#IM STILL OPEN FOR THESE BTW ANY FANDOM !!

[seariii]

I know it has a lot to do with me finally starting to get out of that long episode but...

The milgram fandom has given me something that I had lost a while ago, which is socializing with people that share an interest.

I'm small in the fandom, and there is no way I could socialize like I see others do, but the small things, the couple people that do interact with me... No one knows just how happy and soft that makes me...

And it's funny, sometimes I see someone posting something about how they are doing, and I want to reach out, but I'm too scared to do it... Yet, I've started to occasionally be able to do it... Sometimes tho, the thing that I wish to say is too personal to say it on the notes and so the best choice would be dms, but that makes me panic hahahaha what if I'm annoying? ... But I also think it could show them that there are people out there who care...

Anyways. Today I felt really happy, I felt like I did a lot of interactions. I had my socializing high which comes once every blood moon hahaha but... I'm just happy

Thank you milgram fandom, and thank you to those specific people, who they know who they are, that by little actions really do make my day light up a bit more

[kengi-bengi]

for anyone curios were Albatross’ Guide au is- im working on a 4 page comic slowly lol.

then after that prob some more concept sketches after i finish more au refs Then finaly a PMV explaining more of the au- particularly the Haunting,

and then whatever stranglers i want to post- maybe the ruined sea temples and destroyed kingdom concepts would be fun to show once the PMV is made. [Reminder i am adding more lore to WOF in this au; particularly surrounding the origins of the magic and fleshing out some seawing history]

[heroictoonz]

logan! from Lego Dreamzzz :)

Sexuality Headcanon: gaaayyy man :) which is wild cause hes like prime 'disaster bisexuals' energies which if u know me u know is my favorite kinda guy but idk man i cant see him liking women like that i think he is however very easily throwin into comp het so i can see him being like ya im taking the hottest girl ever to prom and then prom comes and hes looking at his date like i do not want to dance with you why are you trying to hol d my hand EW DONT KISS ME???? hes dumbass gay

Gender Headcanon: TRANS KING OF ALL TIME HE IS SO TRANS KING OF ALL TIME and also the dumb trans king that falls into light toxic masculinity my brother in dumb does not realize he does not have to be a stereotypical "Man(TM)" to be a man its okay hell get better

A ship I have with said character: mateo 🥺 i watched the show and IMMEDIATLY was like oh yeah they should kiss and i still believe this with my whole heart and soul. i can also see him having a crush on cooper but im not sure i see it reciprocated tho i do sometimes think about a poly between the three

A BROTP I have with said character: IZZIE AND LOGAN ARE FRIENDDDDSSSSS theyre kpop buddies man!!!! they buy albums together every friday and trade pcs before they put them on insta!!!!!!!! they absolutely save pcs for each others biases when they can this is their relationship i know this in my heart theyre doing kpop dance tiktoks trust meee

A NOTP I have with said character: uhhh not really ig? like i said i see him as a gay man so ig any ships w girls i probably aint super into but also i dont care all that much lol

A random headcanon: i think this isnt even much a headcanon i think its p hinted at in canon that his big tough guy persona is in some ways a shield for his insecurities he really does just wanna prove himself to literally anyone who will give him two seconds of attention

General Opinion over said character: he makes me INSANE like i think lego personally makes guys for me to be fucking crazy about

[welcometoteyvat]

clearing out my likes has the side effect of reminding me of every single media obsession I’ve had over the past year or so

[corcnaiism]

;-- guys reminder that i have made another blog @loboiism so if you're into that, feel free to follow me on there too

[yangcherie]

play chase

pairing: ascended!astarion / spawn!tav (reader.)

content warnings: female reader, dubcon, briefest references to age gap (c’mon, he’s 200 years old), power imbalance, forced dependency, abuse. cunnilingus. mentions of death. references to cannibalism. abuse. ascended astarion things, except he’s a bit nicer.

sypnosis: astarion has been having an immensely difficult time taming you; his newly-turned bride-to-be. he believes a lesson about obedience is well overdue. so he fucks you before the honeymoon.

author’s note: ugh. this was messy. like immensely messy im so sorry i just lost interest in this fandom but thought id still finish this up. hope you guys enjoy btw tav is feral here like Kinda i guess? ignore the plotholes or i rob ur house angry face emoji here

“Little one.” Astarion carolled, hoping he sounded just genuine enough to coax you out of wherever you’ve tucked yourself into like a feral animal. You’d catch more flies with honey than vinegar, after all. “Sweet thing. Whatever you’re playing at, it’s time to put an end to it.”

He hopes the restlessness doesn’t bleed through his voice; having walked and stalked through what felt like the very entirety of his former master’s palace – now claimed by none other than himself. It only felt right to do so after his ascension, in the same vein he claimed you as his own. The manor is a wretched thing – but so were you. He would come to love it in time; as he had with you.

He felt like a fool right now with the way he was practically just going to rot away waiting for you to either crawl out or hiding spot (which was never) or to hear you slip up, shuffle around or screech just loud enough that he could catch the sound in his fingers and hunt you down.

You’ve fallen into much troublesome, teasing habits, including hiding away from him or viciously teething and ripping at whatever caught your eye — and Astarion doesn’t have the slightest idea on why or how — but he could excuse it. Decades of cruelty have also taught him mercy, despite having lacked it.

All the furniture you would violently break apart into splinters? You must’ve been teething, and this hideous manor desperately needs a renovation, anyway. The troublesome amount of tear and rip and fray of fabric in curtains, clotheswear and sheets alike? You’re simply due for a trimming on your claws, and again, the manor needs a renovation. Your incessant disturbances of racket and noise during the occasions he’d bring nobles over? His poor, needy wife must’ve been feeling neglected – and that alone is a perfect reason for him to usher away any unwanted guests.

(It honestly did him more good than you knew.)

Astarion could not only excuse and enjoy it, all your petty, feral little acts of disobedience – but he’s also dedicated nearly half his time to provide you gratification. You needed teething? Fine, expect to be fed with ambrosian blood; be it by kegs of it at your bedside, or drunkards thrown at your feet, paralyzed with alcohol and terror, all but open for you to forcefully dig and tear out their throats and drink in their dwindling life. He’d even dab at your face with a handkerchief after.

Couldn’t control your claws? He’s provided you toys to rough up and chew into — himself included, of course; if the never-bite marks beneath his collar were anything to go by. And if you were good enough, willing to paw at and prop your chin on his clothed thigh to prettily stare at him with roseate, cherub eyes; he’d take you hunting with the given main course or prey being deers, goats or nobles who couldn’t be swayed to his upcoming reign.

And if his other efforts to be of no avail, he could always do with his last but favorite method of calming you down; exerting his dominance with his own fangs wounding the muted skin of your throat to keep you still as he gives you a good fucking – just hard enough to keep you content from acting out for the next few days.

Astarion had done his utmost to be considerate. You were a fledgling; still adjusting to the intricacies that came with your newly-gifted vampirism. He was all but destructive during his first years as a spawn, as well. He could excuse it, all this disrespect, this ingratitude to his affections. Really! It just had to be a good day.

And to the fucking Nines, today was not a good day.

Right now, he was nothing short of frustrated. Frustrated with his idiotic thralls, with having to deal with posh aristocrat fools to establish his reign over the Gate, with the fabric of his shirt – all of it! And now he has to be frustrated with you, as well? All he yearnt for was to be soothed by none other than you, but even this you would pettily keep out from his reach?

The manor is stretched far and wide, generous; much unlike the fraying thread that is his patience. He licks his teeth, brows furrowing – legs aching just the slightest. You couldn’t behave for just today, could you? Always needing to test him to keep you in line.

You could’ve simply drained and massacred the enthralled nobles in his dungeons, or lay waste to yet another room in the palace and he wouldn’t have given much of a damn, but no, instead, you’ve decided to play hard to get and hide yourself away from him when he needs you most.

“Dearest.” Astarion grits out, an exasperated groan stuck in his throat. The heel of his boots thudding against the cobble is all he’s heard for hours, in his search of you. He might just raze down the entire manor if it meant you’d come out. “I am in no mood to be entertaining your tantrums.”

A wearisome ache begins to swarm his temples, coaxing a sigh from him. He can just envision it, in whatever hole you’ve tucked yourself in lays the ripped ivory tulle fabric of yet another gown alongside the vast amount you’ve already ravaged. It’s all you’ve been tearing at since he’s arranged your bethrothment with him – and his enthralled tailors aren’t very willing to oblige him and sew another.

He swears on the fucking ragdoll he will make out of you once he finds you that this time, you will not go unpunished. He has been lenient, and he was no fool; he could tell instinct and intent apart. Whatever game you were playing at, Astarion would let you know he didn’t like it in the slightest. First, you deny him of your presence and then you deny him of his right to wed you. What a little demon you are.

But it seems even you were getting restless in your own petty little game, he thought so smugly, as a hiss so unmistakably yours laden with offense and the impact of ceramic against the ground bounced off the opulent hallway making him sharply turn his body around to follow the sound. You never quite had the knack to keep quiet as a rogue like himself could, even before the feral inanity that clouds you now. It’s not long before he’s behind yet another bedroom out of hundreds in the palace and twisting the rusted doorknob.

It creaks open, Astarion pursing his lips as he steps inside – just to be hit with the pungent stench of blood and a mess littered that told him you indeed were in the room. A good hint; the hint being a gutted body of what he could only assume was a servant crumpled on the floor, who with no doubt you hurled actoss the room once you had forcefully drained your fill of.

His nose wrinkled at the sight. He ought to teach you something about manners on not playing with your food, after he catches you.

