#TWS under 1500

[acwolyf]

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[maraeffect]

hi everyone, this is my monthly check-in <3

[bugsinmystomach]

it's a metabolism day not a binge

it's a metabolism day not a binge

it's a metabolism day not a binge

ITS A METABOLISM DAY, NOT A BINGE🙏

[d0m1nxx]

Me having to tell my c4l counter that I ate over 1000 c4als at the Labor Day cookout

[flawdchaos]

Lips of an Angel

Lando Norris x Reader

based on lips of an angel by hinder (if you haven’t heard this song pls listen to it because it’s a banger and this is heavily based on it.)

tw: angst, kinda sorta cheating, reader and lando being dummies

a/n - hi friends, this is my first time writing for f1. i’ve written before on here and took a break to study on class work. i’ve fallen back into my f1 phase and dreamt this up on the way into work tonight. i hope you enjoy, feel free to give me feedback. thank you xx

word count - 1500 (ish)

Lando’s room illuminated from the soft glow of his phone on the bedside table, buzzing against the base of the lamp. He moved as delicately as he could, careful to not wake the girl sleeping on his chest, to see who could be calling so late. He rubbed his eyes and squinted reading the name across his screen, the name he chose to disguise Y/N’s contact.

JULIE - MARKETING.

He slid out from under the girl, tiptoeing to the hallway before whispering a hello through the phone.

“Lando?” the voice shook through the phone. “Lando, I’m sorry.” he could hear it now, the sniffles and uneven breaths - she was crying. He crept down the hallway a bit more in an attempt to gain distance from his bedroom and sleeping companion.

“Y/N, why are you crying? Is everything alright?” he whispered, being met with only sniffles. “I’m in the living room. I have to whisper. What’s wrong?” He was growing impatient in her silence, the worry growing each minute he was on the phone call.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this - this pretending. I want you for myself. Call me selfish,” she took a deep breath in “, but I deserve you - not her.”

She had never been this brash before but he couldn’t blame her. After months of secret conversations, shared glances, and hugs that lingered just a little too long - he had to agree with her.

What they shared wasn’t meant to happen in the first place. Lando and Y/N had been in the same friend groups for years, only knowing each other mutually. It stayed that way until one night when they found themselves alone at the bar, friends having left long ago. One too many drinks and the heavy hand of the bartender led them back to Lando’s flat in London. They agreed the next morning, for the sanctity of their ‘friendship’ it would never happen again - but, they were both lying to themselves and they knew it. One night turned into two and before they realized it, the rest of Lando’s winter break was shared mostly in the sheets of his bed. It was only when he was leaving back to Monaco that things came to a halt abruptly. No conversation or discussion of what the hell had just happened over the past few months, just radio silence on both ends. It was an unspoken ending between the two.

That was until a couple months later and during Lando’s first podium of the season that he found himself wishing she were there to celebrate with him. Drunkenly, he debated his options and finally decided to send her a text telling her just how much he missed her and the things they would do. His text sat unattended in her messages for the rest of the night because while Lando was thinking of her, she was doing everything she could to forget about him - and this included making the same trek home from the bar with a stranger. Come morning the only thing the pair was left with was regret.

Y/N was the first to reach back out again after his crash in Las Vegas. She couldn’t admit to her friends just how shaken it had her but she tossed and turned in the bed for over an hour before picking up her phone.

Glad you’re okay. Try to stay out of the wall next time, yeah?

Her name lighting up his phone had his heart beating almost as fast as the adrenaline of crashing did. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard as his mind raced on what to say. It was late in the UK so his response would probably go unnoticed until the morning. Or - had she stayed up that late to watch him race? Or should he say crash.

“What’s got you stumped, mate?” Max’s voice broke him from his daze as he glanced over his shoulder. “Y/N, aye? Just admit it.”

Lando’s head shot up to meet Max’s stare. “Admit what?”

“That you’re fucking whipped. I’ve seen you stalking her instagram.”

Something about Max’s words ignited a feeling within him. For the first time in his “playboy” career - Lando Norris was scared of his feelings.

