#Scribbles on the Sheet Music (OOC)

[the--emerald--isle]

((An explanation for my disappearance off the face of the earth under the cut.

From September to November, I lost family (and two litters of kittens). The second half of December and the first two weeks of January was spent taking care of MY caretaker, completely alone and out of my depth. He ended up in the hospital anyway, and lost his leg from above the knee. I’m now with my parents — my LGBT- and everything else phobic parent — and I’m trying to not have a complete mental breakdown because of how isolated and horrible I feel. I don’t know how long I’ll be here, but probably at least a year. I want to be active, and I miss you guys, so I’m gonna try, but I make no promises.))

[saeyoungs-angel]

⨳​ hindering studies — mha

starring. bakugou & you

plot. your grumpy bestfriend tells you he's busy after class, yet you give no fucks—letting yourself in, you wait in his dorm so you can simply vibe to his music and pen scribbling.

genre. fluff, comfort(?)

cw. swearing obviously, reader had a bad day, maybe ooc bakugou? not rly sure but kinda

notes. found a nice little video on yt that followed this plot just a bit, though ive added alot to it lol. thought sleeping in his bed while he studied sounded nice asf so here u are! feedback on how i write him is extremely helpful, and im sorry if u dont like or know these songs! u can replace them with others if ud like:)

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! <3

𓆩☆𓆪

“what’re you even doin’ here?”

wrapped up in his duvet, bakugou’s gruff voice drags you out of your once half-asleep state. you lift your head slightly and give him no answer, eyes raking over his mien of annoyance. he sighs, shoving off his shoes aggressively.

“you know i’m busy, so why do you keep hangin’ around like a lost puppy dog or some shit?”

his words of irritation would sting if you didn’t know any better—he enjoys your presence, atleast more than anyone else’s. he may still claim you’re an extra, but his sleepy murmurs on the nights neither of you can sleep say otherwise. you huff loud enough for bakugou to hear, his mirage of disliking you is embarrassingly fake.

“don’t mind me, i’m not even here.”

“whatever.” he grumbles, beginning the trek around his dorm to find his studying supplies. his notes, a pencil or two, and his speaker—the last part is very important. as his digits land on the object, you can’t help but sit up abruptly.

“wait! can i play a song this time, too?” your voice is woven in excitement, hoping to flaunt your music taste. while it isn't very far from his, you have a couple songs that you feel he might enjoy.

he shoots a glare your way. “no.”

he presses the on button firmly as you plead in the background, “just one! please, kats?”

“fine, just put it on the queue and go back to fuckin’ sleep so i can study.” you feverishly snatch his phone at this, bakugou grumbling once again after caving in at the use of his nickname.

handing his device back, you hands brush briefly and you have to force yourself to think of other things, a blush creeping onto your cheeks at the feeling of the minute contact. even though you’ve both fallen asleep beside each other, you still fluster easily.

hopping back into his bed, it creaks softly with the movement. as you rest your head on his pillow, a beat begins to fill the room. ghosting by mother mother, you can immediately recognize it considering you adore the song. you mumble a ‘love this song’ as you snuggle further into the sheets.

bakugou only responds with ‘tch’, but he knows you do, and that may be the reason why he’s so fond of it—you like it, of course. his brows are furrowed together as the pencil drags across his paper, faint music adding to the soothing ambience.

he slightly adjusts the volume, upping it a bit as he knows it’s not super late and no one’s sleeping. your eyes begin to feel heavy, moments before your song pops on the list.

insomniac by memo boy, your current fixation. the first few beats play out and you thrum along with it, drumming your fingers on bakugou’s silky black sheets. your eyes are now screwed shut vehemently with the music, a smile gracing your features as bakugou speaks up.

“i’ve heard this before.” his tone is efficacious at hiding how he feels about it, signaling a small frown on your face.

“do you like it?”

there’s a beat of silence from him and your frown deepens.

“..it’s okay.” this time, he sounds reluctant to admit those words. thankfully, you understand bakugou language, a grin forming on your lips as you now achieved your goal—he likes the song you showed him, and is probably adding it to his playlist.

you stifle a laugh with his pillow, “yeah, yeah. i’ll remember that when i hear it down the hall.”

“shut it, dumbass.”

you hum in acknowledgement, a wide smile plastered on your face as you shift from your previous position. as bakugou’s new favorite song ends(simply because it’s your favorite), the room quiets, save for the scribbles of his pencil here and there.

“you gonna play another song? the silence is deafening, katsuki.” while you’re only teasing, the silence does feel a bit odd—you can just slightly hear crickets chirping outside his window.

