#never written for Mona before

[imagionationstation]

Yours - Feral Raphie AU

“Leonardo, I want to see him.”

“I know, I know, but we’re trying to keep him from being overwhelmed and I don’t-”

“If it is possible that I can be of assistance in returning his memories, then shouldn’t I have a chance to try?”

“Mona…” Leonardo trails off and Mona paces on the rooftop of the warehouse where she’d taken refuge when their conversation got heated. She wants to see her boyfriend. It had been several weeks since his rescue, and she had every right to visit her Raphael.

Yet Leonardo was stubborn, and it didn’t sit right to invade the turtle brothers’ home without their sensei’s permission. It was one of the very few times in her life that she found a strong dislike for an aspect of her warrior’s conditioning.

“I should warn you that I am on the verge of coming over there myself if I do not get some form of consent soon.” No, she was not, and she would never. A moment of quiet, muffled voices, and then-

“How far are you?”

Her heart lurches. “Mutanimal’s.”

“Alright.” He sounds pensive, and her grip on the t-phone Donatello had graciously given her tightens. “You can come over, just don’t hurry and… Mona, he’s not going to be your Raph.”

She swallows, but her voice is firm. “I am on my way.”

“See you in a bit.”

She hangs up, and sprints to Slash to warn him of where she’s going, promising to let him know when she leaves the turtle’s home. With his authority backing her up, she stops by her resting area, and then she’s off.

“Mona!” Raphael’s cheery little brother greets her as she crosses from the tracks to the turnstiles, apparently on guard for her arrival. Her eyes scan for her boyfriend even as she announces, “Greetings. Leonardo said I can come over. Where is he?”

“Leo?” Mikey studies the box in her arms. “Getting stuff ready. What’s that? Gift for Raph?”

She meets his eyes, offering a sheepish smile. “…Something like that.”

She opens the lid covered in holes, and Mikey’s eyes widen. “CHOMPY!”

He scoops up the little alien as Chompy squeals his delight, nuzzling the tiny face against his beak. “Aw, I missed you so much, lil’ guy! Have you been having fun with mama Mona?”

She sets the box on the turnstile next to them, uncertain how to respond to such a nickname, but allowing it to slide because Raph never denied his “dada Raph” title. She chalks it up to yet another strange human thing.

“You never mentioned Chompy.”

She glances over at Leonardo as he approaches, meeting his gaze evenly. “You said that he responds negatively to humans and mutants because of their intimating factor, but did not immediately try to inflict harm upon your Icecream pet. It seems unlikely that he would attack beings that he does not find intimidating, and this youngling is the least intimidating alien in many galaxies.”

She pauses in consideration and corrects, “For now.”

He stares at her, and then shakes his head with a light chuckle. “Good to see you too, Mona.”

She smiles and shakes the hand not offered for battle. “Likewise, Leonardo. Can we see him?”

He nods, and she notices how tired he looks, normally confident stance more subdued. She will never admit how worried it makes her. “Come on. He’s in the dojo.”

Mikey hops off the turnstile, cooing to the alien turtle happily viewing his home from his place cupped in two hands. Mona crosses into the lair, following the turtles to the dojo, heart racing with anticipation. Leo stops at the dojo entrance, and with a tone full of forced cheer, calls out, “Donnie! We have a friend here to see us.”

There is an abnormal amount of emphasis on friend, and an uneasy feeling creeps on her. Leonardo enters the dojo, and Mikey steps back, politely waiting for her to step past before following. Or perhaps he’s simply making sure that the stronger warriors go first in case something goes wrong. She glances at Chompy, something akin to regret settling, and then steps into the dojo.

The room is just as majestic as the last time she stood in it’s walls, the large tree presiding over the room like a guardian, but this time, there is a pile of blankets and pillows underneath the family alter. A low growl draws her attention to the white eyes glaring from underneath one of the larger blankets.

Leonardo stiffens, but Donatello appears unfazed. He leans his weight against him, effectively using him to balance as his legs stretch out, a laptop resting on his lap. He reaches to the left to gently bonk his head with his fist. A sharp hiss, and Donnie rolls his eyes, “Leo said our friend, Raph. As in, not a threat.”

A moment of pause, and then a low growl. Donnie huffs, resuming his typing. “This is why you don’t have any friends.”

Leonardo looks at his younger brother wryly. “Donnie.”

“Hmm?”

“We have a guest.”

“Mhmm.”

“Someone none of us have seen in weeks.”

“Mhmm.”

Leo gives up. “So say hi.”

“Oh.” Donatello looks up and meets her gaze, offering a polite smile. “Hi, Mona.”

He goes back to typing and Leonardo throws up his hands as if he’s a hopeless case. Mona takes a few steps closer, and Raph’s growls resume. She pauses in consideration. “Raphael?”

White eyes glare back at her. The growl increases in volume.

Mona tilts her head curiously, trying to find any true aggression or fear, but only spotting impudence. He is putting on a show in the hopes of scaring her off.

Cute.

She can sense Leonardo shift nervously. “I wouldn’t get to close.”

“Duly noted.” Mona knows exactly how to deal with unruly, territorial earth animals. Raphael himself had felt it necessary to teach her. “Donatello, could you move aside?”

Donatello looks up, blinks twice, and then looks at Leonardo.

Leo frowns, “I don’t think-“

“Donatello, move aside.”

Donatello gets up, and Raphael releases a sharp hiss that sends him quickly stepping backwards, lest he be punished for his betrayal. Once she feels there is a sufficient amount of distance, she purposefully strides over to her boyfriend, pulling the blanket off.

Apparently startled by her audacity, he scrambles back on all fours, raising his haunches and baring his teeth. He looks uncertain, like he can’t decide if she’s a danger. He’s not wearing his gear, and he appears younger without it, fiery emerald gaze no longer framed by the reflective red.

She kneels down, and waits for it to register that she is no longer at a threatening height. He takes a wary step closer, clearly having little idea of what to make of her, sniffing in her general direction. She reaches out, and he snaps at her fingers.

Her eyes narrow. Leo starts to speak, but she cuts him off with a curt, “Raphael, if you attempt to bite me again, I will not hesitate to bite back.”

He blinks. She glares. Raph sits down.

“WHAT?!”

Mona ignores the chorused cry and gently cups both sides of his face, brushing a thumb over one of the scars. He stares back at her, eyes squinted the way they always did when he was thinking hard, and she can’t help the small smile, “I have missed you, Raphael.”

A soft, curious chirp, and she hums, “There’s someone else here who has missed you too.”

He looks passed her, scanning the area on alert as Mikey walks up. Before any of them can react, Chompy lets loose a high-pitch squeal and launches himself from Mikey’s palms, hitting the floor and skidding just in front of Raph. He continues to chirp his joy as Raph lowers himself to the ground so they’re face to face, studying the alien with dialated eyes.

He pokes the spikey shell. Chompy churrs and nuzzles against his beak, and Raph’s expression brightens, sitting up and scooping the small form into his palms. He presents Chompy to Mona as if to share his discovery, and she chuckles, “That is Chompy Picasso. He is yours.”

As if to confirm, Chompy nips his hand. Raph yelps and tears his hands away, and Mona catches the happily squeaking turt before he hits the ground. Raph leans his hands on the floor, watching him rest his plastron on her fingers, little feet swinging in the air as he pants estatically. Raph’s eyes are round with the innocence and awe that Mona had fallen in love with, and she can’t help it if she closes the distance between them to press a kiss on his forehead.

He looks at her as she pulls away, and she is relieved that he doesn’t seem upset. Her eyes soften, a warmth flowing through her chest at the timid way he’s looking at her, like he thinks he should understand, but can’t. She shifts Chompy into one hand, and takes his hand in her own. “It is alright. No matter what form you come in, you are my Raphael, and I would relieve those nights of worry a hundred times over, as long as it means you always come back to me.”

She thinks something sparks in his gaze, but she can’t tell what. His voice is tentative, “Yours?”

“Always.” She swears with every inch of her being, squeezing his hand. He squeezes back, and leans forward to lovingly bump her face with his own. She would have gladly stayed in that movement forever, but she hadn’t taken one thing into account.

“AWWEEEE- ay!”

Ah yes. Their audience.

Raph pulls away and looks past her to glare at his siblings, and she can’t help the grin. He was definitely still her Raphael. Mona sets Chompy on the ground and he begins prancing between them, churring like one of the older earth vehicles.

Leonardo is flushing as he moves his hand from Mikey’s head to rub the back of his own. “Sorry.”

“If you wouldn’t mind, I trust it’s safe enough for me to request some privacy now.” Mona hints as Chompy begins trying to climb Raphael.

Leo and Mikey look like they’re going to refuse- possibly for entirely different reasons- and Donnie tucks the laptop under his arm, pushing both brothers out by their carapaces. “Don’t leave him alone and Mikey will bring food by later!”