“Little pup?” He stalks through the room, briefly kicking the body aside and glancing at the two puncture holes on its neck. If you were hungry, you simply could’ve asked.

It’s a dreary scene, the room a relic of neglect worth centuries. Moth-eaten curtains spotted with fresh blood, rusted chandeliers rickety with dust. Dreary as it was, he had no doubt this is one of the rooms he’s used to bed many a victim.

He briefly wonders if you even bedded the servant before draining him.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are...”

There’s a subtle shuffle, a little, pathetic bleat of a hiss to his call, just below the old, yellowed canopy bed in the very center of the room. The space between his brows pinch as he approaches the dingy canopy and drops to his knees to peer below, batting at the dust that assaults his senses.

Craning his neck downwards, peering below the bed, he’s fixed with your beady, red stare – and it startles Astarion more than he’d like to admit.

Something weary between a growl and a sigh comes out of him when he wills himself to tear his gaze away from your unnerving eyes and across the entirety of your body; you’re filthy, with flaky remains of gore and scratches, cobwebs stuck to your hair and soot stuck to your skin. He quietly groans, filled with just enough irritation that your beady eyes bat him a blink so innocent and faultless that he’s rather tempted to bend you over his lap and paddle you —

But it was futile to scold you. He knows it, that you wouldn’t understand – had made sure your senses would dwindle, like a honed knife being whittled to dullness. Slowly but surely being to forced to rely on base instincts. He always thought you to be too smart for your own good, and he couldn’t have you thinking you could leave him in the dust, no, no.

(And, well, if you ever did, he doubt the ghouls that follow his word like law would let you through any door out, anyway.)

Futile as it is it to scold you, it’s easier to let his irritation roll over him in waves sear him like boiling water.

“You insolent brat, you.” Astarion hisses, batting his hand in a motion that tells you to get out and up. It’s with an infuriating obedience that you follow, one that casts something bitter to brew in him. Where was that earlier? He roughly wrenches you out by your wrist, dragging you up to your feet to meet his infuriated eyes. “Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you, you fucking–?”

You hiss at the touch, nose scrunched and teeth bared enough to show gums – your free hand flying out to grip his wrist to dig your untrimmed nails into his skin just as he did with you. He raises a brow, unamused. Perhaps he should have felt offended the way you thought you could just behave like an animal and disrespect him like that. Perhaps he really should go and dig the heel in, let you sink in the fall from pride to humiliation of being paddled.

“You think you’re hilarious, hm? Quit acting like an animal.” Astarion huffs indignantly, disregarding a small part of him wanting to croon at you in the same manner one would with a feral thing. You need discipline and gods damn him if he did not provide that. He wrenches his wrist out of your clawed fingers, glaring. If you were some stranger, he’d feel inclined to spit on you. “Or I’ll drain you like one.”

It’s a lie, a petty one at that, and you seem to know it as it only pulls another one of those sounds out you; one more grating and animalistic than the last, one that makes him bare his own teeth at you. The threat is as petty as it is tragic, a reminder of what you’ve given up to him beyond your blood – your soul, your mortality.

He’s had his fill of you since the night you turned, since he sunk his teeth into the very marrow of your being and drained you for all you were worth. He swallowed you with a hunger that could burn out even the sun itself. You could not believe that on that night, the night he had killed you, the soft, benign hands keeping your head from hitting the hard floor were of the same body with the mouth and teeth that snuffed your light straight out.

(You died being held in his arms; whether it was to keep you still, keep you there unable to jerk away from death or to keep you comforted, you never found out. You didn’t want to.)

When you awoke, it was no longer his teeth that speared through you next but loss and hunger, a mind-numbing, mingling pit in your stomach. You woke up with grief knowing you were no longer who you once were.

Astarion has an intimate relationship with hunger, true and daunting hunger. And no nobles’ blood, no sheep, bear, boar nor lamb can fix it.

It will not leave him, and it will not leave you.

“I’ll have you know you look delectable right now.” He hisses through his teeth, something burning all hot, ugly and hungry in his stomach. It’s the way he says it that has you backing down, meeting his eyes with a glare of your own before tentatively softening; allowing him to touch you. In a time before now, he would have said it teasingly, as your lover, your man. Near a warm fire, pinned to the ground with your hair splayed and a summer solstice grin.

But now, he is more hunger than man.

(You suppose you are too.)

He stares you down, the dip of your collarbones, the slope of your hips, the slightest cinch of your waist, your lips, all doused in some servant’s blood. The scent of it with yours wafts out and beckons to him. Spanning his fingers over the stiffened slopes of your bare shoulders, he finds the knots he’ll have to work and ease over with floral oils later on during bedtime.

In your feral head, it feels as if he’s fondling the meat on your shoulder. Prodding at the softest spots, finding which would taste best.

His fingers leave your shoulder in favor of returning to your wrist, pulling taut at it to lead you out the dryrotting room and into those intricate halls, turning left, right, right, left, straight until you’re stumbling into his personal chambers, his soft canopy bed and sinking into his mattress with enough space between your parted legs that he takes the chance to crawl towards and tuck himself in.

He pushes his lips to yours, kisses you dizzy, tongue fighting a battle with yours. The bed is downy soft beneath you when you melt into it and dig your nails in, heeded by instinct as he pins you against them with ease. The air feels hotter, when he pulls away with silken strands of spit between you two, splitting when he dips back downwards to lay his head on your stomach, circling his arms around your hips to keep you still as he noses around the softness of your stomach.

“Stay still.” He rasps, throaty enough you feel inclined to begrudingly listen and settle down with a growl stuck behind your teeth. “This is just something to make you relax.”

It’s not entirely a lie, he thinks to himself. Nowadays, he only ever beds you if he sees you need to be put into your place or to be sedated. You’re not exactly as smart as you used to be.

He kisses his way down; trails little licks and bites over your stomach, lowering to the jolting of your hips, to the swell of your thighs. Moves a hand to fondle your calves and returning it to join the arms still locked around your hips, using his head to gently nudge your legs a bit wider and teeth to lift up the chiffon dress pillowing around your legs, lingering on your calf; to settle his lips on your clothed mound.

A protestant, breathy noise comes out of you when his mouth ghosts your clothed clit, and he grumbles at it; tugging at the flimsy fabric until it delicately finds its place on the floor.

The cold, dusty, evening air wraps around your clit, the muscles in your legs tightening with the amount of whatever strength you have to use to avoid clamping around his head when he kisses it briefly but so sweetly that an uneasy expression makes home on your face.

A dreadful shiver shoots an arrow straight through your spine then, when that one intimate kiss at your bundle of nerves turns into two, then three, until all that fight and spark in you has been stomped out and worn out into the dirt. Despite that senseless fog that clouds your head, you remain soft and still, legs open and unclamping around his head with the indomitable fear he’d do something less... gratifying than this.

That kiss turns into stripe licked up your clit, a shaky breath forced out of you once again. He gently pulls you closer, just a breathswidth from your fluttering entrance.

You wonder if he feels the way you stiffen under his hands, if he mistakes the way your hips rock as wanting more instead of trying to run away.

“Be good,” he murmurs, breath hot and voice lazy. “and everything else will follow...”

A spawn’s desire to follow their master is something even the likes of you cannot help but submit to, and so with a rough grunt, you finally let loose your tense muscles just enough to let Astarion pull you gently down, to fully ease you on his mouth — so he can really give you that relaxation.

He runs the tip of his tongue over your clit, laving around it and allowing himself a lazy glance up when you abruptly sit up and thread a hand through his hair, chest stuck in a growling air you struggle to take in. Rough as it is, it also sounds lewd – and it’s music pretty enough that he hums and closes his eyes shut, rewarding you with flicks and sucks on the sensitive little thing that only makes you tighten your grip around his perfect curls and dig into his scalp.

A moan can’t be stopped from slithering its way out your mouth, your shoulders working itself lower and the crease between your eyebrows letting up. He wasn’t lying, it feels good, you begrudingly think and huffing in an effort to hide your moan and keep the current of anger from diminishing under pleasure. You find it easy to keep grappling onto it when you feel him crookededly smile against the flesh of you, as if the idea of you adamantly resisting was theatrical and hilarious.

His tongue leaves your clit, delving into your hole and squirming against your walls in a way that has your ears ringing, hand still in his hair. Your eyes shut tight.

You hate him, you think. Hate how he makes you feel this way, makes you feel so alive despite being anything but. And you especially hate yourself for the sharp heat that tugs at your stomach, a thinly-veiled frenzy arching over you.

Ever since the undeath of you, you’ve lacked control; and it’s no easy feat to defy the oncoming slaught of pleasure about to wash over you. Not when his tongue laves around your slick clit in such a way that it makes you throw your head back and dig your heels into his back. So with a moan caged low behind your throat, you convulse, coming in his mouth when you wished for anything but.

“See what being good gets you?” He pulls away and coos at you with his teeth and lips shining, savoring you as if you were just the sweetest pomegranate out there. Your chest heaves as you come down from the high, so weakly throwing him a glare that attests to your damaged pride.

Your eyes flicker around his face and his hands, expecting him to move back and let up, having had his fill of you. But he doesn’t move back, no, he stays smiling at you, lets himself be busied by the frantic pattern of rise and fall by your chest — by the fact you breathe by habit even when you no longer need to.

Your throat bobs; his eyes are quick to narrow and trace the movement.

“You,” you rasp, you speak, the conciousness you fight to grapple on a rope so quickly fraying. Astarion’s smile stretches into a mean, mean grin that makes your skin crawl. “You’re done.”

Your head tricks you into thinking you lack the breath to make the questioning lilt in your words, so it comes out as a demand. One you’re not very sure he takes to kindly.