“don't be stupid, ’course i am. just go back to sleep or somethin’.” you can practically hear the miniature smile in his words, the banter between you both never fails to raise your mood and vise-versa.

with that, you register his phone being placed back down onto his desk, jealous by eyedress bouncing around the dorm. you hum along, the mellow yet vibrant beat finally enervates you into sleep.

bakugou swivels in his chair to converse with you about a question, only to find your eyes closed peacfully as soft breathes escape your barely parted lips.

being solicitous of your well-being and knowing you need the rest, he lowers the volume by a bit, eyes leering on your sleeping form for a moment more that he intended. you just look so adorable, wrapped up in his blanket so peacefully like you are—though, he’ll take that thought to his grave.

after while, you stir in your sleep, the bed creaking as extra weight is placed upon it. “katsuki..?” you murmur, raising a hand to rub your eyes.

“shh, go back to sleep, idiot.”

his voice is hushed, causing you to smile up at him in the now dark dorm-room. “m’kay.”

shuffling around to wrap your arms around him, you notice he’s adorning one of his famous tank tops. was he planning to nap with you? contently, you begin to drift off once more before his voice draws you out of sleep.

“hey, (y/n)?”

you nod into his chest, figuring he can feel it. bakugou stalls for a moment, and that’s when you realize he’s put insomniac quietly on replay. the revelation causes your heart to flutter, though you tell yourself it’s simply because he likes it enough to play it this much.

he clears his throat, “did you, um, have a shitty day or somethin’?”

his question throws you off, causing you to shift uncomfortably on his side. you nod again, before correcting yourself.

“well, i wouldn’t say it was shitty, just not ideal.”

“the way you said that frames it as a shitty day.”

“‘m sorry.” you bury yourself further into him, wishing you could just skip class tomorrow and lay in bed with him instead.

he frowns, not that you can see. “don’t apologize, dumbass. if you had a shitty day, then you had a shitty day. the thing that matters is that you got through it, alright?” he tightens his grip on your torso, rubbing your arm in attempted comfort.

even with his usually boorish attitude, he has a way with his words when he’s worried. he can feel you grin against him, and he knows he’s done a good job—he made you smile and that was his goal, now he can nap with you in peace.

𓆩☆𓆪

feedback is extremely meaningful!

[gleeboot]

basics.

character name – blaine anderson. gender & pronouns – cis man, he/him. age & birthday – 21, april 6. orientation – gay. hometown – cincinatti, ohio.

academics.

school – william mckinley university. class standing  – junior (class of 2024). program of study – musical theatre. glee club – new directions. activities & involvement  – lacrosse, junior class president, peer tutor.

here’s what you missed.

you take pride in your status as one of wmu’s brightest: popular, in charge, the best. you’ve made the dean’s list every semester since you stepped on campus. you’re the best attacker the lacrosse team has seen in years. you were elected junior class president in a landslide victory. and you’re totally the type to get tapped to join a secret society before graduation. to top it all off, you’re a fantastic host; you throw legendary parties in the one-bedroom townhouse your parents bought for you to live in off-campus throughout undergrad. there’s little doubt in anyone’s mind you’re a superhero of sorts. at least on the surface.

there’s a lot of pressure living up to your older brother’s success as the face of the fastest growing international credit rating website, freecreditratingtoday.com. he’s thriving in los angeles and you’re hoping to do the same in new york after you graduate. a paranoid little voice in your head sometimes wonders if you played it safe by staying in ohio to get your degree before pursuing your big broadway dreams. but the rational side of you knows there’s no shame in honing your craft through educational theatre or experiencing college firsthand. no matter what cooper says.

you already had quite the following from your performances at open mic nights at the lima bean when the new directions asked you to join them. it took little convincing, after all, you were the lead soloist of the glee club back in private school. plus, you never back down from a competition, friendly or otherwise. few things are as life-giving as watching vocal adrenaline seethe in the audience or cower in the wings during one of your rousing renditions of 80s pop rock classics and the hits of today. this year, that regionals trophy is yours. you’ve earned it.  

aesthetic.

center stage beneath a spotlight, uncorked champagne, the warmth of a mug in the palm of your hand, a bowtie unraveled, scribbles in the margins of sheet music, a hero’s cape tied ’round your neck, a pair of boxing gloves abandoned in the corner, coiffed curls that smell of fresh berries.

ooc.

face claim – anthony keyvan. availability – taken by ry.

[hazbincalifornia]

I wrote down a potential writing as ‘Angel finds out that Stella has a crush on Charlie’ but the idea that Angel finds out Stella has a crush on Charlie and Alastor is just... interesting. Angel’s probably ooc but I’ve never written him before so I’m just kinda feeling him out.

Stella’s 17 here, so she’s been visiting the Hotel regularly for a couple years. I’m using that as an excuse for Angel having developed a bit I guess.

Wordcount: 1675

Warnings: Mentions of cannibalism

“Stella, would you mind putting up some fliers around Imp City? I know some sinners do work there.”

“Sure!” Stella replied, and Charlie pulled her into a hug.

“Oh, thank you!” 

“No- problem!” Stella’s face darkened slightly as she felt Charlie’s breasts squishing against her own before wrapping her arms around the demoness. 

