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color-craz · 2 months

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AF MidWeek Round-up!

This is just a simple post compiling all of my attacks so far along with some artists notes! Mostly because I found myself much more active this year than last year (Minus these few couple days due to some appointments). I'll be tagging everyone and linking to other socials so you can see these lovely folks. Of course if you want to attack me, I'm ready to fight! Without further ado, here's all the attacks so far :>

@cosmicdenro @stellarknightz - Weekend Date The name of the game for these first few attacks was to get everyone who I was supposed to last year but ran out of time ^^;;. I decided upon Jesse's Zircon over Jesse the character (one in my bookmarks) b/c it seemed like Turquoise Zircon was less drawn this year but was his icon on AF. So easy pick from me :> (Btw doing Sodalite's stripes and copying Zircon's shape language was really fun!!)

@/clawothy (Twitter) - Chill Cat Another attack from last years bookmarks! It was definitely a soft but enjoyable opening into drawing furries since Claw's so human shaped. It was fun drawing his tail and patterns :>. This is just a nice character design all around.

@twidaisi - Speedy Service Twi was also one from my bookmarks, but also a doorway down an ArtFight rabbit hole. Which will become apparent in the next two pieces. For this one, I had a pretty clear pose in mind so I placed it onto O.R.B.I and went from there!! His design is so neat and he seems so cool! The pose was also pretty fun to do as well, just an overall fun art piece (Also this one got a revenge!!! I still really really love thank you so much!!!!!)

@scratchgeist - Escapism Ho! This was a doozy! Twi had Scratch's profile linked so I ended up hitting him with an attack too. Drawing Scratch's mane turned out to be a pleasant experience despite me originally fearing it. This scene idea also came from a prompt of Scratch going outside. I ended up putting Polish on this because all those scratchy "ink like" lines I actually did manually (take a fuzzy brush and then go over it using a sketchbook eraser). It was nice dipping my toes into BatIM again and trying out more animal feature.

@/stylin.art Instagram @/crypticc0rpse Instagram - Pirates in arms One of those two people were linked on Scratch's profile and the person linked also linked to the other person. But I realized that both Stylin and Crypt had some shared characters. So this ended my little rabbit hole of people by attacking these two lovely fellows at the same time. This little crossing swords idea took me a nice minute to come up with but I liked how it ended up anyway. I really did like drawing James together like this (probably helps that I really like pirates in general). Also yes I know her hand is fucked up I noticed way to late to fix it.

@smoresthehalloweenqueen - Listen to the waves Once I finished up with that I moved onto the next bookmark, which was Smores! Originally I was gonna draw Brutus but then I was like "I like his sona it looks like fun!" So I drew them listening to music because why not :>. I struggled on the arms initially but it came out real clean and nice. Honestly might be my best work so far! (Fun fact, I color picked the waves + background from Seafoam's icon.)

@skittisketch - I got it! Mr. Sascachawean himself! I referenced this pose form the classic Objection point because I thought it would fit his personality. This was also a little bit of a test with a style I had only done in sketches (Basically my human style but omitting a neck which somehow shaves off a lot of time). This was a super fun pose to do with a pretty nice background! (Once again, fucked up hand I know I noticed too late again)

@justpainterrobot - Rare Nightly Sight I had this really really clear picture of what I thought up for this attack and I'm happy that I was able to make it a reality. I put the polish tag on this one because I almost got super super detailed of what the junk was below her (Stuff coming down from Elysium n all that) but due to a lack of references I just went with typical metal and wood. Fun fact, the night sky in the background is based on the one from Deponia itself (The first game's scenes with the professor at night). I think this rewrite of Toni was really cool from what I could find about her. Overall a labor of love type of attack.

@coelpts @swan-swanno - Boss Battle I thought to myself "Hm, I see Coelpts around a lot, lets hit him with an attack." and it turns out Ciel's gay married to Swanno's charater Mikhail, who was the last one in my bookmarks from last year. So another double attack for this one! It was a struggle starting this one mostly because I was debating whether or not to draw Ciel's Lord outfit but I ended up doing so because why not :>. It was a fun experience copying Swanno's more angular style, which is a stark departure from my more rounded shapes (As you can see here). Has a nice venture doing the lighting as well, overall a good experience.

@tailsylennon - Sweet Treats Mitchell showed off Tasily's proflie one day and I saw their sona and was I was like "Lemme draw it!" and did! I ended up following another prompt by her because it was their birthday! (By the time I started on this it was 8 pm and I freaked tf out and got to work). Her sona was really cool and I really loved drawing them. Fun fact, each of the set pieces references the Hallows Souls trio. The chair is decorated after Terra, Markus is the table, and Whistle pallet is used for the tea set :>. It was just a pleasant and cozy attack to make overall.

@ceaseless-enemy - Congratulations!!!! I've actually known about Voila for quite awhile now and thought his design n theaming is quite neat! I actually based the pose off of Ai from Oshi No Ko (I think one of her key arts before the anime released, ifykyk). But I skillfully cut out the legs because I can't draw digitigrade legs... Hooray... Otherwise it was quite nice to work on this attack in particular, especially the eyes and the hair :>.

@killbent - Getting Ready This is another one I had a real clear idea of prior to doing this, specifically because Killbent gave a prompt to give Mr Fairchime pink hair, so i thought a "pre-show" set up would look nice :>. The lighting was another new venture for me, because I usually do cool/night time like lighting but I think it turned out nicely for Fairchime. It was also fun doing the accessories and stuff on the vanity as well. Fun Fact, it's a bit hard to see through the watermark + lighting but the face paint and pallet both have the colors of his make up! Overall a pleasant and warm attack for this year.

And that's all of them so far! I picked up some new bookmarks + I gotta get Twi back for drawing Compact!! So those will probably be compiled by the end of AF so about, early August-ish if I keep up the pace. Anyway, thank you so much for reading and gracing me with the opportunity to draw all of these amazing characters!

Until next time!

-Gappy, Witch of the Stars

#my art #art #artists on tumblr #gappy's diary #artfight #art fight #artfight attack #af 2024 #team stardust #digital art #digital drawing

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hollyethecurious · 8 months

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CS AU: Pan Says... (7/?)

Summary: After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.

A/N: I know, I know... all I do lately is apologize for not updating more frequently. I promise to try and do better, and as penance I have for you today a longer update than I had originally planned, so... forgive me?

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE! Heed the warnings listed below. This chapter is a bit of a doozy.

Lots of love to @ultraluckycatnd and @kmomof4 for their exceptional beta skills!

Rated E /Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six

Chapter Prompts: I received a couple of Asks asking for scenarios I've included in this update. Most of them were anonymous, lol.

Warnings: This chapter contains depictions of medical assault and rape by instrumentation. Also includes somnophilia, dubious consent, and a POV some readers might find triggering. Please feel free to message me for specifics before reading if you need to.

Part Seven

Nature’s call pulled Killian from a deep sleep. He stumbled his way to the water closet, trying his best to not wake Emma as he closed the door and relieved himself. He’d just finished a haphazard washing of his hands when he heard the soft click of the lock on the bathroom door, and then the dread-inducing screech of the metal door that separated them from the rest of the compound. Someone had entered their room, Killian realized in a panic, frantically trying to open the firmly locked door that separated him from his Swan.

“Emma!” he shouted, hoping to rouse her from sleep before their intruder did. “Emma!”

Startled exclamations muffled their way to his ears, as did the rustling of sheets and thuds from bootfalls. Again, Killian cried out Emma’s name, banging on the door and demanding to be let out.

“Killian!” he heard Emma shout, a bit more distant than he’d expect if she were still on the bed.

More rustling and shuffles of feet, followed by the agonizing sound of the metal door sealing shut once more had Killian’s pulse spiking in fear. When the soft click of the lock finally released, he burst out of the bathroom to find the room vacant.

Pillows and linens were strewn across the bed and onto the floor. Killian followed the trail of the bedsheet and hammered his fist against the door. “Let me out!” he demanded, pain shooting up his arm with each pounding. “Let me out!”

“Why would I do that?” Pan’s voice crackled from overhead.

Killian turned to face one of the many cameras “hidden” within the room. “Bring her back!“ he shouted. “Bring Emma back!”

“I don’t think so,” Pan drawled, a hardened edge underpinning his words. “I think some time away from each other to reflect upon what you’ve done will do you both some good. Besides…” he drew out the dramatic pause, and though Killian had no idea what the vile little imp looked like, he couldn’t help but imagine a sinister grin being applied to his next words. “We both know your little act of defiance last night cannot go without punishment.”

“Take me, then” Killian pleaded. “Bring Emma back and take me! I’ll bear the punishment. Just… don’t hurt Emma.”

“Oh, you’ll share in the punishment,” Pan promised. “I have something very special planned for the both of you. Don’t you worry about that.”

Feedback shrieked through the speakers, forcing Killian to cover his ears as Pan quite clearly and effectively shut down their communication. Tears welled in Killian’s eyes and his whole body shook from the overwhelming fear consuming him.

What was Pan planning to do? How long would he and Emma be separated from one another? What would they have to endure whilst they were reflecting?

Killian sank down on the edge of the bed and buried his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry, Emma,” he whispered into the silence. “I’m so sorry, my love.”

Eventually, he traded his seated position at the end of the bed to being curled up in the fetal position upon it. He watched the path of the sun as its beams entered through the high window after sunrise and crossed the floor of the room during the early morning hours. He was numb and emotionally spent, having given over to the terror and tears that had wracked his body for what seemed like hours. Now, he just laid there, staring at the chips and cracks in the floor, without even the energy to chastise himself. What would the point be in that? It wasn’t as though there was anything he could do. No way out of the room, no way to communicate with anyone, no way to help Emma.

Killian clamped his eyes shut and fought back the rising bile his mutinous imagination threatened to bring up. Try as he might to keep the thoughts and visions at bay, he couldn’t help but consider the atrocities Pan might be subjecting her to. He turned his face into the mattress and balled the sheet in his hand, attempting once more to expel the torment of his mind.

The crackle of static from the tv screen grabbed his attention and Killian bolted off the bed. The monitor showed a sterile looking exam room, much like one would find at a physician’s office. Coming into frame from off screen, a Lost One appeared carrying an unconscious Emma in his arms. Killian tensed as he watched him lay her on the exam table, only relaxing when he disappeared out of frame again. The relief was short lived when another man entered, quickly followed by a small statured woman. Both were garbed in medical scrubs, including surgical masks, which obscured their identity.

Killian watched in confused horror as the woman - a nurse? - folded out a pair of stirrups from the end of the table and set Emma’s feet into them. She and the doctor (or at least, Killian hoped he was a doctor) positioned Emma to their liking, covering her lower half with a sheet before the doctor brought over a stool and sat between her spread open legs. Killian watched with shallow breaths and clenched fists as the nurse handed the doctor instruments so he could perform some sort of procedure. When it finally became clear to him, Killian was shocked to realize what he was witnessing.

They were removing her IUD.

Pushing himself away from the exam table, the doctor stood and removed his gloves. There was no audio, but Killian deduced he had given the nurse instructions before departing. It wasn’t until after the man had gone that Killian acknowledged the reason for the extra tension he’d been holding. As violating as the procedure had been, Killian had prepared himself to witness an altogether different kind of violation of his Swan.

Shaken, Killian sat back down and ran his hands through his hair, only vaguely aware Pan had come back on the speaker.

“What?”

“Pan says,” he repeated, “you are not permitted to tell her what you just saw.”

Stunned, Killian blinked several times, letting his mind catch up to the horrors Pan continued to lay before him, then thunderously, he stood and shouted, “You can’t expect me to keep something of this magnitude from her!”

“You will if you want to keep her alive,” Pan stated flatly, sobering Killian and sending a chill down his spine. “Keep this to yourself,” Pan warned again. “Or your punishment will be paid by her… with her life.”

~/~

Emma sat on a tiny cot with her knees pulled up to her chest. The hospital gown they’d given her the day before was stiff and scratchy against her skin, but at least she was no longer cramping.

Pan had told her that she would be the one punished, because she had been the instigator in her and Killian’s “dalliance”. The price for such an offense… she had to have her IUD removed, and she had to keep its removal a secret from Killian.

