or hearing how he's gasping for air and fighting against the hammering of his pulse, anxiety raising its hands to choke him again. "Gabe, I think it's best if you go." Cas hears Dean's voice interrupt firmly, drifting away from the bed and towards the door amidst Gabriel's protests. "Look, I'll have Cas text you as soon as he's up again, but right now I think he needs some rest. This morning was ... a lot. For everyone." There's a pause like Gabriel has his mouth open to argue, but then Cas hears him agree, threating some creative form of bodily harm if Dean doesn't take good care of him. The door clicks shut and he can hear Dean come back towards the bed. "I'm, I'm fine, Dean," Cas lies, his watery words and hiccupped breath betraying him. "You're not, and that's okay. What do you need from me?" "I- I don't-" Cas can't manage to finish, the weight that had been lifted by Dean earlier seeming to crash down on his chest tenfold heavier. "Okay, it's okay. How 'bout I give you a few suggestions that usually work for me and we can see if one sounds good to you?" Dean asks gently, the bed dipping from where he sits next to Cas' prone, heaving body. He must manage a nod or something close to an approximation of agreement because Dean continues. "One thing that helps me is movies or tv shows, something to play in the background and drown out all the shit going on in my head. Or, um, I could help you try to regulate your breathing. Um, or, well, I don't know if it would really help or not, but I could, uh, I could hold you? Like this morning?" Cas bites back a sob long enough to whisper "please" and he hopes Dean understands. He does and Cas can't help but question whether or not he's a real person and not some divine being.

Dean rises from the bed. Cas briefly hears the television flip on, volume low enough that it's not overwhelming but loud enough to distract from the noise of his panicking mind.

Then Dean is there beside him. The heat of him warming the parts of Cas he hadn't realized had gone numb. Cas instinctually turns toward him, a far reach of his brain whispering something about heliotropism before it's drowned out again. Dean's forehead rests against his, their feet tangled together, one of Dean's arms around him. Cas can feel Dean's heartbeat from where his hand ended up flat against Dean's chest. It's strong and steady and soothing. Slowly, Cas feels his lungs give up their rebellion, his mind raising a white flag as he leans into the comfort Dean offers, his breathing and heartrate slowing to synchronize with Dean's.

"There we go, sweetheart," Dean murmurs, breath hot against Cas' face. "That's it, just breathe." "Dean, I'm. I'm so sorry. You," Cas sucks in a deep breath as his lungs still ache, "You didn't ask for any of this." "No," Dean agrees, but the free hand not pressing against Cas' back comes up to grip his neck and cheek, "But no one really does." Cas tries to laugh, but it comes out as another sob. "Dean-" "Shhh, Cas. You probably had or are having a panic attack and the adrenaline crash is imminent. Let yourself rest for a bit and we can talk when you wake up and feel better." Cas wants to give in to the soft words, wants to slip away into sleep in Dean's arms, but he can't. A sharp kernel of worry refusing to let him be totally comfortable. "I'm sorry about the kiss, or whatever was bothering you about it after. I really didn't plan on doing it, but well, the way that you stood up for yourself and for me? I needed to do something. And I didn't mean to upset you in the stairwell or-" "Cas, shit. If anyone needs to apologize, it's me. You were clearly already freaking out and distressed and I made it worse because, well, uh, because that was probably one of the best kisses I've ever had and, it just didn't. I mean, I'm really supposed to believe that a guy like you hasn't been kissed?" "Well, I have been kissed before, but I don't like to count those as none of them were with people I wanted to kiss me. They were all women my mother set me up with to try and 'straighten' me out," Cas tries to laugh at his own joke but he can't, eyes scrunch shut so he doesn't have to see how Dean's reacting to this information. "I have never been the one to initiate the kissing and well, you are the first man I've kissed." Dean pulls him tighter, the unexpected reaction forcing a soft moan to escape from Cas as Dean buries his face into Cas' neck, his chest crushing into Cas' arms, their hips now flush as Dean leaves no space between them. "I'm so fucking sorry, Cas. That's- no one should- It's fucked up." It feels validating and different to have Dean telling him this. He finds himself able to believe it more coming from the man holding him than from his own brother or even from his therapist, both of which feel like they are obligated to respond that way. "Thank you, Dean." He wants to say more, to tell Dean how grateful he is to have the acknowledgement, to have someone here to listen and hold him. He wants to kiss Dean again. He can't quite bring himself to do it though, can't quite override the anxiety still swirling in his brain. So, he settles for pressing his lips to Dean's temple and letting his hands unlock from their protective position in front of his chest to wrap around Dean's back. Drawing as close to Dean as Dean had drawn to him. Dean hums into his neck, his hand rubbing up and down Cas' back and more tension slips away. --- For the second time in twenty-four hours Cas wakes wrapped in Dean's arms and feeling lighter than he has in years. "Hey, you feeling better?" Dean whispers, somehow sensing that he's awake.