When Charlie pulled back, she brushed the little black feathers out of Stella’s eyes. “I really appreciate you keeping an open mind. I know the Hellborn aren’t exactly the most fond of the Hotel since...” She clicked her tongue. “Well, since we don’t know if it’ll work for us even when we manage to figure out how to rehabilitate sinners.”

“Hell’s my home too, I wouldn’t mind there being a few less jackasses around.” Stella smiled, and Charlie ruffled her hair.

“That’s the spirit!” She smiled back before turning around. “Oh geez, it’s getting late... I’ll get you those posters by tomorrow!”

Stella waggled her fingers in a goodbye wave as Charlie jogged out of the lobby at the same moment Alastor entered it from the kitchen.

“Ah, there you are!” Alastor nodded to her. “Are we still on for that dinner date tonight?”

“Uh-huh.” Stella nodded, tail absently curling in and out in the air as she rolled up and down on her heels. “I’ll be down at 7.”

“No curfew as usual?”

She shrugged. “Eh, my dad trusts I won’t get myself killed.”

“We’ll see about that, the spice in this one is killer!” He winked, twirling his microphone stand in his fingers before smacking the end down on the floor and fading back into the shadows.

“Why he didn’t just spit that out into the radio Charlie keeps on the desk, I’ll never know,” came a comment from behind her.

Stella whirled around. “Angel!”

He snickered from his spot in the shadows, resting on one of the crates Charlie had never put away. “I can be quiet once in’a while, you know. Used to do stakeouts and shit.  I just came down for some of that good fat-free ice cream Vags got and didn’t want to interrupt.”

“That’s a new one.” She raised an eyebrow. He normally wasn’t exactly subtle.

He stretched all four arms, back cracking before hopping off the crate. “I’m a complicated guy. Walk with me.”

Stella’s tail swished as she followed him down the hall to the elevator. Angel had a half-smirk, the kind of look that she usually felt on her own face when someone revealed a deep, dark secret on accident.

She didn’t think she’d revealed anything, at least not recently enough that he’d have a grin like that now. It tickled unease in her throat as the elevator dinged.

The music was soft as always, and Angel examined his nails through his gloves for some reason as Stella watched his face in the mirror. His mouth twitched slightly and he glanced over at her.

“You’re being obvious, Red.”

“Am not.”

“Standard rates apply if you wanna touch the tits.”

“Bitch.” She shoved at his side and he snickered, pushing her head with one of his lower arms.

“Joking, joking, friends get limited access for free.” The door dinged open, and he headed down the hall to his room. She’d long since gotten used to how quickly he walked with his stupid-long legs, and when she closed the door behind them, he plopped down on the bed, patting the space next to him as Fat Nuggets jumped up on his lap.

“So, you clearly want to talk about something private that you didn’t just say whatever it was in the lobby.” Stella probed. In response, Angel nodded at the small radio on his vanity and then at his closet.

She popped the closet open, setting the radio inside and then dropping a few of the thicker-looking clothes on top of it for good measure before closing the door again. “Okay, so you don’t want Al hearing whatever it is?”

“Uh-huh. He’s as big of a snoop as you are, especially when it comes to himself.”

“Comes to himself.” She folded her arms and then plopped down on the bed, bouncing Angel up slightly. What a stick. 

“So, I noticed how you act around Charlie.”

Stella kept her expression neutral. “She’s nice.”

“You like her.”

“Sure I do. Like I said, she’s nice.”

“And taken.” Angel was the one probing this time. “She’s cute, don’t you think?”

“You’re gay,” Stella said flatly. “How would you know?”

“I’ve also been around a lotta people, I can guess shit by now. ‘Sides, just because I don’t play that team doesn’t mean I’m blind.” He waved his hand. “I know how infatuation works. Sometimes Val likes it when a specific person really, really likes one’a us. They’ll pay more.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“I’m just trying to let you down easy, that’s all.” He shrugged. “I like you. Don’t want you getting hurt, and Charlie seems pretty happy with Vags.”

Stella sighed, rubbing her arm. She was moving on, so... it couldn’t really hurt her if he knew since he’d already figured it anyway, right? “Okay, fine. I’ve liked her since I was a kid. She’s just as nice in reality as she seemed to be, but I always worried everybody in Hell was gonna wring her dry by the time I got my chance to shoot my shot if I ever did anyway, ya know?”

Angel patted her shoulder. “Yeah, love’s a fucky thing sometimes, but at least you know it. That’s good, that makes this easier. You tell your pops?”

“Nah, if it’s not going anywhere there’s no need, right?”

“Fair enough. He chill with you- oh, right, you said you had two dads, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well. Answers that.” Angel’s fingers tightened around her shoulder. “Now, the other thing. Charlie, I think she’d just be flattered if you ever said anything, but Al...”

Stella sputtered. “Al? I don’t like him!”

“Really? Because your tail was damn near making a heart when he called dinner a date.”

Stella smacked Angel’s shoulder. “I think I’d know if I liked him!” 

