#first fic ive written in years

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

Dress to Impress Chapter 1: Open Invitations is out right now on AO3!!!

Illustrations for the fic under the [read more], but I do suggest to try and enjoy them in a fic for more fun experience. ;D

Thanks for checking it out. ;3

[edsbrak]

Milk Duds

“What was that all about?” Kiba asks, brows furrowed, trying to sneak some of Choji’s snacks.

“Um,” Naruto says, bending the truth a bit. “He paid for my food, just out of the blue. I wanted to thank him.”

“Oh,” Shikamaru says, expression twisted with suspicion. “I think that might have been Sasuke Uchiha.”

During their final year of high school Naruto and Sasuke meet, and everything changes from there.

SNS oneshot, 13k

[granddelusions]

SUMMERBOY (JOHN FRUSCIANTE)

summary: you and john spend the night together before he goes away on tour again

warnings: smut (porn with very little plot) 18+

your boyfriend had the entire summer off from touring.

the summer in question was spent traveling around to little beach towns, fucking in hotel pools after hours, and lying on the beach, hands intertwined watching the tides turn with electric ladyland playing on the stereo. you couldn’t ask for anything more, besides another month spent only with your love.

however, tonight was the last night of your little vacation. tomorrow evening, john was going back on tour for a month, in another country no less.

you and john decided after going out to a nice dinner to go right home, upon john seeing how short your sundress was. he assumed your choice of attire was purposeful — he was correct. the 10 minute car ride back to your house felt like a half hour. by the time he pulled you through the door, he had you against the wall, teasing his fingers along your wet pussy, entirely ready for him and eager for wherever the night would lead.

it was so, so fucking hot —- it really was the middle of a blazing california heatwave, the worst one in years— and you begged for sweet release, beads of sweat glistening on your face while john pressed kisses along your neck, softly repeating your name like a prayer.

john eventually worked his kisses down to your stomach and inevitably your panties, ripping the white lace and flicking his tongue over your clit, making you scream. his tongue became more forceful, and the insertion of his fingers into your cunt had you turned into a crying mess already.

“so wet, baby. i’ll take care of you.” he said, murmuring against your slick cunt.

the build-up in your stomach became even more intense and strong; you knew you were cumming from just his fingers and his tongue soon enough if he kept talking like that.

“all yours, johnny. fuck.”

“you’re doing so well, baby, just let go.” he groaned.

and you did, crying and screaming and moaning his name so loud you had a feeling the neighbors may bitch you out tomorrow morning.

he pulled away from your pussy to take a look at you, practically fucked out already, mascara runny and hair a mess.

“cmon baby, i wanna fuck you just right before i go away again.”

he carried you to the bed and removed your sundress, letting your breasts go free and brushing his fingers along your hardened nipples, making his cock twitch in his pants.

he unzipped his pants, letting his cock — dripping with pre-cum — out of his boxers. he kissed your breasts and swirled his tongue around your nipples, leaving bruises and marks that you’ll fantasize about and long for once he leaves you again.

once you positioned yourselves and john stroked himself a few times, he slowly began to press his cock inside of you, leaning down to kiss you on your lips, his fingers still wet with your juices now caressing your cheeks.

you whimpered.

“you alright, sweet girl?” he asked you gently, a hint of concern on his face as his eyes made their way to the bulge forming in your stomach. he always adored seeing you filled with his cock.

“‘mmm okay, johnny. just fuck me, please.” was all you could muster out in your state of bliss, grabbing a hold of his long dark hair, now drenched in sweat.

“gonna miss this, honey.” he murmured, his cock starting to pick up the pace and thrust harder into you.

you moaned against his hair.

“johnny, don’t go, please please please don’t go.”

he noticed your pout, which regretfully only made him arch his back and bury his cock deeper into your cunt, making you squeal, tears now streaming down your face.

“i’m sorry baby, i love you so much, it’ll only be for a few months — look at me.”

he grabbed your jaw, his eyes piercing into you.

“okay?”

“okay, johnny.”

“now cum for me, baby, alright? be a good girl, honey.”

his thrusts became rougher and quicker, his fingers entangled in your hair.

“you want me to fill you up, sweetheart?” he groaned, his own orgasm imminent.

at this point, you could only nod in agreement, your need to unravel leaving you completely dumbstruck.

you came all over his cock in a sobbing mess.

you laid back on the pillows — your beach curls completely ruined — as john unloaded inside of you, his cum leaking out of your cunt and all over your thighs.

after he softened and pulled out of your dripping cunt, john leaned over to the side of the bed to grab a towel, cleaning you up and lazily pressing kisses along your stomach, making the both of you laugh.

“i’m so proud of you, baby. you did so well.” he praised.

he took you in his arms, still naked and drenched in sweat. any negative thought about john’s leaving you was completely diminished by his hazel eyes completely immersed by your nude body.

“these were the best few weeks of my life, sweetheart. i mean it. i hate to leave my favorite girl again.” he smiled, caressing your cheek and kissing your lips again, softer this time around.

you relaxed against him, laying your head against his chest.