"I, um, yes, thank you. This, you, were really grounding and," Cas finally opens his eyes to see Dean's green one's staring back, full to the brim of compassion without an ounce of judgement.

I don't think I've leaned on anyone so much besides Gabriel. And he pretty much blackmailed me into it because taking his, or rather, our family's money, was to better provide for Jack.

It makes his stomach clench with guilt and regret. If he had been overwhelmed enough to have a panic attack, he can only imagine how Dean must be feeling.

"I'm sorry again, Dean. Dealing with my family was probably hard enough with them questioning you and then you had to deal with my ... breakdown," Cas whispers, not even sure that Dean can hear him. "Hey, hey, none of that!" Dean grabs Cas and keeps him from accidentally scooting himself the whole way off the edge of the bed. "Cas, seriously. It's fine. I've had my own 'breakdowns.' And if all this shit is a normal occurrence? I'd probably be more worried if you were able to keep it together." Dean reaches out and brushes a thumb across his cheek.

Cas sucks in a breath and closes his eyes, turning his face into the pillow when Dean doesn't let him escape to the floor. "Sweetheart." The petname and the gentle way he says it makes Cas bury his face further into the pillow and away from eyes that are too kind and too understanding. "Cas, I know you probably feel embarrassed, but really, it's not like you could help it. Trust me, I know. Sometimes it just hits you out of nowhere." "You have panic attacks," Cas realizes far too late for all the signs that have been flashing right in front of his face. Sam helping calm him down when he was starting to panic about Jack, Dean knowing how to get him calm and grounding him, even getting Gabriel out of the room, giving him options but ultimately taking control when Cas couldn't. "Yeah," Dean lets out a shaky breath and Cas can't resist the urge to look at him. "Yeah, I do. Not so bad anymore but they used to get really, really bad. Mostly after fights with my dad, so believe me when I say I get it. I thought I was dying the first time Bobby found me dry heaving on the kitchen floor. He's the one who taught me it's better to have someone to hold on to whenever the bad one's hit." "I'm so sorry, Dean," Cas finds himself saying, mirroring Dean's touch.

Dean closes his eyes and leans into it and Cas has the overwhelming desire to give him the world, though he's not even sure himself what that entails. He just knows, like he knows how to breathe, that Dean deserves more than what life has given him, deserves good things. And Cas desperately, perhaps selfishly, wants to be the one to give them to him. Cas is just leaning in to press his lips to Dean's again when Dean's eyes pop open and he heaves in a breath. "Well, I guess you should probably let Gabriel know that you are up. I'm sure he's still worrying." "Oh. Right. What time is it?" Cas replies as he pulls back, his little bubble bursting and reality rushing back in. "Uh, not sure. But my guess is probably around two-ish?" "Two? And you've been stuck here with me the whole time?" "Stuck? Cas, you act like you handcuffed me to the bed or something. Besides, what else would I do, huh? Go downstairs and play slots? Hope to run into your family at the bar or casino? And leave you here by yourself? To wake up alone and feeling guilty or ashamed? Nope, sorry. Like I told your family, you're stuck with me, babe. At least until we get back to California."