“Adorable!” He giggles, tapping the tip of your nose. “Silly. No, we aren’t.”

“And you,” Astarion coos again, meaner, reaching out with slick fingers to dig into your cheeks whilst ignoring your flinch and bared teeth. He squeezes your face and patronizingly moves it around as if afflicted with cuteness aggression, like an owner unable to believe his pet wants him to stop giving it pets. “You don’t get to make the demands around here. I–”

He pulls your face closer, his breath fanning your face.

“I do.” He snarls. You give him one back twice as malicious, sharp fingers flying to grip the hand that holds your face captive. “I make the fucking demands around here and you– you listen, and you do what I tell you to do because I—”

He inhales a sharp intake of breath, the fingers on your face digging in just further enough it starts to hurt.

“Honestly, dear.” He laughs like the idea of you having command over him is the funniest thing in the world, but the sound is so taut and forced. A display of theatrics. “If there’s anyone out here worth listening to, it’s me!”

Astarion doesn’t let go much to your dismay, watching you so keenly, drinking in your pain – and you start to hiss when his fingers don’t cease the tightening grip on your face, forcing you back into that instinctive, protective shell. It’s all a blur when you plant your two feet on his chest and kicking him with all your force, knocking him back just a mere distance away, still on the bed but further. He merely scoffs, moreso annoyed than pained, quick to get back on his knees and crawling towards you yet again. His hands grip the comforter, fingertips digging into the softness as he grits his teeth.

“No– no, no, don’t you dare.” Astarion brattily tugs at you, like you’re his favorite toy, until you’re situated beneath him once more, scratching and squirming about. “You will not not run away from me!”

“Not when I’ve been so kind to you,” he spat. It’s between a grit and tease when he says it, and now that he’s between your legs again, he grinds his clothed hips against your cunt. “And I’ve been busy making dresses for you, you know, when really I should be making leashes.”

He offhandedly mentions with a sneer and as if to help visualize the collar, his strong hand goes to wrap around your throat – squeezing just hard enough your breath leaves you all at once. Your mouth gapes open then, floundering to claw at his wrist.

“What do you think?” Astarion laughs, mean, mean, mean. Another hand goes to unbuckle his belt, the leather of his pants sliding off and making brief but chilling contact with your thighs. “Would you prefer it with a chain?”

Black dots around the edges of your vision, with the hand on your throat and the dwindling air in your chest, you cannot muster any disapproving sound to his words – and as if to punish you for your silence, he tightens his grip until you’re sure that the skin would be bruised purple and pretty underneath for days. And he watches you, like you’re some form of entertainment, floundering and wincing about for merciful air, distracted enough you don’t notice the heat of his cockhead pressing against your pulsing opening.

Distracted enough you don’t notice with how you’re squirming about for air, you’re grinding yourself against his cockhead.

You can’t breathe.

You can’t breathe.

Whilst you’re busy thinking if this is it, this is the fucking end of it all; you’ll be found dead on the master’s bed in the morning, indecent, monstrous even without a stake in your heart but with blue and purple around your neck instead, Astarion’s attention was charmed like a moth to flame with how you don’t seem to notice you’re still so alive despite having sunken his teeth into your neck and given you his blood.

How you don’t seem to notice that in being undead, you do not even need to breathe anymore. How still you look for the air even unneeded.

Entertained, Astarion hums and releases your throat, settling his hands on your knees as he watches you sputter and cough as the air hits you like debris. The pain in your chest as you take in the missing air is pure catharsis.

“Yes...” He whispers moreso to himself than you, nudging his cockhead against your opening – slick with his spit. “Perhaps a chain would look better than jewelry.”

And with that, he pushes into you with a low hiss, moving slowly enough that you feel the veins and the pulsing of him even as you focus on gasping for air, the pit in your stomach dreadful and the crawl up your spine pleasured. When it feels like he’s snug inside your guts all buried inside, he leans forward and catches your lips into a terribly one-sided kiss. It makes his cock nudge further inside and you flinch from the dull, familiar ache of it all.

“Fuck,” Astarion gasps hot against your mouth and pulls away with a string of spit, slowly dragging his hips and pulling back to watch his length move out your cunt. He slams it back in and you want to shriek but you bite your tongue instead, hating how he deep he is inside of you and how slow he is – like he’s trying to get your walls to take his shape. “—I wish you were always this good for me, little mouse.”

Pleasure is so cruel to you, bowing heavy against your spine as it forces you to arch, forces your legs to spread and take in his cock deeper. Something groaning guttural crawls its way out your throat as you clench your eyes tight and twist the sheets in your fist as you’re thrown gracelessly into the ever-tightening jaw of ecstasy. Your legs shake with a tremor to it, feeling his hand ghost over your hip.

He pulls back again; and slams back inside. Over and over and over again until you feel like you’re turning mad yet again, sweat beading at your forehead and sounds not so easily beckoned now tumbling out your mouth.

You once foolishly thought that with being undead comes the death of sensation in your body – the way your body flinches and burns so alive with every strong nudge of his cockhead into you just proves you so wrong. Sparks fly across your body like rocks trying to make fire when with every collision of his hips against yours, the base of his cock grinds so deliciously against your sensitive, reddened clit.

One particularly rough slam of his hips has you keening; the soft curls on his base bumping your bundle of nerves in a way that has you keening into him, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him down, closer and closer until you feel so utterly consumed by him in the same way you did that wretched night.

Another sound, one so feral and from the heart is forced out of you when his hips stutter teasingly, a moan so out of place from a voice unused and locked away when your stomach all but tightens when that thrust forces your hole to slacken and his cock to nudge at something so soft and delicate inside your walls. And you shriek like a murdered woman when he laughs so mean and thrusts even meaner.

He continues to thrust, thrust and thrust like some bully to that one little spongy spot, groaning st your little moan-shrieks. Your mouth stretches into a scowl as your teeth mash together in an effort to sweat through the pure pleasure that swarms your head and makes you see dots, only vaguely aware of the slick foam that runs down your thighs. All purely and humilatingly your arousal.

“A-Astarion,” You raspily grit out, locking your bruised knees around his hips and feeling a pleasant soreness bloom amongst yours when he gives you a response by driving in harder, tracing your throat as you throw your head back. “Astarion.”

Smooth fingers trace your neck before running up your cheek, dragging at the chub of it until your lips are apart and no longer are you scowling nor your teeth gnawing. “What?” Astarion murmurs, slurred and drunkenly kissing away the sweat that���s gathered like freshwater rain on your throat.

You open your eyes, blinking away the sting of tears and sweat mingling – and Astarion looks so godsent, romantic with his own teeth gritted and sweat down his arms as he piledrives into you.

You won’t last – you feel it the way your body is twitching with the exhaustion it takes to build up an orgasm, core burning even with the friction of slick inside. Astarion doesn’t need to be told, so very familiar with your body even in its death; so he dutifully lifts a hand from your hip and gently snakes it towards the in-between, towards your warm pussy until he finds your sensitive little button, circling the pulsing bud immediately and fondly laughing when your legs uncoil around his hips, and you shriek, squirming like you’re about to get murdered a second time. Your mind is fucking melting.

“Astarion,” you choke out, again, this time, more desperately, hand flinging out to grip at his wrist between your legs. His thrusting stutters as your voice breaks and your pretty eyes roll behind your head. “Y-you’re gonna fucking kill me, oh—”

“Don’t be a c-coward, darling.” Astarion is breathless, brows furrowing. He’s close too.

You pant.

You’re about to pop at the seams.

Your tongue lolls with every breath that heaves your chest, the ring of your entrance so tight around his cock as your body trembles with every feverish snap of hips and rub of his fingers against your red, abused bundle of nerves. The sound of slick flesh on flesh so obscene, you feel your body trembling as you throw your head back to the undercurrent of an orgasm — so strong it has white flashing hot behind your eyelids and a final, ragged whimper coming from you.

It only takes a few moments for him to catch up, his hips chasing your clenching as he throbs, pulsing once, twice against your walls until he’s spilling into them with his own warmth, contentedly sighing into the crook of your neck whilst you wince and whine lowly with satisfaction.

You both stay there, unmoving, until the warm semen that runs down your thighs turns cold enough that Astarion feels he should move, slipping out your hole and letting his member hit the cold air as he hisses, sensitive. And apparently, you’re rudely startled awake out of your pliancy with the sound, tensing up like you’re about to run again. He notices before you can and kisses you stupid, lips smacking noisily with yours in a way teasing lovers would do so, before pulling away with a grin and setting you still on the bed with the weight of a blanket on you.

“Oh, no, no, none of that tonight.” You try to wrack a hiss out your scratchy throat – but it comes out as a humiliatingly feeble cough. Astarion, endeared, smiles at it and pecks your forehead, bringing the blanket up to your chin by habit as he once used to when you were sleeping in tents, under nights and by fires. “You’re always running away, you little hellion, you.”

He’s tucking you in.

He’s tucking you in.

He’s an asshole, you think. He must be teasing you. With being undead comes the inability to sleep a wink – only being able to go as far as meditation. And by the gods, you do not want to be stuck thinking of how you just let the man you despise drive his cock and seed into you – and how he’ll do it over and over again if it means you’ll stop acting out for a night or two.

Astarion eyes you, giving you a once-over as if to size up if you’d take your chances and run away. You don’t budge, narrowing your heavy eyes at him and blinking blearily, shifting in the sheets, unwilling to admit to yourself how you like the molten warmth you feel when he looks at you attentively, the warmth that runs down your inner thigh and the warmth of the blankets tucked so nicely around you. He smiles again, smoothing a hand over your hair and lowly murmuring something about cleaning you up later at night where you’re more awake and hopefully, preferably not a bat hanging off the ceiling staring at him with beady eyes.