—

It wasn’t long after the Las Vegas Grand Prix that Y/N had noticed a shift in Lando. He was almost nonexistent on her social media - no likes, hearts or story views. She chalked it up to the busy life he lived but when she clicked through his ‘close friends’ instagram story, her heart fell to her stomach. Lando had his arms wrapped around another girl, lips pressed against her cheek in front of a mirror. All of her questions and doubts were confirmed with a simple click and despite him owing her anything, she felt betrayed. Y/N couldn’t deny it anymore - the time she had spent with Lando was a whirlwind and no matter how many nights she spent curled up in bed, their bodies pressed together, she was always left wanting more.

On the mornings she woke before him, which had been every morning except two, she had found herself tangled in his arms feeling safe and secure. The true depth of her feelings came to be when she slowly awoke one morning to Lando running his arms down hers and placing a soft kiss on her forehead, vowing to return shortly. He stuck true to his promise when he crept back into the bedroom, two cups of tea tucked safely in his hands. She realized then that a small snippet of a domestic life with Lando was all she ever wanted but when he spoke again, the reality of their situation came back into play.

“Max is coming over in an hour to set up some stuff for the new Youtube video. I don’t mean to rush you but I figured our secret was still between us.” She nodded and hummed before taking another sip of her tea.

“Sure thing. I’ll be gone as soon as we finish our tea.”

-

Y/N finally realized, after viewing Lando’s story, that she had to move on. Find somebody to distract her from the replays of her intimate moments shared with Lando - and so she did. The pair both settled into mediocre “relationships” to distract themselves from the constant longing they had for each other. Subtle posts made to stories in hopes to cause jealousy in each other were made almost weekly. Lando had been seeing a girl one of his mates had set him up with, and Y/N had met a guy at a bar in London on a girls night out. Neither of them were unhappy, per se, but nothing matched the energy that the pair had shared before. On nights after rough races and a few drinks, Lando would have dreams that the girl in his arms wasn’t who had been currently seeing but Y/N instead. One dream had sent him over the edge and he had called her that night to hear her voice.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings. His longing was quickly turning into regret as he realized this was probably a mistake before her soft voice filled the phone, she was whispering.

“Lando?” his heart was racing at the mere sound of her voice.

“Y/N, I’m sorry to wake you.” he said, hand raising to his mouth as he started biting at his fingernails.

“It’s okay, are you alright?”. She was still whispering.

“Uhm,” he began, shuffling his feet against the rug below him. “Fuck. This is so stupid…but I had a dream about you. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“A dream? About me?” he could hear her shuffling around on the other end of the phone, probably trying to put distance between her and her partner just like he had done.

“Yeah. A dream. It isn’t the first one I’ve had either.” They were both silent for a moment before he continued. God, why was he admitting this. “And I guess they’ve just helped me realize some things.” His heart was beating so hard that he figured she could hear it through the phone. A sharp intake of breath from her end of the phone had him biting at his nails again.

“What things, Lan?” Lan. He hadn’t heard her say that in months.

“My girl’s asleep in the next room. John is probably in the room next to you asleep. We’re kilometers and kilometers apart but yet, despite all of that, every time I close my fucking eyes all I see is you. All I hear is you laughing. I dream of you.” He sat down, head in his hands. “I guess I never really moved on, Angel.” The nickname had given her long ago falling effortlessly from his lips.

He wouldn’t have been surprised if she hung up the phone, called him a dickhead, and never spoke to him again. All of the worst options lived in his head. The last thing he expected her to say was,

“Lan, I dream of you too.”

[milfsloverblog]

How Eve Felt (NSFW)

Jane Murdstone x Fem!reader

A/N: Listen, this is just pure filth. 1500 words of porn without plot. Nothing but Jane Murdstone smut. I started this WIP months ago and thought I’d never publish it but a few of you liked the snippet I shared, so... Anyway, enjoy <3

tw: spit kink, mention of Christianity related stuff (this is how I deal with my religious trauma)

✨ AO3 LINK IN TITLE ✨

You always tried your best to keep your eyes away from your lady’s flesh when you undressed her. That night had been no different as you only looked at your fingers working on the lacing of her corset.

Jane stayed quiet for a while, her eyes never leaving your reflection in the mirror as you worked behind her.

“You did say this was your first time working as a lady’s maid, didn’t you?” She asked, her voice as stern as it usually was.

“Yes, Miss Murdstone.” You nodded and carefully peeled the corset from her, folding it before placing it by her dress on the chair.

“In that case,” She said as she turned around to face you, cocking her head a little. “I cannot help but wonder where on earth you have learnt how to undress a woman so swiftly.”