“I will?” Mikey questions as they disappear from sight.

She looks back at Raphael, and watches him set Chompy on his shoulder, an action done more out of instinct than anything else. Her eyes dart between his face and Chompy’s for a moment, before she quietly questions, “Raphael, do you know who I am?”

He gets halfway through a nod before he looks uncertain, staring past her for a second. His mouth opens and closes, nails unconscious digging into the carpet beneath them, forehead creasing as an anxious expression crosses his features.

“Raphael.” She interrupts firmly, drawing his attention back to her. He looks guilty, shrinking his head into his shell with a sad chirp, before shrugging weakly.

“My earth name is Mona Lisa. You named me.” She informs him carefully, scanning for any signs of recognition. He appears mildly interested, and she takes his hand, thinking back to when they first met. She squeezes, and he scoots closer.

“Let me tell you a story.”

[winepresswrath]

I do love it when Lestat attempts little Claudia do-overs like I cannot see Rose and Mona except through that lens and for this reason I am desperate to see them in the AMC show. Lestat will forget that Mona exists when she leaves his sight line or at least choose not to think about her on purpose but she IS a Claudia defender and explicitly connects their situations and I love that.

[cassmouse]

Okay. Okay okay okay so I am very very close to the end of Bunny I probably should be finishing it but this is so obscenely horrifying, hallucinogenic and absolutely fucking devastating that I can't physically bring myself to

[antebunny]

go away

After Bruce Wayne dies, it only takes Tim about three weeks to show up on Dick Grayson’s doorstep with a 3-ring binder full of evidence. He runs a finger along the top metal ring of the binder over and over as he waits for a response to the doorbell. All at once he feels thirteen years old again, clutching months of painstakingly collected notes written up neatly and sorted into sections. Dick never read any of it, yet Tim did it all again. Had his photos developed for ease of viewing access, included sources for all of his claims, stuck to his main points for clarity’s sake but has pages and pages of extra information in the back of the binder for when–if–Dick decides to give his idea a thorough look. 

But Tim is seventeen years old now, old enough to know where he went wrong the first time. Yesterday he spent hours coming up with argument after argument, approach after approach, to get through to Dick. Mr. Grayson, I’m so sorry for your loss. He’s probably tired of hearing that. Mr. Grayson, I have something I think you’ll want to see. Too quick to the point. If he doesn’t recognize Tim, maybe he’ll try Mr. Grayson, I know about your night life and I want to help. If he does, then maybe Mr. Grayson, I want to say I’m sorry about last time, but this isn’t like last time, I swear–

The door opens. Tim knows that it’s Dick by the smell. Sweat, unwashed clothes, and misery. How like last time. Dick looks like the epitome of grief, which is to say, not like himself. Dick Grayson is a creature of happiness by nature, of high-flying freedom, of beloved family and friends, a picture-perfect cover boy, always adored, always with a beautiful redhead, Batgirl or Starfire or Arsenal, yes Tim knows his type, always kind, always charming, always happy to be there. But Tim only ever seems to know him in these liminal states of horrible tragedy. 

Worst of all, Tim can’t quite tell if Dick recognizes him. 

“Mr. Grayson,” he begins, heart pounding so loudly he cannot hear himself speak, “I don’t think Mr. Wayne is dead.”

For a moment longer than Tim’s entire lifespan, Dick just stares at him. Blue eyes hazy and unfocused. One hand on the doorframe, one hand dragging through the stubble growing on his half-shaved jaw. He’s wearing an AC/DC shirt. Given Dick’s fashion tastes (bright colors) and Bruce Wayne’s music tastes, neither of which Tim should know, he is 98% certain that the AC/DC shirt used to belong to Bruce Wayne. 

When Dick finally speaks, his voice sounds like the death of all joy. 

“How many family members do I have to lose before you let me grieve in peace?”

Tim’s pounding heartbeat becomes a deafening white noise as Dick’s question pangs around his chest. His eyes sting so fiercly that Tim knows it is as visible as Dick’s misery. Nevertheless, he persists, if only for Bruce Wayne. No one else will save him if not for Tim. So even though his hero thinks Tim is a creepy little stalker with the unbelievable audacity to swagger into Dick’s life and tell him how to fix it, well. He’s not wrong, is he? What does it matter if Tim once upon a time dreamed of more? Saving Bruce Wayne is far more important than Tim’s nonexistent chances of becoming friends with Nightwing. 

“Jason came back.” Tim’s chin, lifted stubbornly, trembles. 

Dick’s face clouds over with a rage so terrible that Tim sincerely believes he’s about to get punched by Nightwing. Which wouldn’t be so bad. Tim deserves it, doesn’t he? Intruding on a stranger’s grief like this is probably a punchable offense. He’ll bear it all if only Dick listens, but it looks like he managed to blow it in the span of two sentences. 

In the end, though Dick’s hands curl into fists and his shoulders shake like traintracks, he turns his head at the last second and rests his forehead on the doorframe. Tears streak down his perfect jawline. Watching Dick Grayson cry is like watching Atlantis sink. It’s like watching the Mona Lisa go up in flames. Tim knows stuff like this is why Dick treats him like a celebrity-obsessed stalker living in a weird fantasy world where he’s a part of the Wayne family. He knows it’s why Dick hates him. Tim still can’t help that it’s captivating to watch.

“Go away,” Dick begs.

Tim has never felt more like the scum of the earth, yet still he’d persist if he thought there was a chance of getting Nightwing to listen to him. But there isn’t. So Tim, as lonely, rejected, unworthy and fucking correct as he is, sees himself out of the apartment building.

Two weeks later, he catches a flight to Lahore.

[tlouwhore]

my heart is thrilled by the still of your hand, prt.2 — farmhouse e.w.

notes: basically just smut, 18+, pet names (mama, baby,  babe, love), eating out, switch!ellie, soft, praise, strap on, slow/romantic sex, farmhouse!ellie who is so in love with you, very loosely inspired by no plan by hozier, ive never written smut so...also guys i need to lock in for finals but all i can think about it having sex with ellie

part 1

ellies tattooed hand snakes to find a spot on your hip, squeezing lightly against it prompting a soft hitch to your breath giving her ample opportunity to slip her tongue delicately into your warm mouth. finding comfort in your sweet breath as the kiss continued in a slow yet sloppy manner.

“els…i need you” your lips mere inches from hers, foreheads pressed against each other. breath tangled and exchanged in the hastily darkening air as she gazes at you with a loving hunger in her eyes, familiar and beautiful. 

“i know, babe” she whispered as if scared that if she spoke too loud you would disappear from her desperate grasp, her hand quickly seeking to tangle back into yours. her palms slightly sweaty as she now  gently drags you into the house. opting for the couch merely feet from the door as you lightly push her onto it and crawl into her lap quickly finding your lips to hers like magnets. as the kiss deepens and morphs you can feel her hasten quickly signaling she wants exactly what you do, it's your turn to chuckle at her quickened hunger as you feel her shift uncomfortably knowing her ever-growing wet spot threatens to seep through her boxers.  you tug lightly at the hem of her loose shirt, lightly brushing the pads of your fingers over her stomach, familiar and soft despite it all. she hesitantly breaks the kiss to drag her shirt off, her breasts exposed upon removal. every time you see them your gaze falls to them in admiration as if the mona lisa is engraved into her, taking her in as if she were to dissolve if you blinked. 

admiring the beauty of her soft and supple breasts, slowly grazing your tongue over her erect nipple cascading the effects of a euphonious whimper to escape her lips; the pure love felt to her in that moment unmatched, all your worries washed away as your priorities were on her breasts. her pleasure. her body. her freckled chest adored with scars. her. 

she whines your name desperately as she looks to find an anchor on your body. showing love to her exposed upper body, your lips laying claim to her sun damaged shoulders and collar. your hands slowly dragging across her exposed arms, over her scars and chemical burn, planting an individual kiss to each nail before attending to her lower body. 

loosely slipping onto a seated ground position, the rough carpet welcoming your planted knees as you spread her legs. instantly leaving her to fumble with her button to unclasp it as you offer aid in removing her remaining clothes until her body is displayed to you. 

"can i?" a soft smile tugs at your lips watching her admiration for your beauty grow

"if you take off something first" she laughs slightly when saying it but quickly flicks her full attention to your unclothed chest, your bra the only clinging item to your upper body. 

"better?" your smile illuminates your features, you've never looked more beautiful to her than when you smile. each moment that passes she loves you more than the world, looking to you as a beacon in the darkness.