“I just call it like I see it!” Angel held his hands up. “Alright, lemme just try something.” He leaned over on the bed, and Fat Nuggets jumped over to Stella’s lap, kneading down on her leggings before settling down. She started to pet him as Angel scribbled something down on a sheet of notebook paper, tongue sticking out of his mouth as he did.

After a few minutes, he ripped it out of the notebook, and Stella snorted a laugh. It was an incredibly crude drawing of Alastor. “Yeah, there’s a reason you’re sucking dick and not painting for the royalty, isn’t there?”

“We all have our talents.” He flicked at the edge of the paper. “So, you know how you feel around Charlie, right?”

“Yeah, still got some light butterflies but I’ve mostly gotten over them.” Stella narrowed her eyes. “That’s how I know you’re talking out your ass, Dust. I already know what infatuation feels like.”

“Nah, it means you’ve mostly gotten over her. Any’a the rest is just residual gayness from being around a pretty girl. Trust me, I had plenty experience of that when I was your age, just with dipshit dudes.”  He held the paper Alastor face up in front of his own. “So, pretend I’m Smiles. Think about the last coupla times you saw him. How were you feeling?”

“Last couple times...” Stella bounced her knee in thought just to entertain him, and Nuggets, disgruntled, jumped off her and went back to Angel.

What were the last few times they’d interacted? Well, this morning, when he asked her to come back for dinner with the human meat she’d brought in from an IMP job where they were supposed to dispose of the body completely. He’d been delighted to get a whole corpse, and a shaved one too since it had been a woman in her mid-thirties who apparently cared about that sort of thing.

Before that... he’d showed her around the Cannibal Colony. The ladies there waved at him, and she’d felt a spike of something that she’d passed off as fear before. That was ridiculous, though. She was all muscle and sinew, and could defend herself perfectly well. Besides, she was at Alastor’s side, and if they tried anything, he’d have her back. Probably.

Last week... he’d done a broadcast about a brawl happening right outside of the Hotel. He thought it was hilarious they were trying to end each other’s afterlife right outside of the Happy Hotel, and she’d kept up running commentary with him about who was winning. He’d mentioned it was nice to have someone who appreciated showmanship, and she’d grinned back at him.

Silk caressed her face, and she snapped back to reality to see Angel had dropped the ‘mask’ and one hand was cupping her cheek. 

“You’re flushing.”

“Am not!” She smacked his hand away, and he sighed, crumpling the ball up and tossing it over into the trash can.

“Al doesn’t seem the relationship type. I’ve propositioned him a coupla times, both outta habit and ‘cause he is good-looking. He always just shoots me down cold, and I’ve never heard him mention a missus or a mister or anything- even in the past, even when he was alive. I know he’s pretty tight-lipped about himself, but I feel like we’d know about something by now. Just temper your expectations. Some people are just like that.”

“Temper your expectations. Fancy vocabulary there.”

“Yeah, well, you hang around Al long enough, his fancy-pants wordage rubs off.” Angel straightened Stella’s bandanna. “Whatever weird hormonal teenage deal you’ve got with him, just keep it on the down-low to be safe, got it?”

“There’s no deal,” Stella’s face wrinkled as she narrowed her eyes, but Angel’s raised eyebrow said that he didn’t believe her.

The acid bubbling in her stomach and her thudding heart said that she wasn’t sure that she believed her anymore either.

[loverockshq]

Welcome to Love Rocks! We hope that you meet your soulmate, ALYSSA! Please check out our checklist here and send in your account within 24 hours!

OOC!

Name: Em

Age: 24

Pronouns: She/her

IC!

Name: Alyssa ‘Aly’ Nelson

Faceclaim: Shelley Hennig

Age (21-29): 28

Gender & Pronouns: cis female, she/her

Sexuality: pansexual

The First Interview:

Why did you sign up for Love Rocks?

“My sister was always trying to get me to find someone to settle down with. She was always more of a relationship person than I was. After she passed away, it dawned on me that perhaps she was right, perhaps I should find someone to share my life with. This year was the first year it felt right to actually take the leap, and here I am.”

What is your favorite memory?

“I must have been twenty four, and lost my job thanks to some poor inter-office politics. My best friend and my sister dragged me out of bed, and straight down to the local bar. We spent most of the night there, before heading back to one of the apartments - I can’t recall who’s. We blasted music, danced until our feet hurt, and in those moments I was truly carefree.”

Tell us about the best gift you’ve ever received.

“My grandfather found me an old antique typewriter in a town near home. I don’t even know if it works, it’s too precious to actually try and use. It sits pride of place on my desk, and reminds me of my purpose in life whenever I feel lost in my writing.”

What is your dream job?

“I want to write. My aim is to write the next great American novel, but I need to try and pay the bills first. Anything where I am able to put words on a page suits me just fine.”

Give us a list of five aesthetics.

“Messy buns, journals filled with scribbles, lacy bralets under baggy cardigans, satin sheets and frosted gin glasses.”