Cas doesn't try to stop the smile or the warmth that fills his being at the thought of being stuck with Dean, even if it's just temporarily. "Now, I'm pretty sure I've heard your phone buzz at least six times so you should let Gabriel know that I haven't killed you or whatever he's probably coming up with since he found out I'm practically a stranger. Not to mention the fact that I flipped the dead bolt so he wouldn't be able to sneak in like this morning." "Oh, god! He's probably two seconds away from breaking the door down with the cops!" Cas groans, as he flips around to scramble for his phone on the nightstand. But it's not messages from Gabriel that he's missed. Or at least not just from Gabriel. Mixed in amongst the suggestive jokes and true brotherly concern are several messages from Jack, the most concerning of which being: See you soon, Dad!

Tag List (hopefully I got everyone but just shout at me if I missed you 😅)

@destielfangirl24 @chokinghazardchirp @o-birdseed-o @examishbookwyrm @planterflush @t0asssty @dead-sirens @hate-babe-27 @profanitybasedfun @azriel-rodas @ghost-in-the-light

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

Could you make some more Lin Chung x Mystique Sonia drawings please!

You know, I actually never drew any shippy art for those two, despite shipping them hard in my head lol, so sure! Gladly actually ;3

[rookinthecrownest]

Val ‘Missus steal your pet snake’ De Riva

This was originally planned to be part of a comical interaction with Viago freaking out over where his beloved Emil wandered off

[chiquilines]

op you are the only person on this entire website feeding me Miryumi. Bless, and keeep making more jbsjhbcsbcjkdzb its so fucking gpood and ima soa hungry

My one job is keeping the miryumi community well fed and by god am i committed

[elgarabelas]

After such a long break from drawing anything i present u yet another wip :)

[miitopiaenjoyer]

Out of context shitpost for the massive WIP I've been dedicating most of my time to! :)

Transcript under the cut!

[TRANSCRIPT:]

Chat, speaking with an arrow pointed to them labelled "(Talking to self)": Hmm... How to deal with these... feelings we're feeling about Magical John? What do you all think? Hit him with a cinder block? That'll help, yeah?

Magical John: UM. PLEASE DO NOT?

[chibi-godz]

Still trying to think of a name for my au, but I’m going to start posting little story bits like this to help flesh it out. And so I can better characterize my versions of the gods and Odysseus. I haven’t written in ages so this is going to be mid as hell lol

My current name for this AU is “Lost at Sea” but idk. Let me know if you guys have any ideas for possible names.

Also changed the divider to one made by cafekitsune :)

Spring and a Storm

The sea appeared endless from Odysseus’s point of view. In every direction there was nothing but differing shades of blue. No island or rocks; even the sirens that pestered him earlier in his adventure were long gone. While it was refreshing to sail without the threat of being pulled in and eaten, this particular scenery only added to the hopelessness pooling in his heart. He couldn’t keep track of time. How long had it been since he escaped that cyclops? Days? Weeks? A month?

Each day was all the same, they blurred together like a never ending hell of mundane sailing and fishing. Was this his life now? The disgraced king of Ithaca stuck at sea, slowly wasting away never to see his homeland again. Would he even be welcomed back? He had failed everyone. His crew, his family, Athena… nobody was left.

*clicking*

Odysseus’s nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound, his head whipping down to see a dolphin swimming awfully close to his raft. He scoffed.

“You must be the reason I can’t catch anything.” He tried to add some humor to his tone, but he was too tired and hungry to do so. The dolphin answers with a few more clicks, ducking below the waves before returning to the raft. Before Odysseus could attempt another quip, a strong splash of water strikes him in the face from the dolphin.

“Ack- !!” He drops his fishing rod, instinctively trying to clear his face from the salt water attack. Meanwhile the dolphin clicked in a way reminiscent of laughter. Odysseus manages to clear his eyes, a faint sting of irritation left from the water that managed to enter his lids. In his frustration, his hand found the closest thing it could and chucked it at the dolphin. The creature ducked beneath the waves for good this time. Odysseus was far too irritated to revel in this minor victory…

Until the sea began to shake. The waves grew more hostile, throwing Odysseus’s raft forward until it slammed into the chest of a looming figure that sprouted from the chaos.

“You dare throw bait at me?!” A raspy voice growled out from the figure, bright yellow eyes narrowed in offense. There was only one answer to the opponent before him: Poseidon.