“promise you won’t forget me while you’re on tour and all those girls are flashing their tits at you?” you said, your lips still tingling.

he pressed a kiss on your bare shoulder.

“not a fucking chance. i’ll be thinking about this every night.” he whispered against you, his one hand reaching for your cheek and the other grabbing your hip, just slightly grazing your ass. you could finally smile, totally relaxed.

you both still had the summer, after all.

[skitskatdacat63]

Boy King AU | Vettonso + Martian | 1.3k

There's something about putting the future emperor of the Holy Realm on his knees like this. About how easily he goes, how willingly, how obediently. What would his adoring public think if they could see him now. If they saw their beloved king pressed down like this, in the cramped space between Fernando's legs. When they realized their little boy king took it like he was a little concubine instead. 

Fernando's bitterness is lifted away in moments like these, like taking off a heavy cloak on a winter's day. It was hard to feel humiliated about his own situation when watching Sebastian debase himself like this. 

He always gives himself up so easily. When Fernando threaded his fingers through his thick curls. When he pulled them, and then when he pressed his face down further down into the vee of his legs.  Sebastian rubbed his cheek into the coarse fabric of Fernando's breeches and blinked up at him. Fernando had to smother an embarrassing sound; he was just like a little cat!

Sebastian quirked his lips up into an odd little smile and slightly rose up on his knees, "What's funny?" Fernando swallowed lightly and schooled his face back into being impassive, "Nothing. As you were." Sebastian simply smirked at him and let himself be pushed back down by the fist clenched in his hair. 

Fernando scoffed internally, there was only so much pleasure in putting the other man in his place when he instead acted like this, this degrading action, was his birthright. He took to ruling and indulging in carnal pleasures as if they were of equal gravity. To be privileged to hold such high station and also let himself be taken apart like this…Fernando felt embarrassed for him.

He is dragged away from his musings when Sebastian moved to settle his hands in Fernando's lap, clutching his hips over the fabric and slightly squeezing; Fernando fought against the urge to shiver. Sebastian pushed up the skirt of Fernando's waistcoat and smoothed his hands over the opening flap of his breeches.

His eyes darted up at Fernando again, a daft smile on his face. Fernando scowled at him, "What?" Seb's grin sharpened, "You could stand to be a little more gracious. This is your future emperor, and future husband might I add, kneeling for you on this dirty, depraved, derelict- ah–" Fernando tugged on his hair again and hissed, "Well then, why don't you show me how eager you are to perform your marital duties?" 

Seb licked his lips, completely unconcerned by Fernando's annoyance, and unbuttoned one side of the closure to Fernando's breeches and moved to open the other–

The door to the carriage flew open, arrival announcement dying on a wheezing breath as the servant took in the image the two kings made. One splayed across the seat, exuding power, the other kneeled, debauched, between the former's legs. 

One would be hard pressed to determine which was higher on the totem of power and titles. 

There was something gratifying about this to Fernando, about being caught. He had been humiliated enough throughout the entire courtship, what was one more thing? And, certainly, what was one more thing if he could drag Sebastian down into the dirt with him. 

"Oh Mark, don't act so abashed! It's nothing you haven't seen before, in fact, we have been in this very position not even a fortnight ago!"

Oh. Yes. That. 

It was hard to be completely pleased when he remembered how Sebastian had already spent years prior to their engagement sampling the palace's ample selection of fellow high-born men. And how all those men seemed to be completely and utterly wrapped around his little finger.

Fernando released his hand from Sebastian's hair as if it had burned him. He did not understand why he felt ashamed with Mark looking in on them like this. Fernando was the one marrying Sebastian, not Mark; Mark was just a lowly courtier who had the esteemed duty of spending practically every waking hour with the brat…something he himself was decidedly not looking forward to. 

Sebastian stayed kneeling, staring impassively up at Mark, still fiddling with the clasp on Fernando's breeches. Fernando gritted his teeth and looked up from where he was watching Sebastian's clever little hands; Mark stared back at him placidly. 

Mark's indifference made the entire situation worse. Fernando now felt as if he was not doing anything unique, not doing anything particularly new. How many other men had Mark caught Seb with in this exact position? Fernando felt like he was just another plaything of the boy king, soon to be boy emperor, except his position was forever, permanent. He was the "Kept King", the king who only kept his throne due to the whims of a boy who doesn't even understand what power is.

Mark coughed, "Well," he says, "Your Majesty, I do believe you have a meeting to attend." Seb pouted at him and whined, "We were just getting to the main course," but still braced himself on Fernando's thighs and got up off the carriage floor. 

Seb pranced down the steps Mark had placed next to the carriage, miming tripping sown the stairs, snickering when his action made Mark reflexively reach out to grab him, and then playfully skipped off the final step. 

Fernando couldn't help but stare as Mark made the weirdest grimace in response, and he inexplicably felt all his mortification seep away from him. Huh. Maybe Mark is-

Seb then turned around and frowned at him, seemingly disappointed, but his eyes are deceivingly sharp, "Fernando, I regret to inform you that I have other duties I must attend to, you will simply have to wait." He then grinned up at Mark next to him and giggled as the other man stiffened when Sebastian looped both of his arms through Mark's. 