"yes." as her words left her mouth in her sweetened tone soaked with love you began to trail your way up her thighs with your lips. leaving gentle whispers of love against her skin. her throat emanating your name in whispers like a prayer as you approach her leaking pussy, her clit puffy with arousal as she seeks friction from the air. 

gently licking against her clit as her desperate attempt to stifle a moan fails, her body releasing a guttural sound as you continue to work slowly and starved. her saccharine slick leaking onto your face, coating your soft tongue and blushed skin. you push her leg further up, her knees nearing her chest as you continue to deepen your devotion. she's needy and whining under your tender lips and tongue, continuing to make contact with her dripping cunt. a wet spot forming largely on the familiar couch cushion below, her eyes hooded in lust. desperately trying to keep her eyes locked to your gaze and delicate worship of the flattening of your tongue, engulfing her  clit with the texture drag it before laying tapered circles to it. her whimpers and moans fast and needy, head dazed in pleasure. slowly dragging your finger to meet her clenching hole, dipping a single finger gently in. she coils forward slightly before thrashing back to the couch, muttering swears like a mantra that is half lost by her groans. 

"fuck baby, just like that" is all she can push past her lips, mouth agape as her breath floods out in tangent with her quickening heart. her voice is diluted in pleasure and as messy as her cunt. slowly implementing an additional finger as she leaks out onto your hand causing another fit of swears, a new wave of pleasure seizing through her body. slowly dragging your fingers in and out in tandem with your heatened breath against her delicate clit, your tongue searching the terrain. her high quickly approaching as you feel her tense around you, her reactions more visceral as you help her come undone. a clench around your fingers as you continue gently through her high, her hands gripping at whatever she can grasp stars falling into her eyes. her gaze meeting your face as you remove your fingers from her needy cunt, admiring the soft moons gentle touch to you coated in her slick. taking your wet fingers and softly dipping them into your mouth, releasing the nectar into your mouth like a sacred sip of the lord's wine. 

"m'god mama...." her voice hushed in a sacred high "so fucking beautiful, let me take care of you please" eyes glinting in a desire of her deepest devotions. a smile painting your moist face as you reply 

"please," is the only hushed praise that can exit your lips as you stand, her hands seeking a perfect opportunity to drag your bottoms down your plush thighs. kicking them off as they hit your feet to aid her as she stands to join you, unclasping the metal hook on the back of your bra laying kisses down your exposed shoulders and neck. 

"stay here for me" her breath hits your warm skin

"anything" her nude form trailing out of the room momentarily, the moon and stars kissing her body. her return was swift, her silicone cock hanging from her shifting hips as you greedily walked to meet her.

"needy, aren't you?" she playfully smiles meeting your tender lips in a slow kiss, pushing your body back to the couch.

"lay down for me, baby" her lips still mere inches from yours, refusing to let her touch leave you for too long. you abide by her devout comment. knees slightly bent as you lay supine, dripping cunt displayed like a portrait in the lourve. she kneels against the unclothed altar of your hips, brushing the silicone tip against you looking to you for permission. 

"i'm ready, els" you reach your hand to find hers, quickly finding her hand laced in yours gently placing your enclosed hands to the couch cushion beside your head. her free hand delicately aligning with your needy body, slowly pushing in an inch as she searches your beautiful face for any sign of pain. you meet her with a squeeze to her hand and a nod, encouraging her to push her length deeper. she cautiously bottoms out in you as you meet her with a moan.

"oh my god..." is all that you can push out, her body still giving you time to adjust to her before lovingly fucking into your cunt, her eyes stuck to yours. she can't help but admire your flushed face, the pleasured details relaying across your ever so perfect form. 

"so good for me" soft praises leaving her lips as she continues to push into you, a religious message in the swift breath of her love. her free hand trailing your whole body, unable to soak you in enough before she meets her calloused fingers to your sensitive clit. the pads of her fingers laying claim to your needy bundle of nerves, slow circular swoops creating a perfect storm of pleasure. desperate whines escaping your lips, breathing hitching whenever you meet her deepened gaze. unable to peel her eyes from the warmth of your emanating face. her hands working as skillfully as her hips, pushing in deep and soft, hitting every part of your soft walls combining with the fervor of her diligent hands. 

"taking me so well, mama" painting landscapes on your puffed in pleasure clit, your body a beautiful art piece to her mere existence. eyes tracing the curvature of your body, groans escaping her lips as the base of the strap hits her clit. your sweet whispers of lust egging on her movement, unable to define the truth of her devouring love for you. you clench against her and release a rasping moan.

"m gonna cum, els" broken whispers interrupted by the sharp pleasure in your core.

"cum for me, baby. cum all over my dick for me" she rasps as her hips reaching deeper, your angelic form consuming her in entirety. your orgasm encroaching deeply, her eyes fixed to yours as they threaten to roll back in pleasure. 

"come on mama, you can do it" a creamy white accumulation of your slick coating the base of her silicone cock as she works you through your orgasm. 

"i've got you, just a little more" she coaxes as she slows, gently pulling herself from your tender cunt and unlacing your fingers from hers. a slight whimper erupting at the emptiness of contact. your eyes hooded with a tired love, a half smile sloppily draped on your lips admiration consuming your observations of her diligent hands pulling off the harness. 

"everything good, love?" 

"s'good" your smile growing slightly as you push yourself to sit up

"lets go get ourselves cleaned up, mama." she chuckles at your pleasured expression replacing her hand in yours, you instantly locking onto her. making your way to the bedroom, your body slightly leaned to hers. linked forms finding the dresser, shuffling through the cloth as she searches for a soft outfit for you. her hands fastidiously helping your silk body with the clothing, pulling the waistband up and adjusting your out of place hair. quickly trailing to the bathroom grabbing a wet cloth to wipe your face, a residue of her sweet slick lightly adorning your chin and lips. 

"els...what about the mess we made?"

"i'll worry about that, beautiful. I need to be with you now, the couch can wait." slowly slipping on a loose shirt and lightly pushing you by the small of your back to the bed, the soft duvet opening its arms for you. her body slowly following, pulling you flush to her as she leaves gentle kisses across your sleep-ridden face.

[chuusheartattck]

THAT’S THAT ME ESPRESSO (TTME)

Chapter 6- Apologies ☕️

You’ve woken up to the sounds of the birds chirping and the morning sun peaking in through the windows. You would’ve loved waking up in the giant room provided by Ayaka, if only you weren’t so violently hung over.

The feeling of being incredibly nauseous while remembering some of the memories from last night, started hitting you like a semi truck.

Why did you have to drink so much? You’re never drinking again.

You always say this but never actually stick through with your word.

You loved being drunk but hated the consequences that come the next morning. Your phone was buzzing with new messages. Have you always hated the sounds of notifications? Or was it the headache talking? Annoyed, you checked your phone.

Bergrudgingly, you got up. As soon as you stood up however, you felt like you needed to throw up.

Quickly, you rushed to the toilet. Expecting for something to come out. Nothing did.

“I hate being hungover.” You quickly muttered before making your way to the dining room.

You noticed everyone had arrived before you. They all looked like shit. Including you. Mona was in deep explanation of how she read Yae’s birthchart. Apparently the woman has a lot of baggage.

You sat down in between Hu Tao and Mona.

Ayaka handed you a bowl of miso soup, “It’s for your hangover. You look rough.” She smiles.

You quietly thank her. The miso soup looks good but were you able to eat this without throwing it back up? You took your chances and fed yourself.

Luckily you didn’t.

Before you could finish the soup, Hu Tao turned towards you.

“So are you going to explain what happened last night?” She questioned.

You cleared your throat and explained your experience at the party. From start to finish. Everyone had listened intently to your story. Someone would occasionally gasp.

.

.

.

“Well he sure does know how to act like he cares about someone.” Mona mentioned. Scaramouche is actually a good actor.

It seems like he practiced on you the most.

As you were showing the group the texts you sent to Scaramouche and Childe, your phone buzzed. It was a text from Childe. Everyone began freaking out.

“Shit what do I say??” You were panicking because you didn’t really expect him to answer.

“Maybe an apology?” Lynette suggested.

So fucking annoying.

He’s so fucking annoying.

How can he be like this? Why was he being like this? You heavily sighed. The audacity of this man.

Lynette looked up at you, “Is everything alright?”

You put your phone in the middle of the table and stood up.

“Yes. Everything is so perfect.” You replied sarcastically, “Ayaka thank you for the breakfast and sleepover. Have fun everyone reading those stupid ass texts. I’ll be getting ready to leave.”

When the words left your mouth, you walked away and towards the room you were sleeping in.

As you were packing up you heard a knock at the door.

It was Hu Tao. She was returning your phone.

“I’m so sorry Y/n. He’s such a big dick. You don’t deserve this. She pulled you into a hug.

“It’s ok, don’t worry about it. It’s how he is.” You reassured her.

She helped you pack the rest of your stuff.

You then said goodbye to everyone and got inside your car.