Give us a list of 3 positive and 3 negative personality traits.

“I like to think that I’m considerate, hopeful, and fun-loving, but I’ve also been made aware that I can be tense, hesitant, and guarded.”

Do you think you’ll find your soulmate here?

“It’s got to be worth a shot, right?"

[holylangdon]

I Wanna Be Yours [Tate Langdon x Reader]

Requests: “I’m actually not into fluff (give me all the smut), but you write some about Tate drawing reader (or the other way around)? I think of him, even though he is popular for his music taste, more as a painter than musician. Love your writings xoxo” - Anon 

“Can you do a kinky Tate imagine ;)” - Anon

“Can you do a post-death Tate Langdon smut please? I love your imagines btw! 😊” - Anon

“girl reader smuts pls. idrc who with:)” - Anon

“Hey! Love your blog by the way! Do you think you can do another Tate Langdon smut fic? I would love that 💕💕” - @gabygarcia5

Warnings: SIN, NOT PROOFREAD (at all), SMUT, FEM!READER, not proofread, blowjob, swallowing cum, spanking, dirty talk, rough sex, slight daddy kink, begging kink, unprotected sex (again), sorta OOC Tate, Reader is aware Tate is dead, tbh probably more

Word Count: 1.2k 

A/N: I’m going to hell. It’s fine, though, because you’re all going to be there with me. 

(This gets weird towards the end, I know. I stayed up until like 5am last night to finish this so I could post it today. Don’t judge me. This whole thing is just a mess though tbh. & it’s not proofread like I barely read the damn thing when I wrote it, so let me know about any errors.)

“I’m so exhausted.” You yawn, closing the bedroom door. The floors make an awkward creaking sound as you walk across them to the bed where Tate was currently sat with his sketchpad.

“Can you toss me that bag? The blue one?” He asks, not looking up from the grey-tinted paper. Sighing, you pick up the large bag, beginning to walk towards him again. “Oh, and the red one? Maybe the purple?“ Seeing the exhausted, unfavorable expression on your face, he smiles. "I love you.”

“Your mouth says you love me, but your brain says I’m your slave.” You groan, going to the bed. Giving him his drawing supplies, you strip off your bra and jeans, climbing into bed. Slipping under the thick quilt, you turn away from the blond boy next to you, who was still scribbling rather loudly in the book. After a moment of the noise continuing, you raise the blanket above your head, shielding you from it. Or so you thought.

After a second, you hear his pencils clink on the night table, and his sketchbook drop to the floor. Suddenly, your covers are peeled back to reveal a worried-looking Tate.

“Are you okay?” He asks. You push him back gently, sitting up on your elbows, nodding your head. You couldn’t help but admit that he was annoying you. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, Tate. You just keep drawing and pretend like I’m not here.” He looks taken aback by your sudden sarcasm, a small frown on his face. Taking the quilt in your hand, you speak up again, this time in a mumble. “Just like every night.”

His hand blocks you from shoving the quilt over your face, though. Instead, he presses a light kiss to your lips. The boy pulls away gently, sitting back. Sighing, you grab his long, shaggy hair, pulling him into your grasp again. He laughs against your lips, obviously amused that you had fallen into his trap.

After a moment, he breaks the kiss, his near-expert hands eagerly sliding your t-shirt over your head. He lets out a very impatient groan when he sees your bare body beneath his clothed one. His movements lacked a certain delicate nature, like usual. It was uncommon that he ever went particularly gentle with you. Unless you asked, that is. 

With your heart racing, you reach out to tug his boxers over off of his body, but he quickly swats your hand away. It’s then that you feel his large bulge pressed against your leg, and notice his eyes roaming your breasts. His lips come to your neck in a blur, eliciting a dangerous action from you– biting back a moan.

Tate had always loved to hear what sounds he could get you to make, and new consequences came each time you held them back, especially when he was rough.

He removes his hand from your thigh, pulling away. He clicks his tongue three times, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have done that.” His surprisingly dark, yet somehow innocent, voice shocked you.

“I’m sorry.” You quickly say, desperately wanting his touch again. Tate stays silent for a second, obviously in thought.

“I want you to listen to every little demand I give you.” He smirks. "Now, blow me like the little slut you are." Tate could barely finish his sentence before your hands were on him. You pulled down his grey sweats and threw them on the floor beside the bed, his boxers quickly following. Taking him in your hand, you let your thumb circle the tip lightly.

"No goddamn teasing." He groans. He sounded easily dominant, letting you know that he wasn't messing around tonight. You wrapped your lips around the pink tip, slowly moving your head up and down. Tate grunted once more, allowing one of his hands to slip into your hair. Your hand pumped what bit you couldn't fit into your mouth, your boyfriend's soft sounds giving you encouragement to go faster, deeper. His hand lets go of your hair, only to shape it into a ponytail a second later, giving him more control over your pace. "Can I leave marks?"