He leaned all his weight on the other man, Mark not so much as shifting his weight, "Oh Mark, won't you carry me back to the palace? I'm so very tired after all the horse riding," Seb looked up at him imploringly.

Fernando observed as Mark rolled his eyes and shrugged off the man, though notably not pulling his arm from Seb's grasp, and he got the distinct feeling that this exact scene had been played out countless times before. 

Fernando clenched his jaw as he watched Seb turn and saunter off, Mark trotting alongside him like a loyal dog. Fernando was supposed to be the unaffected one in this partnership, the unflustered one, the unconcerned one. And yet here he stood, in broad daylight, in a foreign kingdom, on the steps of a carriage with his breeches half unbuttoned and his cravat in disarray. 

He heard a cough from beside him, jolted and looked to the side. Sebastian's loyal Horse Master stood there, lounging against the side of the carriage. Fernando had forgotten who had even been driving the carriage in the first place. After Seb has let himself be pushed down, his hair still windswept from their ride together, everything else seemed to fade away. His thoughts were reduced only to how he could mess up the younger man's hair further. 

Jenson grinned at him wolfishly, and casually crossed his legs,  "First time?" he inquired. Fernando glared at him. The other man laughed openly at him, "What? He's a busy man with big prospects. You're not his majesty's only conquest, you know. Now your throne on the other hand…"

Fernando seethed, it was one thing to be humiliated by the future emperor, but to be patronized by the king's horse boy? No. It would simply not do. He closed his eyes in annoyance, pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaled, and prepared a speech about how he was not about to be talked down to by a man who didn't even have a throne to speak of! 

But when he opened his eyes again and opened his mouth to begin his tirade, Jenson was already wandering away to tend to the horses. Dios mío, Fernando was not mentally prepared to spend the rest of his life with all of these impertinent morons. 

[courfee]

if you ask nicely

@jegulus-microfic | august 27 - shade | wc 1.2k | implied nsfw after the ending

this is just james trying to flirt and getting flustered instead

Now the thing is – James is great at flirting. He’s great at appearing confident and cocky and making the people around him blush with genuine compliments and well-placed flirtations. What he is not great at, he recently had to learn, is being flirted with.

“You’re standing in my sun,” Regulus huffs, looking up at him from where he is sitting with his back against a tree, book in hand.

“I know,” James replies with an easy grin.

Regulus glares at him. “Would it hurt you to live one single day without going out of your way to annoy me?”

James pretends to think, moving his head from one side to the other. “I don’t know,” he hums finally. “I’m not willing to find out the answer though. Just in case. Don’t want to risk getting hurt, you know?” Really, he just likes getting Regulus’ attention. And annoying him simply is the easiest way to do that.

“If you want to be a nuisance please at least do so sitting down.”

“Why?” James asks, making no move to comply. “Don’t you like this gorgeous me-shaped shadow around you?”

“No.”

James pouts. “I’m only trying to help you out here. You should probably spend more time in the shade with your pale skin. Wouldn’t want your pretty face to get burned.”

“I’m fine,” Regulus retorts, completely bypassing James’ compliment. He had worked so hard on the conversational build-up to make it come naturally, and Regulus just ignores it... “I like the sun.”

“You know, people keep telling me I’m like the sun, so I think me standing here is a win-win for you.”

“You’re not,” Regulus disagrees and James is already opening his mouth to express his hurt at that comment when Regulus continues. “As opposed to the sun, I actually really enjoy looking at you.”

James shuts his mouth again, his cheeks heating up ever so slightly. He tries again, but with those few simple words Regulus has perfectly managed to wipe any witty counterremarks from his mind.

“Now, if you could please move...”

Defeated in his attempt at flirting he sighs. To this day, however, James is undefeated in his attempts at being annoying, and he’s not planning on changing that now. He sits down next to Regulus with his back to the sun so he can look at the other boy, shuffling close enough that their legs touch. Regulus turns back to his book and resumes reading.

For a while James is satisfied enough just watching Regulus. For all his talk earlier, he really does like looking at Regulus doused in sunlight. There’s a silver shine to his dark hair and the freckles across his nose stand out more prominently. He’s absolutely beautiful. He’s also absolutely ignoring James once again, and that will simply not do.

James starts by repeatedly poking Regulus’ knee. At first this only earns him a glare over the edge of the book. But when James returns that glare with a blinding smile and continues, Regulus reaches over to swat his hand away.

James sighs dramatically and falls backwards onto the grass, spreading his arms out around him. He busies himself with cloud watching for a good minute before getting bored again, so he decides the next best step to getting Regulus’ attention is picking daisies and placing them one by one along Regulus’ leg.

“James,” Regulus says with a sigh, but he doesn’t even look up from his book.

“Regulus,” James replies, and when Regulus doesn’t react to that either, he adds on, “What are you reading?”

Regulus lifts his book a little higher so James can read the title off the cover, which is not the reply he had been hoping for.