Masterlist II Previous II Next

A/N: Hi I’m back! Ik its been a few days but I haven’t been feeling the best so I took a while to update. I’m still sick but I feel better enough to update even if this chapter was a bit short. Another written chapter I hope you guys like it!! Also pls ignore the typo in furina’s text I meant to put ‘parties’ 😭

ALSOOO lmk if you guys want your users to be added to this au and i’ll make you a twitter user :)

Synopsis: You’re a new idol that just debuted under ‘Fontaine Entertainment’ with your new single ‘Espresso.’ You just graduated high school which means all your classmates are shocked to see you into stardom. Including your old situationship, who happens to be an actor.

Taglist: @skyoverkill1 @quacking-simp @lolmeowing @astro-stars @kaitfae @sl-vega @veekoko @scarawiki @yuminako @samyayaya @kur0kki @practicoi @kukikoooo @scaraenthusiast1 @shutingstar @lloovvv @moonjellyfishie @miy-svz @xionri @lalalaloveallmydays @hearts4lizzzz @kathiwis @state-of-grac3 @morgyyyyyyy

[thetriumphantpanda]

masterpiece | marcus pike

Summary | Even surrounded by works of art, you're his favourite masterpiece.

Pairing | Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Warnings | A fair amount of art metaphors, Marcus being a smooth motherfucker but a smitten one, explicit smut, fingering, unprotected PiV, creampie, public sex (don't ask me why I write this man fucking in public so much), alcohol consumption, two Taylor Swift song lyric references if you look hard enough, no use of y/n. Reader is a blank slate physically but is described wearing a dress and is wearing red lipstick.

Word Count | 1.5k

Authors Note | Don't look at me. I saw this post. Immediately thought of Marcus and wrote this in less than 24 hours. As always, a huge thank you to @undercoverpena who continually inspires me to be creative and to write what I love. If you liked this, please consider reblogging or commenting, it is my life blood. This might be my favourite thing I have ever written, so enjoy.

Beautiful divider by @saradika

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

The Mona Lisa. The Girl With The Pearl Earring. The Birth Of Venus. All of them masterpieces, but none of them could hold a candle to you this evening in his eyes.

Stood in the dimly lit room, draped in a dress of burgundy silk, the low-cut back showing off your spine, teasing what sat lower, the curve of your ass that he gets to cradle in his hands each evening, the glass of champagne held in your delicate fingers, fingers he knows so intimately these days, how they feel wrapped around that specific part of him. The light glints on the stones of your earrings, dropping delicately from your ears, swinging lightly, touching the skin of your neck that is traced by his mouth each night. And when you turn to him, meet his eyes across the room, and smile at him, he wishes he could paint you, immortalise you on canvas, hang you on a wall, display you, so that the rest of the world, for the rest of history, could understand just how priceless you were to him.

He doesn’t even really know why he’s here, much like he thinks when he does anything that doesn’t involved shutting the two of you away in his home or yours and forgetting anything else exists outside of those four walls. Letting you wrap yourself around him, tangled in sheets, with whispered sighs, his hands on your hips and thighs, caught up in nothing but each other and the way he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this way for anyone before, not his ex-wife, not his failed engagement, none of them. None of them made his heart skip like you do, none of them could set his skin on fire with the trace of their fingernails across his skin like you could, none of them would make him feel as good as you would. In the dead of night, your head pillowed on his shoulder, breath fanning across his skin, he realises he’s never loved until you.

When you turn, abandoning the conversation you’re having with God knows who, start walking towards him, parting the crowd like the Red Sea, your eyes focused on him and him alone, he finds that his breath catches in his throat, still not quite believing he is the apple of your eye, the man you search for in a crowd.

“You’re staring.”

“Your fault for looking like that.”

His hand snakes across silk and then the bare skin of your back, dipping to kiss the corner of your mouth so as to not smudge the clean line of red that your mouth is painted.

“See anything you want to buy?”

He smirks, “There’s only one piece of art here that I want, and it’s not for sale.”

You press up onto your tiptoes, mouth by his ear, “Would you hang me on your wall, Pike?”

Looking down at you, those doe eyes, long eyelashes fluttering at him, knowing exactly what you do to him, he bites his lip, “Maybe not hang baby,” He all but growls at you, “But pin you against it? Always.”

And then it all happens in a flurry. Hand around wrist, heels clicking against the floor as he pulls you from the crowd, out of one room, down a hallway and into the first room which door will open. It’s dark inside, save for the floor lights that illuminate the paintings. Normally, when you let him walk you around this particular gallery, all you’re focused on is the way his face lights when he talks, when he’s allowed, for once, to be unapologetically nerdy about something, but tonight, he’s not looking at the art, he’s looking at you.

Like predator after prey, he takes one step forward, as you take one back, slowly but surely backing you up under his gaze until your bare back hits a wall, cornered between two paintings, his palms on either side of your head, mouth dipping to yours, finding a finger pressed against his lips, one of your eyebrows raised, with a point to your own lips and that fucking lipstick that he knows he’ll smudge later if he’s got anything to say about it.

So instead, lips attach to neck, pressing, nipping, sucking sometimes as those fingers of his work the silk up from your ankles, up as high as he can be bothered to pull it before his hand is sinking underneath it, finding you bare.

“Filthy little minx.”

“Have you seen this dress?” You counter, “You would have seen the lines.”

He cuts you off, parting you with his fingers, sinking them lower, finding you slick to the touch, fingers sinking inside, pulling a gasp from you as your delicate hands circle his wrist, not as a warning, but as an encouragement, keeping him there, keeping his fingers inside you as they curl, search out that spot within you that makes you sing. And he finds it, because of course he does, watches as your knees buckle a little, held up only by his other hand on your waist, anchoring you right where he wants you as those fingers drag up, circling that bud of nerves so perfectly, your head tipped back against the wall.

“Go on, baby,” He encourages, fingers fast and precise against you, knowing exactly how to tear you apart, “Let go for me.”

So you do, legs shaking, his name like a chant on your lips, you come, hips chasing his hand as his movements slow, working you through it but not to the point of overstimulation. He looks you dead in the eye as he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucks the taste of you from his skin, leaning back into your mouth, an expectant look in your eyes that you’ve already told him about this.

“Tongue.”

It’s demanding, and it makes your cunt clench around nothing, so you stick it out, do as you’re told, hoping to earn the golden star from him, those two words that make you weaker than anything.

He leans in, traces his tongue against yours, letting you taste yourself on his mouth before giving you that reward.

“Good girl.”

Then his hands are snaking down, gripping your ass through the silk, lifting you gently to wrap your legs around his hips. His hands fumble with his trousers, moving them only enough to free his cock, your hands shifting your dress again, pulling it up to pool at your waist as the length of his slips trough your slick folds, before he’s buried inside you to the hilt in one movement.

There’s a moment of pause, where you look at each other, where you get used to the feel of him inside you, stretching you so perfectly like he always does, him getting used to the warmth of you, the way those walls of yours flutter around him. Then he’s moving, knowing this isn’t the place for him to take his time, hips rocking into yours, slamming your back into the wall as your arms lace around his shoulders, helping him to keep you held up, hands against your ass squeezing where he can.

“Careful of the paintings, agent.” You tease.

“You’re the only masterpiece I care about,” He breathes back, “Pinned to the wall like you should be.”

It’s quick and it’s sloppy, but its no less incredible as it is when he lays you down, pulls you apart with his mouth, then his fingers, then both, and then finally sinks into you, with your legs pressed back to your chest. Here, it’s different, the way his cock punches so deep inside you it takes your breath away, the way you claw at his shoulders, rock into him on his thrusts so you take him deeper. The way you’re surrounded by magnificence but only look at him, warmth in your eyes, nothing but love as he stutters with his movements a little.

“Gonna fill me up?” You ask, voice sickly sweet, “Leave yourself dripping down my thighs when we go back?”

Fuck, you’re filth personified when you talk like that, when you let him mark you, fuck you full of him and walk around with him dripping down your skin, no-one else any the wiser.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He growls into the shell of your ear, teeth nipping at your lobe, marginally missing the silver of your earrings.

“Please.”

It’s the first break in your facade, the way you beg like that and he knows its all over, always is when you beg for him, beg for him to fill you up. He doesn’t last much longer, hips pushing into yours a handful of times before you can feel the warmth spreading inside of you, a breathe of your name against the skin of your neck as he fills you, fucks you to the point that you’re already dripping him before he pulls himself from you, letting your dress drape back down your legs, feet planted on the floor, as he tucks himself back into his trousers.

Your palms smooth down your dress and as he twines his fingers with yours, leads you back into the main gallery, thighs coated in him, no-one would be any the wiser that he has indeed painted you as his own masterpiece right under their noses.