He hums then – reassured, standing up from the bed with a creak and reaching into the drawer beside his bed for a flimsy pair of thin, reading glasses he wears.

“Be good, and stay here, okay?” He lowly coos, like a husband leaving for war wishing his ill wife goodbye, walking towards the old mahogany door and twisting the knob open. You twist your fingers and clench your eyes shut, enraged and fulfilled all the same. “I’ll see you later, I have work to do, sewing your wedding dress and all.”

The door closes, gently, and you turn to bite the pillow and scream into it.

[employee052]

[Narrator Appreciation Hours]

I've been meaning to figure out a way to gush and celebrate all the kinds of Narrator designs that are in the fandom and overall sphere of TSP, so here's my opening for yall to send some of your narrator designs to me for me to draw!

Reblog this post with your Narrator design, and ill do my best to draw them. I wanna give my love to all the lovely designs out there, and gush abt them bc this fandom is so darn creative that i WILL gush abt your design from the hilltops.

I'll do my best to get through all of them, so please be patient, and ill get started on this when i wake up in the morning.

[UPDATE]

CLOSING THIS AT 10PM MST/1AM EST, IF YOU WANT YOUR NARRATOR TO BE DRAWN PLEASE SEND THEM BEFORE THIS TIME BECAUSE AFTER THIS I WONT TAKE ANY MORE NARRATORS

(this has been hella fun, but god ive been drawing all day ksdjhf)

[FINAL UPDATE]

SUBMISSIONS ARE NOW CLOSED, IF YOU SENT ONE RIGHT BEFORE THIS HAS BEEN UPDATED THEN ILL STILL TAKE THEM, BUT ANY OTHER SUBMISSIONS AFTER THIS ARENT GOING TO BE DRAWN (Im so sorry if you missed the timeframe to submit yours in btw, as much as id love to keep this open for as long as possible, my hands are starting to hurt from drawing all day and i miss drawing my guy aksjhd /lh)

[FINALE]

tysm again for all of your submissions! please check the link to the finale for my final words on this whole thing kasjdhaksjhd

[rose-pearls]

Hi there!! If your requests are still open i’d like to make one, btw Im not very good at requesting, so im sorry if this doesn’t make any sense.

Could your possibly write a Clairrise x Hephaestus’s Nb kid reader. Like we’ll make/repair weapons for her, and we weld her flowers with nuts and bolts and cute stuff like that!!

Feel free to skip this request!! Have a good day/night!!!! :D

Hi!! Thank you so much for your request, it was so cute and I loved the fact that it was a reader from another cabin then the Aphrodite cabin! I hope you like it and that it is what you wanted! My requests are open for every fandom I write for!

Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989

Percy Jackson Taglist: @niktwazny303

Clarisse La Rue Taglist: @peanutbelley, @abbersreads

Non-binary reader, if there is a mistake somewhere please tell me and I'll fix it! I am always open for feedback :))

When you started dating Clarisse a lot of people were surprised, it wasn’t often that a child of Hephaestus and a child of Ares got along, let alone date each other. But it had just made sense when you had met her during your first day of camp. You had tried to find what you were good at, with the help of Luke, and as you were trying to figure out how to use the spear he had given you a beautiful girl had arrived.

“Why don’t you let the expert teach them, Castellan?”, the brown-haired girl says with a confident smirk, making you blush. Luke had just rolled his eyes at the words before telling you that he would get you at the end of the hour to try something new.

“Now, you should watch your grip when you wield it,” she says before starting to show you how to adjust your hands, making your skin tingle at the touch.

It wasn’t until later that you realized why so many people had been watching the two of you, Clarisse wasn’t really the type to help someone out or to be patient with anyone. When your father claimed you after two days of being at camp the whole camp had been waiting with anticipation how Clarisse would be reacting to the news, after all she was a proud daughter of Ares.

“I don’t care about who your father is and what beef he has with mine, Ares always has beef with everyone. So, what do you say of ignoring who our parents are and just moving along?”, Clarisse had seemed unaffected, but she had been preparing the speech in her head since last night, when one of her siblings had told her who your parent was. She was hoping that Ares wouldn’t ruin this for her either, she only knew you for three days, but you were someone she cared about, whether she liked it or not.

“I would love that,” you had told her and after that the two of you had stayed close friends, much to everyone’s shock and your sibling’s dismay. 

Getting together with Clarisse had been the most difficult part, she didn’t see love as something good or worthwhile. She had seen her mother getting into depressive episodes after Ares left her to raise Clarisse alone and she didn’t want to ever experience that, let alone be that cause of someone’s pain. It had taken you a while to try and convince her that you could be something more than just friends and that love was something incredible to experience. 

“I just don’t want to hurt you or lose you, it would hurt far too much,” she had told you once, when the laughter of the campers could be heard from far away.

“Wouldn’t it hurt more to know that we could have been something but that we just didn’t try? I know that we are demi-gods and that we could die any day but I don’t want to die and regret not having had a chance to spent every single day with you and showing you how much I love you,” there were tears in her eyes at your words, and you could see the conflict in her eyes before she brought you into a soft kiss, as if she was scared she could break you.

“You’re right,” she had whispered before bringing you back into a kiss, this time more fervent as she showed you just how much she loved you.

It had been two years since then and you couldn’t be happier, watching Clarisse spar with her siblings and preparing for Capture the flag while you made some flowers out of a few things you had found around your working area. 

“That for me?”, you hear behind you before your feel a soft kiss on your cheek.

“It is,” you tell Clarisse as she sits next to you, watching the intricately woven nuts and bolts you had found around.

“I love it, thank you,” she tells you before bringing you into a kiss.

“I’ll add it to my collection,” she says with a bright smile, already trying to figure out where she was going to put it.

“I’ll see you after capture the flag?”, you ask her, and she nods in agreement as a pout forms on her lips.

“I can’t believe you aren’t going to be playing capture the flag today,” you smile softly at her words before taking her hand in yours.

“Well, I need to teach every single thing I know to my new sibling but next time I’ll be there,” you promise her and enjoy the satisfied smile on Clarisse lips.

“Fine, but I need a good luck kiss first,” she whispers, and you quickly do as she requests, smiling as she deepens the kiss.

“See you later sunshine!”, she tells you before joining her siblings, making you smile as you watch her putting on her armour. 

It was just an hour later when you heard the door of your cabin slam open, your new sibling looking scared at the sound, as if he was expecting a monster to come in. But it was Clarisse, tears in her eyes and a broken spear in her hands. 

“Why don’t you go to your station and work a little bit on the things I taught you?”, you quickly ask your sibling, who quickly scurries out of the room. 

“Clarisse?”, you whisper as you look at her trembling form, she looks like she is desperately holding back her tears but as you carefully put your hand on hers, she breaks down.

The tears are falling down her cheeks as you bring her into a comforting hug, holding her close as she holds on to you for dear life.

“What happened?”, you ask her softly, hoping not to make her cry even more at your words.

“That new kid, he broke my spear,” she whispers, and a sob leaves her lips at the words, making you hold her tightly. 

“Gods, I’m so sorry Clarise, I know how much it meant to you,” you whisper in her hair, wishing you could go back in time and save it.

“It was the only thing he ever gave me, to show me he cared and now it is gone,” she says, tears falling into your t-shirt, but you don’t care as you try to calm her down.

It takes a moment to calm her down, stroking her hair and letting her talk it all out. You know better than to say it was going to be okay, she had just lost something incredibly valuable to her and you didn’t know what to do. 

“I can try to fix it,” you whisper softly, and it takes a few seconds before she moves her head to look at you, teary eyes looking into yours.

“You can?”, she whispers, hope appearing into her eyes, and you smile lovingly at her.

“I can try, I can’t promise anything about it still being able to burn someone, but it can be repaired. Nothing is too broken to be fixed,” you tell her, and she takes a deep breath, like she is trying to get herself back together.

“If you can do that, I think that I will marry you,” she says with an emotional smile, and you laugh softly at her words.

“Common let’s see what we can do,” you whisper before taking her hand and bringing her to your station. 

It takes time to put it back together, as the metal had been broken by Percy’s sword but after finding the right metal to fix it you manage to bring the two pieces back together.

“And there we go, nearly as good as before,” you tell her as she looks over the spear, watching how it was once again a whole spear and not two broken parts.

“Thank you,” she whispers with concealed tears in her eyes, but you just shrug your shoulders.

“It was my pleasure, now I can watch you train with it again,” you tell her, and she looks excited at the words, she kisses you lovingly on the lips before dragging you to the training ground, an excited smile on her lips. 