“I- I didn’t know-“

“Silence.” The god holds up a hand. “Even if I were a common delphinidae, it wouldn’t change a thing. You harm one of my friends within diving range of my palace.” It was clear from his expression, Poseidon was pissed. And in range of his palace… that’s why the sirens had dispersed. “What gives you the right?”

Odysseus tried to plead and reason, to use his silver tongue to ease the god’s anger, but he had lost his confidence long ago, and his vice wavered. He fumbled over his words, which he could tell only annoyed the god further. Eventually the king’s voice gave out, accepting his fate. Poseidon finally let an amused grin show at the mortal’s pitiful surrender.

“Was that it?” He taunted, leaning over the raft and holding it in place. “You’ve got nothing else to say?”

Odysseus could only hang his head in shame.

“I almost feel bad for you.” Poseidon musters. “Almost.” He lifts a mighty hand, ready to summons his trident before booming sound clapped through the air.

Both Poseidon and Odysseus look up, one significantly more confused than the other. The previously clear skies have now been covered by a blanket of clouds. Poseidon clenches his shark-like teeth together in irritation. “This fucker…”

He turns to the sky. “Stay out of this!”

“Why should I?” A deep voice echoes from above. Two large hands part the clouds, revealing an all too familiar face. “You’re interrupting my show.”

“Your show?” Poseidon spits back. “Surely you can’t find anything about this mortal entertaining. Not enough to keep him alive, that is.”

“Oh, I beg to differ.” Zeus floats down from the heavens, landing on the raft which creaked under his weight. The king of gods dwarfed Odysseus in size. “He’s been quite the joy to observe. Besides, you know I can’t ignore a damsel in distress.”

Poseidon huffs and shrinks into a less intimidating size, standing on the waves with ease. “Brother, you can’t possibly be serious.”

“I am.”

“What if Hera-“

Zeus’s smug expression is immediately replaced with a serious one. “Do not mention her.”

There’s a tense moment of silence before Zeus’s usual smirk returns. “Besides, when have I ever listened to her?”

Poseidon rolls his eyes and mutters, “It’s not just her you don’t listen to.” Zeus lets out a booming laugh and wraps an arm around his brother’s shoulder. “Come now, Poseidon. Just look at him.” He gestures to Odysseus.

“What would you get from killing such a little creature?”

Poseidon huffs. “Satisfaction?”

Zeus chuckles and shakes his head. “There’s no satisfaction in killing ants, brother.” Poseidon groans but inevitably agrees.

“Fine.” The sea god takes a moment to look at Odysseus, now without his anger clouding his judgement. “I guess he is cute. In a wet cat sort of way.”

“H- Hey,” Odysseus finally finds his voice again. Not that the gods pay it any mind.

“Exactly! In a wet cat sort of way. Reminds me of a certain someone’s phase-“

“You’re pushing your luck Zeus.”

Oh boy…

[bd-wlf]

I was CURSED halfway through finishing this because tell me why A NEW FUCKING paint marker crapped out on me after having just used it for the first time 😭😭 I don't have the money to buy more and I also don't have that shade of orange on hand 🙃 IM GONNA BLOW SOMETHING UP

[telesodalite]

...thinking of maybe... of maybe drawing some more scav yuri, of varying levels of cute or unhinged (or both👀?), for the love month, for my mental health or whatever, so uh, is there any particular pairing or such that anyone would wanna see? I need excuses lol

[sisterdivinium]

Offering this candid screenshot of a conversation of mine without context, LOL

[indiiglow]

Hey guys guess what I fucked myself into making a drawing too detailed again 🙃

[blizzardsuplex]

"OVERTIME????" from THE UNDISPUTED ERA “FACE” OFF WITH EACH OTHER - UUDD VS., 02/20/2020

[this has been sitting in my clips folder for months because I only figured out how to GIF player cams well now. Whoops. Anyway, this is adorable.]

[synthshenanigans]

a WIP of the recent fit that I hope I will finish later & color.

also smaller doodles i miiiiiiight do more with eventually?? v

[iniini]

Fuck why can’t I draw the way I want aaaaaaaaaaaa -x- I don’t even know what it is I don’t like about my art which just makes this frustrating

[nereidprinc3ss]

whiny and spoiled

in which reader is being a brat but spencer just can't help himself from taking off her clothes and going down on her anyway!