[minhosimthings]

Dances Avec Les Etoiles ft. Heeseung - The Vows

Synopsis: God how boring is love? For Lee Heeseung, it was perhaps the most boring thing in this rotten world. But for his parents, it meant buisness. And buisness meant getting Heeseung married off to a princess from another kingdom. And when the princess shares a peculiar interest, Heeseung starts to believe in Cupid again.

Pairings: Prince!Heeseung × Princess!fem!reader

Warnings: literal fluff nothing else, vows and a wedding my baes!!!

A/N: I HAD to write a wedding scene like COME ON its a law in Mona town that you cannot not write a wedding scene. Also I wrote really sappy vows so sorry not really that @candewlsy babe your daddy papi is a lovesick daddy papi now hehe

Part 1 || Part 2 || The Wedding

The French Quotes Series Masterlist

Weddings were always thought to be pompous events, jewels, dresses, champagne, whose son married whose daughter, gold, silver, and most importantly first dances.

And Heeseung couldn't have been more impatient for his first dance than ever.

Although it wasn't his first dance with you, having danced with you with every passing second of time since your engagement was officially announced.

He had sneaked you out often to the western wing, much to the suffering of Sunoo who had to hear Heeseung's rants about how pretty you danced with him.

And now it was suddenly the wedding, how the time had passed so quickly, and how, now, you were all dolled up in your flowy wedding dress, with adornments on you, enough to last a time. But the thing that shone especially bright was the rose gold ring on your finger, which Heeseung had customised for you. A ballerina figure sat on top of the ring, a bit extra, but it was Heeseung, and you loved how he had your initials engraved on the ring.

And then there you were again, walking with slow, flickering footsteps down a carpeted aisle to Heeseung.

Your Heeseung.

Your dancing prince.

You had often heard of the notion that brides shouldn't ever cry on weddings, it was apparently bad luck.

But how could you have held yourself back? When your ears listened to the beautiful notes of Heeseung's voice reading his own, written vows, a first for Tarnow's royal weddings apparently. But how could he have not? His princess deserved more than poetry. Especially when vows weren't usually allowed for princesses so usually the groom had to take incharge of the "how much I love you" banter.

"Beautiful." Heeseung whispered to you as you stepped onto the pedestal, facing his handsome face, "You look beautiful."

"As do you, my prince."

The priest clearing his throat snapped Heeseung out of his daze, while he was staring at your exposed neck and collarbones, god he hoped he didn't have anything particularly visible.

"Right." Heeseung took a deep breath, and took his paper from a very sweaty Jay, who was looking at you with a "Thank you for falling in love with him" smile (as if he hadn't thanked you enough already).

"I-Im kind of bad at writing vows and everything. Not like I've written them before! Because I-Ive never been married before I mean-" Heeseung panicked, but immediately calmed down at seeing the smile on your face. You placed your hand on top of his, earning an "aww" from the guests and a smile from Heeseung, who took another deep breath and started.

"Princess Y/N of the Witchelm Kingdom." Of course the declarations had to be first, "Have you ever heard of the sentence, Dances avec les etoiles?"

His voice bought a blush to your face.

"It means to want to dance with stars. When I was forced to learn french at eight, I found out about this pretty poetic line, and I related to it greatly. A little too greatly perhaps, and I found myself dancing in the darkest corners of this palace every night. It gave me peace, a lot of peace, to see myself in a great big mirror and do what I could never do to the strangers in the outside world."

You swore you could see stars dancing around Heeseung.

"But then, you came into this thing I call my life, and for-for perhaps the first time, I felt complete. Yes, we may have bickered, too many times for your liking-" that incited a giggle out of you, "But even in that, even in your anger, I truly found beauty in its equality. And when you danced for the first time at the ball? Oh god I swear I could have ravaged the earth for you right there and then, my princess."

You could have done the same for him at that moment.

"I had always thought of love as an insignificant thing, who would crave for a mere emotion like that? But now I realise, that it the only emotion I am ever so starved of, and it is the only emotion I feel, every single time your light shines on mine.

God do you know how much you dance like a swan in the corners of my heart I thought were unreachable? Because you do, you truly do. If there were a hundred universes in this world, I swear to find you in each one, and have one last dance with you, one last sinful symphony if it's the final thing I do, if your face is the final thing I see, then darling consider me blessed in my choices and cursed in my rendezvous.

I-I would be the happiest man on earth, if I was to dance with you every second, if my hand were you rest on your waist and twirl you around every day, I would truly be happy, Y/N.

I would be dancing with you among the stars, so much that the planets themselves get jealous, that their astral ballet cannot compete with ours."

You truly never knew the dance of two souls could have been more prettier than Spanish flamenco. But now, as your lips moved in synchronisation with Heeseung's, the sweet venom injecting into your lovesick blood, his hand ghosting your waist, as if he was afraid to even break you, you truly knew what love was.

It was to match each other's feet in the mirror of a now renovated western wing, dedicated to dancing and only dancing.

It was to make fun of Heeseung's brothers for their terrible dancing skills (barring Jay).

It was to simply exist with Heeseung.

It was to dance among the stars with him, as the saying went,

Dances Avec Les Etoiles.

Taglist: @amazzwon @heeseungshim @kvmariii @mwahvvis @hottiewifeyyyy @sacrificeatmeup @perfectnighttt @yawnzzhoon @yungnorth

[incorrect-tmnt2012-quotes]

favorite 2012 character and why, go! :D

I'm sorry but this is just my favorite gif of her THE FACE!! XD

She is my everything. I love her so so so much. I love her design, the pretty blues and teals and silvers in her skin and armor. Her gorgeous golden eyes. The fact she has a freaking lightsaber for a weapon!! Her voice, God bless Zelda Williams for an amazing performance! She's so freaking strong too! Not only cane she pick Raph up with ease, but when fighting the ice dragons she was able to effortlessly stop one of them from chomping at her using her BARE HANDS!!

I also love her personality, how she is strong-willed, she's the freaking lieutenant for the Salamandrian air force (and she's only like April's age??), responsible, and loyal to her commander and loved ones. Her greatest strength is that she is always willing to give up her life for those she cares about, like when she nearly die when helping the Turtles escape Dregg's planet. But she can also be stubborn and quickly jump to conclusions, a fight first asks questions never kinda gal. It's her flaw but is what inevitably led her to the fight that made Raph fall in love with her. Speaking of...

Her relationship with Raph is SO DAMN CUTE!! GOD I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!! I've literally written an entire wedding fanfic about them! I love how she's the pants in the relationship and Raph has no shame in that. Never once does he show or express that his masculinity is being threatened because his gf is taller, stronger and a more skilled fighter than him. No. HE LOVES THAT ABOUT HER. That fact that she's just as in love with him as he is with her is also so adorable. Cue the pushup scene. She was willing to give it all up just so she can be with Raph and I will NEVER forgive the 2012 writers for not showing Mona on Earth! RaMona are truly the only TMNT 2012 couple we get to see as a couple. No "will they won't they's" or Alabama bs, they just get to be a cute happy healthy couple, and even when they face road bumps they still come out on top, stronger than ever before.

[d1ana-m0nd]

╭─► ❝My Mona Lisa❞

Fem! Trafalgar D. Water Law × GN! Reader || Written by Diana (d1ana-m0nd) || Inspired by Mona Lisa

➢ Fluff && Not Proofread , Oneshot && Word Count 1,500

➢ The valedictorian and the salutatorian of Grand Line High have been academic rivals ever since they stepped into the same school. As they transitioned to college and into adulthood, they thought they would never have to see each other again, oh how wrong they were. To add more salt to the wound, the next thing that occurred was not just a coincidence; when they turned 18 the red string of fate showed itself to their hosts and the string happened to be tied to their academic rival’s pinkie finger.

You were late, like later than usual… you blame your stupid brother, Kid, for holding you back in the library because he needed a favor from you. At the moment, you were hurrying to get to your building silently praying the instructors were late before you could present your artwork, you were running down the hallway with your backpack on your back, your poster case barely hanging onto your shoulder, and your other materials jumping in your art container as you ran for your life, er, grades in this instance. At this point, you couldn't bring yourself to care about other people, you were so focused on yourself and the artwork that you just kept loudly apologizing for every person you caused inconvenience to.

“Watch it Eustass!”

“Sorry!”

“Ow-”

“I’m sorry!”

You were about to take a turn but, you bumped into someone’s chest, which ended up with you landing on your butt whilst dropping your art materials and your poster case rolling on the floor.

Disregarding the pain that your pelvis went through, you were quick to apologize. “I’m so, so, so sorry! I was in a hurry- I mean I still am but, like I didn’t see you and-”

As you looked up you were met with the familiar amber eyes that narrowed upon your clumsy self, the person you bumped into was Law. She was the last person you wanted to see. You were tempted to glare at her (an old habit you haven't gotten rid of) but, you ended up going silent as you stared at her. Why did she have to be taller and very blessed around the right departments?