“You can’t expect me to keep something like that from him!” she’d protested, yelling up at the speakers embedded in the ceiling of her new, tiny cell.

“If you do not,” Pan had warned her coldly, “Then I will force Killian to pay the price… with a pound of his flesh.”

When the doctor had come in to talk with her before the procedure, she’d learned he was one of Pan’s poor unfortunate victims as well, forced to serve as the demented imp’s medical errand boy. He seemed professional enough, though perhaps a bit arrogant. His brash demeanor shifted though when Emma asked him what Pan had meant by “a pound of flesh.”

Swallowing hard, the platinum haired man exhaled deeply before confessing, “It could mean a variety of things. Having an organ removed so it can be sold on the black market, or even an… an amputation.”

“Amputation?!” Emma exclaimed in a shocked whisper. “You mean you…”

Solemnly the man nodded. “I’ve been forced to remove every organ imaginable and sever untold numbers of body parts from various victims of Pan’s.” Taking her hand in his, he squeezed it tightly and advised, “If you want your friend to remain whole, then do as Pan says.”

She’d woken up in this new room some time later, sore between her legs in a different sort of way than she had been after her night with Killian. A note with self-care instructions and a bottle of ibuprofen had been left on the table by her bedside, and it was then Emma had realized she’d mercifully been anesthetized for the procedure. The day had stretched into night and Emma had sat paralyzed with guilt and fear over what Killian might be going through. She’d had little to no sleep, and was therefore more on edge than normal when the door to her cell opened the next morning.

“Sorry,” the doctor apologized, noting how she’d balked at his appearance. “I just wanted to check and see how you were doing. Is it alright if I examine you? I have my nurse with me.”

Emma consented to his examination, not wishing to give Pan any further ammunition to use against her, or worse… against Killian.

“Everything seems to be in order,” he told her. “Anything bothering you physically? Any pain?”

Emma shook her head and mumbled she was fine, then sat back up with the assistance of the nurse once he’d finished. She was just straightening the hospital gown when she felt the prick of a needle pierce her shoulder.

“What did you…” The question fell away as numbness immediately began to overtake her. Within seconds, Emma could not move her arms or legs and she slumped over into the doctor’s arms, unable to keep herself upright.

“It’s okay,” the man soothed, laying her back down on the cot. “The effects are temporary. You’ll remain conscious, but you’ll be unable to move or speak until it wears off.”

More and more of her succumbed to the paralysis, her entire body becoming heavy and unresponsive. When her eyes would not open again after a blink, Emma panicked. Her heart raced at the sound of bootfalls entering the room and a silent scream echoed through her mind when she was hoisted off the cot and over a man’s shoulder.

~/~

Killian stood in the corner opposite the door, anxiously waiting for it to open. He wasn’t sure if having forewarning of Emma’s return was better or worse than simply being surprised. In the last few minutes since Pan had given him the news and his instructions, Killian had worked himself into another right state.

His stomach churned in a way that made him thankful for his lack of appetite since Emma had been carted away. Although, its lack of contents did not stop the threatening bile from creeping up his throat. His palms were slick with a sweat that was slowly breaking out over his entire body and his heart felt as though he might choke on it.

With the notice and instruction had also come the reminder to not let on what he’d seen the day before. As if he could forget. However, when the door finally opened and the Lost Ones entered (one with Emma over his shoulder and the other brandishing a cattle prod in Killian’s direction), Killian understood why Pan felt the need to remind him. All he wanted to do was take her in his arms and reassure himself of her safety, to inquire how she was feeling, whether she was in pain or needed anything from him to ease the after effects of what she’d been through. Of course, he couldn’t do that. He had to pretend he didn’t know any more than she did about what happened to her during their separation. Her life depended on it.

“Swan?” Killian called out as the Lost One laid her on the bed. “Swan, are you alright?”

She didn’t move. Didn’t respond. For an awful, gut-wrenching second, Killian thought she might be…

A sigh of relief whooshed from his lungs when he saw her chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. She was alive. Thank God!

“I’m afraid she is currently… unable to respond,” Pan said over the speaker system as the Lost Ones backed out of the cell.

Once the door was secured, Pan gave Killian permission to leave the corner, and he wasted no time in rushing to Emma’s side.

“Swan?” he prodded, gently shaking her shoulders. “Emma, love. Wake up.”

“I told you,” Pan sighed in a bored yet exasperated tone. “She is unable to respond.”

“What did you do to her?” Killian demanded, his gaze sweeping over her form, working in tandem with his hands as he searched for injuries or any other clue that might explain her comatose condition. Was she still under the effects of the anesthetic she’d been given?

“Careful,” Pan warned in a feigned voice of concern. “She has a number of bruises and abrasions. You wouldn’t want to go and injure her further.”

Killian’s head snapped towards the camera perched over the TV monitor and again demanded, through grit teeth, “What did you do--”

“Oh, don’t look at me,” Pan said. “I had nothing to do with those bruises, or any of the other markings. You did that.”

Killian’s eyes slid back to Emma’s body, and he began to note the marks his mouth had made on her neck, as well as the faint impressions his fingertips had left behind.

“Pan says,” the voice commanded in an accusatory tone, “undress her and take a good look at what you’ve done to her.”

“No,” Killian stated, defiantly. Standing from the bed, where he’d been kneeling next to Swan’s prone body, he took measured steps towards the camera, wagging his finger in its direction. “I know what you’re doing,” he said. “I won’t have you twisting what happened. I know what Emma and I shared the other night and it wasn’t what you’re insinuating.”

“Oh? What was it then?”

“It was magic,” he declared vehemently, with his arms spread in boastful defiance, “And freedom. Full unabated freedom. The kind you experience with someone you trust unequivocally, with whom you can bare yourself in ways you never thought yourself capable. The kind that requires a level of understanding, devotion, and acceptance rarely found between two individuals.”

Each word of defense against Pan’s implied censures was also a much needed reminder to himself of the truth of what he and Emma shared. He would not let this vile monster take from them what they had sought to claim for themselves.

“That’s what Emma and I have and nothing you can say or do is going to change that fact.”

“Oh?” Pan drawled. “Perhaps not,” he stated as the cell door squealed opened and a Lost One sauntered into the room. “But I imagine he can.”

Positioning himself between the Lost One and Emma, still lying helpless on the bed, Killian braced his posture and demanded to know, “What do you mean? What’s he going to do?”

“That depends on you,” Pan replied. “If what you say is true, then surely Emma won’t object to you taking some liberties with her whilst she is currently… indisposed.”

“Liberties?” Killian questioned. Though a sick feeling forming in the pit of his stomach had already begun to deduce the madman’s meaning.

“It appeared to me that she took quite a few liberties with you the other night, so I’m simply letting you return the favor. Of course… should you refuse…”

The Lost One’s hands dropped to his waist and he began to loosen his belt, his salacious gaze and a hint of a smug smile peeking out from the mask he wore.

“No! Stop!” When Killian’s words failed to stall the Lost One’s actions, he turned back towards the camera and agreed with Pan’s wishes. “I’ll do as you say. I’ll take whatever liberties you demand, just…” Pointing a stern finger at the Lost One, Killian implored, “Get him out of here!”

The Lost One’s hands balled themselves into fists and he hesitated for a moment after the order from Pan was issued. His eyes fell to Emma, a sinister sort of longing swirling through their brown depths, before he flicked them back up and glared at Killian as he backed out of the cell.

He’d wanted her, Killian realized with a jolt of propriety rage and jealousy. It hadn’t simply been a command he was conditioned to obey that had made him willing to do the unthinkable to Emma. He wanted her, had been eager to have her, even.

Emma’s comments about her exchange with one of the Lost One’s returned to him and he couldn’t help but wonder if the Lost One he’d just encountered had been the same, or… No. She had said the Lost One who had carried him back after being drugged seemed to care for him. That Lost One, the one who had just departed, held nothing but animosity towards Killian. Did that mean…?

If Killian had a connection to the other Lost One, then was this Lost One connected to Emma somehow?

The startling question would have to be left unanswered for the moment. Killian needed to focus on the rules and procedures Pan was currently laying out for his new depraved game.

~/~

It had taken some doing, but Emma had managed to quiet the panic deafening her mind. Being unable to control one’s body, to even open your eyes or utter a sound was the most unnatural and surreal feeling she had ever experienced. The only thing she could seem to manipulate was her breathing, but it also continued to work involuntarily as well.

She’d held her breath in awe against the swell of emotion that had filled her during Killian’s declarations, but it had sped up on its own, almost to the point of hyperventilating when the Lost One had returned and Pan’s intentions had been made clear.

Never doubting that Killian would do whatever he had to in order to keep her safe had not kept her from again holding her breath until the sound of the door screeched closed this last time, ensuring she would not suffer at the hands of some stranger. Now, she attempted to regulate her breathing once more as Pan gave instructions to Killian regarding their new game.

“Of course, I realize that my voice might be a bit of a distraction… a deterrent even. So, you’ll know a new Pan Says has been issued when the lights flicker. You can then receive your next set of instructions from the monitor. Understood?”

“Aye,” Killian clipped out, sounding closer now than he had a moment again. “Let’s get on with it.”

“Excellent,” Pan crowed. “This will be my last vocal command until our game is at an end. Pan says… undress Emma.”

The bed dipped and she could feel Killian’s presence. She longed to reassure him, to look into his eyes and let him know she was alright, that she wouldn’t hold anything he had to do to her against him. All she could do was lie there, though; a limp piece of dead weight he had to roll and reposition without any assistance in order to appease Pan and his perverted commands.

Once the hospital gown had been removed, leaving her thoroughly exposed, Killian returned her to her back and from behind her eyelids she could detect the change in lighting as they dimmed and brightened, signaling a new Pan Says. If she could have scoffed, she would have. Of course he was giving written instructions. Pan knew she was conscious and could hear everything. He didn’t want her to have any forewarning of what was to be done to her, the bastard.

The mattress dipped next to Emma’s head and she felt the scratch of Killian’s beard against her cheek. Inhaling deeply, she let his scent fill her lungs, let its calming balm soothe her racing heart.

“I’m sorry, love,” he whispered low and soft into her ear. “I’m so sorry. I hope you can forgive me for what I must do.”

I already have, she told him, if only in her mind.

Her breath hitched at the feel of his rough tongue caressing the space below her ear. It only took a few swirls and licks for her to process what he was being forced to do, her skin still sore in the places where he had sucked his brand into her flesh during their lovemaking. Pan was making him trace every mark, every bruise, every abrasion Killian had left on her body with nothing more than his tongue.

Pin pricks of wonder rippled across her skin when he reached her breasts. His hot breath preceded the warmth of his mouth as it caressed the scrapes previously left behind from his teeth. She wanted nothing more than to arch her back and encourage him to take her nipples fully into his mouth, but her inability to move was proving torturous in ways she had not considered.

Her stomach, her hips, the insides of her thighs, all points of contact along the front of her he had to trace with his tongue before rolling her onto her stomach. He took extra care and attention to place her arms and head into as comfortable positions as he could before continuing his ministrations down her back. Long, lingering, dampened laves followed the welts and scratches left by his nails and soft flutters caressed the bruises on her hips and buttocks, causing a shiver to run up her spine and a dull ache to begin throbbing from between her legs, which were dangling awkwardly off the bed.

The lights dimmed and brightened again and before Emma had a chance to wonder what Pan’s new demand was, a light smack landed on her backside. The lights flickered again and a slightly harder slap cracked across her ass. When the lights signaled again, the sting of Killian’s palm, firmly making contact with her already reddened and raised flesh, brought tears to her eyes. As did the next strike, and the one after that, and the ones after that. Tears broke free from her lashes, pooling in the crease next to her nose before slipping across her face into the sheet beneath her cheek. Killian’s rough, calloused hand stroked her ass, attempting to soothe some of the pain he’d inflicted. Pain she absolutely did not mind. In fact, she kinda got off on it, and when his fingers dipped between her legs to find her wet and wanting, his groan told her it was a fact he was now aware of as well.