You swallowed thickly. Your eyes had caught sight of the swell of her small breasts under her chemise and it instantly made your throat go dry.

What were you supposed to tell her? Oh, well, I have undressed my fair share of women, right before laying with them.

“Well?” She insisted. “Cat got your tongue?!”

You knew then by the smirk on her face that Miss Murdstone probably had a good idea of how you’d become an expert at undressing the fairer sex.

“I suppose I'm a quick learner, my lady.” You simply answered, hoping it would satisfy the tall woman’s curiosity.

Jane narrowed her eyes, silently looking at you for a moment while the gears turned in her head.

“Take my chemise off.” She eventually ordered in a bark.

It felt like she was testing you. Sure, this was part of what a lady’s maid had to do but the way she said it, it did feel like she was testing you.

You ended up doing as you were told, silently thanking your hands for not shaking too much when you grabbed the hem of her chemise and pulled the garment over her head.

Don’t look. Don’t look. Do not look.

“Look at me.” Jane demanded, your eyes immediately snapping from your hands to her face.

“I am looking at you, Miss Murdstone.”

“Look at me the way you really wish to.” She smirked again and you were sure your thumping heartbeat could be heard throughout the whole household.

You exhaled shakily and eventually moved your gaze from her eyes to her nose, then down to her mouth. What would it be like to kiss her? To lick over the scar on her lip? To have her tongue push into your mouth?

You spent a few seconds on the length of her neck, watching her pulse point steadily move up and down. From the look of it, she didn’t seem nervous about what was happening, at least not as much as you were.

Her shoulders were next, pulling a smile from your lips. It was a funny thing, really, for a cold and metallic woman like Jane to have such an inviting freckled skin.

Your breath hitched in your throat when your eyes landed on her chest, her nipples visibly hardening as you took in her pert breasts.

“Miss Murdstone, we should not-“ You were cut off by Jane’s hand roughly grabbing hold of your face, her fingertips digging almost painfully into your cheeks.

“And who decides on what we should or should not do, hm?” She asked, using a honey-dripping voice as if she wasn’t holding you with a vice-like grip.

“You, Miss Murdstone.” You whispered barely audibly, nearly letting a whine out when she let go of your jaw.

“Good.” She gave a slight nod and sat down on the edge of the bed, her eyes never leaving yours.

Your eyes widened when you noticed that she was slowly spreading her legs. Her lips pulled in a devilish smirk seeing how your face twitched as you tried your best to keep your eyes locked on hers, knowing full well the sight that would be waiting for you if you allowed yourself to look down at her crotchless bloomers.

Jane had to admit that she was impressed by your self-restraint, many girls would have run for the door while some, fewer, would have touched her already.

“Kneel.” She barked, delighting in the way you slightly jumped at the unexpected order.

Your legs wobbled and you fell to your knees like a devotee praying at the altar. Your gaze inevitably fell on the wet pink flesh between her legs, your mouth watering at how inviting it looked.

“Well, do come closer!” Jane spoke as if she was in a hurry and for a split second you wondered if she was eager to feel you on her.

You did as you were told, crawling closer until you were kneeling between her legs and tentatively placed your hands on her covered knees. Jane raised an eyebrow at the boldness of your move but decided she would allow it.

“I assume you have done this before, haven’t you?” The woman asked, her chin never lowering as she looked down at you, making her appear even more condescending.

“Have I ever found myself between a woman’s legs? Yes. Have I ever knelt before one? No.” But I don’t mind kneeling for you. I don’t mind praying at your altar. I would spend the rest of my life on my knees if you asked me to. I do want to worship you.

“Let us make it a memorable first time, shall we?” Jane purred and her fingers took hold of your face again, gentler than they did before.

She tilted your head back as far as it would go and pried your jaws open, chuckling when you stuck your tongue out instinctively.

“Aren’t you a well-trained slut?” Jane cooed, gathering the saliva in her mouth and slowly letting it fall on your tongue, a wave of arousal coating her sex when your pupils dilated.

The older woman raised an eyebrow and, knowing exactly what was expected of you, you closed your eyes and swallowed. You couldn’t help but be reminded of your first Holy Communion when, kneeling before the priest, the sacred host had been placed on your tongue.

You almost let an Amen slip from your lips when Jane suddenly grabbed a handful of your hair and your eyes snapped back open.