The dark-haired woman crouched down to gather the books she borrowed from the library and the stack of notes she was carrying. The medical student wore a cold expression that you were used to seeing since high school. However, throughout those years you could never tell what she was feeling behind that cold expression. Oddly enough, even though she was cold she attracted a lot of attention though, you could never tell if it was because of her intelligence or her violent nature. Speaking of violent nature, why did Grand Line High allow a delinquent to be a valedictorian student!?

"Hey Y/N,” Her voice brought you back to reality, as she offered her hand to her soulmate as assistance. “Be careful when you walk.”

“To be fair, I didn’t know you’d be here, I assumed you were at the other building around this time.” You sighed, took her hand, and stood up with Law’s help. With her help, you managed to gather your art materials and poster case quickly.

The tanned woman wore a small smile and said, “So you memorized my schedule, huh? Well, aren’t you a good stalker?”

You groaned and lightly smacked her forearm, “Bepo told me! Don’t make it seem like I’m a creep here.”

The girl rolled her eyes, “Why are you running in the hallway anyway?”

“I have to present my final artwork for this semester and I happened to be lucky that my ass of a brother was distracting me in the library. Which is why I'm in a hurry.” You huffed exasperated by Kid’s shenanigans.

Law chuckled, which was cut short as you glared at her, “Sorry, I’m still not used to seeing my academic rival become an art student and, well… discover that they're my soulmate as well.” She admitted scratching her nape.

“You aren’t the only one.” You sighed, silently agreeing with her woes.

You won’t say it out loud but, talking to her as though you were both friends felt weird, weird in a good way. Well, to begin with, interacting with her without the squabbles or taunting her like you used to do during high school was weird altogether. It doesn't help either that you discovered she was your soulmate, you didn't know what to feel… were you supposed to be mad, happy, or sad?

When you first discovered the whole conundrum you were both in, you were mad. The sad part was you couldn't even be mad at her since it was out of her control!

You recalled the night you turned 18, you and your friends were quick to get wasted, with your brother's permission and supervision. Even though you didn't usually drink, you gave in just this once because 18 is usually the age when the red rope around one's pinky showed up. You weren't sure if yours was going to show up or not so you felt like it would be a good idea to get drunk a little to relax yourself.

You, Quincy, Hip, Killer, Cierra, Heat, Kid, Astrid, and Dijoh were taking turns taking shots till one of them spoke up.

“Imagine if your soulmate was Law." Astrid jokingly brought up causing the others to howl with laughter while you groaned. Why did Astrid have to bring that up right now?

Everyone knew about you and Law's academic rivalry. It didn't help either that Kid used to challenge her for more influence among delinquents, so it eventually became an inside joke that one of the Eustass siblings was going to date Law. Since Kid celebrated his birthday and revealed who his soulmate was, it was your turn and you were dreading the results.

The next day, you entered the New World University thinking that nothing interesting would happen. Throughout the whole day, you couldn't stop staring at the red ribbon tied around your pinkie. You tried your best to ignore it but, you felt a random tug from time to time indicating that your soulmate was nearby.

Your curiosity got the best of you and you ended up following the red string, which led you to a familiar dark-haired girl.

“Crap.”

“Shit,” the medical student saw the string tied around your pinkie as well which ended with a stare down between you guys.

It took a lot of convincing from both your friends and Law's friends but, you guys ended up giving each other a chance even if you were both hesitant. Which then ended up in your current very awkward predicament.

“Thanks for helping me out, I'm sorry if I'm bothering you with this." You murmured, scratching your nape.

The medical student reassured you with a small smile, “I'm in study hall, it's not a big deal.”

“So, what's the theme for your artwork?"

“So far the assignments were focused on trying different art mediums and mixing non-art mediums with our art pieces for practice. There was no real theme so it was up to us on what to make so I just made an art piece based on… someone.” You trailed off, embarrassment engraved into your facial features.

"Someone?” Law was intrigued, she never heard you speak to someone so highly. Even with your brother; You never looked up to him, she knows you just respect Kid at most. So hearing you say that was new, she didn't even expect you to look up to someone.

You fidgeted with your fingers, "It's embarrassing, but it's someone who inspires me.”

“So your own Mona Lisa huh?" The dark-haired girl teased, you couldn't tell if she was catching on.

You smiled and confirmed it with a nod, “Yeah."

You were too ashamed to say it out loud to Law but, you made an artwork based on her, she was your Mona Lisa. You never realized it back in high school but you did look up to her; the competition between you and Law is the reason you kept doing your best.

People who knew about you from high school would be shocked by the fact you took art, instead of STEM-related courses. Because they knew a renowned student like yourself, had the grades and the attitude for it. Despite that, you picked up a course that took them by surprise, art.

Many have asked why you chose art as a course and you always replied vaguely. However, the truth is you picked art because you were terrible at speaking the truth. It may be stupid but, the main reason you chose art was to express your true self, words always fail and get stuck in your throat, so you could never express your true self.

After all, art is a medium where you speak your truth, because art doesn't lie.

“One day, I hope to say my love for you in words, my Mona Lisa."

➢ "Reblog to support your favorite writer" belong to @/benkeibear

[m1d-45]

You know, I've been thinking. The stars in our world often look quite dim, especially in areas where there is light pollution. Suddenly, I'm imagining that in the Imposter!AU, the Creator looks at the stars at night, captivated by their brilliance. Perhaps Scaramouche or Mona (Whichever you prefer, you may also just write another character you think fits this scenario :D) find them. The Creator looks at them, then back at the stars.

"They're very lovely, you know? The stars never shine this brightly back home. It's a lovely sight..."

They smile. "I'm happy that I'm able to see them, even if it's in another world. I appreciate you letting me look at them before I die."

Perhaps the character takes pause... And sits next to them.

It's a lovely night.

in the stars

word count: ~1k

-> warnings: violence, blood, both of those in your future so technically you’re not hurt yet, not written for mona mains, sorry, didn’t work with the plot :/ also diona/klee/qiqi/nahida/sayu mains are on thin ice with this one. questionable plot. barely edited.

-> lowercase intended

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie

< masterlist >

the stars never lie.

mona clutches her catalyst to her chest, wide eyes turned to the sky. she whispers to them, hoping they’ll change, shift into something she’ll understand, anything.

they don’t.

her head lowers, inspecting the book. thrilling tales, the spine reads, the cover a simplified dragon with a sword through it. she tries to read into it, to try and pick apart the motives behind the weapon, but all it returns is a simple needlepoint.

a compass. one she’d followed ever since she caved into the pull on her catalyst, one she’d followed out of the city at dusk and into the plains, hiking up starsnatch cliff at its behest. her twin tails had lost some of their curl on the journey, her hat flopping sadly. it was late, later than she’d normally be awake, and she stumbled once on a rock before quickly catching herself, checking to make sure you hadn’t moved.

you, sat at the peak of the cliff. you, surrounded by cecelias, face turned to the stars. you, who turned at her short cry.

“are you alright?”

she couldn’t bring her hands to shift her catalyst into its attack position. her hands, free from their usual gloves, dug into the cover of the book, shaking both with the chill of night and with… she couldn’t tell, couldn’t pin whether it was fear or nervousness, or something else that blurred the line between panic and excitement.

“just fine, thank you.”

her voice was harsher than it should have been. she could tell you were being genuine, the way the water in the air shaped around you like it wanted to cling made that clear enough, the stars shining down on you as if you were the only being on the planet.

the stars never lie. so why were they saying you meant no harm?

you turned back to the stars, your hands shifting back to weave into the grass between the cecelias.

"they’re very lovely tonight. the stars, i mean. they never shine this brightly back home….” against her better judgement, mona glanced up. the sky was particularly clear, constellations shining down unhindered. “it’s a beautiful sight.”

orders from the knights echoed in mona’s head, orders extended from a god she’d never met. she knew the knights wholeheartedly meant what they said, truly believing the words they were told, but you…

hesitantly, she brought her hand in a circle in front of her, scrying for your constellation. you didn’t have one, unsurprisingly, and she relaxed slightly in the knowledge that you didn’t have a vision.. still, there was something strange about the empty space where yours would have been. swapping the sigils and rotating the outer edge, mona decided to read your future.

all the air was sucked from her lungs, the images depicted in the water making her mouth dry. the water warped and bubbled a dark color, as if it itself hated to show what it did.

you were on your knees, tight steel chains wrapped around you and latched onto hooks in whatever you were sitting on. in front of you stood the favored, the creator’s most prized, their weapon drawn. their form was taught with anger, nearly seething. it was strange, so uncharacteristic that it froze the astrologist in place for a moment.

no matter how fiery the disposition, vessels of yours were calmer after being wished upon, heart stiller for being by your side. they, the most prominent on your team of them all, should be at most handling such a severe situation with a tick in their jaw and quiet fury in their eyes, not…

she watched with sick horror as the favored attacks once, your chest caving once, twice with hitched attempts at breathing before you slumped over, blood trickling from your neck. the favored stepped back, weapon dismissed, and mona closed the illusion before it played any further. she hadn’t meant to look all the way to your death, only a few-

…only a few hours.

her hands shake where they’re still clasped in front of her, the remains of her scrying circle swirling in her palms. you didn’t even have a day.

she let the water fall, sending it towards the cecelias around you, willing them to stand brighter as she approached. she couldn’t bring herself to summon her catalyst, not now that she knew what your fate held.

the grass was damp beneath her, seeping slightly into her nightclothes. you didn’t say anything, simply passing her a flower that you had been twirling in your palms. she willed it to heal, restored the color to its petals and the strength to its stem, then passed it back. she had no use for it, not when you…

you chuckled as you took it, staring down at it for a moment before turning skyward once more. mona followed your eyes up, spotting a well known constellation directly above you. nearly perfectly straight up, glowing like a beacon, was the constellation of the favored, six stars making themselves prominent against the dotted sea of night.