James groans in frustration, throwing his hands up in the air. This at least seems to gain Regulus’ attention, as he glances over at him. With a desirous glint that doesn’t escape James’ notice he lets his eyes travel across James’ arms down to the sliver of skin beneath the hem of his shirt that got lifted in the process.

Even though it only lasts a moment, Regulus turning back to his book almost instantly, James smirks and decides it is time to be more of a menace. If this is what gets Regulus’ attention he can work with it. He grabs the back of his shirt and in one swift motion pulls it over his head, tossing it aside. He stretches, more than necessary, and at the pull in the muscles of his back lets out another groan.

Unfortunately, Regulus’ determination to keep his attention off of James is apparently higher than James had expected, but it’s still no match for his own determination to counteract that. One by one James picks up the daisies from Regulus’ legs and starts twisting them into a thin flower crown. Once he’s done he reaches over and places it gingerly on top Regulus’ head. “Beautiful,” he assesses the picture before him.

“I’m sure you are,” Regulus replies without missing a beat despite still only looking at his book.

“Are you?” James asks critically. “You’re not even looking at me. I might have very well lost all my beauty in the last couple minutes.”

Regulus looks up in annoyance, but that annoyance quickly dissipates when he realises James is sitting very much shirtless in front of him. With a loud snap he shuts his book in frustration. “Fucking stop distracting me, I’m trying to read.”

“Oh, so you think I’m distracting?” James says, wiggling his eyebrows at Regulus and flexing his abs, just because he can and also because apparently it’s distracting. He likes being distracting. A lot.

“Oh, fuck you,” Regulus huffs, but there’s a pink tint to his cheeks so the words lose some of their bite.

“Sure,” James says, conspiratorially leaning forward with a mischievous grin, “If you ask nicely.”

Regulus glares at him defiantly for several seconds, before dropping his gaze. A beat later he is looking up at James again, his eyes half lidded, gazing up at him through his long dark lashes. “Please, James, will you fuck me?” he asks sweetly.

James chokes. His face is burning red and he’s coughing and blinking away tears as he splutters, “What?”

“I nicely asked you to please fuck me,” Regulus repeats, as if James hasn’t perfectly heard him the first time. As if James isn’t currently close to death because of it.

“You can’t just say that,” James says once he’s remembered how to breathe normally again. “This is not what’s supposed to happen. You’re the one that’s supposed to be flustered. This isn’t– What the fuck, Reg, you’re not supposed to actually ask?”

“And yet I did,” Regulus says, a smirk hiding rather visibly in the corners of his lips, “And you have yet to reply. Or do you want to take back your promise?”

James doesn’t have to think about his answer this time, which is a blessing, because all the blood needed to restart his brain is currently on its way to a different part of his body. “No,” he says, “I don’t.”

The smile Regulus gives him before getting up and pulling James to his feet alongside him is enough to nearly bring him back down to his knees.

[oracleofapollon]

you love a lot of things in life, but you love waking up next to steve harrington more than anything else.

especially when it's a hot summer morning, stuffy air in your bedroom, a delicate wind making your curtains dance and sway.

and a golden light shining through the window straight on your boy laying next to you, still asleep, facing away from you.

he sleeps shirtless on days like these. the white covers are thrown on his legs, exposing the glowing skin of his back to you. it's tanned and looks so soft that you believe it could be pure velvet. tiny moles are splattered on his sun-kissed body, making him look like a canvas painted by a great artist, or like a sky at dusk, adorned by little stars shining through the clouds.

and his scars, reminders of one of the many fights he had to survive in the upside down. they're pink and healed, shiny on his sides, disappearing into the white of your sheets.

the sun makes him look like an angel. it suits him, you think. it melts between the strands of his chocolate hair, lighting up its strands, painting them golden blonde.

you can't help but brush your fingertips against him and you immediately feel a warmth radiating from him. his back is like if apollo himself shaped it and kissed it - warm, golden, delicate.

he stirs at your tickling, mumbles under his breath, but doesn't open his eyes. you think you may not have earned the right to see his honey eyes just yet.

and so you lean in to give his moles a kiss. one on his shoulder blade, another on this side, just above the pink scratch. one on his arm. one on his shoulder. and one on his hair...

he's all dreamy, he's what summer would be like as a person. he's daylight. he's the sun. he's honey and chocolate and sweetness, stars and scars and silk, he's laugh and desire and passion. and he's all yours.

[scatterplotted]

A very tentative first draft of a first chapter of my NSFW Unauthorized wish fic:

Metaphysical Distance

Who knew that having a three dimensional body that’s a manifestation of his two dimensional dream-self who is in turn being dreamt by his real three dimensional self would be uncomfortable.

“A week is nothing Prismo, I’ve been two dimensional for months.”

⏳️⏳️⏳️⏳️⏳️⏳️⏳️⏳️⏳️⏳️⏳️⏳️⏳️⏳️⏳️⏳️⏳️⏳️

Prismo rarely decided to take up a third dimension, but when he did, he found it overwhelming. He never had a reason or desire to experience the time room with more sensation than absolutely necessary. The obnoxious color and strange ehoes give him plenty of headaches as just a two dimensional being. He couldn't fathom the additional layers of sensation that came with being three dimensional adding anything but irritation to his existence in the time room. But, a certain former God auditor had a knack for coaxing prismo out of his comfort zone.