Nodding carefully, your actions continue until he's a mess on the very verge of cumming, and that's when you pull away. Gasping for air, you hear him cursing under his breath. "Where do you want to cum?" He gives you a stern look, signalling for you to go down again.

As you sink back down, he gives your ass a firm smack. "That's for not listening."

Taking him into your mouth once more, he couldn't help but take control of your hair again, pushing you down onto his cock once more. It wasn't long before he was coming undone in your mouth, profanities spilling from his pretty little lips. As you pulled away, the leftover bits of him falling from your mouth. He wipes your swollen lip with his thumb, wiping it on the sheet beneath the two of you.

"Mm. Now, what would you like me to do?" Tate pants. Taking a deep breath, he pulls you on his lap.

You couldn't reply fast enough. "Please fuck me." The words escaped your lips before your brain could even process what he was asking you. He laughs lightly, bringing his lips to your ear.

“I want you to beg. Beg for me to fuck you, Y/N. That way, we can both get what we really want.” The  boy grins, pulling away from you. You’re left with a stunned expression on your face as he pushes you back onto the bed, hovering on top of you. His lips clash with your neck as he peppers small kisses around, obviously waiting for you to fulfill his wish.

He shoves his hand between your closed thighs, slicking his fingers between your folds. "C'mon," He urges. "you know you want to, don't you? You want to please your daddy?"

"Tate," You whine. "don't tease." The blond boy on top of you pries your fist open, slipping his ring onto your exposed thumb. He almost always did that before he used his hands on you. Quickly, you try to speak up again, but he cuts you off.

"You know what you've gotta do." You can't help but gasp when he brushes against your clit, simultaneously slipping a finger into your core. "You're not gonna walk for days after this. Weeks, maybe, if you beg hard enough." It only took seconds of him pumping them in and out, hitting your g-spot each time, for you to cave.

"God, please! Please fuck me, daddy! Please!"

With that, he lined himself up with your entrance, pushing himself in. A small groan escapes him as he leans over you. "Ah- fuck, you're tight, baby." Your nails drag down his back as his quick, messy thrusts build up a pace. 

“My hair, pull my hair.” He groans. Your hands obediently move to the mess of shaggy blond locks, tugging each time he slammed into you. It didn’t take long before the two of you were laying beside each other, exhausted and covered in sweat.

“I love you.” You say through heavy breaths. He grins.

“Why? Because I just fucked your brains out?” The blond laughs, glancing at you. 

“No.” Angrily sighing, you roll over, away from him. You weren’t going to pour your heart out to him if he wasn’t going to be serious. 

Minutes later, he’s sure you’re asleep. He pulls the messy sheets and the quilt on over your bare body, planting a small kiss on your forehead. “I love you too, Y/N.”

[polarishq]

Below the cut, you’ll find a sample application for a Zodiac member.

★ ˙ * ✧ — OOC.

name/alias: Jeanne the Trash Queen

age: 26

timezone: EST

pronouns: She/Her

★ ˙ * ✧ — THE BASICS.

zodiac: Capricorn

name: Cecilia Jimenez

faceclaim: Cierra Ramirez

gender & pronouns: Cis Female & she/her

age: 29

hometown: Chicago, IL.

★ ˙ * ✧ — AESTHETIC.

color coordinated flash cards, tangled headphones, high ceilings and hardwood floors, chapped lips, sheet music haphazardly stuffed into a threadbare messenger bag, a collection of coffee mugs, and the frustration that comes with failing time after time after time, and yet continuing to try again.

★ ˙ * ✧ — BIOGRAPHY.

For Cecilia, magic has always been the #1 constant in her life, even if she is still very much a baby by a witch’s standard. Born in the early 90s in the hustle and bustle of a big city, she found herself in the heart of a small community of star-powered beings — her father, her siblings, and a large array of miscellaneous family members, both by blood and by bond. While trying to make a life among humans resulted in a lack of financial stability for the coven more often than not, what they lacked in money, they made up for in adoration and acceptance. Her father in particular wanted Cecilia to have all the love in the world, to make up for the absence of her mother. Her parents’ relationship was brief, with Cecilia being conceived almost immediately and her mother bailing not long after her birth. While that left many unanswered questions (did she have magic? Why didn’t she want Cecilia? Where was she?) and a bitterness that has still yet to fade, her family did their best to make sure Cecilia felt the absence as little as possible.

When her constellation mark appeared at age 16, it was a joyous occasion. Although she’d started exhibiting magic long before, this was new. This was Cecilia learning where her magic came from, and to whom she owed gratitude. But when it became clear that Cecilia embodied one of the zodiac, it was a whole different story. No one in her bloodline had exhibited a zodiac connection in known history  so it came as a complete shock. Cecilia began attending Polaris soon after, learning to harness her earth-based abilities and tapping into her natural penchant for alchemy, but she could never quite shake that initial shock. It was years later, after going behind her family’s back and boring the help of a few friends with better psychic abilities, that Cecilia tracked down her estranged mother at a dinner in Pittsburgh. The confrontation was heated, and only after being kicked out of the dinner did Luciana Diaz that she was an embodiment of Aquarius — and the stars must’ve seen fit to make her daughter a zodiac too. Cecilia didn’t stick around to hear the rest, only the tail end of her “mother” spewing how much she hated the pressure that came with magic. She returned to Polaris angry, upset, and more headstrong than ever that she would embrace magic for all its worth.