A series of strobing lights had Killian on his knees in front of foot of the bed, his face buried in her folds with his mouth latched to her clit, while his fingers toyed with and probed her holes. He was knuckle deep in her ass, fucking her with his fingers as his tongue assaulted her cunt and she could hear the cries of her body, begging for release, whimpering in her head, unable to convey its desire in any way, shape, or form, which had to be the most maddening experience of her life. When relief finally came, her orgasm slammed through her completely unobstructed with an intensity far greater than any she could ever remember having before. A moan vibrated through her pussy, prolonging her climax, and Emma wondered if, despite her inability to tell him so, Killian could tell she had come from his tongue.

Her breathing was labored, the sound of her blood roared in her ears, and she felt flushed and sated from the tips of her ears to the points of her toes. Unable to vocalize, a groan stuck in her throat when he removed his fingers from her depths and began to roll her over onto her back once more. She hadn’t even noticed the lights indicating a new task.

Attempting to regain her bearings, Emma could hear the rustling of fabric and suspected Killian was taking off his clothes. Her heart rate picked up at the prospect of him being inside her, filling her like he had the other night, and a fresh ache took hold of her core even as she worried about her new unprotected status. With a firm tug, he pulled her closer to the edge of the bed until her ass was practically hanging off the side. Lifting her hips, he wedged a pillow beneath her, raising her pelvis and tilting it up to meet his groin.

She startled when his cock slapped against her clit, not that he would be able to tell. Her skin raised in a ripple of goose flesh when he did it a second and then third time before lining himself up with her entrance and stretching her in that delicious way as he entered her. Grabbing her ankles, he draped them over his shoulders, then wrapped his arms around her legs, holding them tight to his chest as he began to rut his hips into hers. The rhythm he set was punishing, the force of each thrust making her breasts bounce wildly, borderline painfully, as he pistoned deeper and deeper into her. His pace was relentless, slowing down only once several minutes into the assault, when the lights flickered and he presumably glanced over his shoulder to read Pan’s newest command. He fucked her for an indeterminate amount of time after that. Forcefully, savagely, almost brutally.

The sound of their bodies slapping together echoed through the room, as did Killian’s ragged breathing and choked back utterances. Just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, he pulled out and let go of her legs, causing one of them to slip off his shoulders. He grunted and cried out as hot streams of his release coated her breasts and stomach. Staccatoed breaths and moans reverberated off the metal walls until he was thoroughly spent, then he brushed a gentle kiss to the inside of her leg before resting his head against it, the sweat of his brow making it a slick point of contact.

“Good boy, Killian,” Pan rasped from overhead, ruining any tenderness Killian had been trying to infuse into the moment.

“Fuck off,” he snapped back, lowering her leg back down while removing the pillow from beneath her.

“Ah, ah,” Pan tutted. “Pan says to leave her as is.”

“Let me at least pull her further up the bed, so she doesn’t slip off onto the floor,” Killian argued.

When Pan did not respond, Killian climbed onto the bed and positioned himself behind her. Grasping under her arms, he hoisted her up the mattress until she was now completely situated on the bed. It shook as he collapsed next to her, his breaths still coming in pants from the extreme exertion he’d put both their bodies through.

She could visualize his face in her mind. Beads of perspiration were probably littering his brow and gathering in the hollow of his throat. His eyes were likely closed, his long lashes resting against his rosy cheeks, which would be nearly as pinked as his lips, red and swollen from the way he’d practically made a meal out of her. She longed to sweep his bangs off his forehead, to run her fingers down his face and trace his lips, allowing him to kiss each tip and tease them with his tongue.

As they lay there a tingling began to work its way through the numbness. Small jerks and spasms rippled through her extremities, exacerbating the soreness in her tender places. A groan made its way past her lips and she was finally able to pry her eyes open. She could feel Killian roll towards her, concern and guilt swimming in his eyes as his face came into view overhead.

“Swan?”

“K-Killian,” she croaked, attempting to raise her hand so she could cup his face, but it wouldn’t cooperate.

“Don’t try and move,” he said, making his way off the bed and into the bathroom. “I have to… you’ll need to…”

Unable to finish his thought, it wasn’t until she was finally able to turn her head and saw him return with a wet washcloth that she realized what he was struggling to tell her.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, trying to work up the necessary saliva to wet and clear her throat. “I know. I was conscious the whole time.”

“You… What?”

When she tried to sit up, he climbed back onto the bed, stalling her actions and encouraging her to lie back while he cleaned her up.

“Yeah, they injected me with… something. I don’t know what,” she explained, enjoying the feel of the damp cloth as it ran over her breasts and across her stomach, wiping away the now dried-on mess. “I couldn’t move or speak, but I was aware of everything. Could hear and… feel everything.”

Killian’s face pinched in a pained expression, and she could practically feel the guilt rolling off him. “I’m so sorry, Swan. I--”

“Hey,” she soothed, taking his hand. “It’s okay. You have to know that no matter how deranged or depraved, I’d rather it be you doing those things to me than--”

“Aye, I do… it’s just...”

“What?”

The muscle along his jaw tightened, causing a small spasm to ripple beneath his skin. Unable to meet her gaze, he confessed with a heavy dose of shame and penitence, “I enjoyed it.” His voice was little more than an exhale. If he’d been any further away, she likely wouldn’t have heard him at all. After a long pause he finally worked up the courage to look at her as he continued, “I didn’t want to. I only wanted to get it over with, but I… I started to enjoy it and--”

“Killian,” Emma sweetly admonished. “Do you really think I’d fault you for that? Do you think I was suffering the whole time? Because believe me… I wasn’t.” He offered her a small smile, but still didn’t seem convinced. Squeezing his hand more tightly, she added, “I will never hold my bringing you pleasure against you, no matter the circumstances. Every time there’s been intimacy between us, I’ve enjoyed it, at least on some level. Every. Time. Don’t ever forget that. Don’t ever forget those beautiful words you said to Pan about us.”

His eyes widened, perhaps realizing for the first time that she had been conscious for that part as well.

“I meant every word,” he assured her. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilty for the things I’ve done to you. Even though you say you enjoyed it, I see the bruises I left, from both the other night and the ones forming from my actions from only moments ago, and I hate myself for causing you pain.”

Stronger now, she sat up and cupped his face. “I won’t pretend I’m not sore, but… being with you is hands down the best sex of my life, and I would do it all again in a heartbeat.”

His eyes flickered between hers, reading the truth in her gaze and causing a more genuine smile to bloom from his face.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he replied on a heavy, relieved breath. Then a smirk lifted the corner of his mouth and with a raised brow he cheeked, “Though, given what you’ve told me of your past sexual encounters, that isn’t really saying much.”

She laughed and slapped his shoulder before falling into his arms, surrendering into his embrace as they clung to each other for several minutes. It wasn’t until after they’d broken apart, with him helping her off the bed so they could both get dressed, that a sobering thought occurred to her.

“You know,” she said, uncomfortably clearing her throat as she pulled her pants up over her hips, “given what I know of your past… I’ll understand if you don’t feel the same. About the sex, I mean. Well, that and--”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he said, interrupting her before she could mention Milah, the love he had lost and practically ruined his life for. “I loved Milah and we had many wonderful experiences together, but,” he took her hands in his and gazed at her in a way she thought she might drown in those blue depths, “nothing as ever amazing as… this.”

Guiding her back to the bed, they sat on its edge and he further confided, “I think Milah and I always had a part of ourselves held back from the other. Regardless of how we felt, we knew it was wrong. We knew we weren’t free to truly love one another, and since having met you, I’ve come to realize something.”

“What?”

Flicking up his gaze, he said something she never would have expected. “How alike her husband and I truly were.”

Emma blanched. “What do you mean?”

Running his thumb over the backs of her knuckles, he paused for a long moment. Emma could tell this revelation was not easy for him. Perhaps he was still trying to find a way to verbalize it. Sensing he needed time, she waited patiently for him to continue.

“She belonged to him. That’s what he always said,” he relayed, haltingly, from the memories he was dredging up. “She belonged to him. Her husband.” Pulling himself back into the here and now, he focused on her once more and a sad smile ghosted across his lips. “Milah used to assure me that despite the fact she was married, she belonged to me, and I took that to heart. I started to feel like she did belong to me, and I was wrong for doing so. Not because she was married, but because… a woman should not belong to anyone. She was not an object to possess, anymore than you are.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his attention turned towards the door of their cell. “He thought you were his to possess. I see that now.”

“Who?”

“The Lost One who came in here when Pan threatened to have another fulfill his demented wishes.”

Her gasp pulled his attention back towards her, and she felt as though her heart might hammer its way out of her chest as he told her, “I think he has a connection to you, Swan. Like the other Lost One has towards me. I think you know him, because I am certain he knows you.”

“How?” she asked, breathlessly. “How do you know--”

“He wanted you,” Killian begrudgingly told her. “But more than that, it was like he felt he had a right to have you. I could see a longing in his eyes, as though he knew… knew what having you would be like.”

Emma opened her mouth to respond, her mind racing with the implications of Killian’s words, but before she could say anything he took her face in his hands and the look in his eyes stole her breath away.

“You may have given me your consent. You might even think I had a right to do what I did in obeying Pan’s rules in order to safeguard your body and your dignity, but you do not belong to me, Swan. You are not mine to do with as I wish.” Pressing his forehead to hers, he murmured, “But I hope you might feel as though you belong with me, as I feel I belong with you. That we belong together, not to each other.” Swallowing thickly, he pulled back and softly whispered, “I love you, Emma.” Then captured her lips before she could reply.

Part Eight

#csff #cs ff #cs fic #cs au #pan says...#heed the warnings #words by hollye

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babytarttdoodoo · 1 year

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hi! I've loved all the fic's you've posted so far! could I please make a request for something where Jamie gets officially diagnosed with ADHD and the team (and Roy and Keeley) are like 'well that makes sense' and are just so supportive through the process?

This was a doozy, anon, and I hope I’ve done it justice. Sorry Keeley didn’t get a lot of screentime - it ended up being a lot more introspective.

Thanks for the prompt!

(Prompt Fill Masterpost)

—

It wasn’t like no one had ever suggested it before.

Jamie, in fact, could clearly recall those cautious, gently probing questions Simon had ventured a few months after they’d first met. He was a teacher - a genuinely brilliant one, at that - and had recognised certain behaviours in the smart-mouthed teenager he was suddenly spending an inordinate amount of time around.

Unfortunately, Jamie had been a stubborn, prideful 16-year-old with little more than vicious dismissals for his mum’s cheery new boyfriend.

Years of school report cards and conversations at parents’ evenings echoed the same things.

If Jamie could just focus…

If he really applied himself…

If he tried a bit harder…

Exasperated teachers, tutors and coaches all leaving Jamie feeling stupid and frustrated with their attempts to guide him towards being better. Towards acting normal.

He had learned to live with the fact that some things were just harder for him than they seemed to be for everyone else. He set multiple alarms and reminders on his phone for everything he could think of. He wore jewellery and clothes that he could tug or twist or pull at without drawing too much attention to himself.

He learned to hold his tongue when he was overwhelmed and irritable for reasons he couldn’t define... and tried his best to apologise when he couldn’t keep the harsh words or knee-jerk reactions under control.

He coped.

It had finally taken a suggestion from Dr Sharon, a woman who had built up such an impressive amount of Jamie’s trust in a startlingly short amount of time that he often felt like she knew him better than he did himself, before he thought about doing anything more than that.

She had referred him to a specialist. Jamie made an appointment and answered the questions as best he could. Now, weeks later, it was official. He had ADHD.

Sitting with that information was strange. Deciding what to do with it was worse.

The first person he told was his mum. Obviously. She was reassuring and supportive, like he knew she would be, and even offered to take the train down that weekend to visit. Jamie declined, but he did have another request.

“Can you tell Simon?” he managed to choke out at the end of the call. “I think he’d like to know.”

The next conversation was a bit more complicated.

In amongst the information he’d received with his letter from the clinic were recommendations for ‘workplace accommodations’ - things that could help make ADHD easier to manage in a professional environment.

Most of it was completely irrelevant. Jamie didn’t need to sit in meetings all day or focus on a computer screen - he just needed to play football and that was the one thing he’d never had any problem with. But the advice (which Dr Sharon endorsed) was to discuss options with a manager.