"Scrabby come on, a whole week??”

Prismo didn’t like this manifested physical form. He didn’t hate it either. He had complicated feelings about the body, it had a sort of twisted similarity to the way his real human body looked when it was younger. He couldn't remember much about his mortal life, only snapshot flashes of who he used to be. Somewhere deep in his head he could vaguely see a young adult with dark skin, curly hair, and a square jaw. This body was like the one he lived his mortal life in, but geometrically dilated. Who knew that having a three dimensional body that’s a manifestation of his two dimensional dream-self who is in turn being dreamt by his real three dimensional self would be uncomfortable.

“A week is nothing Prismo, I’ve been two dimensional for months.”

The extended metaphysical distance from his real body to this body meant his control over how this form appeared was loose at best. Prismo loomed awkwardly above scarab, his back hunching uncomfortably in the middle so their gazes met. Prismo felt absolutely ridiculous, from the sensation of air in his lungs to the embarrassing heat he could feel in his face. He felt absolutely exposed, despite the apparent lack of genitalia. The form was probably over 7 feet tall, though Prismo had never bothered to measure.

Prismo tried his best to pout at Scarab, which must have been at least semi successful because Scarab responded.

“Oh don’t act so down, a new experience might improve your mental state Prismo. When was the last time you were truly uncomfortable?”

Prismo wrinkled his nose at Scarab’s response. “But I don’t like it.” But Prismo also knew Scarab, analytical as observant as ever, was right. He had very few opportunities to experience anything new for himself. The opportunities Prismo was presented with he vigorously ignored. Nebulous vibrations that carried the thrall of the time core had distorted Prismo’s experience of time for so long. Slipping into the comfortable numbness that in turn bled into despair had been so easy for just as long. Loving and losing was difficult, even for a god. Especially for a god. Numbness had always been preferable to potential despair.

Scarab, completely oblivious to Prismo’s inner turmoil, rolled his eyes behind his red mask. “It’s only a week, you’ll be fine. I've been dealing with things in a different dimension for months! It's only fair.” Scarab finished his statement by flourishing his hand through the air. Prismo could feel his eyes rolling in his skull to follow the movement. The flexing and tightening of his new, tiny ocular muscles was distracting, but not as distracting as Scarab himself. Prismo found the movement so distracting with his unfamiliar eyes he didn’t even realize Scarab had turned and moved away from him.

Prismo straightened, reveling in the odd sensation of his back muscles contracting. Prismo wasn’t exceedingly muscular but he also wasn’t slim, he felt gangly in his body. He lifted his hands and arms into his field of vision. Splaying and unspalying his long fingers. He could see the veins on his arms. When he moves his fingers, he can see the muscles moving in his forearms. Looking down at his abdomen, he watched his hands touch his own skin. It felt soft and warm, his muscles twitched away from his hand reflexively, not accustomed to touch. He took in a shuddering breath and looked up to where Scarab sat on his laptop a good distance away.

“Can’t we just redo the bet?? I’ll do all the cleaning for a month!” Prismo had to shout for Scarab to hear his voice from across the room. Normally he could just project his voice artificially but nooooo he has to have human vocal cords now.

Scarab didn’t even look up from his laptop “no, you agreed to this.”

Prismo groaned, walking away slumped dramatically with his hands on his head.

“And put some clothes on!” The insectoid shouted to his back.

***

As soon as Prismo left the room, Scarab parted his mask to try and expel the heat that had bubbled up onto his face from his lower abdomen during the interaction with Prismo.

He let out an embarrassing “Hhhhnnggghh-” that trailed off into a chirp.

Prismo was fucking massive. Scarab knew the wishmaster had a third dimensional form he rarely used, but he did not expect the body of a 7’3” baseball player. He guesses he shouldn't be too surprised, Prismo had a tendency to occupy a whole room by himself as a shadow. It was probably a result of his large personality.

Scarab found himself scoffing at his own thoughts about Prismo, he took a couple of deep breaths, feeling the roil behind his pelvic plates begin to subside. Being worked up over his company assigned roommate was not only inconvenient and mortifying, it was unprofessional.

Scarab had been so excited to have a break from his two dimensional form he'd forgotten how inconvenient his real body could be. It was so easy to ignore base impulses when you didn't have organs that fed them. That's not to say Scarab had never had an errant thought about Prismo. The pleasant tingling sensation when they touched as two dimensional beings. The comfortable overlap that sometimes happened when they sat next to each other. It's only natural he rationalized any conscious being would have such thoughts in a similar situation. Suddenly, he wondered if Prismo had the same thoughts as him. Suddenly, the heat around his groin was back.

***

Prismo was far too clumsy to be around his real human body and it would be like super embarrassing if Scarab saw how bad he was at using this body. So, he had fallen down at least four times during his trek from the wishmaking room to the pickle room. Prismo hadn’t ever had bruises in this body before, he’d felt pain but he’d never seen any of the physical effects. Knowing he could cause actual physical damage to himself made him want to tiptoe around any potential obstacles. . . which he would do as soon as he could figure out his legs.