[eldrith]

omg heyyyyy guys!!! <3 tldr for those of you who aren't the stupid cunt still spewing shit in inboxes: thanks for being kind & supportive and fucking normal. appreciate you beyond words, genuinely. my inbox is always open to you.

but to whom it may concern,

i am so fucking serious when i say that you, anon, need to grow up and start talking to real life humans for once in your life.

this isn't a joke. i'm so so so fucking embarrassed for this imbecile who stalks mutuals and any writer or account with decency in this fandom. you're so embarrassing. you are so clearly out of touch, there is something so clearly wrong in your tiny little pebble brain. it's a miracle you can even type words onto a screen because you're so inconceivably obtuse. (btw, you may need to reel in the extent of your lexicon - if you know what that is - for some of the things im about to say)

not only are you so impossibly, functionally incapable when it comes to media literacy - sorry, literacy at all - but you actively seek out to make incorrect points and its so troublesome... you need to learn context, subtext, implicit bias, nuance - honestly, grab a dictionary and look up what the term 'critical thinking' means too. you are SEVERELY lacking. you are deficient in communication and even worse with inference. i could laugh, and i have before.

despite the fact that this is all fictional - the truth is that we are all just people on here who enjoy writing or maybe enjoy a character from a fictional show that isn't even about romance in the first place.

anyways, i digress: the truth is that every single one of my friends on here has gotten this person's weird fucking obsessive comments in their inbox and as pathetic as this person is, i will say this directly to them: you treat writers or other blogs like some sort of sad therapy and you're being embarrassing.

i'm embarrassed when i see the cringey, out of touch shit you say. you act like a minor. i genuinely think you are one. you act like someone who has never had a personal relationship, let alone conversation. i don't think you've had an emotional connection ever. you act like a fucking baby who just crawled out of a sewer to see light for the first time in your life. it's so fucking sad. i would never care enough to say i feel bad for you, but i feel bad for anyone who has ever interacted with you, myself included.

it's so astounding to have to say this, but: WRITERS AND BLOGGERS ARE NOT YOUR FUCKING THERAPISTS. WE ARE NOT A HOTLINE FOR YOU. here, you’re so stupid you probably didn’t catch that: WE ARE NOT YOUR FUCKING THERAPISTS. YOU ARE BEING A FUCKING CHILD.

i beg you - i implore you to fucking block me, to block all of my mutuals who you come to whining in their inboxes, because NONE OF US FUCKING CARE what you have to say. pick up a book. talk to a man irl. ask someone how their day is and try to use empathy for once.

anyways, i love every single person on here who takes the time to be kind, or funny, or care. i love all my writers, all of my friends on here, moots or not - sorry to say this but im tired of pretending that i'm nice to childish pathetic cunts. lol

[weeb-polls-with-pip]

Autistic Anime Boys Prelims - Propaganda Division - Group 2

Propaganda:

Kyouya -

"what's there to say? you know him. you love him. vote kyoya."

Rinnosuke -

"Rinnosuke Morichika lives in an overly-cluttered curio shop, and has a special interest in making magical inventions. Since he doesn’t live in a modern setting— but a pocket dimension slightly disconnected to the outside world— whenever a modern item shows up in his shop via spiriting away, he can obsess over it for extended periods of time. He is quite blunt without realizing it, even to people he cares for. He also has a special ability to generally understand the name and use of any item he touches (though this backfires sometimes, he thought a Gameboy was a doomsday device once)."

Fuuta -

"okay look theres so many fucking signs hes autistic. he cannot tell tone and often doesn't know how to react to stuff which is a major point in his character id say. he was asked if he remembered his victim's name (hes a murderer. oops!) and his response was something along the lines of "Of course I do. I saw it everywhere." because he did not understand that they wanted to know what it was since it wasnt directly stated. im convinced that hoodies are a comfort object of his because i genuinely have not seen him without one except for one time. also hes canonically a chronically online twitter user. also he gets really passionate about his interests. also not really related but everyone in the fandom agrees hes transgender but no one can agree on what way. ive seen every single gender hc for this dude. vote kajiyama fuuta for this sopping wet poor little meow meow of a man."

Hansum -

"He's just a very odd and strange lad, can't remember names well, is an alien (mild spoiler), he's very popular, obsessed with Doritos and becomes their mascot, just refers to everyone as humans which is a mood, and is completely socially oblivious."

Miyuki -

"Relatable neurodivergent-Gifted Child syndromeTM case with all the superiority-inferiority complex that results. A chronic show-off and scheming strategist with a lowkey hopeless romantic dramatic aspect to him, silly cool and pathetic in a very hilarious way. Shirogane has a trademark glare purely thanks to his eyebags as he runs on coffee everyday having to support his family with multiple jobs in addition to class, on top of student council president duties. He's kind and an obsessive perfectionist who fills his entire wall with the weirdest motivational posters. Shirogane is very devoted to his love. He likes penguins (Kaguya and him is peak asd4asd and bi4bi btw)."

Kirito -

"He's autistic and bisexual as hell, and there's a good bit of trans coding in him 🥺

Autism coding: Bro's literally got a sword and swordfighting hyperfixation where, despite playing a game that focuses around guns, he still chooses to use a sword!! We also see him completely missing Asuna's flirting at first (he tells her she could have just checked her friendlist to make sure he was alive, in response to her tracking him down to see him)

Bi coding: Dual wielding swords is literally a euphemism in Japan for bisexuality; and Kirito initially tries to hide the fact he can dual wield out of fear of how the people he's close to will view him (and once he reveals it to them and they accept it, he begins to be more open about it.) Also in the Underworld arc he becomes very close with Eugeo to the point of living with him (and sharing a bed on occasion), and there are several parallels between Eugeo and Asuna, and they're so gay for each other that despite the anime having only a toned down version of it, they're still very affectionate (Also of note is that Eugeo is the only guy in SAO canon to consistently have a 'laying in bed with Kirito' talk CG in the spinoff games) (There's more but it's spoilers and this is a shortened version)

Trans coding: Kirito is very trans coded in the light novel (which shows Kirito's thoughts in much greater detail than the anime) Aincrad arc reveals that Kirito explicitly Does Not Like his real face, and dislikes how feminine it looks (he mentions that its led to him and his cousin being mistaken for sisters) And in Phantom Bullet arc, he's visibly uncomfortable at being mistaken for a girl due to his avatar's appearance, and in response to being misgendered he briefly panics and checks to make sure his chest flat (at least in the anime adaptation) 🏳️‍⚧️"

Shirou -

"Has one goal in life and ignores almost everything in favor of trying to fulfil that goal."

Keith -

"Speaks in a way that is seen as weird and has mannerisms others think is funny. He struggles with not being taken seriously by others because of this and many of the things others say goes over his head. He struggles to connect with other people because of these things. His entire arc in the second film is about him deciding that the people who don't accept him for who he is aren't worth it and that he's going to continue being himself."

Junpei -

"for other fans of this series, I know the more obvious representation here may be Luou, Junpei is So Good. his special interest is ballet and he has so many hangups involving how his family sees him and how other boys his age interpret him to the point that his idea of masculinity is extremely narrow and he enforces social rules on himself to mask and keep people from realizing that he loves something that Isn't Manly. he misinterprets social cues and takes things literally, like assuming that when Miyako asked him to dance with her she meant Right This Minute rather than as a pair in the studio. for some reason the point where he cuts his hair super short to prove his devotion to ballet is also sticking with me, I think maybe it's the combination of the way it's normal for boys/men in Japan to do that, yet Junpei didn't realize that kind of attitude/action didn't suit ballet at all? he wasn't aware that the context was completely different. Junpei also doesn't act or pretend very well, he's gotta put his whole entire ass into his roles, which he then proceeds to get TOO into and cause a lot of trouble, without giving too much away! he's really relatable to me as someone who's socially anxious but very skilled at masking, and seeing him become more comfortable with himself and start to show how he really feels is so inspiring to me."

Kazuma -

"He may be (wildly) misguided but his intentions are good kinda! He’s just the Guy of all time idk how to explain it."

[albertdabuttler]

Another Nightmare? | M.O.

MASTERLIST

fandom: Marvel

pairings: Miguel O’Hara x Latina!F!Reader

WARNINGS: Just imagine yourself as a puerto rican ig because we come in all colors ;) kissing, smut :3 boobie touching LOL, biting, blood consumption cuz im insane :D, oral (f), fingering, size kink (?) p in v, breeding kink ig, his talons clawing into you xx, cockwarming… miguel isn’t an unrealistically animalistic airhead in this (ahem like most fics i read ahem) BUT he’s still rough in a gentle way and in control obvi ;^ i think that’s it 🤨 oh and i proofread this like once lmao READER IS A SPIDER-PERSON BTW

summary: Miguel had a dream about you.

WC: 3.1k

gif not mine, enjoy losers!

———————

You woke up to the sound of the bedroom door opening, watching as Miguel walked through it. Turning over and checking the time, you realized it was almost two in the morning and you wondered what had woken Miguel up this late.

As you walked down the hall to the kitchen, you saw Miguel standing before the fridge, inspecting it’s contents.

“Migs, you alright?” You questioned, moving closer to him. He instinctively twitched and you knew something had to be wrong if he didn’t want you near him.

“I’m fine.” He spoke quietly, keeping his gaze somewhere in the fridge before he took the bottle of passion fruit juice you had sitting in there.

“Qué pasó?” You frowned. “Did…Did you have another nightmare…?”

“No…” He sighed. “Just can’t sleep.” He opened the bottle and took a gulp straight from it before bringing it back down and putting it away.

“I see…” You chewed the inside of your cheek nervously, turning back around to go back to bed. “I’ll… See you tomorrow.” Walking back to your room, you thought this might be a night where he’d sleep on the couch again, depriving you of his warm touch. You hated those nights and although you’d never gotten intimate with Miguel, you couldn’t help but feel hollow. His presence and weight on the mattress was the only thing helping you drift off.

“Hey…” He called out to you softly as you pushed the door of your room open.

“Hm?” You looked back at him, unable to hide your frown.

“It’s not about you…” He adverted his eyes to the side before bringing a hand up to cover his face. “Well…” He couldn’t help but chuckle from embarrassment. “It is about you…”

Miguel peeked at you through his fingers, “I’m just…” He sighed heavily.

Turning your body to face him, you scanned him for no reason in particular. Your eyes landed on his again with a look of concern before you did a double take and glanced at his crotch, noticing a subtle bulge. You couldn’t help the blood rush making it’s way to your face.

