#i half forgot how to draw entirely

[someratidk]

in my neon era, slowly recovering from the worst slump ive ever experienced in my life oml (die ärzte have been my crutch the last 2 weeks oml 😭🙏)

[0bir]

i was gonna colour this in but i got like. lazy x-x'

one of the pose refs under cut, the other was taken from my mind

[runefactorynonsense]

Spooktober - Day 16 - Siren/Mermaid

Come on in!

[synthetic-sonata]

dirk in blood orange from this

reblogs preferred but i dont control you , i guess .

[goldieclaws]

What if I fucked around and wrote another short story, but this one was slightly longer than the first one I made (Daughter of the Sea).

[eiightysixbaby]

12:25 A.M.

word count: 1.7k

summary: eddie calls you late one night while he’s looking at your photos…. ;)

cw: 18+ MINORS DNI - smut smut smut. this entire thing is just filth from the get-go, sorry not sorry. lots of swearing, eddie & reader masturbate over the phone, lots of dirty talking - eddie and reader are bein nastyyyyy, daddy kink on the low, mention of explicit photos/nudes, if I forgot anything lmk!

author’s note: yeah so uhhhh the eddie sluts discord was having a convo about eddie keeping dirty polaroids of you and thus, this piece of filth was born. i’m so serious there’s barely a plot this is just nastiness, enjoy!!! also: the photos in the photo set above are not meant to represent what reader looks like - they’re just aesthetically pleasing.

*Rriiiiiiiing Rriiiiiiing*

The sound of the phone startles you from your half-asleep state. You’d unintentionally almost fallen asleep sitting up in your bed, television still playing softly in the background. You rub your bleary eyes and turn to the clock as you grab the phone. 12:25am. Who would be calling at this hour?

“Hello?” you say into the receiver, voice a little groggy.

“Hey, sweets. I’m sorry for calling so late,” you hear your boyfriend’s voice on the other end.

“Eds, hi. What’s up, are you alright?” you sit more alert now, wondering why he’s calling you after midnight.

“I’m fine sweet thing, just had a long day at work and I missed you,” his voice sounds breathy, not his usual tone of voice. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“I had kind of dozed off, but it’s fine. What are you up to over there, baby?” you ask him, curling the phone cord around your fingers.

“Oh, y’know… just looking through those sexy Polaroids I took of you. Touching myself a little bit,” you can hear the smirk in his voice, and you feel yourself shudder a little at his words.

Throughout the time you’ve been dating Eddie, he’s gathered quite the collection of explicit photos of you. He loves to take pictures of you in all sorts of positions, snapping shots of you naked on his bed, you split wide open on his cock, you sticking your tongue out while he presses his cock to your mouth, one of your face covered in his cum. You’ve even taken some of your own to sneak into his stash, photos of your tits squished together, or your fingers buried deep in your cunt. Eddie loves them, he looks at them all the time. He keeps the safe-for-work photos of you in his wallet and in his car, but the raunchy ones sit in a box under his bed - for his eyes only.

“Touching yourself to little old me, handsome?” you tease him, pulling your lip between your teeth.

“Fuck yeah baby, it’s like I’ve got my own personal porn star to look at, how could I resist?”

Your cheeks heat up at his response, and you clench your thighs together involuntarily. You know what he wants, know he needs to get off, so you take the bait.

“Mm, wish I was there to touch you instead, Eddie,” you giggle, feeling heat rush to your core at the thought of him spread out in bed, jerking his cock to you.

“Shit, baby, you know I love your hands on me,” there’s a pause, and then, “What are you wearing right now, sweets?”

“One of your t-shirts, you know - the blue and black tie dye one, and a pair of black panties….” you speak slowly, drawing out the words.

“No bra?” he asks, his voice husky.

“No bra, baby. In fact, you can see my nipples through the fabric of the shirt….” you trail off, knowing what you’re doing to him. One of your hands reaches up to toy with your breasts as you speak, as if you’re doing him a favor by touching the parts of you that he can’t right now.

“Fuuuuuuck, I need my hands on you baby. Wish I was there with you right now,” you can detect the strain in his voice, can faintly hear the schlick schlick of his hand moving up and down his cock.

It only turns you on further, and you slowly slip your fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, ghosting circles over your clit. “Mmm, Eds, I need you here right now,” your voice is seductive, pleading.

“Yeah, baby? What would you have me do if I was there with you?” Eddie purrs.

“I’d have you finger my soaking pussy…. two fingers, maybe three… need you to stretch me out,” you’re dipping your own fingers past your entrance as you get the words out, your fingers not reaching even close to the places Eddie’s can reach. “I love when you curl your fingers inside me, you know how to play with me, baby.”

“Fuck yeah I do, sweetheart, shit-” Eddie grunts, and you can tell he’s picking up his pace on his cock. “Wish I was fingering you, hitting that spot you love, getting those pretty sounds out of you-”

“Please, baby, love how you touch me…” you’re begging even though he’s not there with you.

“Would you suck my cock for me, baby? Fit my fat cock down your throat, hm?” he continues on, and his words have your head spinning. Imagining his fingers inside you instead of your own as you work to get yourself off. You’ve never engaged in phone sex before this, really, but with Eddie it feels so natural. It’s a different kind of turn-on to hear him talk to you while you know he’s got his thick fingers around his cock, pretending that it’s you.

“Y-yes, daddy. Love having your cock in my mouth, need you to fuck my face…” you’re practically moaning into the phone, head lolling backwards. “Wanna taste you, please Eddie please…”

“That’s my good fucking girl, need to cum in that pretty mouth of yours, baby. Love when you swallow my load,” his breath is staggered as he speaks through gritted teeth. “Are you touching yourself for me, baby? Got your fingers deep in that pussy?”

“Yeah, ‘m so wet for you, Eds. Doesn’t feel as good as when you do it, though,” you pout, pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy, the coil in your stomach tightening gradually.

“Aw, I know sweet thing. Need daddy to take care of you, yeah?” Eddie knows exactly how to talk to you to send you reeling, your eyes screwing shut as you finger yourself, movements growing sloppier.

“Yeah babe, fuck, need you inside me. Want you so bad,” your fingers have set a brutal pace fucking into your dripping cunt, and you're almost positive Eddie can hear how soaked you are as you please yourself.

“Got me rock fucking hard for you, baby, can you hear me stroking my cock to your pretty pictures?” he taunts, but you absolutely can hear the filthy noises in the background - quieting your moans so you can listen better.

There’s a beat, and then you hear him spit into his hand, the sloshing sounds picking up speed and intensity as he presumably starts to pump his cock faster. You plunge your fingers as deep as they’ll go inside of you, curling them desperately to hit that delicious soft spot.

“Yes, fuck, it’s so fucking hot listening to you touch yourself for me,” you’re breathing heavy as you work yourself to orgasm, “Wish my fingers were wrapped around your dick right now.”

“Mmmhhh, I love when you wrap those delicate little hands around me, baby. I’m so big they barely hold me, princess,” he’s smirking as he speaks, loves riling you up thinking about the size of him.

“Yeah, Eds, you’re s’fucking big. Love how you fill me up, daddy,” he revels in the praise, and you hear him chuckle on the other end.

“My little cockslut, loves getting stretched by me, hm?” Eddie’s voice is low, sending electricity right to your core. “Shit, baby, my cock’s twitching just thinking about you… ‘M so worked up.”

“Want you to cum for me, Eds. Are you close? Love it when you cum for me,” you’re whining, fingers now circling your clit in rapid movements, getting closer and closer to your release.

“So close, sweetheart, wish I could cum all over that pretty face of yours,” Eddie moans into the speaker, little whispers of shitshitshit falling from his lips. “This picture’s one of my favorites, baby… my cock buried deep in your pussy from behind… my hand gripping your hair. Pretty ass of yours on perfect display f’me, fuck-” he’s tugging desperately on his cock at this point, whimpering into the phone.

“What about the one with me in handcuffs? Legs spread on your bed, waiting for you?” you hum, egging him on, getting him right to the edge of release as you describe the lewd photo.

Eddie doesn’t answer, just lets out a strangled moan on the other end of the line. The two of you go on like that for a little, mewls slipping past your lips, getting wetter as you listen to him cursing, panting, moaning your name. The soft pads of your fingers work on your clit, your insides feeling like they’re on fire with how worked up you are. Your eyes are shut tight, imagining Eddie settling you on his lap as he fucks up into you.

“Baby - fuck - I’m gonna fucking cum, shit,” Eddie whines, bringing you back to reality for a moment.

“Cum for me, baby, make a mess of yourself for me,” you coax him, listening closely to hear the way his breath hitches as he finally lets go.

His moans are short and sporadic as he finishes all over his chest and stomach, and you continue to rub your swollen clit as he catches his breath.

“How you doing over there? Gonna cum for me, sweet girl? Gonna cum while you think about me? Bet you wish I was filling you up real good, huh?” Eddie’s relentless, talking you through the entire thing.

“Yes, daddy - fuck! Gonna cum, gonna cum for you, oh my god…” the coil in your stomach snaps finally, feeling yourself plummet into bliss. You’re clenching around nothing, moaning ‘EddieEddieEddie’ as you ride out the intense waves of pleasure coursing through you.

“That’s my good girl, you okay sweet thing?” Eddie coos, listening to you pant as your body calms down.

“Yeah, baby, I’m good. How’re you?” you say softly into the phone once you’ve regained some composure, body spent as you lay back onto your pillows. You feel like you’re floating.

“I made a fuckin’ mess of myself, sweetheart, came so hard,” Eddie huffs a laugh, and you smile.

“Hey, Eds?”

“Yeah, sweets?”

“Take a Polaroid of you all messy with your cum. Wanna start a photo collection of my own,” you chew at your lip, getting flustered thinking about how he must look right now.

“Oh, yeah? And why do you want my photos, sweetheart? Wanna get yourself off to them?” Eddie asks, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from you.

“Maybe….” you giggle, suddenly feeling shy.

“Fuck, baby. Can I come stay the night? I need to be inside you right now, no way I can wait till tomorrow,” you can picture the puppy dog eyes Eddie would be giving you if he was next to you right now, and you laugh.

“Yeah, Eds, get over here. Gotta live up to all that talk,” you reply, knowing he’s gonna live up to that talk and then some.

“Want me to bring the camera?” he asks.

“Duh.”

[lundenloves]

THE CARD

〔 this is dedicated to all the girlies who never stopped trying. because sometimes, putting up boundaries isn’t as easy as it seems and that’s okay. if you think i’m talking to you, i am. 〕

˗ˏˋ to be flat about it, simon’s daughter stopped making him birthday cards. this one unintentionally got a bit deep but i do that with everything so don’t act surprised.

⇀ 1.1k | no warnings

masterlist | dad!simon masterlist | request info | taglist

Your husband often forgot about his birthday. Lost to bad memories, and lack of care but primarily his job. Even still, it wasn’t something he particularly wanted to remember — feeling comfort in letting it slip under the rug, rubbing the back of his neck in absence when you had asked him the date. He insisted it was something to be ignored, and for your three years without kids it was, aside from the one present he reluctantly let you buy. 