“How many women have you laid with?”

“Plenty.” You admitted in a whisper, wondering how many Jane had shared her bed with.

“Prove it.” She smirked, bringing your face closer to her cunt.

You didn’t waste any more time and dipped your thumbs into the warmth between Jane’s legs, brushing the tip of one thumb over her clit to watch the way her whole body responded. Jane jerked, hips canting forward, and you hid your grin by placing a soft kiss on the milky skin of her inner thigh. The woman’s breath hitched and you wondered if it was caused by her not expecting any softness from you (or anyone else).

Keeping your fingers holding Jane open, you leaned in closer, blowing lightly over her cunt before burying your face in it. You wrapped your lips around the woman’s clit and sucked sharply, Jane’s body jolting above you as a moan tore itself from the back of her throat.

The woman opened her mouth to speak but cut herself off as you sucked harder, drawing tight circles around her clit. Moving one hand from where you had it braced around Jane’s thigh, you pushed your thumb into her entrance, tugging at her opening and massaging inside of her. The streak of moans that escaped your lady’s lips made your whole body shudder.

Then suddenly her hand snaked back in your hair, holding tightly and so close to your scalp that you felt your skin burn. Jane pressed you so deep into herself you could hardly breathe. She had taken back control of herself, and of you as well. You fisted the material of Jane’s drawers and squeezed your eyes shut as your tongue was ridden, your lady grinding herself into your mouth exactly how she wanted, how she needed.

Feverish shivers ran down your spine, your knees slowly sliding open on the wood flooring. You wished you had tucked a pillow between your legs before this began so you could ride out your own pleasure as you dripped from having your face fucked. But your lady wouldn’t have allowed it, you were quite certain she enjoyed having you squirm helplessly.

Jane’s movements became erratic, her chest quickly heaving up and down as she desperately chased her release. And then you felt it. You felt her come. You felt the cruelest woman you knew come into your mouth, her clit throbbing against your tongue as she let a single loud guttural moan out.

As the hand on the back of your head loosened its grip, you slumped against the older woman’s thigh. And as you knelt there, half of your face slick and chin dripping with Jane’s essence, you wondered - is this how Eve felt, taking the first bite of the forbidden fruit, as pomegranate juice dripped on her naked breasts from her open lips?

————————————————————————

tag list: @mysteriouslysapphic @opheliauniverse @yourlocaldisneyvillain @notinmyvocab @h-doodles @teeniegreeniebeanie @katie-bennet @willowshadenox @bikergurl5 @renravens

[thoraeth]

Black Hole Hunger [2/3] | All Might x reader

words: 1500 TW & Tags: gn!reader, no use of y/n, small might, slow burn, ANGST, att3mpt3d su1c1d3, fluff, happy ending. Summary: Under the pouring rain, a sad spectacle awaits you. It's time to give back what you received and help Toshinori facing a monster that you know well.

[Part 1] [Part 3]

“Shit, shit, shit!”

You climb the stairs frantically, raindrops splattering everywhere from your beat-up umbrella. “Shit!” You grunt.

You’ve moved into your new apartment a few days ago and yet, just today, you heard something odd clinking at the bottom of your bag: the keys to All Might's apartment.

You were supposed to leave them on the table and go but, somehow, you managed to mess things up. 

“Will he think I wanted to keep them? How fucking embarrassing.”

Panting your way up the building, you hope to God you can still sneak the keys in unnoticed.

As the door’s in sight, a shaft of light is coming out of it. “Did I forget to even lock it? It's not like it has been open the whole time, isn't it?” 

Cold shivers run up your spine at the thought of a hero’s house being burgled because of you. 

But when you peep through the opening, you feel reassured. 

Everything is exactly like the day you left, with the only difference that All Might himself is there, tinkering in the middle of the main room. You pull out the keys from your bag and step inside, ready to flash your best smile at him.

At first, your brain cannot fully compute the scene you're looking at. It's just a glare of something metallic, his shirt unbuttoned, his shoulders trembling. Then you snap.

“Toshinori, no!”

Scattering your belongings on the floor, you run across the room and tackle the hero.

Under any other circumstance, someone like you would have no hope against him. But miserable as he is now, staring at you wide eyed as if he's just seen a ghost, he lets the knife in his hands slip on the floor.

The man slowly lowers down on his knees: as much as you strive to hold him, he shrivels up in a shaking mess.