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: MUNCH!SPENCE (aka canon compliant!) oral fem receiving (duh lol) reader referred to as a girl, bratty reader, idk if this is soft dom spencer or if this is just pure unadulterated munch spencer who will eat pussy at the drop of a hat, overstimulation kinda, sexy and hot, will make u bust a/n: requests are tentatively open in that i may not complete them but i will surely consider them!! thank you guys for all the positive feedback, it's so motivating and i love that you seem to like my stuff so much! please lmk if you like this and what you'd like to see more of in the future! so many ideas and WIPs

You’re lounging on Spencer’s bed when he gets home, fiddling with one of his Rubik’s cubes and kicking your feet in the air absent-mindedly. 

You look up as he opens the bedroom door and gestures for you to remove your headphones, looking a little bemused at the scene in front of him. 

“How was work?” you ask, eyes tracking him as he shrugs off his bag and comes to kiss you in greeting. 

“It was fine,” he dismisses, hands braced on the mattress as he leans over you, looking you up and down. “Why are you wearing boots in bed?” 

“Because I didn’t feel like dealing with the laces.” 

“Take them off, please. You have no idea how much bacteria and filth you’re introducing to the place I sleep.” 

“Probably no more than I do with my hands,” you shrug, shaking the Rubiks cube in his face for added emphasis. He plucks it from your hand and sets it on the bedside table. 

“I’m asking politely,” Spencer says, raising his eyebrows slightly and standing up straight, probably wondering if this is the thing you’re going to push him on tonight. You chew your lip, cocking your head as you regard him. 

“I want to keep them on. They’re my good luck charm. People leave the scary girl wearing the stompy boots alone.” 

He circles to the foot of the bed. 

“Are you saying you want to scare me away?” 

“No. But I don’t need the boots to scare you,” you tease. 

You squeal when he grabs your ankles and pulls you down the bed, beginning to unlace one of your shoes. 

“Do these actually intimidate people?” he asks absent-mindedly, focused on loosening the laces. 

“I mean... I don’t know. Maybe some people,” you splutter after a moment, slightly flustered. 

“Hm. I guess I don’t find you all that scary to begin with,” Spencer admits, tugging the first boot off and tossing it to the ground before getting to work on the second one.  

“Shut up. I’m totally scary.” 

But you’re losing your steel as he looks down at you, eyes raking over your body. There is a hungry sort of sparkle in his eyes now—one that has become familiar and sends a thrill through you. 

“Maybe to people who don’t know you very well.” 

Your eyes narrow. 

“Don’t patronize me.” 

The second boot is removed and joins the other on the floor. His hands begin running up and down the front of your legs. You shiver.  

“I’m not patronizing you, honey. I’m just being honest.” The movement of his hands ceases as he seems to consider something. “Do you want me to be scared of you?” 

You swallow, eyes darting over his face and looming frame, wishing he would keep touching you. 

“No,” you find yourself saying. “But fear is respect. Everybody likes being respected.” 

“I don’t know if I agree that fear and respect are the same,” he muses, smiling ever so slightly, “but I respect you very much.” He resumes moving his hands, higher this time, over your thighs and under your skirt. “I just can’t imagine such a sweet girl being perceived as intimidating.” 

“I am not sweet,” you mutter, distracted by the way his hands skim so lightly over your skin—flipping your skirt over your stomach.  

“Right. You’re terrifying,” he amends gently, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your tights. “Up.” You lift your hips, allowing him to tug the sheer fabric down your legs and carefully off your feet. “The pink underwear are really scary,” he teases, snapping the fabric against your hip. 

“Shut up,” you repeat breathlessly, face heating. “You’re the one that got them for me.” 

“I did, didn’t I? They look good on you.” Finally, he looks up from the pink lace to your eyes. “Can I take them off?” 

“You don’t always have to ask, you know,” you breathe. Sometimes, the answer is obvious enough. 

“I like hearing you say yes.” 

You flush, because what he really means is that he likes when you get desperate. 

“Yes, you can take them off.” 