Problem was, his manager was now technically Roy Fucking Kent.

And Jamie had absolutely no idea how to go about saying ‘hey, apparently my brain works differently’ to him in a way that wouldn’t end in either ridicule or dismissal.

(He was aware that he was perhaps being unfair to the man who was in many ways one of his closest friends these days. But there was a long and colourful history there that shaded every new interaction between them with the potential for chaos.)

Finally, driven half demented by days of overthinking it, he printed out a copy of his letter from the clinic and tossed it more or less directly at Roy’s head while he was filling out paperwork in his office. It mercifully landed on his desk, rather than smacking him in the face.

“Well, fuck you, too.” Roy deadpanned, fixing Jamie with a half-hearted glare and making no move to open the folded paper. “What’s that?”

“You could just fucking read it.” Jamie sulked, shoving his hands deep into the pouch of his hoodie. “‘S a letter, innit? From the doctors’.”

That had Roy frowning, what Jamie recognised as concern bunching up his brow. He picked up the document and unfolded it about as aggressively as one conceivably could. Kind of impressive, actually.

Jamie pinpointed the exact moment the information sank in and averted his gaze, locking in on the one part of the desk that wasn’t covered in files or wires or photo frames.

“Right.” Not bad, as far as reactions went. In his peripherals, Jamie saw Roy nod and readjust his hold. “... thank you. For, um, letting me know.”

“Yeah, well.” Jamie shrugged, plucking at the seams inside his pocket and studiously keeping his eyes trained on the same corner of Roy’s desk. “The leaflets and that they gave me said I should tell my boss. So. Now I have.”

“Right.” Roy repeated, agreeing like that made sense. He cleared his throat. “I know fuck all about it.”

“Join the club.”

That eased some of the weird tension that had been brewing and Roy huffed a laugh.

“Fair enough. Are you alright?”

Jamie gave that due consideration and finally dragged his stare back to Roy’s face before answering. “I think so. It’s weird, being told your brain is all…” He waved a hand around. “But it’s… nice. Knowing it’s not just me.”

Roy narrowed his eyes, assessing the truth of Jamie’s words, and seemed to accept what he said. “Is it alright if I put it in your file? Nate and Beard might have some input. Higgins should know too, probably.”

“Whatever.” Jamie chewed on his lower lip, mulling the implications over. “I don’t want to have to, like, say anything about it. But, yeah, you can tell whoever.”

“That include the team?”

Jamie sucked in air through his teeth and pursed his mouth. Why that set his teeth on edge, he didn’t know. They were good lads - not always the most sensitive but they all (Jamie included) tried extremely hard to lift each other up when a difficult topic wormed its way into the safe space of their locker room.

This wasn’t Colin coming out or Sam fighting back against racist dickheads, though. It was just Jamie and his weird fucking brain.

“Dunno. I mean. Yeah. If you want.”

If Roy noticed his hesitation, he didn’t mention it.

Not a lot changed over the next few weeks. Jamie was still Jamie, after all. His quirks hadn’t disappeared overnight or become suddenly worse.

He coped. Just a bit differently.

And so did the people around him.

A few days after his talk with Roy, Jamie was confronted by a smiling Keeley bearing a colourful gift bag: a present of cool rings that had spinning bands and mini gears he could fidget with, for ‘no reason’ other than she’d been thinking of him.

He spotted Sam with a book on the bus after a match, the title confusing him until he looked it up later. And then it cropped up again and again: on the shelf of Isaac’s locker, in the passenger seat of Colin’s car, sticking out of Jan’s bag.

Higgins approached him with a quiet and pleasantly confident assurance that the club’s management would do everything in their power to ensure Jamie was granted approval to use any medications that became necessary to his wellbeing.

The coaching team gave him a (mildly offensive) signal to use when he needed a minute, either to stick in his airpods and tune out, or to shuffle down to the boot room and breathe. More often than not, Dani would be waiting for him afterwards, beaming and ready to provide physical contact or launch into a full discussion on any inane topic he could think of.

Everyone was careful not to get outwardly annoyed when he asked them to repeat themselves or if he lost track of time. They let him talk when he went on a tangent. They were quick to forgive when he interrupted them or spoke without thinking.

They were… brilliant. It was brilliant.

Jamie carried on his therapy and worked hard to manage his symptoms and learn new behaviours. Despite Higgins’ promises, he decided against trying any of the medications offered to him, too concerned about weight loss and what (to his mind) felt like an unfair advantage on the pitch.

Diet and exercise became about more than just his job, they were further tools he could use to keep in control. He felt calmer most days and when he didn’t, Roy was there with extra workouts and an open door if he just needed a safe space.

It wasn’t perfect, of course it wasn't. Jamie still fixated on it when he fucked up and acted impulsively, screwing over his team or friends. He still let people down sometimes and struggled to understand how or why. He still needed to be held accountable. Shame at not being better still occasionally reared its head.

But that was okay.

Jamie was coping. And he wasn’t alone.

#self-projection? in MY fanfic? it's more likely than you think #fic prompts #my fic #jamie tartt #roy kent #ted lasso #afc richmond

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honey-minded-hivemind · 6 months

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Now, I'm definitely leaning towards Erik being readers parent, I like the prompt of him and Charles each losing their kids, in such a horrible way, and that's the collective breaking point for everyone, it doesn't matter if they have the same morals, or if they got along in the past, none of that matters anymore, a line has been crossed that never should have been, so something needs to change.

But I'm absolutely gonna explore some of the others as readers parent, my next ask I most likely about Charles ;)

Lamb Anon

Woo! That would be a doozy! I want to explore each possible parent option before I make a decision though. I'll be honest; I'm inclined to the three feral dads. But there is a certain appeal to having Erik or Charles as a dad... Not to mention weather goddess Storm and shapeshifter extraordinare Mystique as a mom...

And also (this might help decide as well) Reader's mutation will be shape-shifting into different animals! They can turn completely into an animal, or have a were-animal form. Maybe they can only turn into certain kinds, such as only cats or bears or snakes... Maybe they can turn into every kind. Either way, Reader is able to turn into different creatures and able to take on their attributes, in full form or in half-form...

(I can't wait to hear from you again! Talking about each adult as a possible parent for Reader is pretty fun; I hope to explore all of them, and then decide😊 Thank you for sharing your input, and for giving me ideas!)

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere xmen evolution au #🖤dark au

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discordantwritings · 3 months

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👉👈

Tell me about your One Piece OCs, Discordant. I want to know about all of them.

Prompting Questions:

1. Name, and what they like to be referred to as

2. Personality, Appearance & Alignment

3. Love Language

4. Character Ship (platonic, romantic)

5. Powers: haki, DF, race ability, weapons (Fishman, giant, etc)

6. Crew & Role

7. Favorite wind-down activity

8. Hobbies

9. Origins: History

10. Favorites: food, drink, color, friends

Oh noooo I guess I have to talk about at least one of my OCs moreeeeeee oh noooooooooooooo twist my armmmmmm

Thank you for asking so many questions! Let’s learn more about Cecilia!

Name: Cecilia

Personality + Alignment: Lawful Good

Cecilia is uptight and by the rules through and through. Operating most of the time at a low level of anxiety (that she claims is totally fine, this is just how she functions) she gets things done. The ship is clean and orderly mostly thanks to her. She can be overly formal but most of the time that is masking less than stellar social skills. She has a low tolerance for mistakes- in others and herself.

Appearance:

Love Language: Acts of Service. Catch her dead verbally expressing affection.

Ship: She does NOT have a homosexual rivalry with Teume. There is NOT underlying sexual tension. HOW DAREEEEE YOU-

She also, of course, does not have any confusion about her feelings for her Captain. It’s the normal amount of loyalty and dedication a first mate has. Its FINE

Powers: ok so this one is a doozy lock in for me making up One Piece lore.

Cecilia is the current holder of the Sword of Destruction- one third of an ancient weapon of mass destruction broken apart and spread across the world to never be brought together again. Soul bound to the weapon it is always with her- half of her soul sacrificed for the connection.

The Sword of Destruction isn’t just a sword but does take the form of one at rest. The Sword can transform into any weapon, intuitively changing forms to best suit the combat situation. This in itself is a double edged sword- it’s always the best weapon but Cecilia does not control when or what weapon it transforms into. She has to rely on her knowledge, intuition, and experience to be on top of its changes. Because of this though Cecilia is a master of practically all weapons and she constantly is training to keep her skills honed.

Due to losing half her soul in the sword binding process Cecilia is unable to use any form of Haki.

Crew and Role: First Mate and Master of the Chore Chart.

Loyal to a fault to her Captain Cecilia takes her job very seriously. While she has no idea how a normal ship functions she does her best to keep everyone on a schedule and all the chores and basics done. At first everyone hated it- but everyone’s come to realize that yeah, the chore chart helps.

Favorite Wind-Down Activity: what’s winding down? Cecilia isn’t familiar with the concept. She needs to be ready to fight at all times… but meditation is nice.

Hobbies: Training. More training. Sparring. And, occasionally, listening to her Captain read her stories.

Origins:

Cecilia was taken recruited at a young age to become the next holder of the Sword of Destruction. Given the nature of the sword’s powers it’s important to train the holder from a young age in every weapon under the sun. Cecilia trained day in and out for years and loved it. This was her purpose, her sacred duty, and she would fulfill it to the best of her abilities.

When she turned 18 it was time to bind herself to the Sword of Destruction- a brutal and painful ritual that had her kill the previous owner before giving up half of her soul, ripping from her body to bind itself to the weapon. But once that was done it was time for her to live her life as the protector and wielder of the Sword of Destruction- a honorable and noble task.

Right?

Cecilia quickly realized that this honorable and noble task involved her sitting alone on a remote island in the Grand Line until someone who somehow got knowledge of her comes and tries to kill her, after which she will continue to sit alone while bodies pile up around her. Everyone she saw for years was an enemy- everyone tried to kill her on sight. The bodies slowly decay around her.

Until one day a crew of two stumble upon her island- no idea of where they are and with no intent to kill her- not even after she tells them who and what she is. This Captain- if you could even call Katarina that at this point- even promises not to write down her story or her location.

Kindness was never something Cecilia had been given before.

Caught in a spiral of emotions she comes to the crushing realization that she doesn’t want to be alone- and she rushes at the chance to join this small crew.

Technically she isn’t abandoning her duties. She has the sword and isn’t going to die anytime soon so it’s fine. She totally doesn’t lay awake at night terrified that the person who trained her is going to find her and drag her back to that island and replace her. Nope. No fear.

Favorites: She will never admit it but Cecilia loves anything sweet- overly sugary coffee, cake, cookies- you name it she loves it. She can pretend she drinks coffee black all she wants but everyone on the crew knows better.

It’s obvious her favorite crew mate is Katarina- but she likes everyone else more than she will admit. Teume is great to spar with and Altair does push her to talk.

Also her favorite color is blue!

#discordant answers #one piece oc

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ewebie · 10 months

Text

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged in this by @once-in-a-blue-moon-rising (whom it appears tumblr had unfollowed for me? thanks tumblr, that feature was neat).

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

853,773 -- I want to break a million in 2024!!!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Sherlock... One with a QueerEye cross over, one with a Bluestone42 cross over, one with a Spooks cross over.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Invocation of Saint Margaret - (15k words) a remix of Kipli's A Second Chance:

When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

Forces of Nature - (18k words) This is the hammock sex one...

Ok. I started this about 6 months ago, because Nicole asked for it (it is, in a way, a tumblr prompt, but it is way too long to be a short). I finally decided to finish it. So... I hope you enjoy it. Meanwhile, how is Sherlock so smoll? Sherlock watched as the man pushed himself out of the water and onto the floating dock constantly anchored in the middle of the lake. Oh. He was… He was quite tanned. Broad shoulders sloped into a narrow, muscular waist and tapered hips that disappeared into the navy swim trunks. Somehow the breadth of the shoulders made the thighs and legs that appeared out of the bottom of the trunks look delicate. Tanned in their own right and powerful, but oddly proportionate to the shorter stature the man seemed to possess. Sherlock watched the water run off of him, down his back, tracing a path along his spine and through the pleasing fossae lumbales laterales and lumbar lordosis into the waistband of the trunks. Sherlock swallowed. Shit.