You crouch too and your hand gently runs up and down the back of his drenched jacket. “Let's…let's get you some rest.” 

Toshinori nods and, without a word, trudges himself down the corridor. As he crashes on the unmade bed, you follow after him with a towel. 

That familiar bedroom is now dark and gloomy: with a storm like today's, howling outside the window, it’s like the whole house is drifting in the dreariness along with its owner.

“How did you know my name?” He asks, idly resisting your attempts to dry his hair.

“You were on the phone, that time you slept here. They called you by your name.” Hesitant, you decide to address the elephant in the room. “Do you… wanna talk?”

For a split second, Toshinori looks like one of your scared highschoolers rather than a 7 '2 hero. He turns his face away and keeps silent for the longest time. 

“Why were you here anyway? You moved out days ago.” he mutters eventually.

“I forgot -”

“Take your stuff and go. You shouldn't have been caught up in this.”

“If you were the one walking in on something like that, would you leave?”

Silence again.

“Let me at least call someone you feel comfortable with.”

“Yeah, so I can trouble everyone some more.” He hisses. “You're all busy with your lives, moving on so fast, so easily. I can’t let you slow down for someone…who’s reached the end of the line.”

It all finally clicks: the bed unmade and the way he wouldn't leave that night. That constant ‘being happy to help’. His face darkening when you told him you found a new place. 

He feels left behind. He's hiding away.

As he buries his face back in the mattress, you feel your heart sink. 

“He was asking for help. Just when he’s the one in need…it goes straight over everyone's head. Mine included.”

Clutching the wet towel in your hand, you throw it on the floor.

“I'll ask you once again,” you declare fiercely "Do you want someone else here with you?”

“Again, no.” 

“Fine. It’s gonna be me, then.”

Toshinori lifts his head, staring at you with a blue glare in his sunken eyes. “I know it's a pitiful sight in here, but I’ll be fine.” He stretches a smile.

“It’s not about pity: when I hit rock bottom you were the only one who stepped up. You must let me return what I received.”

The hero rolls over the sheets and takes a deep breath. 

“...Thank you.” you hear him whisper before he drifts into a deep slumber.

From that moment on, neverending days come and go, marked by the constant tapping of raindrops on the windows and the rumbling of distant thunders.

As in a weird sort of quarantine, you spend all your time sitting on the bedroom's floor, rewriting your lecture notes and taking care of Toshinori. Or, at least, trying to.

The hero is on sick leave and won't move from his bed, nor touch a crumb from any of the take away boxes that are gradually invading the house.

“What do you want for dinner?” You ask him casually, while playing on your phone. 

“I’m not hungry.”

“You say that every time. I hope you're not trying to starve yourself on my watch.”

The blonde head appears above you, leaning out from the bed. “That’s a bit much, don't you think?” His long hair dangles over your forehead. “Also, I heard you messing with the cutlery in the kitchen the other day. Please, it's not necessary.” He pauses for a second.

“I... I wouldn't have done it anyway.”

As Toshinori gets in a sudden talkative mood, you sit on the bed next to him.

“There's this kid, you see…I promised I’d taken care of him, no matter what, so I could never go like that. It's just that… there's nothing left in me to protect him or the other students. And even if I had any spark left, they won't be needing an old man around anyway.”

“It’s a cruel path, to be a teacher.” You sigh. “You know you did a good job when they no longer need you. Same goes for a hero, I imagine.”

“I was terrible at both, then.”

“You? The man who consumed himself, body and mind, to protect everyone?”

“Yes, since he couldn't finish what he started. Now that burden will be on the young while I stand by, useless and powerless.” He clenches his fists.

You’re reaching for his arm but your hand freezes mid air. “Wait. Is this about lacking health or…lacking a quirk?”

At the bottom of Toshinori's eyes you recognise your sworn enemy, the number one villain on the planet, as far as you're concerned.

“Are you telling me you’d rather die than living quirkless?!”

Springing to your feet, you take a step back from the bed.

The room starts to glitch into a whirlwind of scenes: a boy in a school uniform, falling off the roof. A playground, where a little kid is using fire powers against his scared buddies. 

“What's all this?” Toshinori asks.

“I’ve always wondered too.” you say, trying to keep your unchecked quirk at bay. “Looks like a monster to me, an uncanny hunger that consumes people when it comes to their quirks.”