Of course, that was until your first born came along. 

And there were a lot of things Simon didn’t know about having children. The obvious ones like the guilty regret late at night, being out of his depth and even how to deal with them. But, also their childlike wonder and passion for random things that seemed so foreign to him. Afterall, a birthday is a birthday, it never seemed to matter whose it was — your kid would turn to incredulous sobs if it wasn’t celebrated. Especially when she had found out about her fathers, bottom lip quivering when he had gently told her how he prefers to not do anything. 

It started when she was a toddler, forgetting about his birthday until she had heard you talking about it. Small ears perked up at the mention of the word, hanging by the door to watch as you traced Simon’s arm and the tattoos, his head shaking and a few words mumbled between you. Every year you asked if he wanted to do anything, knowing his answer but hoping for another.

So, naturally, she took to her bedroom. Trashing her small desk with dozens of crayons to create a card for Simon, one that was unevenly folded yet made with her whole heart. 

She did that every following year without fail. Except, her cards folded more evenly as time passed and the crayons were exchanged for pens, then pencils. The drawings got better and better, words spelt right and the inner messages were longer all before they had stopped entirely.

In seemingly simple change for a shop bought card. See, the words were joined together nicely though the message was shorter and the lack of ten kisses in exchange for one suddenly made the card seem empty. “Why’d you stop?” You would ask one night as the pair of you lay together in the dark, your husband's place taken by your daughter near every night when he was away. “Making the cards.”

She shrugged. “Didn’t think he cared.” 

When in reality, those cards were the only thing Simon looked forward to year round. And it wasn’t like he had outwardly expressed how much they meant to him, rather giving a weak smile and a soft kiss to her temple each time. But he kept them, every single one, every drawing was stored for safekeeping in a small box filled to the brim. Sketches that ranged from family drawings, to landscapes, animals and solo drawings of him if not herself.

Time ran from small limbs clambering over your own, six in the morning to reach Simon who had stirred when she fell onto his chest, a hand instinctively placed on the back of her head in his half-conscious state. “It’s your birthday!” She used to drag out with a laugh, sitting up on his stomach and holding the card mere centimeters from his face. 

To the last birthday, handing him the shop bought card in all teenage glory, too embarrassed to write ‘I love you’ so it came as a ‘Love you’ and the once overly done x’s and o’s were now a set of one. He didn’t know the first thing about teenagers either. How past a certain age everything felt detrimental and targeted, embarrassment seeped through everything and it wasn’t cool to like your dad anymore. 

Especially not as a teenage girl. 

And it wasn’t until he was away for his birthday for the first time in years that she had missed it. Missed the softening of his eyes and the way his arm would wrap around her shoulder and pull her to his side, hand rubbing her arm in acknowledgement of her efforts. 

She took his safety for granted most of the time. Waving to him at the door with no doubt that he would be back months later, a naturally blunt text that he was safe would be sent to you and all would be well. Though, sometimes he was required to hand his phone in before the tougher trips. Designed to provide the safest atmosphere, though back home many miles away it never did feel safer. And that was when she missed him the most. 

You always wanted what you couldn’t have.

Simon was no better. He had taken the younger years for granted. The tears before bed, stalking into his bedroom after a bad dream, tired eyes in the mornings and the excitement to see him once back home. He wasn’t to know when the last time he would pick up his daughter was, or the last time she would ask for help when reaching for a cereal box. Hell, even the final she had fallen asleep on his chest or asked him to stay until she had dozed off in her own ‘big’ bed. Small hands wrapping around his fingers, giggles and toothy grins had all evaporated into nothing. 

It was tough being a dad.

But it was hell being a teenage girl. 

Sometimes it felt ike you were made purely to drink iced coffee with alternative milk, wear baggy clothes and feel bad for old people every now and then. The act of growing up isn’t something you want, though something you concede to after realising you had wished your youth away. 

And in that, 

There was something about girls and their fathers. 

The constant need for subconscious approval and love, feeling bad for the man who raised you whenever he was left to eat dinner alone or scorned by your mother in a heated argument you couldn’t help to overhear. Simon’s daughter had always been in that predicament. 

She missed her dad when he left, yet hated when she shared the kitchen with him. It felt like an itch that you weren’t able to scratch, though his rare hugs completely killed all flame she had for him and sometimes, instead, they allowed for tears to flow. Because after all, a girl is really just her dad. 

Maybe that card should've been made after all. 

˗ˏˋ university is wiping me out already. it’s the first week back do you want to fucking calm down. been set two presentations (both recorded wtf) and three literature papers.

simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @misshoneypaper @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @fwibblefwobble @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @dilfdotgov @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @maki-z @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffeee

as always reblogs and comments are mighty appreciated blah blah blah

[perlelune]

Happier Than Ever | Rafe Cameron

Loving Rafe was a rollercoaster you could never get off of. Sometimes thrilling, but mostly terrifying. And some way, somehow, he always found a way to draw you back in for another ride.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Drug Addiction, Drunk Driving, Kook! Reader, Toxic Relationship, Abuse, Emotional Blackmail, Suicidal Talk

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

You smile as Marissa tells her story once more. No matter how many times you hear it, it never gets old.

“Who does that? I mean he didn’t even have his driving license. I was so embarrassed-”

The rest of the girls in the circle you formed in the living room gasp. You nurse your beer before taking another sip. You take a bite of the birthday cake, humming in appreciation of the cinnamon and pineapple undertones. For a minute, you soak it all in. The soft pop pouring from the speakers in your friend’s living room. The casual chatter between friends.

You fold your legs beneath yourself, enjoying your cake in a corner of the couch.

It’s been a while since you’ve been able to enjoy a night like this. Quiet and calm. Not since your breakup. Spending time with your friends always fell to the wayside in your previous relationship, your ex finding issues with how much time you spend with them instead of him. It wasn’t uncommon for you to drop everything whenever he called. Girls’ night outs. Sleepovers. Even birthdays, like today.

He was the sun around which your entire life orbited and he couldn’t stand anything or anyone stealing your attention away. It took you a long time to leave. More than you’re comfortable admitting.

It’s not like things were bad all the time. In fact, most of the time, they were good. Not just good. They were great. So great you easily forgave and forgot. Forgot about the tears. Forgot about the rough hands on your skin. Forgot about the cruel words. Forgot about the screaming and nights lying awake, wondering what you did wrong for him to be so angry at you again.

He was a magician. With the right words and that twinkle in his ocean gaze, he could make all the hurt vanish. Like none of it was ever there to begin with. The same eyes that made you feel small could make your stomach flutter. The same mouth that would praise you could tear you down as easily.

Your heart was never at rest, as you never knew which version of him you’d get on a particular day. The sweet and kind version. Or the paranoid and volatile one.

So many little things could set him off. A throwaway comment from his dad. An argument with his sister. Some stranger's gaze resting on you half a second too long. 

Nothing you did could ever get that chip off his shoulder. No amount of care, patience or love could ever reassure him enough. It was exhausting, which is why you left. Well, more like…ran away. Avoided his side of the island. Ghosted him. Hid away really. 

It’s been a few weeks now. You are slowly retrieving some semblance of peace in your life. It’s easier when he’s not around. Easier to breathe. Easier to move around.

Marissa turns to you.

“I’m so happy that you could make it.”

You beam at her. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

She pauses, her fingers tapping the side of her beer bottle.

“You did last year,” she points out. 

You tense. Last year. You never even told her what that was about. You were dressed up and ready and he stopped you on your way out, questioning why you were looking this good for “just some chicks’ get-together”. You shudder as the memory flashes through your brain. Needless to say you never made it to your friend’s party.

“Yeah…sorry about that,” you mumble, scratching your arm.

She smiles in reassurance, squeezing your arm.

“It’s okay. But no more missing my birthday, okay?”

“Okay, promise,” you reply, nodding.

The conversation is halted by the buzzing of your phone. Your chest clenches at the sight of the familiar name across the screen. Marissa steals a glimpse from across the couch and tilts her head in disapproval. The two of them were oil and water, never getting along. In fact, she got in his face quite a few times. And he seemed to enjoy riling her up even more.

“Don’t answer that.” She nudges your shoulder. “I already told you, you need to block him.”

In theory, you know you should sever all ties. But you haven’t found the nerve to cross that bridge yet. Sending him straight to voicemail and leaving him on read is the height of what you can achieve right now. Besides, you shudder to think how he’d react to you blocking him. He damn near broke your door down the day after you texted him that you two were over.

“It could be important…” You get to your feet, stepping away from the couch and your friend’s critical stare. “I’m just gonna tell him to stop. I’ll be right back.”

You head to the balcony. You inhale a lungful of courage before swiping to accept the call. 

“Hey, angel. Miss me?” Rafe slurs drunkenly. 

Your brows knit. “You shouldn’t drive when you’re like this, Rafe.”

He barks out a derisive laugh. “You hear this shit, bro? Acting like she cares about me all of sudden.”

Your chest twinges, his words hurting more than they should.

Another familiar voice faintly echoes in the background. 

“Is that Topper?”

Your frown deepens. They both sound too inebriated to be driving anyone home, let alone themselves.

As you ponder if you should call Sarah or Ward, a crashing sound echoes through the phone, the boys’ laughter dying. Your stomach drops. 

“Rafe?” you call. 

You frantically text him. When you get no response, you try Topper. He doesn’t pick up immediately. 

At least twenty minutes slog by in terrifying silence.

Chewing on your thumb, you wait for the call to reach him.

When you finally hear his voice, relief seeps through you. If he’s fine, then Rafe must also be, right?

But your hopes are swiftly pulverized when he informs you that Rafe is being transported to the hospital. Panic flutters through you. You don’t want to care. You and him aren’t together anymore. It’s not your problem…Except it is. You can’t quell the worry pooling in your gut, the racing of your heart at the thought that Rafe could be hurt. Or worse.

Anxiously rubbing your hands, you head back to the living room. Marissa won’t like what you have to say, but dread has wrapped its fist around your heart since you heard that horrifying sound on the other end of the line, and hasn’t eased up since. The not knowing is worse than anything.

Noting the contrite pinch to your face, your friend heaves out a deep exhale.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to see him,” she says.

You chew on your lip. You know how this looks. Like you’re that girl who picks a guy over her friends again. Still, you remind yourself it’s not like the other times. You aren’t together anymore. You’re over him. You’re way past that. You’re just making sure he’s safe.

“I think something happened. Something really bad.”

Marissa shrugs and takes a swig of her beer. You try to ignore her and your other friend’s pointed stares. Their quietness speaks volumes, the weight of their judgment bearing heavily in the room.

“He always does that. Who knows if he didn’t do it on purpose.”

“You mean crashed his car on purpose? Marissa, come on…”

She tosses her head backwards, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

“Whatever. I’m used to you bailing.” She glances at her freshly painted nails. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Her accusation aches but you shove it aside. You bid everyone goodbye and grab your keys from the lobby. 

The entire drive your heart is in your throat, your clammy hands tight around the wheel.