Paranoia - (3k words) Based on a party game that I had never heard of

Based on the prompt: This is literally the best party game ever ok so here’s what you do: Everyone sits in a circle. Whoever goes first whispers a question to the person on their right. The person on the right must answer the question out loud. The trick is, no one else in the circle knows the question. Next, someone flips a flip-flop up in the air. If it lands face up: the asker must say the question out loud to the whole group. If the flip flop lands face down: the asker doesn’t say anything, and everyone in the group is left to wonder what in the world the question was. And you go around the circle like that. The best questions have the answers as people. We like to limit it just to people in the circle, too. It just makes it more fun. Here are some examples of good questions: * You have to cover someone in the circle completely in peanut butter and lick it all off. Who? * You and one other person must be surgically bound together for the rest of your life. Who is the other person? * You and someone in the circle go in a dark room for 1 hour and do unspeakable things. Who? ... the creepy sexual ones are the best, and it’s really fun when you limit it to people in the circle. have fun

That Is Rather Unlikely - (3k words) The one where Mycroft is high (and my FIRST Mystrade)...

So. Jam asked for this... And you all need to keep that in mind. Then again, the idea was so cute, and a bit cracky, and I couldn't resist... So consider this celebration for then end of a gorgeous Mystrade fic that I've been reading (go read Memoranda of Understanding - yes all 3 parts - by Mydwynter) “Funny story,” John bit out with a humorless laugh. “Isn’t it always.” He braced himself. This was going to be a doozy if John didn’t think it was funny. “But the punchline is: Not Sherlock.” Greg furrowed his brow. “What do you mean, ‘Not Sherlock’?” “Yeah, no. It’s the other one.” The grin on John’s face was carrying through the phone. “Other what?” Greg asked flatly. “Holmes.” “Goddammit,” Greg hissed. “What’s he done?”

On Favors and Keeping Score - (7k words) sickfic!

I love the idea of John taking care of Sherlock when he's sick. But John's a doctor and it walks such a fine line between work and actual affection. Plus, I'm a sucker for John whump. And (from experience) doctors are terrible patients. Then again... Who else thinks that Sherlock has that tiny bit of patience for the right patient? John woke up to the horribly unpleasant sound of his clock alarm. Which meant he’d slept through his phone’s alarm. And for a moment he glared blearily at the noisemaker before smacking at it with his palm. Ugh, he felt like rubbish. The back of his throat was burning with the irritation that heralded a proper dose, his nose was threatening to drip every few seconds, and he had the uncomfortable flush that normally suggested a fever. Nothing high, just uncomfortable. Nothing deadly, just irritating. Nothing worth calling in sick with, just a full day of discomfort in the face of other people’s discomfort. It was going to be a day where he was forced to bite his tongue from telling people off. “You’re not as sick as I am, so off you pop.”

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do! When I'm on a posting schedule for a multi-chapter fic, I tend to reply to the previous chapter comments just after I post the new chapter. When I finish something big, I tend to have to just sit in my feels before replying to the comments on a final chapter. Then I need to make myself go back and respond. Otherwise, I try to get to comments once a week or so.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Angstiest ENDING has to be Bait and Switch, which was written for Mystrade is Crime and I put big ol' pylons around it with caution tape as a NOT HEA. It's not the angstiest fic I've written, but definitely harshest ending.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Happiest is tricky to call, because I love a tasteful fade to black and rewarding and soft end for EARNING it. But soppiest is probably Fairytale of New Scotland Yard, in which I tried to fit as many Christmas tropes as humanly possible.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I have... Nothing epic or meltdown worthy, and I have a great community of authors to whom I can turn. And I have to thank @atlinmerrick for giving me framework to think about them. I've had a few rude things in public bookmarks that I've chosen to ignore. But if someone is a dick in comments, they get deleted. Bye bye assholes.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do... Kind? um... M/M? Is that the question? I am a slut for tasteful fade to black... I don't tend to be very graphic when I do write the smutty parts?

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I do, I have, there are a few in my trello as well... Craziest one is probably the nonsense RPF/Sherlock crossover that involved a handful of IRL tumblr friends, the BBC3 intern (who was a cat), Kevin the intern (who existed in deep tumblr lore), and Sherlock characters in which it was a show but also not... The third one in the series was absolutely unhinged and crossed with another set of crackfics from another author and had sentient magenta ooze. So... yeah. It was wild. The series is The Glitter Gang Shenanigans. I'd say just read the 3rd one, but... it would make less sense if you haven't read the first two.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yeah... Stolen and posted in Russia... Huge headache. I think I got it taken down.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, but I don't really allow it anymore.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yep. And 3 of them are on AO3 (one of which is the first in the Glitter Gang series) - those 3 are all with Jamlockk

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

To write, it's Mystrade. I loved writing Johnlock stuff, but I feel like I... outgrew the drama? There's something so lovely and rewarding about two flawed characters with history and baggage and in their middle age coming together.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

There's a WIP I've referred to as "The Big Ebil" and it's really good... and really intense... but I was working on it when I was in a very specific state of mind, and I'm not sure I want to go back to that place... I add to it every now and then and it's all framed, but...

16. What are your writing strengths?

I like to make them EARN it. I like using a character's flaws lead to a logical conclusion that fucks up their plans. I have a very focused sense of flow with my sentences (and drives @paialovespie crazy some times) but I do think I have rhythm in what I do.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I think it's my obsession with final-draft before moving on. I can't zero draft to save my life. Even in a sprint, I'm backtracking to edit. It makes things slow going and sometimes over-wrought.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I have done. And I just finished an epic that has a metric crap tonne of French in it. It was almost foundational to the story, and I actually had 2 betas for the fic (one for the usual SPAG and one specifically to look at the French -- thank you Sky). Because there was so much French, I did hover-text translations rather than just having the translations in the end notes. I've had a few other fics with the odd one or two lines of non-English, but I use that infrequently.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

On AO3... Sherlock. On paper... X-Files.

20. Favourite fic you've written?

Right now, I'm still super proud of finishing The Hayloft. It's very emotional, very soft, AU Mystrade. It was a true labour of love.

I think from a formatting and story design perspective, I See London; I See France, because it reads like an episode of QueerEye -- intersplicing commentary segments with action chapters -- and makes use of a dozen different character POVs/voices.

But all time favourite fic is an oft neglected fic from very early on in my AO3 writing. It's called All These Things That I've Done. (yes... back when I was using song lyrics for titles). It's 55k words. It is Angsty as all fuck. But it's pre-slash for Johnlock, Sherlock is only in the last chapter. It's functions as a backstory for John Watson that ends with S1E1 of Sherlock... so since it's not really a Johnlock fic, it doesn't show up in searches as often. I had originally started it as a response to a desperately underwhelming "John Watson" display done for Sherlocked Con (it was truly poor). And I love it. I reread it about once a year or when I need a good cry. The playlist for it (all the chapter titles are songs) is also just... angst. I had someone read it while listening to the appropriate songs and the live-blogging was basically sobbing. I really love how it turned out. So... if you love John Watson, read it.

Open tag... anyone who wants to do this, please do! (tag me back!)

#on writing #ewebie's fic #gpoy

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redinthefaceandcheeks · 2 years

Text

Author Notes on The Rubber Factory

The Author Notes series is a long running segment on my Patreon that covers my personal thoughts on my published stories, including writing tricks I used for certain scenes as well as how and why I set up my stories in a certain way.

Going forward I will be publishing Author notes that are at least one year old to the public.

I hope you enjoy this behind the scenes format of this post while I continue to work on the next story. ***

Link to the story in question

Oh boy, this was a doozy of a story. This one was a gift for someone and the story prompt I was given for the story was Rubber, control, and transformation. With that I decided to revisit the Living Doll story setting, but add a bit more context and twists this time.

Initially I had the sub not ‘get’ the appeal of rubber and latex on principle but I felt that was a bit lazy and forced. I hit up one of my gear head resources to come up with realistic reasons why someone would be hesitant or reluctant to put on rubber all the time. The answer given was; the effort for upkeep and the lube and prep getting into it. With that I also wrote the backstory that Craig was more gun-ho on the idea of rubber than the sub, which also caused a bit of friction between them.

I was given the ok to go full 180 on a character with the sub turning from a brat to a happy little drone at the end. I did this with the ‘show don't tell’ approach with the sub constantly dragging his feet on everything and being moody about everything about this appointment.

The bratty behaviors of the sub I borrowed from every moody teenage character from every family movie and T.V show; petty displays of actions and sulking. On top of that I wrote in a few reasons to be reluctant with the appointment; the early wake up and long ride across the city.

As for the creep factor: this is once again in the Author notes where I mention the horror aspect of my writing. It was my choice to put the rubber store in a warehouse to begin seeding the creep factor. It was also practical realism, if I had a nickel for every popup company in a warehouse I would be a rich man.

This time I used a LOT of build up to the eventual twist . The same build up in Slasher films that had the slow build up to the suspense by sprinkling in the scenery before the big reveal. The sign, the layout and interior of the shop, the posters of the other drones, the assistant's conversation, and of course the ‘attitude adjustment’ line by Giovanni.

Giovanni was supposed to just be a no description and no-name character like ‘The Handler’ in my other stories, but as the story developed more and more in the drafts his involvement warranted a name and description.

The measuring was drawn upon my time I had to get measured for a tuxedo ...a long while ago as well as the hairdressers, where people work around you and on you without engaging with you. I mean there's always idle chats at those locations but the staff are always more focused on their tasks at hand.

I actually had to look up youtube videos on how cat suits are measured and made to write the authentic experience and workstation with scissors, zippers and glue. Before I did the research I had the work station include needle, thread and a sewing machine, which was totally off. Bottom line: Always do your research fellas, it’ll prevent you from looking like a fool.

I wrote about that to lull the sub into a sense of comfort until the prick of the nanobots. Like horror and street magic I had Giovanni swoop in and reaffirm that it was all ok and necessary to the process to distract the sub with something else. Like horror movies I had an opportunity for the sub to walk away and leave in a huff but the thought process that he was already there and between the implied price and being halfway done he decided to stay which sealed his fate. Sunk Cost fallacy, look it up!

Soon the suit was done and of course it was a perfect fit. To get the sub to humor Giovanni with the suit there was the line about the custom made lube that acts as a moisturizer. I don't know if water based lube does any harm to one’s skin care over all nor do I know if there is a moisturizing lube out there that has vitamins and aloe in it.

With the suit on, the sub was able to leave when a sleepy and dizzy spell overcame him and again it was attributed to the other aspects of the day as Giovanni again swooped in and offered his couch to nap on.

The nap was a segue to a dream sequence, I left it vague but I meant it to be about the sub looking at the inside of his own skill, with the white domed walls and the changes in your gut was supposed to be the physical reorganization done by the nanobots. A English lit major could also claim that the feeling of movement in his dream body was the change of the self, the change in his own Persona ….4 Golden on Steam for 19.99 USD. Go play it right now!

After that dream the sub faded back to conscience with people talking around him but without context the sub couldn’t make out what it’s about until he came through and this is where the big reveal took place and where the fun began.

I started with Craig issuing the demand to get up, which was answered by a bratty and lazy response by the sub. He tried it again and that solicited a response with a fire lit under him, my best attempt to convey the idea how someone’s subconscious could be reprogrammed to be complied to follow.

From there Giovanni ran down the list of cool features like a car dealer on the phone app because everything's on an app these days. From there it led to body modification, which I am not happy to admit is verbatim from the living doll story even with the same beats.

It went from the tone and achievable body, then big and impressive bodybuilder to the small and petite. It was there I went on the other request this person requested to include, Boobs.

To introduce it I gave it the good ole ballooning scene, as the pecs kept growing before the support gave out and they fell with a satisfying jiggle. Another paragraph about feeling them and getting the touch sensation on both sides and the truth sets in.