Toshinori gets up, staring at the vivid image of  a much younger you. You're talking to a girl in a park, both bawling your eyes out.

“My best friend.” You explain. “She didn't pass the UA placement test and… she let herself go, sinking deeper and deeper, until she was but an empty shell.”

The image of Toshinori waving happily flashes across the walls, spinning along the rest of your memories. 

“I-I don't want you to sink.” you add, lowering your head.

The hero grabs you by the arms, a sudden fire in his eyes. “It's not a matter of quirk, it never was!” 

“Can you see the point, though?”

A thick darkness falls on the bedroom and a multitude of stars and galaxies unfolds, shining in bright colours all around the two of you.

“Even the biggest supernova is going to collapse one day. At that point it either evolves or it turns into a black hole.”

Toshinori lets you go, his hands sliding down your arms as the image of an ominous vortex appears underneath his feet.

“To some extent…it's true.” the hero's voice trembles. “I'm scared of living quirkless. Being there for others is all I am and now that I physically can't, I don't know what my place is. If I have one at all in this world.” 

He sighs deeply. “I see it, though: things have changed and I have to figure out what's next.”

“Whatever it’ll be, please...keep in mind you don't need to be powerful to be helpful. Or seen. Or loved.”

“Mh.”

Caught up in your passionate speech, it takes you some time to realise what's going on: the warmth of Toshinori's hands against yours; your fingers, reaching for his.

When his thumb brushes the back of your hand, the deep flutter in your stomach startles you and the starry visions go out.

You both withdraw your hands in silence, avoiding eye contact. 

“S-so, you don't want to eat at all?” you stutter confusedly.

The hero gets back to his bed, trying to hide the flush on his face. 

“I’ll take what you take. I trust your judgment.”

[byebyassociation]

Cahara the Skank (Character analysis)

Tw: The topics of 1500s prostitution, violent rape and suicide ideation

Text version under cut:

Cahara as a protagonist

“Cahara of the South… He originates from the Eastern Sanctuaries. A bastard child left on his own at a very young age. Somehow this poor soul found his way to these dungeons…”

Cahara grew up under unfortunate circumstances, as he was abandoned in Jettiah he had to learn nothing in life came easy or freely

He had three choices to be a pickpocket, burglar, Or lead an honest life

But this choice means little past starting skill/item. No matter what Cahara becomes a mercenary.

“As you grew older you took part in various mercenary armies and learned the dirtiest tricks to stay alive. You were taken in by a notorious veteran highwayman and you joined his little band of criminals and ex-soldiers.”

Instead his first real life choice is if he will stay beside his first real allies or ditch them for his life.

They do not join him in the dungeons if they live

“During one of your many raids, your brigade got ambushed. The odds were seriously against you. You could have just abandoned your comrades and kept you life, or you could have fought to your last breath...”

He didn’t have to take this mission, however his mental narration states as if he does: shoving down fear for the money.

“Something is clearly not right about this mission and you have felt nausea since the the moment you agreed on the job. But you are short on silver and the reward is all that matters in the end.”

Really, he shoved his own feelings down for Celeste

"Celeste, you're still doing this job with the little one on the way and all?!"

Cahara is not opposed to Celeste’s sex work, instead he is opposed to the men who want her due to her pregnancy

"If anything, I feel like there're more gentlemen folks asking for my services these days."

"This isn't right. I don't like it."

"Girl's gotta eat and now I got the little one to feed as well”

"I'm a man. I should take care of you two."

“I’m leaving tomorrow if— no when I get back things will change. You just wait and see!"

He doesn’t tell her what to do, only stating what he himself can do for her

Sadly, he either already had a sense this could be his end or didn’t even let himself think this would be the last time he spoke to or saw Celeste in the flesh

"Just promise you do come back."

He knocked her up in a brothel and contracted syphilis.

“You also get an itch in your groin area...”

Unfortunately a sign of the sorts of people who’d pay for her services without care for her body.

After at least speaking with Celeste he fully made up his mind. He wouldn’t come back without the cash.

“But didn’t he like it?”

Cahara as an NPC

"Oh hey."

"You got me out of here!"

Upon meeting Cahara in the prisons of the dungeons, he is quick to join your party after a short conversation

[You ask him] “What are you doing here?"

[He answers] "Wwell...”

“I do have a mission here, but let's save that story for another day, yeah?"