The worst scenarios keep playing in your head like a horrible nightmare. The picture of Rafe, a white sheet draped over his unmoving body, won’t stray from your raging thoughts. Why do you feel like this is your fault? He always had troubles with overindulging in liquor and other party favors. It’s something the two of you often argued about. But he had gotten better about it lately, before the breakup. He’d thrown away the drugs, eased up on the drinking. He was better. It’s part of why leaving felt okay.

Your eyes well up with tears. You wipe them in frustration, focusing on the dark road ahead. 

Sucking a wide breath, you remind yourself. You’re not responsible for Rafe. None of this is your fault.

Still, as you pull into the hospital’s driveway, guilt lingers within you.

Thanks to Topper’s instructions, you find Rafe’s room quickly.

You’re a breathless mess when you arrive, having raced through the white corridors. Sarah and Wheezie hug you as soon as they see you. You return it, having missed them in the last few weeks. You had come to think of the youngest of the Cameron siblings as the little sister you never had. You often went out to have ice cream while she told you of the gossip from her school. As for Sarah, the two of you go way back. While not the closest, you’ve been in the same circles since kindergarten. The puffiness of her brown eyes doesn’t escape you. While there’s no love lost between her and her big brother, she seems as shaken as you are.

Ward greets you with a nod. Meeting his gaze is difficult. He always told you you were a good influence on his son. A good girl from a good family. That you were exactly what Rafe needed to set himself straight and finally grow up. You can tell from the way his blue eyes are trained on you that Ward is a little disappointed, that he expected you to stick it out through the storm with his son. The people-pleaser inside you shrinks a bit at that.

Rose at least appears to empathize with your plight, flashing you a quick smile. She too seems to have cried, which stuns you the most. It’s no secret she and Rafe have never gotten along.

The Camerons make space for you to tiptoe further inside the room.

You take shaky steps towards Rafe. It hurts seeing him like that, hunched over at the edge of the bed in a hospital gown. While he’s not attached to tubes and wires, your chest seizes as you note the sling around his left arm, his busted lip and the long cut running across his brow.

“We’ll leave you two alone,” Ward says, gesturing at his daughters to vacate the room.

Silence hangs for a while after the rest of the Cameron clan leaves, giving you and Rafe privacy. Eyes clinging to the floor, you girdle your breath until he speaks.

“You came.”

You look up, Rafe’s cool tone startling you. You approach him.

“Of course I came.”

The muscles of his jaw clench.

“You didn’t have to,” he says curtly.

You cup his cheek, “Rafe-”

He slaps your hand away, his eyes rolling back as he unleashes a heavy sigh.

“Don’t,” he snaps. He sniffs and chuckles but it lacks humor. “I don’t even know why you’re here. You don’t give two shits about me.”

Disbelief strikes you. How could Rafe utter such words after everything you’ve been through together?

Your brows furrow as you graze his arm, whispering softly, 

“That’s not true, Rafe and you know it.”

“Do I?” He taps his temple with his healthy arm, stammering angrily, “C-Cause I had so many thoughts in my head when you left…”

“Rafe-”

“I know we weren’t perfect but I thought we were pretty happy, y’know?” 

A surge of tears presses beneath your lashes.

“We were.” You pause and take a deep breath. “Sometimes. But you weren’t…” Your lip quakes as you’re hit with the remembrance of how bad his mood swings were. You rub your neck, the phantom sensation of Rafe’s fingers squeezing it tight sizzling your flesh. Your voice comes out small. “We weren’t good for each other, Rafe.”

He bites his bottom lip and slowly releases it before sneering, “Bet you’d have preferred if I died tonight, get it all over with.”

“What? How can you even say that?” you say, your pitch spiking with shock.

“Y’know maybe I should…Maybe I should just get my dad’s gun, blow my fucking brains out and stop being such a burden to you.”

He mimics the gesture of shooting a gun through his skull and tears spill over your cheek.

You cradle his face.

“Don’t say things like that, Rafe. Please…” you sob.

“What else am I supposed to say, huh? You left me. Bet you think I’m a fuckup too. Just like my dad.”

“I don’t think that.”

“I wanted to die.”

“Rafe.”

His watery gaze dives into yours.

“When you left, I wanted to fucking die.”

Your breath falters.

“Being without you is hell, angel.” Desperation oozes from his voice. “I just wanted to feel…I don’t know, anything else.” He buries his face in his hand, mumbling under his breath, “I-I don’t know how much more of this shit I can take.”

Your heart sinks. You never imagined breaking up with Rafe would send him in such a state. A wave of guilt consumes your insides. Perhaps it was selfish, taking your distance the way you did. 

You place your hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t know things were this bad for you. I’m sorry.”

He snorts. “I mean, how could you? It’s not like you answer when I call.”

The air chills around you. Your lips clamp shut at that, your head lowering. You did ignore all of Rafe’s calls. And now you find yourself wondering if there were cries for help, if he was drowning and needed you to pull him ashore. If you had picked up, just once, maybe he wouldn’t be here right now. 

The doctor comes in and you step back. Rafe is thankfully cleared, presenting no concussion or major injuries besides his broken arm. You meet Topper outside and are relieved to find him in much better shape than your ex. Outside of a nasty scrape on his cheek, he’s completely unharmed. 

“Were you drunk too?” you can’t help but ask him.

“I…Yeah, but I wasn’t the one driving.” Topper hesitates, nervous as his eyes meet yours. “Rafe, he…he took some other stuff at the party.”

“I figured,” you sigh.

“He just kept driving faster the more he ranted about you.”

Your chest clenches. You glower at him.

“You’re supposed to be his friends, you and Kelce. You’re supposed to look out for him.”

“I’m sorry,” he replies.

Your gaze darts around the hospital corridor.

“Where’s Kelce, anyway?”

Topper scratches the back of his neck.

“He…passed out in a bush at the party.”

Your shoulders sag. Typical Kook shenanigans. Not one of those boys could actually behave responsibly. All they ever do is enable each other and egg each other on to do stupid shit. Then they let someone else clean up their mess. Fatigue settles over you. You’ve been here before. 

You glance at your phone. It’s beyond late. You walk up to Ward.

“I should probably go back home now. I only wanted to check on Rafe, make sure he's okay."

Crossing his arms, the Cameron patriarch astounds you when he utters, “Why don’t you stay at Tannyhill tonight?”

You flash a nervous smile.

“Mr. Cameron, Rafe and I-”

“I know you two are broken up, and I get that.” He heaves out a weary sigh as he considers Rafe. “I know my son has…issues, sweetheart, but he always did better around you.” His piercing gaze travels from Rafe to you. “He hasn’t been doing well since you left him.”

You recline into silence. It’s been a while since you’ve seen Rafe look this defeated. It worries you. You have no desire to give him the wrong idea but you also don’t see yourself just going home after hearing the things he shared with you. While you don’t plan on getting back with him, you can’t just abandon him.

“Okay. But just for tonight,” you specify. 

Ward beams at you. “That's all I ask, sweetheart.”

You end up getting into a car with Ward, Rose and Rafe. Wheezie trails behind Sarah, as you let her borrow the keys of your truck to drive Topper back home. She promises to return them to you in the morning. A heavy quiet coats the air as you share the backseat with Rafe, his stepmom sitting in the front with Ward. He’s not even looking at you, his blue eyes glued to the window. Dejected, you twine your hands in your lap. You’re used to that, Rafe ignoring you when he’s upset. But tonight it stings even more, fueling the guilt simmering inside you.

As Ward’s car pulls into the long alley of the Cameron’s mansion, nostalgia tugs at your heart.

Tannyhill was practically a second home to you this past year. Your parents travel a lot for work and Rafe used to coax you into staying with him most nights, just so you’re not alone.

You don’t even think as you follow Rafe to his bedroom, your feet carrying you absently since you’ve done it so many times before.

You inspect the room. Nothing’s changed since the last time you were here.

He grimaces as he struggles to remove his clothes while wearing the sling.

“I can’t get this fucking shirt off,” Rafe grumbles.

You trudge up to him.

“Let me help you.”

Rafe observes you, falling strangely quiet while you slip off his shirt for him. Your cheeks heat when you do the same for his pants. 

When you’re done, you try to head for the door.

Rafe’s hand clutches yours, halting your departure.

“Stay… please, angel? You can wear one of my shirts like you used to.”

A forlorn expression decorates his features. Despite your best efforts, it tugs at your heartstrings.

You gnaw on your lip. “It’s probably best if I stay in the guest room.”

His thumb sweeps over the inside of your palm.

“I won’t try anything funny, I swear…if that’s what you’re worried about.” His brows draw together. “I’m just in so much pain, and I can barely move my arm.”

You unleash a resigned breath.

“You promise to stay on your side of the bed?” When a playful smile creeps on his lips, your tone sharpens. “Rafe, I’m only here as your friend. I’m serious.”

His gaze narrows, suspicion sneaking in his tone. “Why? You’re like seeing somebody now or some shit?”

“No, I’m not.” You pause before adding cheekily, “And even if I were, it’d be none of your business.”

His cheek pulses.

A flicker of jealousy ignites his gaze, indicating that, in Rafe’s opinion, who you're seeing now is still very much his business. But his features smooth over quickly, his voice mellowing.

“I’d just feel better if you slept next to me, angel. I don’t feel like I’m asking for much, am I?” He pauses before sneering, “Or do you hate my fucking guts so much that I can’t even ask for a little favor?”

“I don’t hate you, Rafe.”

He cocks his head, hope lacing his deep timbre.

“Really? You don’t?”

“I don’t think I could even if I tried,” you admit.

A wide grin blooms on his face at that. He curls his hand around your waist, pulling you a little closer. 

“Then prove it. Stay with me tonight.”

His blue eyes are honest, pleading. Your resolve thaws like ice in the summer heat. 

“Fine,” you yield. You gear yourself to leave, announcing, “I’ll go change in the bathroom.”

The hand on your waist tightens as he teases, “Why not here? It’s nothing I haven’t seen before-”

“Rafe,” you scold, prying his fingers off your waist.

He snickers, lifting his hand. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

A pang of melancholy pierces your chest when you pick one of Rafe’s shirts to wear in bed. It feels a little weird sharing a bed with him when you’re not together anymore.

When you step out of the bathroom, you steal a glance at him. The blanket only covers half of his body, exposing the bare, suntanned muscles of his chest. You ignore Rafe’s smirk as he catches your lingering gaze. Averting your eyes, you make your way to your side of the bed.

You slip under the covers, reassured that he’s respecting your wishes by giving you space. But it doesn’t last.

In the middle of the night, you’re forced to berate him for breaking the boundaries you set.

His good arm snakes around you, his broad chest draping over your back.

“Rafe…”

He nuzzles your neck from behind, humming as he basks in your smell. “Please, just let me have this,” he begs.

You sigh. You don’t have it in you to deny Rafe tonight. Not when he could have died. Not when you feel some responsibility for that. 

“Okay, but no wandering hands.”

He nods and snuggles even closer to you. You can’t help but grow a bit dizzy as the familiar scent of Rafe’s cologne clogs your senses.

You close your eyes and drift into sleep.

In the morning, you wake up to Rafe dragging his fingertips along your cheek, an entranced expression etched on his features.