He noticed this and dragged both hands down his face before running them through his hair with a sigh.

“I had a dream about you. About us…” he looked elsewhere again.

Swallowing hard, you felt jittery all of a sudden. “What happened…?” You couldn’t help but bite back a smile.

“We…” He scoffed at himself. “I…” he hid a smile too. “We bred.” That was the best and simplest way to describe it.

You looked at him confused for a moment before processing what he said.

“We got married… We had kids… Then we wanted more.” He looked up at you, his lopsided smile more prominent.

It wasn’t that you guys weren’t ready to do any of that, trust him. He was just as ready as you were. But he didn’t have time. Neither of you did. You were back in your dimension being the Spider-Girl you were supposed to be, and he was everywhere else, keeping the multiverse from falling apart. You both thought of the risks of being together, until you realized it was nearly harmless. As long as what you did with him as your boyfriend didn’t get in the way of canon events, it would be alright. Because for fuck’s sake, he had thousands of other spider-people in his universe for crying out loud.

Miguel walked over to you. “You were amazing. So beautiful...” He smiled tiredly, reaching to place a hand on your cheek as he kissed the other.

“So sweet…” Moving his hand down to the side of your neck, he placed another kiss on that side of your face before bringing his lips just below your ear. He planted a lingering kiss there before he whispered in a husky voice.

“So flexible.” He moved his face away, smiling and keeping his gaze on your lips. “I need you.” He whispered. “I’ve needed you for so long…” He chuckled again. “Can’t even sleep because of it.”

You licked your lips, keeping your eyes on his. “Me too…”

His gaze moved to your eyes, pleading silently. “Can we…?” You knew what he was referring to. Not a second went by before you nodded, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him into the bedroom.

“Ay,” he chuckled at your excitement, allowing himself be dragged by you. Letting yourself fall backwards onto the mattress, you pulled him down with you, catching his lips in a kiss. He sighed into it, resting his elbow beside your head as his other hand moved down to squeeze your waist.

“Miguel…” You kept your eyes on his lips, dragging a hand down his chest as you pulled at the hem.

“Qué necesitas, mi amor, hmm? Tell me.” He breathed, allowing you to pull his shirt off over his head.

Releasing a low moan at the sight of his bare chest, he giggled at the sound, diving in to kiss your neck and dragging his hand up and down your thigh.

“Tell me.” He spoke again.

“You. I need you…” You spoke just above a whisper, digging your nails into his shoulder at the lack of satisfaction.

He chuckled. “Be more specific.” He slipped his tongue out and dragged it across your jugular, threatening to bite but holding back so not to hurt you.

“Fuck… Just—make me feel good…” You paused, thinking about what he told you of his dream. Leaning your head a bit, you whispered into his ear. “Breed me.”

Miguel chuckled, nuzzling his face into your neck as he blushed. “…Don’t tease…” He questioned if you were poking fun at him or not. He pulled back to look at you once more. His eyes scanned your features and he knew you were serious. Your face told him everything.

He glanced at your lips again before moving down and kissing you desperately, a low groan coming from him. It was now that you began to feel his hard-on against your thigh. He began grinding slowly as his mouth pried yours open, slipping his tongue past your lips. You let out a quiet moan and moved a hand to the back of his head, guiding his mouth against yours. His tongue overpowered yours with no effort, pulling away just barely enough to tug at your bottom lip with his teeth. He let go as it smacked back into place, making his breath shake.

He swallowed a lump in his throat as he lowered himself again, kissing your throat and dragging his tongue down to your collar bone.

“Take this off.” He spoke softly but you knew he wasn’t asking. You quickly pulled up your shirt, slipping it over and off your head as he stared down at you, admiring your bare body for the first time.

A long enough moment passed and you began feeling insecure, moving your arms across your chest and looking to the side.

“Say something…” you requested, feeling embarrassed. You thought he might not like it, maybe he didn’t like the shape of your torso? Maybe he didn’t think it fit your face…?

He blinked. “Mi amor…” He placed a hand on your arms. Miguel took his bottom lip into his mouth, biting it subconsciously. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

You chuckled with a muddled expression. “I am?”

He only whined, “Let me look at you.” He spoke, softly tugging at your arms and you reluctantly pulled them away, leaving you exposed. He traced every inch of you with his hand before he brought it to your breast, gently kneading it in his hand as he watched the soft flesh move under his fingers.

“So pretty.” He sighed, lowering his head to the other one, keeping his eyes on your face as he wrapped his lips around your nipple, swirling his tongue around it cautiously.

“Miguel,” you moaned his name softly, making him perk up at the way it sounded.

“Yes?” He smiled cheekily as he kissed the side of your breast, leaving a hickey.

You couldn’t get the words out and only sighed, looking at him with a pleading expression.

“Por supuesto.” He smiled, kissing down your ribs and below your belly, stopping at the hem of your pajama shorts. He hooked a finger onto it, pulling it down along with your panties, wanting to get it all off at once.

His hands gripped at the outer sides of your thighs, holding them apart. He licked your thigh before kissing it gently, smirking at your reactions.

His fangs poked out and he pulled away, confused at his lack of control with them all of a sudden. You propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him. “What happened?”

“Nothing…” He tried retracting them but it was of no use.

You noticed this and bit your lip. “Bite me.”

“What?” He looked up at you.

“Bite me, Miggy…”

He hesitated for a moment before smiling, dragging the two sharp teeth across the skin of your legs. “You sure?” He needed reassurance.

Nodding vigorously, he planted another kiss. His fangs poked lightly at your skin, almost tickling you until he bit down harshly, sinking his teeth into your thigh.

You let out a groan at the pain, bringing your legs together but he held them apart. He pulled his teeth out and sucked the blood left behind, lapping at the flow of the red liquid. He began kissing closer and closer to your lips, teasing you as much as he could before he dove in, licking a stripe up your slit and wrapping his lips around your clit.

Moaning quietly, he began sucking on the sensitive nub, bringing his free hand and slowly pushing in his index finger. You arched your back and threw your head back, making Miguel stop. He kept his still finger inside you as he spoke.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he urged in a low voice, not aggressively but enough that you knew he wouldn’t let you finish if you didn’t. You brought your head up to look at him again.

He brought his mouth back down to your pussy, beginning to move his finger in and out of you slowly. He had long, thick fingers, making you wonder how big his dick was.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath, closing your eyes for a moment but remembering to look at Miguel.

He smiled against your clit, pushing in yet another finger. He forced them both further this time, curling them up into your g-spot as you arched your back. His eyes stayed on yours as he held the flat of his tongue against your clit. His digits thrusted into you at a slightly quicker pace, making a crease form in between your eyebrows, your lips parting.

“Feel good?” He asked politely, the vibrations of his voice sending a shiver up your spine. You nodded. “Yes, Miguel, please don’t stop…”

He sighed, pulling his fingers out and his lips popping off your nerve.

“Sorry, mi amor… Want you cumming while I’m inside you.” He felt bad for pulling your orgasm out of your grasp. You frowned too, that was until he stood up, displaying a super obvious bulge. It looked like there was a literal log stuffed in his pants, perpendicular to his body.

You stared at it, your legs instinctively spreading on their own. Miguel smiled softly. “Do you wanna help me, or…?”

Quickly sitting up, you reached for his sweatpants and pulled on the string, loosening them and desperately pulling them down. He stood in his boxers now, allowing nearly nothing to remain for the imagination. Your fingers traced his V-line, causing him to huff out a breath.

“I thought I told you not to tease…” he sighed, watching your hands closely. Hooking your fingers on his boxers, you finally pulled them down, leaving his erection on full display. It was nearly red, clearly it’s been untouched by anyone but his own right hand for a long time.

You couldn’t help but trace a finger along a vein on the side, making him moan quietly. “Please, mi amor.” he chuckled. “Don’t be like this…”

Your hand wrapped around him, spreading the precum on his tip with your thumb. He grabbed your shoulder, grinding into your hand, desperate for release.

Letting go, you laid back down, spreading your legs for him and smiling, reaching your arms out to him. “C’mere,” you giggled, excited to feel him inside you already. He smiled and leaned down, hovering over you. You paused.

“Wait…” you bit your lip nervously. He leaned back to look at you, a look of concern all over his face. “Qué pasó, princesa?”

“Can we try something…?”

His head tilted to the side, a small smirk on his lips. “Like what?”

“I think about taking you in every position, night and day… But I always tend to think of taking you from behind…”

Miguel’s face was red, the blush reaching his ears. His heart raced at the confession, although he thought about giving it to you in more ways than one. He bit his lip and smiled. “Of course, mami.”

You bit back a smile and quickly flipped yourself over. Miguel pulled your hips back harshly, making you yelp. He chuckled at your reaction, taking himself in his hand and slowly stroking himself, keeping a firm grip on your hip. He lined his tip up with your pussy, shuddering at your wetness against him. He teased you, moving it up and down your slit and smiling, waiting for your sweet voice to tell him to just fuck you already.

“Ay coño, Miguel!” You scolded. He laughed softly before pushing in slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you so quickly. As he bottomed out, you felt your body relax, your back arching at a sharp angle as your chest rested on the mattress, your arms wrapped around a pillow as you sighed.

“See?” You could hear the smile in his voice. “Flexible.”

You playfully rolled your eyes before he pulled out slowly, pushing himself back in with the same gentleness and drawing out a soft moan from him. “Is this okay, baby?” He needed your approval before he could pick up his pace.

“Sí, Miguelito. Love how you feel inside me…” you whined at his girth stretching you out.

He took that as a sign that he could continue, his hips pulling back before he pushed back into you, repeating this movement until he was moving at an easy rhythm.