Alone, Prismo summoned a mirror, but didnt raise his eyes to look into it. If he was going to have this body for a whole week, he should probably get to know it. He looked down at his unfamiliar figure. It was so different from his actual human body, and so sensitive. He looked up make eye contact with his reflection In the mirror.

“Alright Prismo” he said to himself, watching the way his reflected lips Parted and moved. The deep rumbling sensation of his own voice in his chest was unnerving. “What do you remember about humans?”

He started with his face. Blue eyes and soft pink skin were framed by moderately large ears and short - also pink - curly hair. Pulling back his lips revealed white teeth and pink-red gums. He stuck out his tongue and unconsciously furrowed his brow at its length. Do all humans have such long tongues? He shrugged and moved back from the mirror, a moment of pride washed over him at how easily the expressions were coming now.

“Phew okay”

His eyes moved slowly from his face, down to where he could see the tendons in his neck connect to his clavicle. His hands at his sides, he moved his shoulders slowly, testing his range of motion by rolling them. Do all humans have shoulders that move like this? That look like this? They seem wide. He moved to examine his chest and abdomen. He realized he had no hair except for what was on his head. Which seemed weird because his real human body had like so much hair.

This body breathed air, got hungry, got thirsty, just like all human bodies. Prismo watched his chest expand and contract. He watched his pectorals move apart slightly and come back to rest. He watched the small shift of his ribs as they moved to accommodate his lungs. His hand moved to hover over the middle of his chest for a moment before he brought it to rest on his sternum. The heart that was his beat fast and hard.. He felt a pang of anxiety. Were human hearts supposed to beat this fast? What if the heartbeat stopped? He didn't want it to stop. It's not like he could die, but still.

He physically shook himself to rid the thought, felt fine so he was fine right? His hand felt large and hot against his chest. He brought both of his hands up to his neck and ran them down his chest. “Ah!” he gave a sharp short cry when they brushed his nipples and, like he'd touched a hot stove, he jerked away from his own chest.

His eyes caught at the gentle line down The center of his abdomen. He moved to touch himself just below the navel, this time powering through the initial shock of the touch with a hiss. His muscles twitched in reaction to the touch. His head lifted, eyebrows creased and eyes closed as he let out a soft moan. God this is embarassing, turned on just by touching his stomach??? what would scrabby think. His eyes shot open as he felt blood rushing to his groin area at the thought of his roommate.

His eyes raced quickly from the outline of his hips, to his lower abdominal muscles, to where his cock stood at attention. He gasped and jumped away from where he was standing only to immediately scuttle back in front of the mirror. Prismo wasn't particularly good at spatial Reasoning, but he was pretty sure it was large. It was at least bigger than his hand from the tip of his middle finger to the end of his palm.

“Hah Hah hahhhhh” his exhalations trailed off and his hands covered his flushed face in embarrassment. He was definitely going to have to wear clothes now.

***

“Oh my god scrabbyyyyy” prismo groaned.

The former God auditor had just fully seated himself on Prismo's cock. Prismo was trying his best not to cum.

Scarab chittered and huffed “Prismo we've only just started, don't tell me you're close already?”

Prismo’s right arm moved from where he was gripping the sheets with his hand to cover his eyes with his forearm. Scarab could be so mean. Prismo bit his lip and breathed heavily, trying not to think about how big his cock was compared to scarab, how scarab was stretching so much just for him. He gave a high pitched whine and a tiny roll of his hips that only served to make his eyes roll back in his skull.

“mph” scarab grunted “none of that now.”

Scarab’s beautiful red hand covered only a small part of Prismos forearm, but gripped with surprising strength. Scarab forcefully moved both of Prismo's arms so they were pinned at 45 degree angles next to his chest.

Once Prismo's red tear filled face was revealed, Scarab clicked his mandibles “just watch me,” he murmured softly, reassuring the much larger god. “you're doing so well.” scarab gently moved Prismos' hands to his hips. Prismo’s hands just stayed there loosely until Scarab slowly lifted himself an inch or two off Prismo's cock. The tentacles surrounding his sex gripped lightly onto prismo, creating a sort of suction. Scarab dropped down quickly pulling a pleased buzzing noise from Scarab and a choked sob from Prismo.

“You're s- so good.” prismo groaned and rocked his hips, the sensation itself nearly overwhelmed by the pleasure he got just watching Scarabs reaction. Scarab rode the buck of his hips, front tentacles grinding against Prismo’s pelvis, hole squeezing around him.

Prismo slid his hands from Scarab’s hips to his waist and noticed two things. The first alone was enough to drive him over the edge, Prismo’s hands were so large they engulfed the entirety of Scarab’s small waist and overlapped significantly. The second was the hard outline of his cock inside scarab, bulging in the front of scarabs abdomen.

“fuck scrabby!”

He saw white, and woke up with a half moan half yell from the second dream about Scarab he’d had in as many days.