“I missed waking up like this,” he rasps.

For a while, as you get lost in how bright and blue his eyes look in the soft morning glow, you forget. Remembrance settles over you however when Rafe’s thumb travels to your bottom lip. This is the kind of thing you can’t allow anymore.

Clearing your throat, you sit up and remove his hand from your face.

“Well don’t get used to it.”

Rafe’s brows crumple. “Ouch. When did you get so mean, angel?”

“I learnt it from you.”

He actually seems taken aback by that, speechless as he gapes at you.

His surprise allows you to make a beeline for the bathroom.

“Dibs on the first shower,” you chime, slamming the door closed before he can make another comment that sends your heart in a frenzy.

You use Rafe’s time away in the bathroom to focus on another task. A very important task. One you call the post-bender sweep. It’s a little tragic that you even have a name for it, or that you’ve had to do it so often. So you roll up your sleeves and begin rummaging through all of Rafe’s drawers. No corner of the room is left unchecked.

It’s how he finds you as he steps out of the shower, damp blonde locks grazing his forehead, the towel hanging low on his tapered waist. 

Confusion fills his cobalt eyes. 

“What are you doing?”

“I know you weren’t just drunk last night Rafe. Topper told me everything.”

“Fucking snitch,” Rafe hisses. He inches closer to you. “Look, I’m gonna get it together, alright?”

You crouch near the bed and reach under the mattress. Rafe’s face goes taut as you feel between the wooden slats. “Angel-”

Your fingers dislodge a plastic bag between the slats. You examine its insides. 

“Coke, expected. Well that…is new. Is that meth?” you list sourly. You wish you could say you were disappointed. Instead, you’re just exhausted and vaguely angry. This is a step back. A huge one. “This is poison, Rafe.”

You get to your feet and dash to the bathroom. As you empty every ounce of powder, crystals and every single pill into the toilet bowl, Rafe grips the side of his head. Panic flickers on his face.

“That’s 10k down the drain.”

“Well, Barry can go through me. I’m not letting you do this to yourself again.”

You flush the toilet and meet his eyes. Their intensity has you shifting in discomfort.

“What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

His lips slowly curve upward.

“You still care about me.”

Your heart skips a beat. You blink and shuffle away from the toilet. False hopes, you recall, you weren’t supposed to give them to him. You decide to steer him away from that line of thought.

“Of course I do,” you reply. “You’re my friend.”

Rafe’s smile vanishes. His tone becomes clipped. “Friends, huh? Okay.”

Your plans to only stay the night are thwarted at breakfast. After sharing a copious meal with the Camerons, Ward pulls you aside, practically begging you to prolong your presence at Tannyhill for his son’s sake. 

“You and I both know he needs you, sweetheart.”

At first, you’re hesitant. This wasn’t the plan. You’ve fought so hard against the instinct not to put Rafe’s needs and wants before your own. Tooth and nail quite frankly. The first week after your breakup, not picking up when he called made you physically ill.

You wept about it for days, and almost ran right back into his arms. Without your friends, you probably would have.

Now, your life’s back on track. You can breathe again. You’re happier. The crippling fear of what Rafe would say or think does not hover over your every move anymore.

When Sarah returns your truck’s keys, you consider driving yourself back home and never looking back. Your fingers curl around the keys. It’s right there beneath your palm, your freedom. But there’s just one tiny issue. Rafe’s misty eyes catch yours across the table. And in less than a second, you don’t belong to yourself anymore.

So you remain at Tannyhill much longer than you’d like, taking care of Rafe and spending nights in his arms. The ambiguity of the situation fosters doubts in your mind, threatening the fragile equilibrium you found.

So as soon as Rafe’s noticeably improved, you elect to go back home. One morning, you rise with the sun and start collecting all the things you left behind in his room. It’s imperative to create some distance between you and him again. After all, you’ve gone above and beyond. Initially, this was about checking on your friend. A blind man could see that Rafe wants more than that however. You fear things will spiral to a point of no-return if you don’t leave now. You did so well these last few weeks, getting over Rafe. Or trying to at least. Now all that hard work is on the rocks.

Displeasure paints Rafe’s features as he watches you shove as many of the stray objects you scattered in his space inside your bag. You ended things so abruptly the first time that you never bothered coming back to collect everything you left in Rafe’s room.

“Come on, you could stay a little longer,” he pleads.

“It’s time for me to go home, Rafe.”

“Then just stay the night. You can leave tomorrow.”

“Rafe, it’s been well over a week.”

He sucks his teeth, sniggering meanly, “That excited to be rid of me, huh?”

Your forehead creases.

“It’s not like that.”

Rafe scoffs, “Nah, I get it. You’ve moved on and you never want to see me again, right?”

“Rafe…”

His fingers thread through yours, drawing you back to him. Towering above you, he whispers, “It's just one night. It won’t be different from the other ones. I just want to be able to feel you one last time.”

You purse your lips. You could never say no to anything Rafe asks when he looks at you like that. Like you’re his lifeline, the only thing keeping his head above water. 

It's probably not a great idea. Rafe’s been getting handsier than you’d like these last few days, and you didn’t have the heart to push him away. But what’s one more night? You’ll be gone tomorrow anyways.

“Okay,” you concede.” But I’m really leaving tomorrow.”

A victorious grin breaks out on his face.

“Of course, angel.”

At first, your last night at Tannyhill does indeed seem like the others. You slip under the covers next to Rafe, as you’ve done every other night. His light snores fill the room, his arm finding its way around your waist. Like always. You’ve gotten used to this. You don’t protest, finding comfort in the knowledge you’ll be done with everything Rafe Cameron the next day.

So you let him get close once more. His heat encases you as he nestles his head in the crook of your neck. You don’t even give much thought to the thick bulge poking the small of your back. This is Rafe. He grows hard half the time when you cuddle. Usually, you get him to back off with a frown and a light shove on his chest.

But tonight’s different.

He starts rubbing against you, his hand sneaking below the shirt covering your body.

“Rafe? What are you doing?” you whisper, your voice high-pitched from shock.

“Shh, quiet, angel,” he hushes, trailing sloppy, heated pecks along your neck and shoulder.

“Rafe, you can’t…” Your voice dwindles to a gasp when his digits creep between under your ass, teasing your folds through your panties. He pinches your clit, rolling it between his fingertips. You bite down a sharp cry. 

“I said I wanted to feel you one last time, angel.”  

He shoves a finger inside your panties and sinks between your walls. The embarrassing squelching of your cunt echoes in the room, Rafe beginning to pump inside you at a steady pace. Naturally, he knows exactly how to move his fingers to turn you into a panting, shivering mess against him. You try to resist it, ignore the fire rising in your core, but your skin is easily set ablaze by Rafe’s familiar touch. Your belly knots. Tingles bloom on your flesh. He sweeps along your tender spots and you choke on your spit.

Heat gathers in your face as you grow slicker beneath Rafe’s hand.

He tugs on your panties, sliding them down your legs.

Rafe shifts position. He places himself above you and shimmies out of his boxers. Alarm bells ring inside your head when his thick tip prods at your entrance.

“Rafe…”

Words wither on your tongue as he buries his cock inside you in one blunt thrust. A quiet scream flies from your mouth, your chest heaving.

“Don’t be like this,” Rafe grunts, arrogance dripping from his lustful timbre. “I know you’ve been missing how my fat cock feels inside that tight little pussy, right?”

“We’re broken up, Rafe,” you wheeze out, struggling to catch your breath as your walls strain at his size.

“So?” He pulls out of you, only to sheathe himself inside your wet heat again. Your eyes roll back, your fingers clutching weakly at the sheets.

Rafe’s half-lidded gaze darkens as he drinks you in, his tone getting possessive.

“You’re in my bed, wearing my shirt. I’d say that makes you mine.”

The protests on your tongue evaporate, your thoughts dipping into a tailspin as Rafe slams his cock inside your dripping cunt. Desperation and lust marks each of his deep, pointed thrusts. Your head tosses over the pillows.

Stars fill your sight, pleasure swirling through your limbs. Air dwindles in your lungs as he stretches you out deliciously. His thick cock brushes against your sweet spot repeatedly and your lids flutter. Rafe’s own breaths grow more ragged. His throat bobs, his hard muscles clenching with his motions. He balances his arm above your head, looming over you as sweat dots on his brow.

His warm breath grazes your face as he chuckles.

“It’s like coming home, right? Like I never left.”

“I’m gonna get my shit together. I swear to you, angel.” He rests his forehead against yours. Rafe’s masculine scent floods your senses and your mind spins. You keen as he snaps his taut hips into yours, helpless as Rafe cages you with his frame. “Just don’t leave me again, okay? Please, I need you.”

Over the next few weeks, while his arm is healing, you and Rafe relapse into old habits. First, it’s that night at his house, the one that stirs your unease for a while. Then it’s a quickie in the back of his truck after he offers to drop you off one day. Progressively, it becomes more than that. Dates and late night calls, like before. 

Rafe complaining to you for hours about Sarah or the weight of his dad’s expectations. Rafe sending flowers to your doorstep. Rafe making butterflies swarm in your stomach when he tells you that you’re the only one who understands him.

The walls you erected crumble day by day, shattered by his persistence to win you back. He showers you with gifts and attention on a near daily basis now, even going as far as planning the most romantic evening for Valentine’s day. Though you had plans with your friends, Rafe is so adamant to have you all to himself that you ditch Galentine's day cocktails to be with him.

Slowly but surely, the Cameron heir weasels his way back into your heart. 

Most of your friends aren’t thrilled with your decision, of course. Marissa in particular.

“Guys like him don’t change,” she tells you one night as he’s blowing up your phone with texts inquiring about your whereabouts. You fervently disagree. He’s just worried about you, you convince yourself. That's how much he cares.

Of course Rafe has changed. He’s earning your trust, one day at a time. He has his temper in check. He’s better now. He’s proven it several times.

Doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?

Besides, though you struggle to admit it, there’s something intoxicating about being Rafe Cameron’s girlfriend. A feeling so heady and electric. One you shamefully kind of missed.

You trust Rafe. Those are the words that keep playing in your mind as you wait for him downstairs. You fiddle with your solo cup, taking a tiny sip of your beer. Techno music blares from the speakers in Kelce’s living room. The girls next to you gossip about a crush on some guy you don’t know. You feign interest, giving a dull nod and a smile every now and then. Lavish, hedonistic Kook parties aren’t exactly your scene anymore. Rafe practically had to drag you here.

The initial plan was to meet with your friends tonight. But Rafe closed off when you told him that. He then pleaded with you to come. You caved in, because refusing him has been incredibly difficult since the accident. So you’ve stopped trying to argue with him. 

You go along with most of what he asks, even if it stirs your discomfort at times. 

You glance at the time on your phone. 

Rafe said he needed to go to the bathroom earlier. 

That was nearly thirty minutes ago. Your brows draw together. Taking a leak shouldn’t take that long in theory, right? Or are you this paranoid now?

Still, you can’t quell the dread tickling your insides. A sense of deja vu seeps through you.

Your feet carry you upstairs, guided by your urgent need to find Rafe. 