A smile flickers over his face as he slides the underwear down and off, making sure to take his sweet time. Every brush of his thumb on your calf, every delicate pass over your ankle gives you anticipatory chills.  

“Before I’m dead?” you ask, slightly strained. He tsks, tossing them on the bed. 

“Someone should do something about that attitude of yours.” 

“My attitude is your fault.” 

“Because I like giving you what you want? Sue me.” 

“Spencer,” you grit. 

He slings your ankles over his shoulders. 

“See? You’re not scary. You’re just whiny and spoiled.” 

And before you can defend yourself, or at least make a sufficiently withering reply, he’s leaning down, licking a broad stripe between your legs that for once renders you speechless. Any comment on the tip of your tongue dies as the tip of his becomes all you can think about, melting into a content moan while you rake your fingers through his hair. He sucks lightly on your clit until you’re rolling your hips and then he releases, moving to press kisses to your inner thighs. “Are you going to be nice now?” 

“Mhm,” you promise, wanting only for him to keep pleasuring you in that mind-numbing way of his. 

“Are you just saying that?” 

Another kiss. 

“No! Mean it,” you whimper. 

“Good girl,” he says, rubbing your outer thigh.  

The next kiss is planted on your clit, before he’s taking it into his mouth again and leaving you a whiny mess. You throw your head back and your eyes flutter shut, melting into the bed and not bothering to hold back your sounds. 

“Fuck.” Your voice is small, a gasp as he begins to flick his tongue over the bud, each brush against the sensitive spot making your hips stutter. He rubs your leg soothingly but doesn’t let up—you look back down to watch as best you can through your hazy, half-lidded eyes. “I love you,” you murmur. 

He laughs against you and the vibrations only make you feel higher, whining and bucking slightly when he begins to lap at your slick entrance—kitten licks so light they’re torturous. 

Spencer obviously has a goal in mind; there’s no hesitation and the teasing is minimal. He just wants to make you feel good. And it’s working. The man eats pussy like he’s in love with it.  

His name is rolling off your tongue when he kicks into full gear, firm, fast circles around your clit that make you dizzy and hot.  

“Oh, my god—” you cut yourself off with a languid, shameless moan, rolling your head to the side but keeping your eyes glued on him. He groans in approval as your hands card through his hair, moving one hand to slide affectionately up and down your stomach as the muscles there tense and flex.  

“Fucking obscene,” he mutters, pausing for another filthy, wet kiss to your cunt. “Taste so good, angel girl.” 

“Mm... wanna cum,” you beg, rolling your hips and hoping he’ll get the message. 

“You will.” Spencer takes a long, luxurious lick as if to prove his point, pulling a desperate mewl from your parted lips. “Because you always get exactly what you want, don't you?” 

“Mhm,” you agree, eyes screwing shut, but the reply quickly devolves into a stream of little ah’s that are so sweet Spencer has trouble reconciling their sanctity with their pornographic nature. And the way you unconsciously, innocently begin to pull him closer, trying to press yourself further into his mouth—well, it’s like he said; fucking obscene.  

Sometimes Spencer likes to tease you at this point, to pull away and say sweet and dirty things that always bring forth your most adorable, embarrassed, desperate whimpers. But you taste so good, and you are whiny and spoiled, and you make such pretty noises when you’re all soft and needy like this and he can’t bear to pull away. Not when you deserve to cum. And it’s thoughts like these that are the reason you’re a spoiled princess, he muses peripherally. Because he’s fucking whipped for you. 

“That’s so good,” you exhale, “just like that, please—fuck!” 

He knows you’re going to cum, and there are many things he could do, many things he could say to fuck you over for his own enjoyment, but now he wants more than just about anything he’s ever wanted to work you apart and taste you cumming on his tongue. So he keeps running a reassuring hand over your stomach, trying to remind you to breathe as you approach your peak. 

You finish, a slow wave of ecstasy washing over you, chanting his name as your hips sporadically roll and stutter into his face, and he’s making out with your soaked, messy pussy in a way that would never lead one to believe he’s ever been shy or squeamish or hesitant in any way.  

“Spencer,” you yelp, incandescent warmth radiating in soft waves from your core and slowing your movements as your hips twitch in an attempt to escape the continual onslaught of his mouth. 