He sighed, “So tight, fuck…”

You only hummed in response, stuffing your face into the pillow, his movements rocking you back and forth. You felt the weight of his hand next to your arm as his other snaked around your waist, keeping you steady with his thrusts getting harder.

You groaned, biting your wrist so to suppress it before you heard him speak. “I like your voice, princesa. Don’t be afraid to use it.” He smiled, kissing behind your ear. The hand on your belly moved lower, finding your clit and putting pressure on it, rubbing it in tight circles.

You clenched around him at the feeling, causing him to groan quietly into your ear.

“Miggy—“ you choked out his name. “I’m gonna cum…” you informed him. He kept his pace the same, hoping to get you off on his movements.

“F—Faster,” you choked out, “deeper…” you whined again, his movements making you more and more sensitive the longer he went on. You knew he wasn’t all the way in, because although he bottomed out, you barely felt his hips brushing against your ass. He wasn’t pressed up against you.

“Fuck,” he sighed. You moved your knees further apart and he was able to push himself further into you, making you cry out a sob as your eyes watered at his size. He pulled back, the warmth of his chest against your back leaving you as his pelvis began hitting against your ass, making his breaths heavier.

“I’m gonna cum too,” he groaned. You clenched around him once more, feeling your orgasm getting closer and closer. He started moaning with each thrust, throwing his head back as his hands groped your ass harshly.

“Miguel—“ you were able to choke his name out before your walls stuttered around him, your vision getting blurry as you finally came. Miguel felt your liquids around him, dripping out of you and flowing down your thighs, his cock being coated with them every time he pulled out.

He continued moving inside you, helping you ride out your orgasm as you tightened around him, making him whine loudly. “Princesa,” he moaned, “can I cum—fuck—inside you?” He grunted, subconsciously speeding up his pace.

“Yes, Migs… Breed me…Please.” You begged, your cunt growing sore already.

Miguel grunted, his thrusts coming to a sudden halt as he leaned back down, ropes of his cum pumping inside you. His talons protracted into your hips with his orgasm, moaning quietly against your shoulder and kissing it as he ground into you, his breaths hitching.

He finally relaxed behind you, softening inside you as he felt the mess of yours and his cum flowing down your legs and inevitably onto the sheets. He kissed the side of your neck gently before whispering. “That was fucking amazing.” He smiled against your skin. “Yeah…” you agreed, trying to ignore his claws digging into your skin.

You hissed and he noticed something wet at the tips of his fingers, panicking and immediately pulling his claws out of you, he began apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry, princesa—” He leaned back down and kissed the top of your head. “I didn’t mean to do that… I’m sorry…” He frowned, realizing how much he’s hurt you within the first time he’s had sex with you.

“It’s okay, papito… I liked it…” you held back a wince, not wanting him to feel bad about anything he’s done because although it hurt, it turned you on. “Oh?” He raised an eyebrow and pulled out of you, making you sigh at the empty feeling. “I’ll be sure to do it again…” He went to get a warm wet towel and cleaned you up, dabbing softly at the bite mark on your leg that you completely forgot was there.

It began to sting as you recalled it and you hissed, making Miguel look up at you and pull away from the small wound. “Sorry.” He made a face. You could only smile at his carefulness. “It’s okay, handsome.” You grabbed his face and he smiled with surprise.

“Handsome?” He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lips. “I’d like to get used to that…” Miguel smiled against your mouth. Pulling away again, he cleaned himself up and did his best to reverse the mess you left on the sheets. After he rinsed the towel out and put it in the laundry bin, he came back to bed and picked up his clothes along with yours.

“We’re not putting those back on, are we?”

He only smirked. “Why?”

“Just get in here, dummy.” You giggled, lifting the sheets for him to get in next to you. He didn’t hesitate for a second and dropped the clothes, climbing in under the covers with you. You placed a kiss on his chin and turned around to spoon with him. Miguel kissed your temple and sighed contently.

You nuzzled your ass against him as he raised an eyebrow. “Another round already?”

“I just like you inside me…” you whispered. “Feels empty without you.” You confessed.

He smiled warmly, grabbing a hold of himself, feeling himself hardening again already. He lifted your leg up and guided himself into you, sighing at your warmth. “I like being inside you too.”

You ground back on him, making him groan.

“You’re such a tease.”

———————

Thx for reading xoxo

[yrobdtsrv-rei]

tbh i just dont want the dsmp to be remembered in infamy for being just a server who had criminals on there. it was so much more than just a minecraft server to me, and if it means that im the only dsmp fan lying around, so be it. i like the lore. i LOVE the characters.

i dont care if some of the cc's are assholes/just vile people, im fully separating the characters from em, because, y'know what? the characters aren't the cc's, they're fictional.

i think im gonna plan a lil project, yknow, just to send a "farewell", well, not for me, im still gonna be here lmao, but to the people who're leaving/left the fandom permanently.

to make the memory of the server not tainted by whoever was exposed for doing something vile, to make the memory of the server alive.

it's to make it less bittersweet, and more happy. im happy you were here, im happy you had those memories here. don't be sad or frustrated because it's over or some shitty cc's, be happy because it happened at all. be happy for all the experiences you had in this community.

that server was purely driven by fanworks, you made that server happen, you were apart of its success, you made that little song a whole symphony. and i wish you well on your future :)

-

also, kindly fuck off if you'd like to hate on dsmp or mcyt in general because of creeps, this server wasn't only here because of them, it was the fanbase, the songs, the animations, the art, the fanfiction.

there was a story here, tons of lore throughout hundreds of hours of livestreams on twitch. a story about war, about broken friendships, about nations falling them rising back up and then falling again, about a man wanting control, about a child soldier, about an anarchist, about so, so many things.

so many former fans that have a superiority complex where they deem themselves "better" than people who left later or are still here just because they left. you arent better than any of them, you need to learn that. you just left earlier, you cant just call yourself better than any of them.

im so sick of hearing those fucking jokes with minecraft or dsmp youtubers as the punchline, this is why so many dsmp cc's distance themselves from it. not every minecraft youtuber is a terrible person, what about grian? what about tommy? what about joel? what about scar? what about lizzie? what about tubbo? are they all just bad people apparently because they're minecraft youtubers and/or associated with the dsmp or other servers? no, they arent.

have a more open mind.

WS supporters and dream team stans also kindly go fuck off (support victims btw). i support shelby, alice, niki, lexie, caiti, andi, and freddie, get out of my page, this isnt a safe space for you. get off, go on.

-

just be happy you were here in this beautiful community to begin with :D

anyway, on a lighter note

here's a lil info about my lil project: everyones gonna have new designs / outfits for it !! :D / its an animatic thing lol

(im a lil excited abt it buttt im keeping it under wraps lol)

have a wonderful day :)

[hdra77]

Ok since this blog is kinda getting alot of attention i'll just make a pinned post about a little bit of myself

---- interested in commissioning me? my art commission page can be found here! i accept payment through ko-fi or paypal! feel free to dm to inquire or if you have questions! :D

!! DISCLAIMER !!

Btw please read this before following my blog!! There would be gore,body horror,dark themes and even some suggestive themes Sometimes but overall i do not post any explicit nsfw here !! (they can be filtered through tags but just putting this here as a heads up)

tags are usually: #cw body horror, #tw body horror #cw gore, #tw gore, #cw suggestive, #tw suggestive

Heyy! i'm Soren!

He/Him

You can call me zarou or dra

I am bilingual but im more comfortable speaking in english (still bad at it actually)

i really like cybercore,webcore,warcore aesthetic it may not look like it right now but expect a whole bunch of techcore designs soon

Oh and i am also a huge fan of astronomy,space and all of that sort. Along with post apocalyptic settings,body horror elements and eldritch beings.

Using my art as PFPs/Banners is okay! As long as you give proper credit! But reuploading my works without my permission or claiming them as your own is NOT okay. I will find you and i will hunt you down and turn you into a helpless flopping fish gasping for air.

Inspirations is ok too!! But please do not directly copy from the original work.

Commissions: open

Art trades: friends/mutuals only

my DNI are basically the general DNI: proshippers,homophobes,etc. you know, the general

my interest varies but i currently hyperfixtate on these fandoms so far:

Rainworld

Nine Sols

Marikinonline4

Animator vs Animation/Animation vs Minecraft

Warrior cats

My dms here are also open so feel free to send me a message! (No weird dms or you get instant block)

Im busy and i dont check discord as frequently but i would be happy to talk to you! I would also be glad to make friends im not intimidating i promise i dont bite totally-

My ask box are always open! Ask me anything basically, my aus, ocs, pretty much anything. You can also send some requests but they will take a gajillion years to finish but i promise ill get them done soon!

My socials:

Twitter - HINDRANCE77 (!! page contains some suggestive themes !!)

Youtube - HINDRANCE77

Tumblr - hdra77 (you are literally here right now)

Ko-fi - HINDRANCE77

My tags:

#hdra7shitposts - yes, shitposts

#fishdoesart - all my art comes here

#fishdoesdoodles - random doodles and some occasional shitposting, mostly on ms paint

#fishdoesrequests - all my art requests comes here, so far this is where you find my ship requests (still open for now btw)

#wips - wips

#fishbites.txt - ramblings

#othersart - gifts/fanarts! Sometimes some reblogs

#asks - all of my responses comes here

My other blogs:

@nyaworld-askblog - for the nyaworld au! this blog is story driven but asks for specific characters are always welcome!