Kelce’s house is huge and you nearly get lost multiple times. Your cheeks flame as you stumble upon a couple in one of the guest rooms. You hastily apologize and slam the door shut, resuming your search. It takes you a long time of blind wandering through endless corridors before you find him. 

He’s indeed in a bathroom. At least that, he didn’t lie about…unlike the line of coke he’s snorting above the sink.

“Rafe?” you call, frozen on the doorstep. “What are you doing?”

A brief glimpse of panic flits across his face before he bursts out in laughter.

He makes his way to you and tilts your chin upward.

“It’s a party, I’m just having fun. You should try it sometime.”

You scowl at him. “That’s not the point. You promised...”

Rafe sniffs, wiping the remnants of white powder beneath his nose.

“Come on, just relax.” He crowds your space, placing his hands on each side of you on the door. It slams shut as Rafe presses his body against yours, his voice sinking to a lewd rasp. “Why don’t you and I get into the hot tub downstairs and…”

“No,” you assert. “You promised, Rafe. No more drugs.”

When he tries to cup your cheek, you shove his hand away. His jaw clenches.

“Why do you always have to be such a stuck up bitch?”

An astonished breath leaps off your throat.

“I’m sorry?”

Instead of apologizing, a broad grin stretches on his lips, “I’m just saying. Maybe you’re the one who needs to loosen up.”

You note the hollowness in Rafe’s eyes and the sweat glistening over his bare skin.

Tears rush to your eyes. You’ve learnt to recognize the signs. Empty promises, like always. Why did you expect things to be different this time?

You jump back from the door, slipping beneath Rafe’s arm. Wiping irate tears, you glare at him.

“This was a mistake. My friends were right. You’re never going to change.” 

You are such a fool. The depth of his deception didn’t hit you until you saw him bent over that sink. You caught him this time. Who knows how many times Rafe lied right to your face?

Once more, you allowed him to drag you into his spiral, offering no resistance and believing every sweet word and promise.

Closing your eyes, you suck in a deep breath. You think back to the last few weeks, to every time you surrendered an inch and Rafe took a mile. And you just let it happen. You land on a decision. This is the last time you let Rafe Cameron puppeteer his way back into your life.

You make a beeline for the exit. He impedes your path, towering over you as he stands before the door.

“Get out of my way, Rafe,” you hiss.

Rafe squints at you, taking slow, threatening steps towards you.

“Why? So you can leave me, again?” Something lurks in Rafe’s gaze, turning his blue eyes almost black. Chills crawl over your spine. You shrink, retreating as far as the restricted space in the bathroom allows. “No way, you’re not leaving me.”

You chew on your lip, a surge of adrenaline spiking through your veins. You try to run past him but he grabs your wrists and slams you harshly against the bathroom wall.

Your voice comes out a quivering sob.

“Rafe, don’t you dare…”

As you try to wrestle out of his hold, he bangs your head against the tiles. Sharp needles of pain pierce through your skull. You grow dizzy as your legs start shaking. Rafe uses the momentum to push you onto the floor. 

“Dare what, huh? Take what’s mine?” he snarls. His broad body drapes over yours. You taste the liquor on his tongue as he steals your lips in a rough, possessive kiss. A sick laugh leaves him when you bite his lip, drawing blood. A metallic taste fills your mouth. Through your hazy sight, you watch with horror as Rafe unbuttons his pants. 

He reaches under your dress, tearing your panties with one tug of his hand. Fear floods your veins. You writhe underneath him as he guides his length to your entrance.

“I think you’re forgetting, angel. You’re nothing without me.” His taunting whisper sears into your skin like a hot knife. “I made you, little Kook princess.”

Your mouth opens, a scream building in your throat. But it never makes its way past your lips, Rafe wrapping his hand around your neck as he impales you on his cock. Helpless whimpers roll off your tongue as he sets an unforgiving pace right away, ignoring each of your tearful pleas for him to stop. His scalding breaths ghost over your face. Beads of sweat drip from his skin to yours. Sobs shake your frame as you writhe beneath him, left with no other choice but to be the vessel for his anger and lust.

“I need you, just like you need me,” he mumbles hotly, trailing bites and kisses alongside your neck. The room dims around you with each painful stab of Rafe’s cock inside your bruised core.

The hand around your neck tightens, Rafe’s wrathful baritone edging on a roar.

“Don’t you ever try to leave me again. I won’t be able to take it, angel. In fact…” His lips skim over your earshell as he whispers, “I’d rather fucking kill you and myself before letting you walk out on me again.”

[itsyapeepkiri]

Hey @deerspherestudios!!! I finally finished the drawing!!!!! It only took 20 hours... but I hope you like it!!

This is based on Day 1, ending 1 of Mushroom Oasis, so spoilers if you don't know about it.

I'll add tags, but TW for death, bone, decomposition, decay (both human and animal), blood if you squint, body horror (???). Also, this will break your heart, so sorry, but the art gods demand tears today.

TWs UNDER CUT. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Some tid bits about this project in no particularly order:

- I started this cause I thought about what it would look like if Mychael had found MC a little bit sooner (than the few weeks that it took for the body to decompose). Plus, I wanted to brush up on my anatomy skills.

- The trees were based on the image of in deerspherestudios's answer to an ask about Mychael's vision, specifically the 'bottom eyes closed' one.

- The cat is an orange tabby cause I thought it goes nice with canon green collar. The MC is based on deerspherestudios actual MC ref sheet. Mychael is deerspherestudios whole-heartedly, but I did use the outdoor outfit we see him in in the 2nd day.

- I would image that MC's and Mychael's bags are just off the page, but I just forgot to add them.

- The tree 2nd from the right was not supposed to be there. Or at least I don't think it was. I don't know how that tree got there, I swear. 😅

- My 1st hour, which ended up being a failed attempt, was based on my sleeping sibling. Then, when they woke up and took a look at my work, they mentioned that the hand was as big as the entire chest somehow. That's when I said screw it, tried to find some reference images, and ended up spending the next 1 and a half hours on a 3-D model website trying to force the pre-made models to bend to my will. After that, it went pretty smoothly. *cries in hating perspective*

- I used BiC Mark it permanent markers, an ultra fine point red Sharpie, a Sakura Pigma Micron 005 pen, some Prismacolor Premier colored pencils for details, and a random school issued yellow pencil and pink eraser to make this.

- You can't really see it, but the flowers that Mychael is holding are forget-me-nots, as a reference to the field he would have taken MC to on the 2nd day. They are also in the rough shape of a broken heart. 💔

- On that note, the mushrooms coming out of MC's eye are also shaped like a heart.

- And yes, our soft boi is crying... 😢

[delirious-donna]

Coffee And A Smoke [Higuruma Hiromi]

an: another suggestion for Hiromi that I couldn’t pass up. I feel like this has potential for more but I’d really have to do some plotting and brain crunching before I could commit.

pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x female reader

warnings: smoking (is it obvious from this that I don’t smoke and never have? I hope not but…), SFW, very light flirting if you squint, mention of toxic habits, alcohol mention

Masterlist

Higuruma always felt a pang of sympathy for new starts. They had a habit of reminding him of his earliest days as a freshly qualified lawyer, his excitement to change the world and be the type not to back away from the difficult fights.

For a while, he had been that man and took on David and Goliath level cases to test his resolve, to prove that a person with enough determination and hard work could be the victor. Sadly, it didn’t last long.

He hoped you wouldn’t fall from grace quite so quickly or inelegantly as he had once done. Hiromi might not care for his reputation being tarnished these days, the dross he was tossed like it was a kindness to him, but he would never wish it upon anyone else.

You appeared only a handful of years younger than he was, and he wondered if you were maybe late to the career. It made him wonder how bad your previous line of work might have been to make you consider this circle of hell as your new livelihood. There was more than a chance that he would never know, he didn’t exactly draw people to him in the workplace. Rather he was looked upon mostly like a kicked puppy that everyone felt sorry for but never approached to comfort for fear of catching fleas.

Picking up his pen, the chewed end finding its home between his teeth, Hiromi returned to his work and put you out of his mind.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to the man over in the far corner?” You wondered aloud, the young secretary designated to be your ‘day one buddy’ glanced in the direction you were looking and visibly grimaced.

“Another day. He’s busy,” she countered with a wave of her hand.

Frowning at her dismissive tone and attitude, you looked over again and met with tired, hangdog eyes. He blinked, seeming unperturbed and gave a small bow of his head before turning back to his screen. There was something about this man, you couldn’t for the life of you figure it out, but something intrigued you more than it should.

The interaction did not go unnoticed. “That’s Higuruma Hiromi. He’s rather… particular about the cases he takes. Generally, he keeps to himself.”

You wondered if he was lonely, or maybe not well versed in socialising. Whatever it was, there was an aura surrounding his corner of the large office, like a perpetual rain cloud that threatened to rain but the cloud never burst.

With so much to learn and an entire new work environment to navigate, you quickly forgot all about the mysterious Higuruma and focused on finding your feet.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later did you find yourself in his presence. After a tortuous phone call with a troublesome client, you found yourself in desperate need to indulge in the bad habit you had sworn you’d given up, a cigarette.

Stepping outside into the small office courtyard, you fumbled for the emergency packet buried in the depths of your bag. You cursed when you realised you might have the actual cigarette you craved, but there wasn’t a lighter in sight, not even tucked away in one of the handy dandy compartments.

“Need a light?”

You whirled around and nearly landed on your behind at the sudden voice, coming face to face with Higuruma who had the good grace to look sheepish for scaring you out of your skin.

“It seems so,” you said with a shrug, stepping closer as the man held out his lighter and flicked the flame into life for you. “I don’t smoke often.”

Higuruma hummed in understanding, glancing down at his own half-finished cigarette, tapping away the excess ash. “I’d like to say the same, but I’m out here more often than I’d like.”

That first inhale felt like heaven, the heat in your throat a familiar sensation and you held the thick smoke in your mouth as long as you could manage, finally blowing it out in a steady stream into the sky.

“Bad habit?” You asked, leaning against the metal railing that enclosed the small courtyard space. It was cool even through your trousers, grounding you back into the here and now.

“I have a lot of those, smoking is probably the least bothersome. I can go days without a single cigarette, or I could smoke two packets within a single office day. There never seems to be an in between,” he joked.

It was hard not to appraise him whilst you both stood there, enjoying your respective cigarettes. His shirt wasn’t quite the brilliant white of a new or well cared for garment, nor were the tailored creases in his trousers especially neat or crisp. The tie around his throat was loose as if restless fingers had tugged it that way, and his hair was equally as ruffled. Yet, there was still something undefinable that made you smile at these observations, that endeared him to you.

His eyes were adorned with dark circles from sleepless nights but there was a subtly vibrancy to those eyes. The brown irises with golden flecked in the right light and the smattering of laughter lines at the corners assured you that this was a man who liked to laugh, even if you were yet to hear it in the workplace.

He wore an equally tired smile, however, it brightened when you addressed him directly and you wondered if he thought hi would ignore his presence. If that was maybe what he was used to, and that thought didn’t sit well with you.

“Oh yeah? Let me guess… you enjoy a bottle of wine on most nights?”