The sub tried to protest in any way possible which set off a notification on the phone, which lead to Giovanni to highlight the biggest feature and something that this whole story was leading up to

It was why I gave the dom and name and why the sub never addressed him with an honorific title. Why I had the sub have so many bratty behaviors and why he was so reluctant to participate

Because it all got wiped away at the touch of a button and to signify that I had the narration switched with it. Now it was ‘Master Craig’ and ‘Head Designer Giovanni’. The sub was now grateful for the change and thanks Giovanni with a handshake. With the total remodeling of his character there was no problem with the sub patiently waiting on Craig as he took his time shopping and browsing the inventory. Along with holding Craig’s bags and now the sub to be the one opening the door on the way out onto a bright and sunny new day.

This was one of my more ambitious stories and like Mall Trip: the Movie, there were times in both that I wanted to create a break to make it a two-parter but I pushed through and I think both posts were better because of it.

Between this and Mall Trip; The movie I actually got mental burned out on writing fiction stories which is why there was a break in content for two weeks, which I used to write author notes and relaxed instead.

Burnout is real even for things you enjoy doing.

***

If you have any more questions about anything about this post that I missed, send me a message or leave a comment. I’ll gladly clarify or talk more about anything from this story.

Once again, thank you for the support.

***

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facewithoutheart · 2 years

Note

from the prompt list, should it tickle your fancy:

29: “i really want to have my heart broken so i can scream this song properly.”

Tropes: friends to lovers, fake dating but it turns into real dating and uh oh it's a self-fulfilling prophecy. To set the scene: Interior, Baz's Jaguar. Baz, dramatic, says this line when a certain song comes on the radio/aux (author's choice). Simon, foolish, decides they're fake dating so he can fake break Baz's heart so he can do the thing. I think you can see where I'm going with this.

Oof. This was a doozy. I’m not sure this is exactly what you were looking for but I’m pleased with how this turned out.

One elbow out the driver’s side door, one hand loosely gripping the steering wheel. Baz’s headscarf whips in the wind and I can barely see his face for how much is covered by a giant pair of sunglasses.

If ever I loved a man…

“I’d give my all,” he sings, “to have just one more night with you. I’d risk my life to feel,” he jerks the wheel just enough to send my heart down to my stomach, smirking, “your body next to mine. ‘Cause I can’t go on!”

By this point in our road trip he’s listened to this song so many times I know the lyrics by heart but I can’t imagine joining in, disrupting his performance.

“Living in the memory of our song. I’d give my all,” his voice dips impossibly lower, the deep sound reverberating through my whole chest despite the competing road noise from his open window, “for your love tonight.”

He repeats the last line, drawing out, “tonight,” for so long I’m half-tempted to check whether air’s still escaping his lips. Even so, he manages to follow up his melisma with a deep sigh.

“Can you imagine?” He rests his head against his propped up hand, copper skin a perfect contrast against blue silk. “Loving someone so much losing them feels like that?”

“Imagine?” I raise both eyebrows. “No. Bet on it? You know I do.”

He grins back at me; pearly whites nearly blinding. It’s what brought us together, that fateful semester we were charged as roommates: heartbreak, but never ours.

“You know I envy them,” he says, his eyes nonexistent behind dark lenses.

“Our clients?”

He nods. “I feel like I’m off pitch when I sing this song. Like I’m missing something.”

He sounded perfect to me. “Missing what?”

Yellow lights blink from the side of the road, indicating an upcoming town. Baz takes the car off cruise control and coasts as the speed limit lowers. “Love.”

I hum noncommittally, thinking that’s all Baz has to say on the matter. But when we’re stopped at the intersection of this one light town, he sends his gaze upward, the back of his skull falling against his headrest. “I really want to have my heart broken so I can sing this song properly.”

“So dramatic.” I roll my eyes, though a few neglected wheels in my head start turning.

What if…

When Baz doesn’t immediately huff and pout like he usually does when I call out his theatrical nature, I ask, “Do you really want that?”

He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. The light turns green. “Maybe.” He presses down on the accelerator a little too hard, jolting the car forward.

“Maybe,” I repeat, just to feel the word in my mouth. Savor the idea. “Maybe I can help.”

Baz bursts out laughing as he brings the car back to top speed. The world blurs away in the background, streaks of red and gold and green and blue all melting together. The joy on his face remains in sharp contrast. “You?”

There’s a knot under Baz’s chin that holds his headscarf in place. It stretches and loosens as Baz continues to laugh, and laugh.

I place one hand on Baz’s cheek then drag my fingers along his jaw to rest just under his chin. He’s not laughing anymore.

He places both hands on the wheel, knuckles white where they grip the leather.

I tighten the knot of his scarf. I let one finger trace his swallow. “I could try.”

“To break my heart?” His scoff comes out more like a whine. “But you don’t like men. That’s not,” again, he swallows, “that’s not what we do. You take the women, I take the men. That’s what we’ve always done. That’s our job. That’s what makes us work.”

Sometimes things change, but Baz doesn’t need to know this. He doesn’t need to know the way I’ve started watching him across the crowded rooms where we operate: feral, rabid. A deep well of jealousy growing in the pit of my stomach every time I watch him draw another stranger into his web.

There’s no one in this world better at breaking hearts than Baz.

Except me.

“I could do it,” I whisper, one hand on his thigh, the other slowly squeezing the back of his neck. “That’s why I could do it. I could make you fall in love with me even though you know I’d never feel the same. Even though you know I’ll never love you.”

This game of deceit starts with ourselves.

“Could you?” Baz whispers, and from this close I can see his eyelids fluttering behind his sunglasses, struggling to keep his eyes on the road.

“Yeah,” I release a hot breath as I drag my lips down his neck like he’s glass I want to fog with my wanting, my own milesma, “I’d give my all.”

From this prompt post

#snowbaz #fanfic #prompt game #dark!simon #ust

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azikarue · 2 years

Text

2022 Fic Recap

At the beginning of 2022 I told myself I wanted to write more and publish less. This was to allot myself time to work on longer projects I had sitting on the back burner.

Fast forward to the end of the year, and I definitely feel proud of what I've accomplished. If I had my way entirely, I would have made more progress on ongoing fics and WIPs, but you can't have everything. I'm super happy to have participated in MayBlade - it makes up about 99% of my content for 2022. 😅 I look forward to working it (and the baby bout of burnout that follows) into my writing plans for next year.

Before I get into that though, here's a super quick recap of fics I updated or published in 2022.

❖

Bliss

Summary: Life isn't always easy, but there's a certain bliss in tackling it together that makes everything worthwhile. Pairing: Max/Mariam Chapters: 5/15 Words: 28,911 (so far) Rated: T

Chapter 5 (Undecided) is the one addition to Bliss I managed to make this year. I remember spending January and February agonizing over it, only to still need most of March to finish it. Considering it's about 12k words and not the original idea I had for this chapter, I don't feel so silly. I hope to update more this year. 🤞🏻

As a reminder to anyone following it: Bliss is a little jaunt through Max and Mariam's relationship as adults, including plenty of cute domestic moments to make my heart happy and some big conversations/milestones for them to navigate. (Latest chapter is a doozy of a conversation.)

Since starting it, I have mentally had it separated into three loose sections: 1) Boyfriend and Girlfriend, 2) Engaged/Newlyweds, 3) Expanding the Family/Married with Kids. I plan on still following that for the most part, but the sections may not be equal in length. That's mostly because I doubt, in my limited audience, many people have an interest in their children or life past a certain point? Just feel like everyone's headcanons are probably so different for things like that. We'll see how we go lol. This is a very self-indulgent fic, so I'll weigh any feedback I get against that knowledge.

❖

Just A Moment

Summary: A collection for MayBlade 2022 (and beyond). Pairing: Multiple Chapters: 31/31 Words: 48,864 Rated: Varies (everything from K to M)

This fic is the one that took up all my mental capacity for the year. I loved working out the prompts for this and challenging myself to write without overthinking as much. I'm sure there are some prompts that I could have executed better if I took all the time in the world on them, but when I reread them I don't hate how any of them turned out.

I did struggle to keep up with the intense write, edit, update cycle on a daily basis. I found that if I had anything planned on a weekend, then I didn't get as much writing done as I would have liked and it set me behind. I don't know if that means I need to give myself a SUPER strict word count restraint (I tried, but some prompts got longer than I intended), or if I just need to start earlier next year. One thing I don't want to do is restrict my character usage. I wrote about a lot of characters I've never utilized before in this fic and I enjoyed testing myself, even if it's one of the things that made the event more time consuming for me.

The last five chapters of this took me forever to finish and upload. I feel like I lost so much steam pushing myself so hard throughout the month of May, that I needed time to recoup. I took more time than I strictly needed, and I want to find some way to combat that if MayBlade happens in 2023. Tbh, I also felt some discouragement after the event was over, knowing the last few chapters weren't going to get as much feedback after everyone else was done with MayBlade. But I always knew I was going to finish for myself, and that's what I did and I'm SO HAPPY!

This is also a fic I love to look at the stats for. Different chapters did better on FFN versus tumblr, and I enjoy comparing notes and reviews and seeing what people had to say. I get imposter syndrome really bad, where I think I suck at writing and should quit, but this fic gives me some proof that it depends on what I write about and who happens to see it. It's nice to be seen and have a little validation sometimes.

On another note: I plan on posting an index of sorts for Just A Moment, since each chapter is so different. If anyone is hunting it down in the future (i.e. me) it will be linked HERE when it's finished, as well as on my tags page. ♥

❖

And that's 2022! This year went by in the blink of an eye! I know they say time goes faster as you get older, but I thought I had at least a few years left before it would go this fast.

All things considered, I'm proud of what I accomplished this year. It may be a little list of two fics, but there's 32 updates between them, so I won't complain.

For 2023, I want to update Bliss (at least once or twice), participate in MayBlade 2023 (without disappearing off the face of the earth for months afterwards), and work on/complete some WIPs (especially a multichaptered one I've had in the works for a while now).

It sounds like a tall order, but I'll do my best to push myself. If 2023 is anything like the last couple years, I'll make myself proud one way or another. I'm excited to see where next year takes me, and forever grateful to have anybody reading this or following my stories along for the ride. ♥

#this is a very long post for no reason #jk the reason is I don't know how to shut up #azrfic recap #azrupdate #azikarue #azikarue394 #beyblade

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nuagederose · 2 years

Photo

kinktober 2022 // day four: angel’s trumpet prompt: breathplay/erotic asphyxiation + missionary (courtesy of @the-purity-pen) pairing(s): alex/lily (eerie inhabitants) also on ao3 💋 (holy hell, this one was a doozy; it’s probably my favorite so far)

It was quite the threshold for Alex when he snuck his way into the house after everyone else had gone to bed, especially when he and I spent the night nestled up in bed together: I knew for a fact that I wanted a bit more at some point in the future, barring that we would stay quiet all the while. But I craved a moment alone with him, beyond a mere night cozied up to one another in my bed, and nowhere else in the Bay Area proved to be safe enough for the two of us to spend a moment alone.

He told me that a string of nights with me would only last for so long before he had to disappear into the night again all to draw blood and perpetuate his vampirism.

There was a moment during the last few nights that Alex and I had spent together where I could not sleep all the way through the night. I had no idea if it was the fact that I was sleeping with a vampire that persistently woke me up in the middle of the night, particularly around the three o’clock hour for something like half an hour until I finally drifted back off to sleep right next to his slim little body, or the fact that I knew that the end came soon enough for us, at least for the time being.

Though his body felt so cold, I couldn’t resist in holding him close to me, and there were times in which I wrapped my arms around his waist all to feel his rhythms: if I held him close enough to me, I swore that the cold faded away into a feeling of warmth instead: the feel of a human boy cuddled up close to me. The cold smoothed his skin and gave it an extra silky texture, silkier than that of a live human boy, such that it made me wonder about him in life before he had been shot in the head.

Though his body was cold, if I held onto him, the feigned warmth reminded me of holding a big teddy bear. Maybe I was nuts to even so much as try this with him, but had I built up a wall of denial about him, the nights with him only lost their magic to me. I always thought of him as another boy to me, a lovable boy even with the vampire ways and the pervasive sense of bloodlust within him. He deserved to feel how a boy should feel.