@fallowclans-unruly-demise - for a warrior cats clangen blog, still stuck in hiatus void

My Rainworld AU tags:

#rw voided au - simple AU about iterators called voideds who drains void fluids out of other iterators, theres also some rot infection going on too

#rw disarray au/SYSTEM FAILURE - a virus in Lttm's code had created a fatal error in her system which caused her to slowly spiral into insanity as she would slowly loosen her grip onto reality, claiming that she had found the solution to their problem..but was it really the answer all along?

#rw nyaworld au - joke au about the entire rainworld cast taking place in the 2000's this one is purely just for nostalgia purposes

#into the sigverse - technically considered an au. this is just a silly little askblog about different versions of NSH interacting because for some reason they can now magically interact with different alternate universe versions of themselves. ocs being used to interact is allowed to!! anyone can use this tag however they please you don't have to send me asks to be a part of the sigverse

My Rainworld Oc tags:

#Sector7c - official oc local group tag!

#7c dystopian arbitrary

#7c golden life

#rw ocs

#ocs

-- still WIP --

[duckieduccss]

NEW KAIJU OC?!?!

Well, yea technically. Basically i was interested in figuring out how id go with making my own kaiju. At first i wasnt sure where to go for designing one. So i chose to base it off another existing kaiju for inspiration. I kinda wanted to go for a dragon type kaiju (i like dragons) and the only thing i could think of was Ghidorah so i went with that (now that i think about it more, I could’ve maybe used Manda too prob but oh well, Ghidorah was still a good option). I added some different details to mine that make it unique to the og Ghidorah

My idea was that it could potentially be a relative to Ghidorah (being of the same species) but still far apart from one another to the point they arent all that aware of the other existing (theyre in for a shock when & if they do encounter each other lol). This version actually relies on cosmic energy derived from such sources like stars & generally anything that produce some form of energy within the vast universe (basing it off how Ghidorah themselves originally came from space & this variant being much more dependent on that factor). It stores that energy & relatively stays in a dormant stage for an extended period of time until when faced with the challenge to defend itself or fight off those it deems as a danger. Then it would release all that ginormous amount of space energy that manifests itself as a rapidly expanding glow of extremely bright light. Enough to cause extreme damage & bring down the opposition. It can gather energy by using special crystals it can grow (took that also as inspiration but from Space Godzilla) & become as some form of attracting & absorbing the energy. In a way, the energy is like its main source of food & energy to maintain itself (right after releasing a lot of it during its final attack of using that glow, it would be put in a highly vulnerable state if not recovered by regaining some energy back soon enough). For the most part, they mostly sleep (being lazy 24/7 just like me fr lmao) to keep all that energy but can be potentially dangerous if disturbed or provoked in some manner

(Here’s a better closer look at their faces. Realized the canvas’ too big to properly see each of them-)

The name of this kaiju you may be wondering???

It’s Ryudorah

(Yea i know im the most creative person out there. I combined another nickname i use for myself and just added the end part of Ghidorah’s name to make it clear it’s related to the other kaiju. I couldn’t think of anything else im sorry😭)

And also each head has its own individual name:

Do, Re & Mi

(Named after intervals in the musical scale (ex: Do, Re, Mi, Fa, So, La, Ti, Do)

Did i mention this kaiju can also technically sing too :)

I did have a lot of fun with coming up with the concept for them (tho it honestly took longer in designing them due to a busy schedule ive been put in as of late & finding the time to finish it) but im glad to finally be able to share this with you all. Hopefully I can share more about them soon (i have a whole google doc’s worth of lore lmao) & probably draw them again (tho maybe a lot more simplified by then). Didn’t wanna overwhelm ppl with the huge amount of info so I’ll prob slowly reveal more over time.

[Another thing too is that i still am new to the fandom (tho with more knowledge from getting to learn more from the source material) & most of this i gathered from already know stuff i knew. Tho im also open to feedback & maybe some ideas to add onto my own kaiju. So id very much appreciate it if there’s any suggestions from you guys ^^⭐️]

(I’ll only be taking constructive criticism btw. Anything hateful will obv be ignored)

[kinkleydiaz]

hii, can i just share something that amuses me both with people who are cheering lou’s supposed ‘absence’ from set, as well as those who are seemingly already mourning bucktommy..

i used to be in the shameless (us) fandom and spent so much time (literal years at one point) trying to spot noel fisher (and at a few occasions also cameron monaghan) in bts pics or videos for any hopes of their characters either getting back together or remaining together, and one thing i realised is that so much bts material just does not get shared.. i was little else but making myself feel bad without any real reason and found that its just no use. (also fun fact people kept saying noel was never going to return, yet - spoiler alert - their characters were endgame wooop)

so whats funny to me is the fact that filming for 911 has only just begun, it hasnt even been that long yet, and yet so many conclusions as to the entire upcoming season have already been drawn?

(btw im not trying to make fun of anyone feeling however they’re feeling, im just saying let yourself have fun since we have absolutely no clue how s8 will pan out (lord knows tim does not know either atp lmfao) and we still have some time to go till the first ep actually airs)

hi! my ask box and DMs are always open for sharing 💜

I'm 100% with you on this. I was raised by Gallavich and Britin (brian and justin from queer as folk) and they taught me that we have no idea what's going to happen, so I'd rather just enjoy the ride.

I'll never tell anyone how they should feel, but I encourage people to have fun and don't worry before the episode airs. We got Buck eating Tommy's face in the middle of a hospital hallway, and we had no idea that was gonna happen from the bts.

maybe lou is gonna show up tomorrow, maybe he won't, but that means nothing until the whole season airs.

[vxmpyree]

HELLO first if all I LOVE UR WRITING ... UR NIKTO FICS MAKE ME WANNA SCREAM INTO A PILLOW (/very pos)

ive never requested anything ever so im shy n gonna use anon teehee. ANYWAYS ik you said you write for pretty much anyone but i'm still gonna ask: do you write for keegan? if you do..... could i ask for a sick fic?🙏🙏 or any type of fluff rlly. with a male reader :3 (theres barely any for him 💔) THANK YOU FOR UR SERVICE IN THIS FANDOM BTW RAHHHH🫡🫡🫡💖💖‼️‼️‼️‼️

ofc!! i dont know much about cod ghosts so sorry for any errors. thisll be my first plot fic :)) ♡ not beta read,,

[im the devil - clams casino] [0.7k wc]

when keegan returns from deployment, he finds you ill, and not just with a bit of a sniffle and cough. no, he can hear how your lungs shudder with every breath and feel how your skin is hot to the touch.

being his husband isn’t an easy job. he’s always out for one reason or another. you’ll be at home watching a film together, only for his boss to call and say that they need his help. he’s too much of a workaholic and empath to say no, i’m busy. keegan is always worrying about you, always thinking about the slight pout of your lips when he comes out of his bedroom in uniform again. 

so, seeing you like this doesn’t do any good for his anxiety. 

“you’re burning up,” he mutters, pulling a thermometer out of your mouth. 

the curtains are drawn, letting in only traces of sunlight tinted by the lavender linen. more light would only give you a headache. 

he pulls off his gloves before reaching out to touch you, not wanting to touch you with the same cloth that clutches his rifle. his rough palms move to cup your cheeks, swollen from fever and sweat. you can hardly even keep your eyes open.

“did you eat today?”

he grumbles as you shake your head. you must’ve been too sick to get out of bed, only able to helplessly roll over and try to sleep through hunger pangs. at times like this, he wishes he hadn’t chosen an occupation of aiming sniper rifles and long months of waiting in bushes or on tall buildings. then, he’d be able to take care of you. 

“do you want to eat? we’ve got… hm… soup and crackers. or bread,” he presses.

you shake your head again. you don’t want to eat!

keegan sinks into the edge of the bed and furrows his brow, considering you. he has the air conditioner unit on for your feverish top half, and keeps the sheets over your shivering legs. he’s taken your temperature and wiped you down. he gave you some tylenol, which should’ve gone with a cold glass of water, but you gulped it down before he came back with something to drink.

something is missing. there’s more that he could do for you, but he just can’t put his finger on it. 

when he lifts his head to check on you, keegan finds that you’re already staring at him. he has to stifle a smile. you are what makes him feel at home-- your accepting stares, and the slight curl of your lips. it would’ve been impossible not to wish for something more when you’re so welcoming, so warm. 

you motion with one hand for him to come closer. for a moment, he wants to say no, that his face is still covered in grease and he’s clad in heavy armor. but what’s the use in saying no to a face like yours? before he can even start stripping himself of his gear first, he’s already slipping into the sheets.

there’s the low hum of the air conditioner unit and the occasional car rolling down your quiet street. everything seems so small when he’s here with you, tucked away from the world. all he can think of is the smell of your shampoo and the slow rise and fall of your chest.

"...did you just miss me?” he whispers.

you only smile and watch him silently, looking at the bump in his nose and cheeks starting to droop with age. he’s getting older and so are you. it feels like you two only just settled down. the years have slipped through his fingers like sand. maybe it’s time for him to retire. then, he could spend all the time with you in the world.

keegan leans closer to you, and wonders if he smells like gunpowder and sweat. but he waves his worries away in favor of gathering you in his arms. his palm rubs slow circles into your back, wrinkling your old t-shirt. 

you cough into his chest and furrow your fingers into the back of his heavy jacket. your hands claw helplessly like it’ll ameliorate the itch at the back of your throat or your heavy cough. if he could, he’d do away with this sick spell. he can do things most men can’t, from scaling towering buildings to gutting men, but he can’t fix his poor husband’s fever and runny nose.

he pats your back until you settle down, becoming jelly in his arms. 

will he be sick tomorrow? definitely, but he wouldn’t mind spending a day hidden away with his husband, even if the two of you can only lie in bed and kiss each other’s warm faces.