“Or two,” he countered, making you laugh.

Honestly, you couldn’t understand why he was considered the black sheep of the firm. From everything you had seen and heard, he wasn’t the money grabbing type and maybe that was the reason for him being a pariah, but that wasn’t a reason to brush him off or avoid him outright.

“Y’know… people will talk if they see you chatting with me.” Higuruma crossed an arm over his chest, a defensive gesture if ever you saw one.

You hummed in thought. Not that you really cared what people had to say about you. “I think I can make my own decisions on who I should and should not speak with. Are you always this cautious?”

“Some might say I have no caution at all.”

“Then why are you trying to warn me off?”

Higuruma’s eyebrows rose into his hairline, a plume of smoke emitted from between his pursed lips to momentarily obscure his face. “Didn’t realise I was under cross-examination. You’ll go far,” he mused before crushing out the remnants of his smoke and bringing out a packet of mints from his pocket.

“I don’t know about that… this career isn’t exactly what I anticipated.”

He waited, sensing there was more you wanted to share, and he had no desire to scare you away or shut you down prematurely. You couldn’t put your finger on the reason why you wanted to confide in him, perhaps you felt some kind of kindred spirit in him but that would be foolish having known him all of five minutes.

“Higuruma, do you fancy a coffee? My treat,” you offered in a rush. Embarrassed by how nervous you were to ask at your big age, and more so worried that he would refuse you flat out.

“I’d like that, but there is something I’d like much more.”

You held your breath, not knowing what he could possibly wish for more. He chuckled at your look of concern, stepping forward to offer you a mint from his pack.

“I’d really like to know your name.”

[miguel-ohara-lover]

Kinktober day 10 - Ghost!Miguel

Prompt list

CW: nsfw, ghost, ftm!reader, kinda creepy, “pussy”/“cunt” used, squirting, eating out

Note: Tonight is gonna be a bit short because uh yeah depression fucking sucks ass… anyway- I like ghosts :] (🎶if you have ghoosssttt you have everythiiing-🎶)

Ps don’t question it it’s fictiooooonnnn…

Creepy stuff never bothered you before, and hey creepy generally meant cheaper. So when you heard of this really nice house that was half price do you a murder that took place, fuck yeah you wanna buy that shit. A little murder didn’t hurt especially when it meant you get cheap shit and it’s not like you committed the crime sooo…

The random noises and random moving objects was all easy to explain away. You probably forgot you moved it or it was probably the wind. Easy shit to explain. Though… seeing a figure of a man in the hallway was weird… You thought someone had broken in but as you got closer he disappeared.

This started happening more often, you’d see him, try to approach, and he’d vanish. He didn’t run and hide, he just went poof. Eventually you learned to not approach him, and instead would wave. After a few times he waved back, and that surprised you. Before it didn’t seem like he knew you were there, and know he’s acknowledged your existence.

He started sticking around more, started to acknowledge your presence more. He was very handsome for whatever the fuck he was. You figured he was a ghost, a spirit trapped in the mortal realm after his untimely death.

You noticed he would hang around more often, watching what you did or what you had on the tv. It didn’t bother you, and it was kind of nice knowing you had friendly eyes on you. At least you thought he was friendly, considering he hasn’t tried to possess and or murder you by now.

Some quick research told you what you were curious about. His name was Miguel O’Hara, his murder was unsolved. Perhaps that’s why he hung around, unfinished business and all. You tried to get him to open up to you, but he never spoke a word to you. He would just watch you and vanish before any progress is made.

One day, you were getting dressed in the morning when you noticed out of the corner of your eye he was standing in the doorway. He was watching you, but you didn’t feel unsafe.

“You have scars. Did someone hurt you?” He spoke for the first time since you met him. His voice surprised you. It sounded soft and distant, almost an echo to it.

It took you a moment to realize what he was referring to. “Oh.” You looked down at yourself, then back at him. “No, they’re just from surgery.”

“Ah. Okay then.” He nods and looks around your room.

“Do you have to stand there while I get dressed?” You chuckled a little. You didn’t entirely mind, what could he do he’s dead. He didn’t respond, and instead stood there like he had been.

You shrugged and continued changing, removing your pants and underwear. You bent over looking at your dresser for some panties. He looked over and would have blushed if he had blood. Your pussy looked so perfect to him, so wet and just asking for his attention.

“I can feel you staring.” You spoke up, still bend over. Suddenly, cold hands grabs your bare hips. You let out a small gasp as the freezing touch. He moves a hand from your hip to your pussy, dragging a cold finger through your slick folds and sending shivers through your body.

He stayed silent as a finger slipped inside you, making you shudder and moan. Part of you wondered how this was possible, how was he able to touch you if he’s dead. You weren’t complaining, but the wonder was still there. The thoughts were immediately forgotten, however, when you felt another finger circle your clit, drawing louder moans from you.

Miguel seemed pleased with, and pulled his hand away. It was silent and still for a moment, and you started to wonder if he had walked away. That was until you felt something else against your cunt, something hard.

You bit your lip as you felt his cock push into you, stretching your already tight pussy. Fuck he was big. How could anyone wanna murder a guy with THAT in his pants. He held onto your hips, guiding you down his shaft until your pelvis was against his. Miguel’s hands moved upward, under your shirt as he felt your body, his fingers eventually finding your scars and touching the flesh.

He turned his attention to your nipples, lightly tugging and teasing, earning little grunts of pleasure from you. He enjoyed that sound, it made his dick twitch. Your pussy contracted around him and he groaned slightly, starting to thrust his hips slow at first.

Miguel steadily picked up the pace until he was slamming into you at an inhuman speed. You cried out and moaned into the palm of your hand as this spirit ravaged your cunt. You were dripping wet just from the initial touches to your pussy. A hand went back down and played with your clit, gently tugging and rubbing circles as you whined.

It was so overstimulating, everything was pulling you closer and closer to the edge. The warm knot in your gut formed quickly, with all this pleasure it wasn’t hard. He was eager and ready to please, ready to pleasure you in any way he could, you were gorgeous to him.

You let out a loud moan as you came from his fingers and cock. His pelvis and lower torso were drenched from you squirting on him. The sight made him unravel immediately. He groaned and grunted as he spilled inside you, ice cold cum filling your pussy as his fingers moved faster, drawing more squirt juices from you and making you cry out.

He pulled out and released your clit from the torment. You panted and leaned against your dresser to stay upright, clit twitching from so much stimulation. He couldn’t help but admire you even more, so soaking wet from cumming, it drove him made

Miguel moved onto his knees and licked your pussy, making you moan and whimper slightly. He loved those sounds so much. His mouth wrapped around your clit and he sucked gently, making you cry out once more. He was so eager, happily pleasuring your clit all over again. He pushed his cold fingers into your pussy and finger fucked you roughly as he licked and sucked your clit, hoping for another shower.

You whined and rocked your hips a little, rubbing your pussy on his face as the pleasure overtook you. You saw stars in the air as reality melted away, and all you could think of was Miguel’s mouth, pleasing your cunt so perfectly. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, holding you against his face, eating you out as if it were his last meal.

His grip tightened and you could feel another orgasm building up inside you. It wasn’t long before you came a second time, squirting once more and giving Miguel that shower he wanted. He didn’t stop going to town on your cunt, however. He just couldn’t get enough, holding your trembling legs as he feasted.

Eventually he did stop, after making you cum a third… fourth… and fifth time. By then you were gone, thoughts incoherent and words just a mumbling mess, unable to keep yourself up anymore. He helped you into bed, wiping up any mess left on you and tucking you in.

“That was fun.” He spoke up. In your sleepy mindless state all you could manage was “mhm”. He didn’t mind, smiling down at you as you drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

He’d watch over you of course. Always.

———

Tag list(feel free to ask to be on it):

@6thhokageswife @zaunsin @famouscattale @m4dyy @thedevax @migueloharastruelove @queerponcho @lynnxnnyl

[random-writing-panda]

||•~ Growing pains ~•||

(Older)Damian Wayne x Reader

*My GIF

I’m finally getting better at making fic’s longer. As always I hope you guys enjoy it and that my inability to spell doesn’t reflect in my writing to much🙃 

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: little bit angsty

====================================

Damian starts to develop feelings towards his best friend, he doesn't understand what these feelings mean so who better to go to but his big brother Dick?

====================================

Damian hated this class. Out of all the classes he had to waste his day attending, this one was the worst because the one person who made school bearable was on the other side of the room. So, he was stuck sitting next to morons who only wanted to talk to him because he was Damian Wayne.  

He was zoned out not paying any attention to the class, he didn’t need to, he knew more about the subject then the teacher did and that left him to doing the one thing that had seemed to take over his life recently, drawing you. He sat there sketching lines onto his book glancing up to look over to you as you sat with your face resting in your hand looking half asleep. Damian smiled to himself as he looked back down to the sketch. No matter how many times he drew you he could never make it perfect, never fully capture the beauty you hold.

It had been almost two months of Damian drawing you. You had found one of his sketch books and were so shocked at how talented he was, the detail was incredible, so obviously as his best friend you begged him to draw you.  

∞∞

“No.” he sighed  

“C’monnnn Dami please! Just one sketch. It’s just one please!” you grab his arm and he squirms a little.

“Oh sorry... I forgot the touching thing. But seriously please? Just draw me once.” you pull you hand away and give him puppy dog eyes. You were the one person he listened to, not a lot, but more than anyone else.

“Fine. One okay?” he looks over to you and smiles as you start clapping and smiling.

“Thank you Dami!”  

∞∞

He had finished the sketch and just looked at it just wasn’t good enough, it was missing something and he couldn’t make it look perfect but you had seen him stop so you practically ran over to him and sat next to him and ran your fingers over the edge of the paper and you had smiled so much, you seemed so happy.  

As happy as you were with the picture Damian just couldn’t let go of the fact something was missing, so he tried again, using the picture of the two of you that he kept in his room as a reference.

It drove him crazy, whenever he saw you there was something so beautiful that he just couldn’t capture in his drawings and eventually after every day you spent together, he would sit down and draw it.  

Over the two months he had filled up the entire book with memories and whenever he looked through his sketchbook he was filled with happiness and something completely unexplainable.

“Damian since you seem to be paying attention what is the answer to the question?” the teacher asked trying to embarrass him. It backfired quickly when Damian answered correctly without even looking up from his book. The class tried to stifle their laughter as the teacher turned red and tried to continue with the class.

Damian shot his eyes up to look at you again and he heard your laugh after what had occurred and he just smiled back at you. He didn’t know what was happening to him.

How he felt about you confused him which he hated Damian absolutely hated not know what was happening especially when his own feelings are what were confusing him. He needed to know what was happening and he couldn’t work it out on his own... he needed help...  

∞∞

He was never going to let Damian live this down. Damien actually asking for someone else's help.

“I swear Grayson. You will never utter a word of this conversation to anyone is that understood?” Damian scowls at Dick as they sit across from each other.  

“Sure, okay fine what do you need help with Damian?” Dick slouches over resting his elbows on his knees.

“Whenever I’m with Y/n... I feel weird.” Damian says trying to piece together the words.