I set my hands on his sweet little belly and rested my head up against his shoulder as I served as the big spoon. The mere feel of Alex’s body took on an odd role for me, an entity to both put me to sleep as well as wake me up in the middle of the night, and then somehow, the softness and tenderness of him sent me off to sleep again somehow.

The skin right underneath his belly button made me lick my lips, especially when I thought about giving him a kiss there. The slow pace of his heart proved enough for me to relax and trust him all the way to sunrise. His hair, long and curly and with a soft aroma of spice and leaves, remained soft and silken. His body, svelte and yet voluptuous, beautiful but morbid, cozy but cold, a strange paradoxical comfort to me in every form.

Moreover, I found the opportunity to see him in the full buff, not once but twice but five times. I had seen his nude body in all of his shapely glory: his narrow feet, his lanky legs and fine sinewy thighs, his slightly rounded hips, that sweet little belly, that gorgeous chest, those long tenacious arms, those perfectly tailored shoulders, that sweet head upon those shoulders, and of course: that slender, nicely carved neck of his. I always thought that I was the real vampire given I wanted to nibble and kiss his neck every time I saw it, especially when he wore nothing else.

The temptation felt so real with each and every glimpse, and with every time I lingered my nose up to the smooth skin there in the middle of the night.

The first time I had the chance to see his neck in junction with his naked body was the first time I bore witness to beauty in its purest form. It served as a bridge of sorts.

The bridge to beauty.

The last night he stayed with me in the Iverson estate, it was a warm, late summer night, almost a little too warm for the time of year. I had to sleep with nothing more than a little pair of shorts, and thus, I treated him to my bare breasts and upper body.

I ran my brush through my hair and gave my locks a hearty swish and thrust of my head. At one point, I held out my brush before me and I took a glimpse down at my own body.

I wanted a little mirror embedded in the bristles all so I could better look at myself, and all so he could better look at me, as well.

He had to worship me, to give himself up to me. To feel the shards of his broken mind within my hands as I strove to piece him back together.

A tap on my window and I turned to the sill as well as the reflection within the mirror. I caught a glimpse of his helmet of black curls about his head beyond there and he treated me to that crooked little smile. I lifted up the window for him and he bowed his head closer to the sill.

Though it was the middle of the night, the shadows remained away from his eyes all the while: as far as I knew, they would come forth over his eyes like the hood of death and I would make love to the cold of the quiet night straight up. He slithered in over the rim of the sill and set one foot down on the carpet, followed by the other. He gave his hair a toss back with a flick of his head and he showed me his beautiful neck all the while. His breath smelled of iron, and I knew that he must have feasted before then.

“Smells like someone ate,” I teased him as he ran his fingers through his hair: the hem of his shirt lifted up and showed off a sliver of skin right underneath his belly button and above the lowered band of his jeans. Still very slender but I sensed something there.

“Feeling quite full,” he told me with a gentle caress of his belly. Though slim and sleek, I could make out the slightly full shape right above his waist. When he ate too much, his belly swelled up a bit and he carried the look of insanity and bloodlust in his eye, and yet I found myself feeling rather attracted to his body.

“I’d rather you smell like you just ate and nourished your body than smell of something like, say—cigarettes,” I told him as I put my arms around his neck and stood up on my toes to reach his lips for a kiss. The feel of his smooth, cool skin brought a tightening sensation to both right in between my legs as well as all along the edges of my breasts.

I pushed my chest against his as I leaned in closer to his body. Alex set his hands on the small of my back. The taste of blood on his lips never bothered me once: in fact, I tasted more of the fresh sugar that he had helped himself to before then more than I tasted blood. Sweet like sugar cane, smooth like cherries, and somewhere in there was the blood and the flesh of a fresh victim all for him: I expected his body to feel warm, especially with my chest pressed up against him but it never did in fact feel the least bit warm to me.

“Ooh, getting an early start tonight,” he noted in a low, husky voice.

“I want you,” I whispered right into his mouth. “I want you so much. I don’t know when I'll see you again.”

He held back and peered right into my eyes once the words escaped my lips.

“We will see each other and have more moments alone,” he vowed to me. “We, without question, without a shadow of a doubt in my mind, will in fact share more moments with each other. But—let's enjoy this here, though.”

His fingers slithered up my bare skin, all the way up my spine towards my shoulder blades. It felt like a series of small serpents crawling up my back, such that I could feel my nipples hardening even more.

Alex tugged me down to the floor with him. He tilted his head back and parted those lips for me: his jet-black hair spread out from underneath his head like the spilled ink from a bottle. He ran his hands down the front of his chest down to his hipbones. As cold as the coldest winter to ever infect any place in Northern California, and yet he welcomed me home.

I unfastened his jeans for him and I could see him there, already fully erect and ready for me. I lay down over his body on my hands and knees so my taut nipples could hang down over him. He flashed me another crooked smile as he ran his fingers over my breasts: so cold and yet with each caress, I could feel myself tightening up even more and more. He brought his hand up to my neck and I raised my head all so he could have a better feel of my own skin.

Across my throat, towards the jugulars and all around the back. He then pressed his hands on my back, and I took my seat.

But then I froze right over his hips, right before I took my seat there on the tip.

“What’s the matter?” he asked me, concerned.

“You know what? I’m not feeling being on top right now.” He gaped at me.

“Really?”

I climbed off of him and I lay down on the floor, flat on my back. I opened my legs wide for him and he lingered over my body with his eyes wide and his mouth agape at the sight before him.

“Lily, I—I never expected you to go this way.”

“Be a good boy and get on top,” I commanded him. He showed me his tongue again as he brought himself to my legs for a series of kisses, all the way up inside from my ankles to my knees, and then from my knees down towards my crotch. Those smooth lips sent shivers up my legs to the base of my spine. That was when he adjusted himself and let my legs lay down on either side of him. I was wide open. He straddled my hips.

I closed my eyes for a moment. I tried not to shriek out and wake up Abby or anyone else in the house from the sharp pierce of frigid cold between my legs.

So cold and yet it brought me the strangest euphoria, something that I had never experienced before. Never in my wildest dreams did I think cold could be so sexy, but his ocean blue eyes swept over me and his tendrils of jet-black hair held onto me as he brought me closer and closer into his shadow realm, as cold as I had ever felt. I let my mouth drop open as I tried to catch my breath. The cold, the quick pulse within me, the quickening pulse within him, and I knew that I was both drowning as well as climbing the tallest mountain around.

He was pulling me higher. I let him dominate me even though I was the one in control.

He gripped onto my knees so as to steady himself. I locked eyes with him for a few seconds before I brought my gaze down to his neck, that beautiful sleek neck of his, in all of its milky glory.

The pierce of cold on my lips, and it somehow looped around to sheer warmth with each and every impact that he made.

So cold that he gave me warmth. The warmth that brought me higher. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back as he came himself, and yet I felt nothing but everything. I was completely numb there but I felt as though he and I had run up the side of a glacier together. I breathed hard from the sensation, but since I was numb, I had no idea if I came for him.

Breathing heavy, Alex peered down to between my legs and he raised his eyebrows.

“Am I coming?” I asked him.

“I did,” he said. “I missed you, too—if I get any of my venom inside of you, I accidentally turn you into a vampire. It doesn’t look like you did, though. You are red as the freshest orchid, however.”

I closed my eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. Completely disappointed in myself that I was unable to release for him.

“Hang on,” he told him right then, and I opened my eyes and raised my head up for a better look at him. He peeled off his shirt so he was completely naked right before me: tendrils of his black hair tousled over his shoulders and down onto his chest.

“I got a little idea to spice things up,” he suggested, and he flashed me his long lanky fingers: for a moment, I swore that the claws had emerged from their hiding place inside of his fingertips.

“Well, if you’re going to do it, then I want to try it out, too,” I told him.

“You just want me to come twice,” he teased me.

“I do!” I insisted as I hoisted up onto my elbows and my breasts relaxed over my chest. “I’m not afraid to admit this, either.”

He raised an eyebrow at me all while he flashed me a playful little smirk. I ran my tongue over the top row of teeth, and I tossed my hair back with the flick of my head, all so he could see my neck and my shoulders as well as my breasts in action for a momentary glimpse. He loomed closer to me, to my neck. He closed his eyes as he brought the full tip of his nose up to the side of my neck.

For a second, I thought that he was smelling me as if he was about to bite me and drain me of my blood. But instead, he opened those deep eyes and he gazed right into mine for a moment, right before he dropped his attention down to my breasts, followed by my collar bones and then my neck again.

“Choke me,” he whispered to me in the huskiest, silkiest voice I had ever heard before.

“Choke you?” I echoed him. “I thought your lungs were kaput, though.”

“Just choke me,” he whispered again. He leaned back so I could reach for his neck with both hands. His neck was so smooth, such that I almost didn’t want to do it. But if it would make him come again, then I was willing. After all, I called the shots down there on the floor. I gave myself to him as he did with me.

I pressed the pads of my thumbs onto his throat, right underneath his Adam’s apple. As if I was about to squeeze a thick stove pipe.

“Harder,” he begged me. “Harder, harder. Please. Don't stop until I am as blue as poison itself.”

I pressed harder with my thumbs and he closed his eyes. I tightened my grip on his neck altogether and he knitted those eyebrows together. I choked him right then and there, and he parted his lips at the feeling. The cherry red color escaped the skin and, in its place, came a pale white followed by murky blue.

That was when I let go of him.

Alex gasped and coughed, and then he let out a low, pleasured moan. I glanced down in time to see him coming a second time, right next to my hip. It was as if he wanted to go to great pains to missing me. He wanted me to stay human. He bowed his head over me so my hair spread over my right breast, which in turn tickled me a great deal.

He then lifted his head for a look into my face. The soft blush color was already returning to his little lips, and he showed me a little smile once again.

“Was it good?” I asked him in a soft voice.

“That was everything,” he whispered to me, and he brought his face closer to mine as if he was about to kiss me. But he never did. “Shall I do you, now?”

“Please,” I insisted, and I gave my hair another toss back with the flick of my head. He showed me his tongue once more and he ran his fingertips along the sides of my neck at first.

He then did the same thing as me with his thumbs right upon the center of my throat. It was one thing with him because his lungs barely worked. But with me, I swore that I was going to drown in his ocean, in his ice, in his shadows as cold as night.

I held my breath as the feelings swirled inside of me once again. The fact that I wasn’t breathing only made me rise higher and higher, and all too quickly. I thought I was drowning as I closed my eyes for him. Though he refused to turn me into a vampire, perhaps this would be the way to go here. Moreover, he was the last thing I would ever see.

I could feel my lungs stopping. I swore that my chest would explode when he finally let go of me.

Though his fingers felt like icicles against my own skin, I could feel it down between my legs for him. I came for him, as if I had reached the mountain top on the back of a glacier.

I fell back onto the floor with my arms spread out from my body. I fell back with such haste that he gasped. Cold as ice and yet he had lit a fire inside of me. Cold as death and yet he brought me to life with his venom.

“Lilian?” he whispered to me as I gasped for air. It felt as though I had been holding my breath underwater for several days. My chest heaved from the feeling, from his fingers across my neck, from his dick down in between my lips, from everything. The meeting of cold and heat, of breathing and suffocation, it left my whole entire body feeling ravaged, but fully alive. All of my meetings with death, with Alex and the rest of the vampires, with all of their dangerous encounters, they all wound up leaving me far more alive than ever before.

“Good boy—” I whispered out to him. “Good, good—boy—”

I opened my eyes and I was face to face with him, with those shadows over his deep blue eyes, with that full tip of his nose, with those soft cherry lips. Still soft after all of that.

“Good boy—even in death,” I further whispered into his lips.

“You mean ‘undeath’,” he corrected me with another kiss on the lips: the caress of that cherry skin paired with a little piece of blood from his throat, and I could feel it all the way down to my toes.