“beautiful, isn’t it?”

she swallowed, eyes flicking down to you. you were still watching the stars, probably tracing the shape of the constellation above you. unknowing of what it spelled for your fate, unknowing of the warning written above you.

mona settled into the grass a little more, taking her hat off her head so it wouldn’t fall when she looked up again.

“indeed, it is.”

[fabuloustrash05]

TMNT 2012: Actor AU

An AU where TMNT 2012 is a literal TV show and everyone are just actors on a set.

Here’s what goes on behind the scenes:

Raph and Mona Lisa fell in love on set filming the show and became a couple during filming. When filming season 4, Raph developed an actual crush on his costar, so after filming season 4, he asked her out and she accepted, admitting that she fell for him too while filming their scenes together. They are dating in both the show and real life, and even after the show ended they're still going strong.

Karai is a famous child actor. She's been acting since she was a little girl.

Splinter and Shredder are long time friends and always have fun on set together, they’ve been doing movies/shows together since they were young men so they consider each other brothers 

This is April’s first big role in a show, she was always a background character in her other jobs before she got her big break

Mikey likes pranking people on set, this infuriates the crew

Raph likes to tease people when they screw up their lines or takes, but god forbid you laugh at Raph if he messes up his lines 

April and Donnie are besties on set, not romantic, but they enjoy pretending to be a couple in the show: “he/she’s the best fake boyfriend/girlfriend I’ve ever had!”

Leo and Karai are uncomfortable with the relationship their characters have and constantly argue with the writers to fix it or change it 

Slash originally audition for Raphael’s role, he didn’t get the part, but the director liked him so much that he created a character just for him so he could be on the show

Karai knew Shinigami outside of the show (they worked on another show together years prior). When the director wanted to add a new character in season 4, Karai recommended her friend for the part, so Shini got the roll and was casted as Karai’s second in command

Leatherhead started by doing community theater, so being on a tv set was a big change for him

Casey keeps hitting on his female co stars 

Karai and Mona Lisa do not get along on set

Leo's voice change was written into the show because of an actual injury that happened to him before they began filming season 3

The plot twist of Irma being a robot really pissed off Irma (she and the director don’t get along and he did that twist out of spite), eventually she was able to find a loophole and return to the show to play Rook.

Leo has a long term girlfriend outside of the show, it’s Lotus Blossom ;)

Casey always shows up late and keeps on being threatened by the director that he’ll get fired (he knows he won’t be fired) 

Mikey and Renet are long time co stars, starring together in other shows from the past (reference to their VAs Greg Cipes and Ashley Johnson) 

Tang Shen is a tv star legend and her appearance on the show was as a guest star

Tiger Claw is a new popular action movie star. Splinter and Shredder are his idols that he grew up watching. 

Timothy got fired from the set for accidentally destroying filming equipment. That’s why he never came back

[awearywritersworld]

Aww we all gotta start somewhere Mona!! I'm sure what ever you right if you decide to would be great. And if you need to be put down i shouldve been died ages ago LOL

-☁️

mdni

sweet cloud anon, idk if i like how this turned out, but you inspired me to give it a shot<3 thanks for your words of encouragement!

sukuna x reader

warnings: knife play (male receiving), depictions of blood, unprotected sex, less than stellar writing i've never really read or written anything to do with knife play before. 260 words.

you're straddling sukuna, his cock buried snugly in your pussy while his hands rest on your thighs. he talked you into trying something new tonight, but you're still feeling a bit... unsure.

you trail a knife across his chest hesitantly, just barely breaking the skin beneath the blade. even so, a shaky exhale passes his lips.

"c'mon, you can do better than that."

you swallow your nervousness and apply more pressure to the knife, watching intently as blood blooms from the wound left in its wake.

sukuna's hips buck up in response, his fingers pressing further into the flesh of your thighs and his jaw tensing as he bites back a moan.

his voice is strained when he commands, "more."

moving lower, you drag the blade across his stomach with more confidence, the action giving rise to little crimson droplets.

the muscles of his abdomen tense and his cock twitches inside of you. "good girl, baby. feels so good."

you can't help the way you clench around him, which evokes a groan from deep within his chest.

when you carve a line across his side, the blade dips into the valleys between each of his ribs. the pain that blossoms there, the pain he's feeling at your hands, makes his eyes roll back into his skull. "f-fuck."

without warning, he grabs your hips roughly and begins thrusting up into you. the knife slips from your grasp as your hands move to his stomach in an attempt to steady yourself.

his blood is sticky beneath your palms.

"i didn't tell you to stop."

[zeroaddzero]

Top 10 Horniest Bruce Springsteen songs, ranked

Yes there are more horny Bruce songs. Too many horny songs for one list. I don’t know if his game was good because he knew how to write horny songs, or if his game inspired him to write horny songs. Either way, we’ve been blessed musically with a lot of horny songs. Here’s the horny songs I managed to fit into a (very biased) list:

1.  I'm On Fire

THE horny Bruce song. A fever fantasy of a wet dream smushed into one moaning, sweaty mess. Before I was a fan, this (coupled with the below performance) was the song that made me go "OH. I get it now."

Spotify LINK

At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet And a freight train running through the middle of my head Only you can cool my desire

2.  Pink Cadillac

About as subtle as Lady Gaga’s “Disco Stick.” Even better paired with the BITUSA tour intro (said intro got noticeably more sexual after Bruce got married in 1985).

Spotify LINK

They say Eve tempted Adam with an apple But man I an’t goin for that I know it was her pink Cadillac

3. Fire

Originally written for Elvis, the bass line alone for this #problematic 70s “don't play coy with me” number will make you reconsider feminism for 5 minutes. The 1986 performance is downright NSFW.

Spotify LINK

You had a hold on me right from the start A grip so tight I couldn't tear it apart

4. The Fever

Bruce is king of the “lying in bed thinking of how horny this person makes me” genre, and this is one of his finest examples. At almost 8 minutes, it’s the tantric equivalent to the more concentrated "I’m on Fire". Anybody noticing a “burning” theme here?

Spotify LINK

Well now the day grows longer The love just grows stronger, baby And the fever gets so bad at night I got the fever for the girl

5. Because The Night

Bruce never finished the lyrics, and this song arguably belongs to Patti Smith now. Bruce has even said as much. However, I am biased and enjoy this banger too much to let technicalities get in the way of horny. On the list it goes.

Spotify LINK

Because the night belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to lust Because the night belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to us

6. Red Headed Woman

I'm Going Down may seem raunchy until you realise it's about a bad breakup. For the other thing, we have this entry. Folks, this song is literally about eating pussy. Bruce even introduced it as such during his Ghost of Tom Joad tour. I’ve yet to recover from the whiplash of hearing him say the word “cunnilingus” while performing at his old Catholic high school.

Spotify LINK

Well listen up stud Your life's been wasted 'Til you've been down on your knees and tasted A red headed woman

7. She's The One

Speculated to have been written about the violinist who played on the album Born To Run, this tune shows our boy is down baaad. Best paired with the excellent "Mona" intro, which is included in the Houston '78 live performance below.

Spotify LINK

With her killer graces and her secret places That no boy can fill with her hands on her hips Oh and that smile on her lips Because she knows that it kills me

8. Part Man, Part Monkey

My Tunnel of Love tour knowledge is woefully lacking despite the tour being his most explicit, and the accompanying album being in my top 3. In the eyes of the public, Bruce was still with his first wife when this video was shot in 1988. Only the band knew he was recently separated, so imagine watching a presumably married man on stage eye-fucking his backup singer. The gossip mill must have been insane after each show.