[parttimesiffrinfulltimeproblem]

Hi thank you for the greyson tags you’re the only person who understands my vision <3

oh my god literally the thing about greyson is he's so implacable he's not just like the sort of bland everyman protagonist that authors use for readers to project onto he's just Like That. he flirts with the coolest person ever by being a complete idiot like. things happen to him and it's so funny every time it's like every other character is in a dystopian novel and greyson is in some elaborate seinfeld episode (ive never seen seinfeld) and even though his actions have weight due to events around him everything he does is so fucking funny. his surname is tolliver and youll never believe who he becomes. he's fascinating he's my babygirl I want to study him under a microscope. im so sorry for the rant but I cannot stop thinking about this man he is such an enigma. I honestly think he's the best instance that I've seen of Just Some Guy as a protagonist/deuteragonist in a story filled with people who fit the genre (which makes him fit the genre and tone of the story in such an interesting way) which is clearly due to shusterman's amazing writing but jesus christ there will never be another greyson tolliver he is the character ever

tl;dr: im picking him up like a bouncy ball and throwing him against the wall

[butchbea]

a little alps training scene in which ava sees a frog for the first time :)

---

It’s April, and the secluded lake where Ava and Beatrice have been training is aglow with life of every size and color. The trees sprout tiny green leaves, the mud along the bank warms in the sun, and bugs dance above the water.

Ava and Beatrice are locked in their own dance- one with ringing metal and breaths of exertion. Beads of sweat fall down Ava’s back; her fingers tremble around the hilt of the divinium sword. She makes a wide cross-body swing that Beatrice easily parries with her bo. It’s sloppy- a mistake that Ava knows Beatrice won’t let slide.

“You’re telegraphing,” she chides as she blocks another of Ava’s attacks.

“I’m exhausted.”

"That’s exactly when you can’t make mistakes. You have to push past your physical limitations-"

Beatrice thrusts forward, aiming her bo at Ava’s center, but Ava has learned from the best, and she side steps quickly.

“Bea,” Ava ekes out, breathless as she is.

Beatrice looks vaguely annoyed, but she retracts her bo when their eyes meet. It’s obvious when Ava’s hit a limit, and she certainly makes no effort to hide it. Her brow furrows, her shoulders drop, and she loses the hummingbird-like bounce in her feet.

“Okay. Let’s take a break.”

Immediately Ava lightens. She drops to the ground with a sigh, letting the sword clang against a rock. Beatrice takes her place next to her. She grabs her water bottle and offers it to Ava.

“Hydrate.”

“Sir, yes sir!” Ava salutes, and laughs when Beatrice shoulders her endearingly.

It’s these small kindnesses that remind Ava why she trains in the first place- the way Beatrice tends to her like she’s a garden to be nurtured. Hell, she’s certain Beatrice would test the pH levels of their apartment’s water supply if she could.

And sure, there’s a maniac with the powers of a god on the loose that she’s destined to rein in, but even he can’t hold a candle to the way Beatrice occupies her thoughts.

There’s nowhere safer or more comforting than by her side.

They sit like this for a moment, letting their breaths stabilize as the water gently laps against the rocks.

A frog’s strong rrrrrrbbbit breaks through the silence, and Ava gasps.

Beatrice startles, reaching for her bo instinctively.

“What is it?”

“There’s a frog, Bea!”

Her voice is equal parts surprise and wonder.

“Uh, yes?” Beatrice responds, unsure what to say. “It is spring and we’re on a lake. It stands to reason that there may be frogs.”

The frog sings again, begging Ava to be witnessed.

Her face breaks into a wide impish grin.

“I’m gonna find it!”

She springs up from the ground and heads closer to the bank, following the frog’s taunts.

“Ava, wait!”

Beatrice quickly returns the sword to its sheathe, slings it over her shoulder, and picks up her bo.

Ava doesn’t wait.

She trudges a path through soft earth to the edge of the lake, where a young frog, the star of the hour, sits on a mossy fallen branch in the water.

Ava gasps again, but quieter so she doesn’t scare it. She looks over her shoulder to find that Beatrice has caught up, wearing that familiar face of exasperation that Ava loves.

“Bea, look! He’s even on a fucking log! How classic is that?”

Still beaming, Ava returns her attention to the frog, who now flits its head in several directions. She crouches down right where the earth turns to mush.

“I’ve never seen one before. In person, I mean.”

Her voice is quiet, almost reverent.

Beatrice softens instantly. She steps closer and crouches down next to Ava.

Ava feels a desperate need to hold the frog, to feel it squirm between her fingers.

“Can I hold it? Will I get warts?”

“I…think you’re thinking of toads.”

“Well, what if I kiss it, and it turns me into a frog?”

Beatrice looks at her, eyebrow raised.

“You’d have to kiss me to turn me back. True love’s kiss and all that.” Ava bats her eyes playfully.

Beatrice rolls her eyes, and avoids Ava’s. Ava pretends not to notice the blush creeping up her neck.

“You’ve watched way too many movies.”

“Hey, you’d do the same if you were stuck in a bed for a fuckin’ decade.”

Beatrice freezes up for a moment. Ava sees it and grabs her hand to reassure her.