Magic and alchemy are Cecilia’s first priority in life, but she also holds a strong passion for music. It filled her childhood home, and from her father (a specialist in sound magic and a musician in his own right), Cecilia learned how to create and write music. Her first love was the piano, her second was her father’s old acoustic guitar. Even at Polaris, she’s taken advantage of the standup piano that sits in one of the common rooms to keep practicing, lest she grow stale. She questions if its possible to have both your place among the stars and a mundane human life where she could put her love to use. Much like her sign, Cecilia is nothing if not a ambitious, and she would gladly have the entire world if she could. And, much like her sign, her stubbornness makes her struggle to accept that that just might not be possible.

★ ˙ * ✧ — CONNECTIONS.

Older sibling: Magic has run through Cecilia’s bloodline as far back as anyone can remember, and when she was born, her father already had one child with a constellation living inside of them as well. A half-sibling, that is. They’re not a member of the Zodiac (any other constellation is fair game), but that doesn’t make them any less of a superstar in Cecilia’s eyes. They’re the one person who knows her inside and out, and she loves them dearly.

Unwarranted Enemy: So long as this character is somehow related to Aquarius, Cecilia will harbor resentment. They can be related to a former Aquarius, they can be friends with the current Aquarius, they can be the current Aquarius. Either way, Cecilia will give them the stink eye. It’s completely unfair and biased, based in her anger towards her own mother, but Cecilia tends to ruminate and so here we are.

Fellow Music Lover: Simple. Cecilia’s passion in life is music, and training at Polaris has taken precedent over that for much of her life. She’s able to bond with this character about their mutual love though, and can often be found sitting on the floor of Cecilia’s room listening to the radio, or scribbling onto sheet music whenever inspiration strikes.

★ ˙ * ✧ — MISC.

Pinterest board for a slightly different character origin wise, yet the same at heart!

[cinnamon-suncat]

OOC ‘about me’ thing

Nicknames: I have a ton sdfsdfgdfsg it depends who it’s coming from.

Star sign: Leo, excessively so

Height: 167cm, which is 5′6″

Time right now:  7:13 PM

Last thing you Googled: ‘167cm in feet’

Favorite music artist(s): god why this. Recently I’ve been listening a lot to Studio Killers and traila$ong. I would be terrible at picking a handful of overall favourites, because I’m really mercurial and switch what I’m listening constantly.

Last song stuck in my head:  Heart’s a Mess - Gotye

Last movie: Treasure Planet

My fab outfit: FAB. I feel like this was supposed to say ‘fave’, in which case it’s either a long flowy skirt with a stupidly tight and skimpy shirt and some cute sandals, orrr an equally tight v-necked sweaterdress with cute little heeled boots. Depends on the season. The running theme is ‘my tits are phenomenal’.

When did I create this blog: archive says november 2013

The trash I post: ffxiv content, screenshot edits of my character, my dumb scribbles, occasional irl ramblings, and reblogs of stuff I find funny or beautiful

Do you get asks regularly: usually about three or four a day and I wish I could answer them all but I’m terrible at it and have a backlog of 467 right now I’M SORRY

Why did you choose your URL?: my tag elsewhere is Cinnamonster, and my FFXIV character Syrena is a Seeker of the Sun who enjoys cinnamon buns. Sunbunfun. An alternate URL I was tossing up was sagolii-siren (Syr’s stage name) but a good friend of mine is already sagolii-snowflake and I didn’t want to be too samey. 

Gender: Female

Hogwarts house: GRYFFINDOR, GO GO.

Pokemon team: I mean...it really depends what this question is referring to. I picked team Valor, my favourite villain team is Team Skull, and my pokemon team (assuming I’m not building for strategy) would probably be comprised of ninetales (my favourite/signature pokemon. OG nine, anyway, not alolan), rapidash, milotic, mawile, mismagius, and noivern.

Favorite color: Purple or gold, especially rose-gold. I’m fond of peacock-rich iridescent blues and greens too.  

Number of blankets: One big soft doona. I hate the way sheets feel, too insubstantial, so I sleep badly in summer (when it’s too hot for doona)...unless I have aircon I can blast to snuggle under the doona without overheating. In winter I add in a velvety electric blanket to the mix ^^ Also notable mention -- a minimum of three pillows. I make up for my boring singular blanket by being a total pillow slut.

Followers: somewhere between 1500 and 1600, I don’t really check or quibble over it. 

Tagged by @bohemian-bobcat and @zohie-juari

Tagging nobody just do it if you wannaaaa

[the--emerald--isle]

((From today's iconing adventure...