“Weird? What do you mean weird?”  

“If I knew what I meant I would have said that wouldn't I Grayson? Uh forget it.” Damian goes to stand up.

“No! Hey Damian, I'm sorry come on I want to help.” Dick says standing and gently puts his hand on Damian’s shoulder, “Just talk to me try to explain it?”

“Fine... when I’m with her I...I just...I feel like I’m happier... I feel like a better person and I feel...okay I mean actually okay.” Damian sat back down and but his head in his hands. “And... there is just something unexplainable and...I don’t understand... my entire life i have know exactly how to feel and how to respond... how to turn off my feelings...but I can’t and I don’t know how to deal with it... i don’t even know what it is!”

“Heh... sounds like you're in love.” Dick lets out a small almost sad chuckle. “First love...wow”

“Love?-”

“Yeah love it is what happens when people-”  

“I know what love is Grayson!” Damian replies hastily and rolls his eyes, “I just didn’t know it felt like... this...”

“It’s love. It feels like love. You just know!” Dick says almost like he was confused  

“No Grayson. I don’t know that’s why I came to you.” Damian knew people didn’t understand but at this point they didn’t even try to understand that he couldn't process emotion like other people, they just brush it off.

“I’m trying to be supportive but how do you not know what love is like? Any kind of love?”

“Well Dick some of us didn’t grow up perfectly.”

“Perfectly?! Perfectly really?? No one in this house grew up perfectly! Except maybe Alfred, but that’s beside the point!”

“Yeah well you could be less of a dick, Dick.” Damien stood up and walked away without a second thought.

∞∞

“I will never understand the need for a bed the size of a normal room.” You laugh as you fall back onto Damian’s bed and lay there looking up at his ceiling.

“I don’t get it either but its comfortable.”  Damian raises his head and puts his pencil on his desk.

“I agree maximum comfort levels. I should sleep over more.” you smile and watching you on his bed his face heats up and you move around on the bed and walk over to him.

You sit up on his desk and look down at Damian’s sketch book.

“Is that me?” you move to grab the book, but Damian gets to it first and slams it shut.

“Nope.” his eyes meet yours and he smiles, “Not you at all.”  

“Hm I don’t think so, I'm pretttyy sure that was me.”  

He looks down and he tried to stay calm. Did you hate him? Did you think he was creep? Were you going to stop hanging out with him?

“Let me see it!” you laugh and try to grab the book.

“No!”  

“Please?”

“...Fine...”

He hands the book over to you and his hand brushed yours and you smiled.

You open the book to the first page and see a beautiful sketch of your day out at the beach with him, you flip over the pages one by one and are met with an entire book full of drawings of you.

“Damian...”

That was it you thought he was a creep.

“These are so amazing...” you reach the end of the book and find a page with your sketch in a box in the middle of the page.

“Sorry...this is weird...” He looks at the wall and straightens up in his seat.

You reach over and place your hand on his cheek, you run your finger over the side of his face.

“What are you talking about? They are amazing Damian what are you embarrassed about?”

“You don’t think I'm creepy for having a sketch book full of pictures of you?” Damian laughs and leans into your hand.

“No... it's so sweet.” you look down trying to force words pass the lump in your throat. “It’s nice to have the guy you like take that much interest in you...” you mumble to quietly.

“You like me?”

“Yeah...maybe...a little bit...”  

“Good.” Damian stands up and tugs you off the desk and hugs you. “Because... I think I like you too.”

“Damian?”

He pulls back.

“Yeah...?”

“Can I kiss you?”  

He smiles and you lean into him and press your lips against his and you slowly close your eyes,grasping your waist tightly he pulls you closer to him. The moment seems to last for an eternity and once you pull away you rest you head on his chest.

“Just one sketch huh...?” you look up and Damien rolls his eyes at chuckles.

“Just one sketch.”  

================

Tag list:

[vintagebunnies]

Ok if you take requests can you write an eddie munson x reader smut where he makes y/n read one of her smutty books out loud and he does whatever the characters in the book is doing

i love this sm!! thank you anon <3

smut, fem!reader, 18+ only!

“Keep reading sweetheart,” Eddie spoke lowly, resting on his stomach in between your thighs.

You’re starting to regret telling Eddie about your newest book purchase. He was immediately intrigued when you told him the main purpose of the riveting story.

It was similar to the same old book cliche; the shy girl falls in love with the town's “bad boy”. Eddie snickered when you read the summary, giving you a smirk that made your face warm up.

Eddie suggested that you two reenact the scenes in the book. Specifically the sex scenes.

You felt embarrassed reading something so obscene out loud, wanting to curl in on yourself. But either way, Eddie tried to get you to come out of your shell and not feel so sheepish. Hell, he even showcased his porno magazine collection to you.

There were no more secrets between you two anymore.

“I- I, um, I forgot where I was..” You mumbled out. You felt exposed to his prying eyes, thighs spread out in front of you, bracketing Eddie’s head between them.

“Hm, I think it was something along the lines of, he descended lower, mouth right over her dripping-“

“Okay- Yeah, yeah I remember,” You cut him off quickly.

Eddie rewarded you with a wolfish grin, ring clad hands coming around to squeeze the top of your plush thighs.

You quickly found where you currently were in the book, continuing to read. As you spoke, Eddie left small kisses on your mound. Your breathing accelerated, heart practically beating out of your chest.

The book was held in a white knuckled grip, your brows furrowed as you tried to regulate your breathing.

Eddie dipped his head down, dragging his tongue through your slit, making you gasp. Your hips jolted up from the friction.

“Oh- fuck,” Your voice was barely a whisper.

“Mm, keep reading,” Eddie’s eyes drifted close, savoring your taste.

You carried on reading while Eddie attached his lips to your clit, giving it a small suck. Your words were choked on a moan, dropping the book and grabbing onto the back of Eddie’s head.

He brought two fingers up to your sopping hole, slowly easing them inside. You dropped your head back onto the pillow, biting your lip. Eddie was thrusting his fingers in and out, keeping up a moderate pace, sometimes curving them upwards.

You let go of your lip to let out a quiet moan, the sound egging Eddie on. His thick fingers brushed against something spongey, making you clench on his fingers. A new wave of arousal gushed, seeping from your slit.

The book was completely forgotten, too caught up in pleasure to care. Eddie was more focused on making you cum, speeding up the pace of his tongue on your clit and his insistent thrusting into your hole.

Your orgasm was hurdling closer, making you draw your legs up to your chest.

Another type of pleasure was blooming in your lower belly. A familiar heat.

“You close?” Eddie replaced his mouth with his thumb, not stopping.

You were only able to let out a quiet ‘uh-huh’ to his question, not able to form a full sentence. Eddie’s beaming smile took up practically his entire face.

A few more thrusts to the special spot within, and a steady stream of your release sprayed from you. The bottom half of Eddie’s face was soaked, a puddle forming under you.

You were too busy catching your breath to notice Eddie’s sudden position change. He was hovering over you now.

“How ‘bout we start on the next page?”

[stellisketches]

Random MCD Headcanons that have nothing to do with anything (Part 5???)

Sorry I haven't made any real posts in forever. My drawing phone broke and college has been a bitch so i haven't really gotten the chance to make anything (though I finally made some more progress on the next chapter of my rewrite). In any case, please accept this next installment of head canons I wrote like 10 months ago and completely forgot about in lieu of anything that requires actual talent. Love y'all:

Laurance lost an incisor tooth in a fistfight when he was 19

When he got turned into a shadowknight it grew back, now he purposefully goes out of his way to loose teeth just cause he knows he can grow back an unlimited supply

Hayden has a cat named Bog Butter. He’s the color of butter and he found him in the bog. 

Vylad’s favorite vegetable is avocado

There are three major guard academies in Ru’aun: one in O’Khasis, one in Scaleswind, and one in Bright Port. 

Bright Port’s is the largest and most well known

O’Khasis’ is the most prestigious

Scaleswind’s academy is the most difficult

The bare minimum age to join is 14, though most people join between 16-19

Every guard must have a minimum of 2 years training to earn the actual title of Guard, however to serve in O’Khasis you need a minimum of 4 and for Scaleswind a minimum of 5. 

Part of that training includes apprenticeship, so they do get some in-field experience with their mentors (think unpaid intern)

Technically you can train for up to 8 years, however most people only train for 2-5.

Garroth was in academy for 3-4 (although to be fair he had been trained in sword fighting since he was like 9)

Laurance went for 5 years and Dante went for 6 ½ 

Dante lied about his age when he enlisted though

He was barely thirteen

Both went to the Bright Port Academy however they were in different divisions at different times since Dante is younger, so they really only saw each other in passing and never actually talked to one another

The only personal interaction they ever had was one time at the academy Laurance was trying to get back to his dorm after a night of copious drinking and partying and could barely walk out the front door of the bar. Dante (who was pretty tipsy himself) ended up half-carrying back to Laurance’s dorm before going back to his own. Neither of them remember this. 

Katelyn’s two older brothers’ names are Kaj and Khareem

Khareem is the oldest, then Kaj, then Katelyn, then Kacey

Occasionally, when he is absolutely, positively, 100% sure he is alone, Zane will sing to himself sometimes

Dante once did a Zane impression in front of everyone and Garroth got so freaked out by how realistic it sounded he made Dante swear he’d never do that voice around him again. 

The worst argument Kenmur and Emmalyn ever had during their marriage was whether their system was heliocentric or geocentric (Kenmur argued the former and Emmalyn argued the latter)

In most colleges across Ru’Aun, there is usually some statue of Enki that students will leave offerings to before their big exams

Offerings vary, but it’s usually something like food, money, trinkets, or paper. It varies on how important the exam/how desperate the students are

Kenmur went to one of these colleges for a few years

One time he fell asleep the night before his final exam and he woke up like an hour before his exam was supposed to take place and in a fit of panic he dumped his entire wallet in front of the statue. He passed with flying colors.

One time at the Narhakan college someone left a life-sized horse statue made out of gold. No one has any idea where it came from or who left it. It’s become kind of an urban legend among all the colleges

Zenix never learned how to read and by god he isn’t about to wimp out now

Garroth tried to teach him once and it… did not go well

Let’s just say Garroth still owes Emmalyn a book from that incident. And a new table. 