“Bea, it’s okay. Things are better now- well, besides the demons of course. I have a cool job, a family who actually cares about me, and an ass-kicking nun as my bodyguard and best friend. I love-“

A pause, all too telling.

“-my life.”

Beatrice finally meets her eyes and smiles softly. “I’m glad. You deserve it, Ava.” Beatrice squeezes her hand, and her heart does a little leap.

Ava is struck by the thought that she would absolutely sacrifice her body, her humanity, just to have Beatrice kiss her. Being a frog seems like a small price to pay.

“You’d take care of me if I was a frog, right?”

“Ava.”

“Humor me, Bea!”

Beatrice sighs, then smiles. “I suppose I could configure an appropriate environment for you- warts and all.”

Ava claps her hands and guffaws, clearly satisfied by this response. She stands and tries fruitlessly to brush the mud off her hands and legs, scaring the frog in the process. It leaps away with a splash that tickles her ankles. She feigns shock, and Beatrice laughs- Ava’s favorite sound.

“Let’s go home and eat.”

[blacktobackmesa]

Happy Valenday Times, everyone! In honor of the day, I'm going to talk about relationships in the Streamman series. And I still haven't figured out how to add a Read More on mobile!

♥️ Bubby and Coomer are an established couple. We all know this. They have a long-standing relationship stretching back many years, and got married on paper to exploit a loophole. Now that they're free from Black Mesa's watchful eye, they can take comfort in knowing they don't just need each other for survival in a cold, unfair situation-- they're just as important to each other in this happy ending.

♥️ I'm not going to make it canon that they have a thing going with G-Man but I am also not going to NOT make it canon. Mr. Coolatta is happy to be in their lives.

♥️ Tommy and Darnold don't know if they're dating each other. Are either of them alloromantic in the first place? Unclear. Maybe they'll have an official conversation sometime, but they're very happy with the dynamic they have. It's a kind of love without a label.

♥️ Benrey is into Gordon for sure, but he doesn't expect it to be reciprocated. He spends the first few years in the Home program translating his pining into teasing while trying to be the kind of person Gordon would deserve. This works out, since Gordon's the kind of person who needs time to develop romantic affection. Demiromantic AF. Do the kids still say af? Anyway. He needed time to get to know Benrey, and Benrey needed time to understand himself before he could commit to any healthy relationship.

♥️ Once they ARE official, dating is a wild new frontier. Benrey's favorite style of date night is when he slips into his Xen form and video chats with Gordon, full 1080p webcam (something the other AI can't process). They could be talking about watching paint dry for all Benrey cares, he just loves both of them being able to share their True Forms with each other.

[stillfertile]

hey yall, I wrote a fic *drops this at your doorstep and scampers away*

trevor/jamie, mature, highschool au, hurt no comfort, 2.9k !!

[outsmartingbasilisk]

Not gonna stop drawing WoF but after branching out into other fandoms I think it’s interesting that like,,, WoF doesn’t give me the same brainworms of those other fandoms that make me go into serious depth with alt storylines about characters. I have ideas to mess with the greater worldbuilding or arcs but it doesn’t feel as personal as with other fandoms. I have my fluffy lil hcs and ships and so on, but if I was invested in going more in depth I’m not anymore

[karinyosa]

the problem w me writing is any idea that i have takes like five years to properly marinate to where i can write a coherent draft at a consistent rate

[luvbug724]

36 days.

i think we as a fandom don't talk about dan and renee enough aftg hitlist anon. i understand that renison and mattdan (?) prevail but we need to look at the sheer potential in that one short story about dan's recruitment alone. the sports rivalry turned hatred. dan only getting recruited because wymack came to watch renee. the strip club. having to unite in the face of misogynists. do you see the vision. do u see the vision aftg hitlist anon.

[emulation-0]

Share Your Writing Tag

thanks for tagging @cursedvibes :)

Monday Night Dreamer (Jolyne-centric)

And what else? Her mom would yell at her and refuse to kick her out. She'd keep racing back, trying to get Jolyne to stop, to stop being stupid, to stop getting into trouble, to stop being so brash and reckless all the time because it's pointless. And Jolyne knows it's pointless. It's as pointless as promising happy birthdays to a party of two. It's as pointless as sucking up to her math teacher for sympathy points when she knows he thinks she's just a stupid delinquent. It's as pointless as dressing down in the boiling summer to stave off the heat when it only gets that much more unbearable, gluing sweat-slick fabric to her skin and hair to her reddened nape. It's as pointless as expecting anything from anyone after a lifetime of broken promises and trust to endure. If she was buried, wrapped in white sheets and lowered in her coffin six feet under to someplace dark and bitter, her dad would probably say he had work some place in fuck-ass Egypt or Japan and would miss the funeral, visiting her grave after weeks have passed, only to leave a flower or two and then whisk himself away to another country, not even bothering to say hello to her fucking corpse. No matter how hard she tries, she can never seem to lower her goddamn expectations.

tagging anyone who wants

[weolucbasu]

prozivam mesec da se nikad ne skloni

noćas me niko ne voli

sa mnom so moji demoni