Mug

Shot

What did he get arrested for? Don't ask.))

[the--emerald--isle]

Now I see I can't see myself I believed I was stronger than I felt Everything turned to golden Then it fell apart

It's the same old story It's the same sad song Where did I go wrong?

Lay me down in the waves Let the water wash away And if I leave with the tide In the morning I will rise

So lay me down Don't lift me out Let me drown

Take a breath Hold it in and sink beneath Feel the eyes of the living watching me Lay me down in the water

Leave the past behind There's a time to be born And a time to die And somewhere they collide

Lay me down in the waves Let the water wash away And if I leave with the tide In the morning I will rise

So lay me down Don't lift me out Let me drown

I have walked in distant waters Let me drown But I never walked alone Let me drown If my heart should ever wander Let the water lead me home

Lay me down in the waves Let the water wash away And if I leave with the tide In the morning I will rise So lay me down Don't lift me out

Lay me down in the waves Let the water wash away And if I leave with the tide In the morning I will rise

So lay me down Don't lift me out Let me drown

[the--emerald--isle]

((Apologies for disappearing, I had some health things to deal with.))

[the--emerald--isle]

((Because I'm mildly obsessed with making icons... Roman Torchwick from RWBY might not be the best animated face claim for Aaron, he's the best I could find.))

[the--emerald--isle]

((Another reason Aaron only ever wears long sleeves -- whether shirts or jackets or both -- is to hide the burn scars around his wrists. The scars come from the bangs of iron wrapped around them to prevent him from using his magic; yet another way to keep him "contained and nonthreatening." He minds the scars on his fingers (where the iron burned them as he pried it off) much less than the ones around his wrists.))

[the--emerald--isle]

Ride, warrior, ride With your blade by your side Follow on your spirit-steed While wounds darken and bleed

Drink the wind as you fly Hear the night beasts cry Cold tears run with the rain Down a horse’s mane

Something dark in a hall of stone Something bright like a diamond shone Mist and magic fill the air From wedding feast to Devil’s Lair

Suddenly the walls run red Kith and kin are lying dead None to follow, none to chase Fear and pain on the young bride’s face

[Chorus]

Underneath the blankets deep Gather secrets that you keep Things for dreaming, things for play Things safe for a bloody day

Now the metal touches skin Now the hunting will begin Racing after wild and blind Leaving home and hearth behind

[Chorus]

Saddle up the waiting mare Leap into the chilling air To the witch and all her power Ride on to Kethry’s tower

Help - you need the magic strong Race you must the whole nightlong A mage and a magic spell Come to take you straight to hell

[Chorus x3]

[the--emerald--isle]

Let Me Assign You a Love Language

A Knife Called Grief

You have left your house, you have left those people behind, but what are you going to do about the memories which have taken root in you? You can run but not without them. You want someone to sit with you on this cool marble floor while the sun burns everything.You want them to cut your rotten heart and theirs too. You want to sit with it in front of you, let them see you with all your flaws, which haven’t been your fault but you have been made to believe so, and you want them to love you anyways. Because you know you’d do that for them.

Tagged by: Stole it from @fangmother

Tagging: Steal it.

[the--emerald--isle]

🍺 🍔 🤸‍♀️

🍺 - How does your muse feel about the consumption of alcohol? Do they drink? Are they a heavy drinker, or are they on the lighter side? What's your muse's favorite alcoholic drink?

As perhaps expected, Aaron doesn't mind alcohol, and is a drinker himself; Holy Week being the only exception. He's learned his limits over the years, and knows very well what's too much or just enough; too much locks him in nightmares/memories, while just enough lets him sleep without dreams of any sort. Unsurprisingly, he's partial to whiskey or beer, though he also appreciates absinth, mulled wine, or mead now and again.

🍔 - What kind of food does your muse usually eat? Do they have a favorite food, or favorite style of food? Do they have allergies? Are they vegan, vegetarian, etc.?

Cliche is it is, Aaron does enjoy pub food, when he can make himself eat doesn't feel like making something himself. Hearty foods are his staple, with a preference for stews, breads, dairy, and things of the like. (Just no meat on Wednesday or Friday, regardless of whether it's Lent or not.) He'll also readily admit to having a weakness for fish -- salmon in particular -- and most fruits. And yes, he does appreciate potatoes a fair bit... though eating them has the tendency to remind him of the blighted ones from the Famine.

🤸‍♀️ - How active is your muse? Do they exercise regularly? Do they do things like yoga? What else do they do to keep fit and active? Are they flexible? Can they do parkour?

He very rarely exercises intentionally, as he tends to be kept busy most of the time, and tends to walk most places. When he has time to himself, he can be found wandering about forests, cliffs, and beaches. Aaron used to be a lot more flexible than he is now, but that was almost a thousand years ago, back when he had the run of the place before England decided to conquer. Parkour is a strange concept to him, and while it's interesting, he has no desire to do it.

@offreedom