#kinktober 2022 #kinktober #kink tumblr #kink tag #eerie inhabitants #eerie inhabitants fanfic #fanfic art #fic with art #alex skolnick #oc tag #testament #testament band #sketchbook #sketches #sketchbook drawing #vampires #artists on tumblr #badgalnirvhannahart

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hotchfiles · 1 month

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wait would you list your hotch fic ideas?? (I also have a couple but I'm waiting for an important event to pass in case the fic writer curse strikes and I get hit by a bus or something)

oh this is a doozy

theres the next chapters to my series, so choiceless, darling and in nomine

i have some rivals to lovers ideas to my law school hotch universe

i also have some long fics planned but those are for after in nomine ends bc they are case fics kind of as well

i have a fat!liaison!reader porn with plot mutual body worship as well (bc of his scars)

and a very family angsty one about haley's death anniversary and hotch's hard time connecting with jack

this is just at the top of my head, theres some smaller blurbs from requests i want to work on bc they are good prompts andddd i want to bring hotch x gideon reader to paper as well

so yeah, its a lot, and i do have soooo much inspo for him, to write him, to put him in situations, but its too much im feeling like im drowning every time i open my docs lol

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lazybakerart · 2 years

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Harringrove prompt: Billy teasing Steve on the daily but who gets super protective if anyone else gives Steve shit. That's HIS boyfriend. The only person who gets to make fun of him is BILLY.

(omg I love your writing and art btw fr😍)

(askjsdfsdf!!! thank you!! T___T!!!)))

Tater Tot Wednesday and Steve’s barely keeping it together.

One more tardy to add to his file. A failed calculus pop quiz in a long line of failed pop quizes. Nancy gave him the stiff cold shoulder in the hall before lunch and left their date for tonight up in the air.

Maybe he’ll pick her up at five and sneak her home by midnight.

Maybe he’ll be cozying up with his right hand—his left if he’s in the mood for something different. Only if he hasn’t suffocated himself with his pillow first.

And Billy Hargrove is on his tail. Teeth bared. Bullheaded and blowing smoke.

Zeroed in on Steve since second period and hasn’t left him alone since. Any chance he gets, Billy’s on Steve like fake-tanner is on Carol in December.

Tater tots were meant to be the saving grace of today. The one highlight in this dark, awful world filled with pissy-girlfriends and academic probation.

Billy shoves Tommy and Carol over to make room, straddles himself on the laminated bench to give Steve every moment under the Hargrove-specific spotlight. Knee knocking into Steve's. Personal space pillaged and razed.

First, he steals Steve’s apple.

Then, he steals three tater tots off Steve’s plate.

“Excuse me?” Steve finally says when ignoring the idiot breathing on him five inches away doesn’t get the very clearmessage across.

He can feel the heat from Billy’s crotch.

Outside of being reamed on the court, he’s not sure what to do with that kind of intimacy.

“I gotta say, Harrington. Your mom’s a damn sweetheart.” Billy says. He pulls out a knife from his boot and starts carving chunks out of the apple.

He's trying to look cool and it doesn’t work on only Steve.

Carol starts twirling her hair around her pink painted nail and Tommy shuffles her around to switch spots with him so he’s the one closest to sniffing those blond barbie curls.

Steve can hear a wave of girls marinating in their panties at the sight of California and a big sharp knife.

Steve pops his coke and takes a sip before diving into whatever this is going to be.

“And how is my mom a sweetheart, Hargrove?”

Billy chews with his mouth open. He spears another tater tot from Steve and eats it straight from the blade’s tip, eyes on Steve, punchline in sight, winding up for a doozy. Steve's not holding his breath.

“Because she sucked my dick so good last night, pretty boy. Duh."

Steve twists around, leans his elbow on the table to give Billy what he wants—attention.

“She did? Wow, that is so nice of her.”

“Ain’t it? She didn’t even forget the balls or nothing.”

“I hate when that happens.”

“The worst.”

“Something is definitely the worst here.”

Across the table, Tall Chris barks out a laugh. Hit six feet by fourth grade and kept growing. He’s the only one on their team who can dunk just by walking up to the hoop and get sunburnt from being outside for two minutes.

He has the locker next to Billy's and Steve watched the two of them talking hush-hush after practice plenty of times to think they're friends. As close as anyone can be friends with Billy.

His laugh echoes and pinches at Steve’s ears, but he’s not the only one holding their stomach.

But he is the only one to think it’s a good idea to jump into the line of fire.

Tall Chris says, “Yeah, she sucked mine too. Your mama's got a tight—“

Billy takes Tall Chris’ cafeteria tray and shoves it to the floor. The sound of plastic clatters loud over the sudden hush at their table.

Steve watches wide-eyed as Billy jabs his finger at Tall Chris. Jaw clenched tight and read to jump—fifty pounds on him and Billy’s still got the upper hand just with that look on his face.

“Be respectful, cocklicker. Don’t talk about his mother like that.”

Tall Christ seems to shrink half a foot.

“But you just—“

Billy clicks his tongue, shaking his head.

“Uh-uh.” He wags his finger then points over Tall Chris’ shoulder to the floor where his food has splattered. “Eat your food and don’t say another goddamn word unless I tell ya.”

Only when Tall Chris finds the smarts to look away does Billy flip some switch inside him and smiles, grins like the sun is shining behind his blue eyes to make his Hollywood face sparkle.

Behind him, Tommy’s inching closer to catching a whiff and Carols giving herself a perm.

Billy turns to Steve and it feels like Indiana in July under that Hargrove-spotlight.

“You got the same lips as her, you know that?” Billy laps at his own flushed-red lips like he’s trying to make Steve feel that too, his knife in hand, growing colder by the minute tater tot stabbed through on its tip.

Steve hadn’t even noticed him slipping another one out from under Steve's nose. Too busy thinking what the hell is the matter with this guy and well and this is something.

Billy says, leaning a little closer, “Ain’t that a funny coinkydink, Harrington?”

Steve plucks the tater tot off Billy's knife and pops it into his mouth. Licks the salt off his thumb and watches Billy finally crack that little bit.

Maybe there's still some hope for today yet.

(also up on ao3)

#billy hargrove #harringrove #my stories #replies #billy is too busy with his head up steve's ass to self reflect obviously #>_>;;;#thank you for the prompt!! i hope you like it djkghjdsff

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duckymcdoorknob · 2 years

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hello!! i just found ur page and holy cow i’m so in love of ur still taking requests for the event i would like to participate! can i please order a box decorated with Wrapping paper! with dark chocolate(Bokuto), square and round shaped with strawberry jam, walnuts, and cream! i’m not super sure of this makes any sense but i just feel like that would be super interesting to see what you come up with!! and if ur not taking orders anymore, no biggie just disregard this but STILL i lowkey stalked ur page and u are so amazing so keep up the good work!! much appreciation for u and ur writing thank u :)

I gotta admit I had a doozy coming up with a prompt!!

HOWEVER I am not one to back down from a challenge!

And as I was staring at my wall, waiting for genshin to be out of maintenance, the idea HIT!

SO BEHOLD!!! MY BRAINROT DURING GENSHIN MAINTENANCE!!!

CW BELOW THE CUT: None!!

From the first day you entered your literature class, you had no idea that you would be partners-in-crime with Kotaro Bokuto. It wasn’t your choice, honestly. He sort of saw you when he walked in, and sat down next to you in an attempt to make a new friend.

Ever since that day, you two became inseparable. When you shared your passions, he shared his. After a few weeks, Bokuto introduced you to the volleyball team, his friends, and his best friend Akaashi.

Although you swore that you didn’t behave any differently, Bokuto insisted that, by your body language, you had a crush on his best friend.

However, he was the one that you had a crush on.

The ace swore that he would get you and his best friend together. Even if it cost him his dignity, he knew in his heart that the two of you were meant for each other.

“Bokuto I-“ you said for the nth time, trying to explain your disinterest.

“No! I swear to you! When you were talking to him, you crossed one of your ankles behind the other, and were smiling!” The white-haired male argued.

“Because I’m a friendly and awkward person! I have to keep still or else I shift my weight!” You attempted to rebut.

“I have the perfect plan for you! Let me tell you ab-“

“Bokuto, No!” You said with a sigh, “I am telling you that I do not like Akaashi like that.”

“(Y/N)-“

Before he could try and argue, the bell rang. Bokuto smiled. He knew in his heart that you were playing hard to get, and he would make sure you ended up with Akaashi.

You didn’t have Bokuto in your math class, however you did have Akaashi. After days of reviewing the situation, you opted for the best option: seeking help.

“Akaashi, I gotta ask you for a favor.” You say in exasperation, walking out of the classroom next to him.

“Oh I’m all ears!” The setter chimed, turning his attention to you.

“So, you have to keep this a secret from Bokuto. Promise you won’t tell?”

Akaashi stuck out his pinkie, “My lips are sealed.”

You chuckled and interlocked your own pinkie with his. “Alright.” After exhaling, you began to explain. “When we first met, apparently I did something with my body language that convinced Bokuto that I have a crush on you.”

The dark-haired male nodded, listening intently.

“Even though you’re a total catch, I don’t have a crush on you. But he’s so adamant on getting us together, and won’t understand when I tell him I don’t like you in that way. In all reality, I-“

“Have a crush on Bokuto.” Akaashi finished for you, a sly smile tugging at his lips.

You closed your mouth and hung your head low, “Unfortunately.” You teased in a serious tone. “And I don’t know how to tell him! I’m worried he’s going to get a partner before I can do anything!”

“If I’ve known Bokuto for this long, he isn’t the sharpest tack. But, he is very good at picking things up that he reads.” Akaashi noted, “So maybe you should just write him a letter?”

“I think that could work.” You reply, sighing. “What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

“All you can do is try.” Akaashi chirped in reply.

Suddenly, the dark-haired male gasped and pushed you into an empty classroom, “Quick, hide!”

“Wh- Akaashi!” You yelped.

The setter peeked outside the window to the classroom, heart breaking at the sight before him.

“Do you wanna tell me what the hell’s going on?” You asked impatiently.

“No. The threat has passed. Now we can go.” He held out his arm, you grabbed onto it with an eye roll and a smile.

During a quiet period in your history class, you hastily scribbled out a letter. Sure it was messy, but it conveyed all that you wanted to say. You snuck a glance at a very focused Bokuto, smiling sheepishly.

When the bell rang, you walked with Bokuto in the hallway and met with Akaashi at your lockers. The dark-haired male shot you a look, resulting in you sighing and turning to your best friend.

“H-Hey, Bokuto I-“

“Ooh are you blushing?” The ace teased, “Is that for Akaashi?? He’ll love it!”

“No, Bokuto-“

“You can do this! You two are meant for each other!”

“Kotaro! It’s for you!”

The Ace’s eyes refocused as he jumped back slightly. “M-Me?”

“Yes, I really had a hard time with this. This was the best way to convey what-“

“(Y/N)… I-I’m really sorry but, I’ve been with my partner for about two months now. I’m not going to break up with them so I can go out with one of my friends.” The white-haired male said sheepishly, offering a sympathetic smile.

In that moment, Akaashi swore he saw your soul leave your body. He stood behind you, secretly taking your hand to show you he was there for you.

“N-No don’t worry about it! You can just- here give me that.” Within a second, your beautifully heartfelt letter was ripped into three pieces. You sighed as you looked upon them, tears welling in your eyes. Finally, you turned to Akaashi and your head fell onto his shoulder.

“I really am sorry-“

“Bokuto, we’ll talk at practice. You should probably head over now.” Akaashi said sternly.

The ace nodded and walked away. He couldn’t help but feel dejected, but he couldn’t abandon his partner for someone he barely knew.

“Are you okay, starshine?” Akaashi whispered, arms moving to wrap around you in comfort.

“No. H-How did we not know he was taken?”

“That’s why I pulled you into the classroom,” the dark-haired male said gently, “I saw him walking with them. I figured it was nothing, but I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. I guess I was right.”

You let out a watery chuckle. “God. The world is such a weird place.” Sighing, you nuzzle into Akashi, “I’ll be fine. I just need a minute to be hugged.

“I can help you in that department.” The setter replied, holding you tighter, “And I’ve got a proposal for you.”

“Oh?” You looked up at him.

“If I do recall…” he smiled, “Someone in your life is a total catch, is he not?”

A new world opened up to you in that moment. After all, the world did work in weird ways.

You chuckled and hid your face in his shoulder. “I accept your proposal.”

❣︎𝑉𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑒’𝑠 𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡❣︎

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

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