“You can take it for a minute, honey,” 

A defeated, half-pleasure half-pain whine lets him know he’s won as he continues to kiss your throbbing cunt, but soon small, weak moans are slipping unbidden past the barrier of your lips. You realize he’s going to make you cum again and there’s nothing you can do about it but tighten your hold in his hair, groan, and ride his tongue as he eats you for all that you’re worth. 

The second orgasm is softer, blurrier, and equally perfect as the first. It threatens the already tenuous hold you have on your consciousness, strand after strand snapping until you’re barely hanging on. 

“Spencer,” you repeat, slurring as you try to shut your legs. “Please, can’t, baby.” 

“You could,” he says, sitting up and closing your useless legs for you, massaging the weak muscles. “You’ve done more.” 

“Mm-mm,” you disagree, chest rising and falling as your breathing slows. “Don’t wanna.” 

“That’s okay, angel. I’m not gonna force you.” 

You sigh, obviously satisfied. “That felt really good.” 

“I bet it did,” he chuckles, finally moving to lay down next to you. Immediately you curl up to him, and he smooths your skirt back down before tracing soothing patterns on the leg you’ve slung over him. “You’re so cute.” 

“Don’t go spreading it around.” 

“Never,” he promises, mocking but in good nature. The two of you lay in comfortable silence for a few moments, as you consider his decidedly unsatisfying answer. 

“You’re not even a little scared of me?” 

He smoothes your hair away from your eyes. 

“No, honey, I’m not. But I’m sure other people find you utterly terrifying.” 

You open your eyes to regard him ruefully, before they narrow again. 

“You have a little something...” you begin, gesturing to your mouth. He snorts. 

“Oh, do I?” 

[kamabokobun]

Abandoned wip Cassie & Roxy figures. From ~2023

They’re about to go into storage, so I took some photos. And I figured I might as well post them since they’re never getting finished. So yeah

More photos & notes below the cut :)

Cassie! Her design is sooo cute. I enjoyed translating her into my style + into 3d. I was (& still am) really happy with how I sculpted her face and hair. Up until this point I rarely sculpted human faces, so I was surprised how well it turned out (then again it’s very stylized so. Whatever). And her hair came out almost exactly like my reference drawing! Which doesn’t happen as often as I would like it to. The paint job came out nicely as well, I’m especially proud of the sneakers and the tiny stars & flowers on her cardigan. Anyway, She was looking really good overall! That is until she fell off my shelf and broke her neck. Unfortunately, that was the breaking point (lol) for me, as I was already having problems with Roxy, and I didn’t want to go through the trouble of repairing her tiny little neck after she was almost fully painted, so I scrapped the project entirely.

Only a few Roxy photos since she wasn’t painted. I had made her before cassie, (I was originally going to only make Roxy) but never managed to get to the painting step for mainly one reason: Her neck kept breaking. (I have bad luck when it comes to necks, it seems. Probably because I like chibi proportions.) I had to repair her neck, like, 5 times, before finally deciding to use apoxie sculpt instead of my regular polymer clays. (Which I probably should’ve done sooner) But then the apoxie dried in the wrong position, so she couldn’t stand on her own anymore (she needed to be in a very specific pose to stand. her hair is heavy!!). Thinking back on it, I’m really sad I never got to paint her, because I think her form ended up looking really nice. If you’re wondering why neither Cassie nor Roxy have eyelashes, that’s because I was planning on doming both of their eyes with resin, then sculpting eyelashes on top. But I never got to that step. Fun Fact!: Roxy’s eyes are glow in the dark :) so is Cassie’s flashlight

And lastly, here is the art I made for me to reference. Left is the original sketches, and right is the revised poses/designs + traced off of the figures I had already started making. Fun fact: halfway through sculpting (after baking in the pose) I realized that, in-game, cassie holds her flashlight in her left hand and not her right, so I had to completely remove & remake her hands.

I really want to try remaking these two someday, not only because I think I can make them better than I did before, but because Cassie & Roxy are probably my favorite SB characters and I still want to have cute figures of them to display on my desk lol.

Alright that’s all bye bye