Spotify LINK

Well the night is dark, the moon is full The flowers of romance exert their pull We talk awhile, my fingers slip I'm hard and crackling like a whip

9. Crush On You

Another genre this Jersey dude excels at is “horny to the point of funny.” Bruce himself has called it "the worst song we ever put on a record" but hey, what does he know.

Spotify LINK

For one kiss, darling I swear everything I would give 'Cause she's a walking talking reason to live

10. Cover Me

I just realised this is only one of four songs on this list included on an official Springsteen album (if you don't count the outtake compilations.) And how fitting it is to start and end this list with Paris '85 concert footage!

Spotify LINK

Now promise me baby you won't let them find us Hold me in your arms, let's let our love blind us Cover me, shut the door and cover me I'm looking for a lover who will come on in and cover me

Honourable mentions (song/album):

Rosalita / The Wild, The Innocent & The E Street Shuffle Candy's Room / Darkness on the Edge of Town Ramrod / The River Cindy / The River (outtakes) Ain’t got you / Tunnel of Love The Fuse / The Rising

Let me know if you think I missed any! I won't change the list, but more horny song discourse is always good.

[bettsfic]

writers' block can have many causes, but one of the most common and insidious is what i call the Bad Faith Audience: the mass of anonymous readers in your head who make fun of and belittle your work. the Bad Faith Audience happens when you're staring at a document, you want to write something, but you think to yourself, "who's going to read this? why should i bother?" it also happens when you restrict yourself: "that's a stupid idea. it's bad writing." that's what's so messed up about the Bad Faith Audience--it's an assumption of a homogenous population of people who somehow get to decide what Good Writing is. "this isn't very good," you think to yourself of your own work. but by what standard are you judging yourself? how exactly have you reached that conclusion? you've built up a non-existent audience of people to attempt to appease. the harder you try to appease that Bad Faith Audience, the more you concede your own ideals and flatten your writing to appeal to the largest common denominator.

you stare at a blank document, and before you've even written a word, you've reached the conclusion it's not worth existing. that it won't be good enough based on an unidentifiable standard. it won't be perfect. and then you don't write it.

possibly you think, "but there are all these writers i admire and i'll never be as good as them." there will always be writers you think are better than you. always. that does not invalidate your work. you have improved from where you began and you will continue to improve as long as you keep writing. the author you admire may be on a different mile marker on their own journey, but you'll get there too eventually. or maybe you won't; maybe you'll walk down a different path than them and be able to acknowledge that their voice and aesthetics are just not what you write, and that's okay. you don't have to be able to write everything. you can admire something and not adopt it into your own goals.

here's a thought experiment that's gotten me to close the curtain on the Bad Faith Audience:

don't imagine many readers. imagine one reader. i call this reader Aunt Janet. Aunt Janet can look down on anything, no matter how lauded or famous. van gogh's sunflowers? "it's just flowers. who cares?" the mona lisa? "she's not even smiling."

Aunt Janet looks at your work and says, "what's the point? go do something better with your time." but the thing about Aunt Janet is that she doesn't know anything about writing or art or music, has no knowledge to help frame her understanding of your work, and so why does her opinion matter? you can never make Aunt Janet happy.

so whenever i think, "i'm not good enough," i ask myself, says who? Aunt Janet says who. and Aunt Janet doesn't know jackshit.

now let's look at the other side of the spectrum: the very opposite of Aunt Janet, the reader who just gets you, gets what you're doing, and loves it. i call this person the Ideal Reader. they're in awe of everything you write. they read your work and leave dozens of keysmash comments in the margins. they can't wait to see what you write next.

Aunt Janet doesn't exist and Ideal Reader doesn't exist either, but in the same way you can define Aunt Janet's tastes by reasons she would hate your work, you can define the Ideal Reader by the reasons they would love it.

Ideal Reader is exceptionally well-read in your genre. they know all the tropes and expectations. they know what authors your work is in conversation with. they have an intimate understanding of where your work belongs and the frame of reference necessary to understand the context of your work. all writing has context; when we dislike something, it's usually because we don't understand its context, and if we were to understand it, it may not be for us, but we can at least understand the kind of person who values it. we can fathom its Ideal Reader and avoid becoming Aunt Janets ourselves by acknowledging that every piece of writing can be loved.

whenever you dismiss an idea as ridiculous or stupid, Ideal Reader is there going, "no, wait, i want to read that." when you can't take your work seriously, Ideal Reader is shaking you by the shoulders saying, "it's serious to me."

now imagine Ideal Reader has a platform. they have authority. they're a BNF who recs your fic. they're an acquisitions editor at your dream publisher. they're a producer asking to buy the rights to your manuscript. imagine Ideal Reader is someone who can champion your work and take it to its highest possible place.

Ideal Reader has been in the business a long time. Ideal Reader is confident and doesn't take shit from anybody. Ideal Reader stands up for what they believe in.

imagine bringing Ideal Reader to a party and introducing them to Aunt Janet. Aunt Janet immediately tries to belittle Ideal Reader: "so you publish books, so what, who cares about books?" "so you have a million followers. why don't you do something real with your time?" "you're a producer? go to med school and do something meaningful."

Ideal Reader is amused by Aunt Janet and her gross misperceptions. but then Aunt Janet goes after your work, and that is too far. Ideal Reader points at Aunt Janet and goes, "you have no idea what you're talking about." and they proceed to list off all the things they value about your work.

imagine the things Ideal Reader would say to Aunt Janet, and write out that list.

that list is your value. it's what you're giving to your community when you share your work. it's why you write.

the sad truth is that you'll encounter far more Aunt Janets than you ever will Ideal Readers. sometimes Aunt Janets are actually very knowledgeable and still demean your work, but it's because they're jaded and insecure and maybe a little pretentious. that's okay. your Ideal Readers, or the people closest to it, are the only ones who matter.

i had trouble fathoming the Ideal Reader for a long time until i published my first story and the editor went wild over it. it was the first time someone i didn't even know read my work and saw merit in it, all on its own. i once got into a pretty prestigious residency and it honestly kind of baffled me, until i got there and found out the woman who ran it was a fangirl. when i workshop a story, usually only one or two people in the group will Get It. the rest will try and they'll mean well, but ultimately they're coming at it from a different context and different personal tastes, and that doesn't mean the work is bad, but that they're not my audience. when my agent offered to sign me, she wrote me this long, lovely email about how much she loved my manuscript, and she appreciated the same things i appreciated about it. becoming a successful writer, however you measure success, isn't about being Good. Good Writing is a myth. there's only the stubborn insistence of staying true to yourself, and the long journey of putting your work in the hands of people you hope are Ideal Readers.

there will always be people out there who will understand your work and champion it. there are people whose personal tastes align exactly with yours. but you'll never be able to find those people if you don't write the ideas that are dearest to you and share them with the world.

[darkcrowprincess]

Lisa Frankenstien movie headcanons:

Lisa's mom was murdered by her step mom or dad. Or both of them together.

Lisa had a few friends in her old town. They were part of the school's movie club.

Lisa's best friend in her old Town was a girl named Mary who loves writing.

She sends Mary letters sometimes.

Lisa's mom named her after Mona Lisa.

Lisa's mom was going to divorce her dad. That would be one of the reasons why the dad would kill her.

Lisa's mom was a seamstress. Why Lisa got into sewing.

The creature can also sing, play several other instruments besides the piano(violin, flute, and harp)

Lisa was always close with her mom. Even before she was murdered, she was never close to her dad.

Lisa's dad wanted a son. Was disappointed she was a girl. And disappointed again that she wasn't a least likeTaffy.

Lisa's dad relationship with Taffy gives me creepy vibes.

Taffy misses Lisa

Taffy always wanted a sister.

Taffy's mom lives vicariously through her daughter.

Taffy's dad ran out on her and her mom.

The creature misses his family.

Taffy has lots of cousins and sees both her grandparents.

Taffy really does love cheerleading but her mom takes all the fun out of it.

Taffy is a really nice person just really not that bright and a bit oblivious.

The only other family member Lisa has is her aunt. Both her grandparents are dead. And her dad is a single child.

The creature knows several different languages.

The creature knows how to dance.

The creature heard Lisa the whole time when he was in his grave.

The creature has written music.

Lisa loves to write, draw, sew, read, watch movies, listen to music, and she can sing.

The doll in her closet was a present from her mom.

The pink robe was another present from her aunt.

The creatures name is Percy. Or Ernest.

Lisa is catholic(but mostlycause her mom was).

The creature is also catholic(mostly because his family was)

Obviously they're both not good or practicing catholics.

Lisa has a lot of trauma from when her mom is murdered. She had nightmares, is a little suicidal, and depressed.

The step mother(and or dad) planned to murder Lisa too on that night, but she hid.

Lisa's step mom was always planning to send her to the pych ward.

The first words the creature said besides Lisa's name, was "Can I keep you?"