Zianna came from the same region that Esmund was native to

Katelyn absolutely despises the feeling of sand in her shoes

Dmitri and Nekoette raided the Bright Port guard academy kitchen the first night they got sworn in

Dmitri also had to go to the infirmary after getting shot in the arm by one of Nekoette’s loose arrows

Laurance can play the piano and used to play it at some of the taverns in Meteli

Levin and Malachi both know a good bit of Elvish thanks to spending so much time in Yggdrasil

They switch to Elvish for the majority of their arguments

[sanctus-ingenium]

I was wondering how achieve such a wonderful textured finish on your pieces? They are wonderful and I love their resemblance to aged photographs and the speckles of colors in the backgrounds. Your art is mesmerizing :)

you can see some of the texture brush sets i use in my #info_asks tag but i have some more (procreate) tips aside from just brushes

also hi i made this whole thing and then stupidly hit ctrl z to erase ONE word and i lost the entire bottom half of the post and all my image descriptions so fuck you tumblr i had to make this twice

to get a faded photo or old digital screen look, consider duplicating the canvas (once all the layers are merged) and using a gaussian blur tool on the new duplicated layer. then set that to low opacity to add a misty sort of look. looks nice in combination with some chromatic abberation and a small bloom effect. then a subtle noise filter on top:

for faded print effects, it's really worthwhile to learn how to use layer masks. you can use a layer mask to non-destructively 'weather' blocks of colour or lineart, without erasing the layer itself. the weathered ink/block print effect here was made using layer masks which means that if i just hide the mask, the lineart becomes solid black again and easy to alter or colour in:

for old paper effects you can just set a paper texture on multiply over the art sure, but you can also combine it with the blur & bloom thing, a really subtle drop shadow and canvas tilt, and highlights to make it look like an aged photograph of a card. this originally had a transparent bg but i'll post it here with a white bg so that the drop shadow is more obvious. the scuffed edges of the card (left) were hand drawn, simple white stucco brush. the bigger patch of scuffed ink (top right) was a texture stamp.

for block print looks you can move the colour layer out of alignment by a few pixels - but only after you're absolutely sure you're done with it, otherwise you'll get something like this -

i forgot to erase out her eye before i moved the red layer so now her eye defeats the 'look' of a misaligned print. the black lineart and red layer were also given the same layer mask treatment as described above to make them look faded or like the ink didn't stick down right to the paper

you can do this with multiple colour layers too. if the colour layers are separated and set to multiply (as in this cmyk example), it'll leave halos and edges around each shape which mimic old comic book print

just to show what you can do WITHOUT any special brushes, here's a piece of one of my mez tarot cards from before i got any extra brushsets at all. for this one, i added a green tint over everything to mimic a sun-bleached or faded print (my actual goal wasn't 'medieval illustration' but actually 'trading card from the 60s that got left on someone's windowsill for decades'). the background texture is the procreate noise brush. the texture under the green lion drawing is the procreate concrete brush (to make it look painted onto a wall). the lettering and lineart is procreate's 6B pencil. but to properly aim for The Look of it being a printed physical object, i also used a perspective blur so that the edges are out of focus, and metallic gold highlights which don't match the lighting of the actual illustration and appear to be catching some other external light. that texture was made from the procreate noise brush

it's pretty simple compared to my later stuff but i still really like the effect

in terms of colours, you need to keep them unified so that they all appear to be acting under the same external light source, like if someone is holding up a torch to a painting then the painting colours will be glazed with firelight even if there's no painted fire. a really easy way to do this is to slap a multiply layer over everything in one shade - grey-yellow for a weathered paper look, or greenish blue for sunbleached photos. this unifies all the colours of the drawing. or you can apply a gradient map at a low opacity so that there's only a subtle change. or just do it by hand - if you want everything to be slightly tinted yellow, just pick the colours you normally would, but move the colour wheel towards yellow to get a yellowfied version of the base colour. easy

it's really important to consider how fading and weathering can affect printed colour. white paper yellows, black fades. you will rarely see pure black or pure white. which means you can use pure black or pure white to add external effects like the white scuff marks on the hierophant card. if the whole drawing is yellowed from age but there's some white somewhere, it's an easy shorthand to show that the scuff mark or whatever was not originally part of the drawing (great way to add some nasty stains lol)

[charlottecutepie]

☥ Bunny meat (William Afton x fem!reader x Michael Afton)

Summary: He was a likeable middle-aged man who had wonderful children, his dream job and a beautiful wife. He never blamed himself for his own actions, or to be more exact, he never thought about their consequences.

author note: im glad some of you liked the story and left comments, im glad I can share with you this fic, hopefully you’ll like this chapter<3

tags: darkfic, unhealthy relationship, angst, smut with plot, p in v, dubcon, oral sex, rough and gentle sex, daddy kink, blood play, knife play, fear play, hurt/comfort, violence, gore/murders, child abuse, follows fnaf lore, moral and physical abuse, virginity kink, anxiety disorder, age gap, daddy issues, unreliable narrator, hallucinations, hidden pairing, William is sick, psychopathy, unhealthy narcissism

Chapter 3

Chapter 2. Birthday girl

The bright rays of the sun hit your closed eyelids, making you wince and cover yourself with a blanket. But because of the sultry summer heat, you became instantly hot. When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was your own personal open diary. Being half asleep, you forgot that you were writing in it all night. In a panic, you closed it and hid it under the pillow, hoping that mom didn't come into your room.

After you got yourself in order, you went out to the living room, but mom wasn't home. She left a note saying that breakfast was on the table, and she would be back in a few hours. You sighed.

What a nice beginning of your birthday.

…

Mom returned home closer to two o'clock in the afternoon. You noticed how her, all happy and cheerful, was getting out of the purple car with bags.

You knew whose car it was. You didn't like it.

The next hours flew by quickly. Your mom all happy entered house, you rushed into her arms. A million kind words, congratulations, kisses on the forehead. And most importantly — your gift. A minimalistic purple dress, made as if specifically for your figure. It fit you perfectly, hugging your waist and breasts.

Closer to evening, you and your mom were ready. She put on makeup, not too bright, but it was unusual for you to see her with lipstick and mascara. She was wearing her favorite skirt, which she always wore for walks with you when you were little. A light beige jacket complemented her look.

“Okay, now we’ll wait for a taxi.” said woman, approaching you.

The car pulled up a few minutes later while you were standing and discussing the upcoming evening. You and mom got in the back seats and the driver started the car. The whole ride you couldn't leave the thought of where mom got the money for a taxi. And when you got out of the car, your confusion only increased, because she didn’t pay driver as he only smiled goodbye.

It appeared to the eye. The most famous pizzeria in your whole town: “Freddy Fazbear's Pizza”. It looked like an ordinary diner, but you knew why it caused such a stir among children and adults. It was because of those animatronics, which, to tell the truth, caused you strange feelings. These robots were thousands of times taller and bigger than you, and their design always made you shiver. Despite the fact that you spent your entire childhood in this pizzeria, because you had to hide from your father somewhere, you still couldn't get used to their appearance. But the children who came here, apparently, were satisfied with everything.

When you entered the pizzeria, you immediately noticed that… Nothing has changed here. It was strange, because Mr. Afton was always busy with drawings, some projects related to this place. What can you say, he literally lived here, disappearing into his office day and night. The place was filled with people, mostly little kids, who happily jumped around animatronics, trying to somehow talk to them. Most of the tables were occupied, you started looking around the pizzeria in search of an empty seat.

“And here you are!” voice of William Afton called out to you. You jumped in surprise, causing him to grin. “Oh, what happened? Did I really scare you that much?”

“Mr. Afton, good evening!” your mom shook his hand.

“Hello, [your mom’s name].” he looked at her with a smile and, turning around, went to an single table, telling you to follow him. “ I chose this place especially for our dear birthday girl.”

Your cheeks flushed from such attention. You smiled and you sat down at the table. Your mom picked up the menu, but mr. Afton shook his head.

“Excuse me, ladies, but I have reserved today's choice for myself. In honor of your birthday, we offer you the best pizza and drinks of the diner!” he clapped his hands, imitating joy. “You won’t be disappointed.”

With these words, he disappeared from sight, leaving into the crowd of children and adults. You looked at your mom, who was just glowing with an abundance of joy and happiness. She looked so carefree, happy as a child, and you laughed at the thought of who has a birthday here.

Half an hour later, a nice and friendly waitress brought a huge hot cheese pizza with an incredible flavor. Smile didn’t leave your face as the look of this pizza was so good that you noticed the envious look of the children at the near tables.

You and mom started eating. After a while, William joined you both. Sitting down at your table, he waved to the waitress, and she instantly brought you three glasses and a bottle of champagne. This surprised you, but you decided not to show it, continuing to smile.

“You know, this is a children's place and alcohol is not welcome here.” Afton began, pouring champagne into glasses. “but in honor of the coming of age of Y/n, I decided that its possible to break this rule.” he smiled, looking at you.

“Mr. Afton, you are right, such a day should definitely be celebrated!” your mother has already taken a full glass, the same thing was done by the man himself. Both adults looked at you expectantly. You laughed nervously and also took the glass in your hand.

“Happy birthday, Y/n!” exclaimed William and you clinked glasses. It was your first experience with alcohol, bringing a glass to your lips and drinking the liquid from it, you immediately winced at the taste, although the smell was quite tolerable.

You spent the remaining half hour at the same table, talking about absolutely any topic, remembering how you spent your childhood in this pizzeria, and William also talked about his eldest son. You laughed at the stories about Michael, because he was your best friend from school, and he always positioned himself as a cool, dangerous macho in front of you, and in William's stories he was just a silly boy.

Time flew by so fast that you didn't even notice how all the people disappeared. Looking at the clock, you saw that it was already late evening, which means the pizzeria closed its doors to visitors, however, this didn’t alarm either Afton or your mother. They were sitting at the table, having a nice conversation about something, until her phone rang.

“Excuse me for a moment.”

You were left alone with him. All your joy in one moment disappeared somewhere, giving way to anxiety. You began nervously touching the hem of your dress, afraid to start a conversation.

“You look absolutely gorgeous in that dress.” William broke the silence. You looked up at him and smiled sweetly, thanking him. “Yeah… after all, I have a sense of style.” he chucked, taking a sip of champagne.

“Did you buy this dress?”

“This is a gift for your coming of age.” he noticed your confused look and added: “yes, I paid for the taxi too, honey."

Those nicknames again… This stupid pinky blush appears on your cheeks again. All you can do is keep smiling stupidly.

“I really liked this dress, Mr. Afton!”

Your conversation was interrupted by your mother, running up to you with worried look on her face.

“Mr. Afton, please take Y/n home, I am urgently called to work.” then your smile instantly disappeared. You looked at Mom, pleading with her to stay. “Oh, hun, I'm sorry, but it's very urgent. I'll be home early in the morning, don't wait for me and go to bed.” after kissing your forehead one last time, she ran out of the pizzeria.

…

William's car isn't exactly small, but it's not huge either. Anxious thought didn’t leave your head that he drank alcohol and got behind the wheel, you hoped that you would get home safely. In general, ideally you should have been sitting in the back seat, but it was occupied by some things.

“Don't be so nervous, y/n." his voice sounded so calm. “You've known me since childhood, why are you so scared?”

Damn, was your anxiety really that noticeable?

“Sorry, I haven't been myself lately…”

“You’ve always been a little scared girl.” you frowned at such statements, you’re not sure whether he was mocking or showing real emotions. “I feel so sorry for you, such a hard childhood.”

At end, you arrived without incident. His car is parked next to your house. Afton took you to the porch, all this time his piercing gaze didn’t leave you.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“You're welcome, dear, and happy birthday again.”

You went inside, but when you heard his footsteps behind you, you got confused and looked at him in surprise.

“Mr. Afton, is something wrong?” you asked, watching him come into your house, closing the door. “I can wait my mom alone.”

“I see that you’re afraid to be alone.” he smiled. “Do you mind if I keep such a lovely girl company?”