Regardless of your questioning, he speaks quite anxiously. Stuttering or going silent in an out of character sequence

[You ask him] "Why were you imprisoned here?"

[He answers] "I was caught by one of those malformed prison guards”

“Your conversation took an awkward turn for some reason...”

Prison guards are shown to be sexually violent to those they have access to. Both in their dialogue, their attacks and how defeat by them causes incurable hemorrhaging from sexual injuries.

Cahara does not show signs of this hemorrhaging, however D’arce doesn’t have a concussion either despite nearly having her skull caved in. Both lack status effects for the sake of balance.

When Cahara robs you he has a preference for stealing healing items

This may be his attempt to patch himself up as there is no canon cure for internal bleeding.

[D’arce’s prison dialogue says] "Le'garde... You were supposed to be here…”

When in the prisons most characters bring up your common mission. D’arce, Ragnvaldr and even Enki bring this point up

Cahara breaks this formula

[Cahara’s prison dialogue says] "Tell me... Did the guards ever capture you here?"

He wants to know if he was the only one. He wants to know if there was anything he could’ve done. He’s seeking solidarity. He’s seeking kinship

"Don't let the dungeon have it's way with you. Bye."

"Talk about traumatizing events... Sheesh…”

"This place is starting to get into my head...”

Does this sound like the words of someone unaffected by the dungeons? He is nonchalant but he is not well. In fact that last line is repeated 11 times. He has 18 unique dialogue lines in party talks, none of his dialogue or anyone else’s appears nearly as many times repeatedly.

He’s gone into shutdown, in the upper areas and especially the prisons and areas around it he just cannot hold up. Mentally he cannot juggle his need to keep moving forward and process what happened. 

This leaves his mind to go entirely unfiltered when he is in a space where he can think. Suicide ideation and turning to sex for comfort being his two major callings in this state. Sometimes even mashing together through his willingness to marry a marriage, a very literally dangerous form of sex.

"Hahaha, this is too good"

"Dying down here is most likely the easiest way to go!"

'I'm starting to feel like death would be the easiest option."

“Cahara seems really enthusiastic.”

"Just don't destroy my anus with those big muscles of yours, okay?"

"Ehh, well that's a freaky suggestion, but fine."

[dialovers-lover-xoxo]

💜💜💜 COMMISSIONS! 💜💜💜

Hello, my loves! So for quite a while people have been wondering about commissions and offering me money for my writings. Since many people seem to want commissions from me I figured I'll open them!

I wanted to be as fair as possible with prices, which is actually one of the reasons I took so long to start commissioning: I didn't know how to price it and I didn't want to be unfair with it.

After a whole lot of google searches and looking on Reddit, I've decided my general prices will be:

Under 500 words - $5

500-1000 words - $10

1000-1500 - $15

(And so on and so forth, for every 500 word difference, it will be 5 dollars)

Also if your commission ends up being like 502 words, don't worry, it will still only be 5 dollars. I won't demand 5 extra dollars for 2 words 😂

One-shot or smut requests won't be commissions as they are very low-effort for me and they use an x-reader. It wouldn't be right to ask for money if it's easy to write and won't take a lot of time and effort.

If I need to understand an OC in depth and write an OC into an already made world with already pre-existing characters, it will take much more time and effort.

Payments will be by PayPal but if for some reason PayPal doesn't work for someone, we can probably figure something else out!

There is no pressure to commission. And as I said, I can still take general requests with an x-reader. Commissions are only for requests that will require more time and effort on my part.

I WILL NOT WRITE:

- Rape

- Pedophilia

- Necrophilia

- Beastiality

- Incest

- Anything that I don't feel comfortable with or think is appropriate. I have the right to decide what I'm comfortable writing and what I'm not. For example, if your OC has a traumatic past, I can take that into account as it is simply a part of their character, but I will not write a diaboy actually raping any character.

I can write commissions that include sex or smut, but the person requesting that type of content must be 18 or over.

If you want a commission or have more questions about commissions, please contact me through dms!

Other fandoms I can write for include:

-------------------------------------------

- Riordanverse (PJO, HOO, TOA, Magnus Chase)

- My Little Pony

- Stardew Valley

- Undertale

- FNAF

- Life is Strange

- Any Supermassive Games game

- Harry Potter

I can and will also write things that aren't fandom related at all!

Examples of my writing:

The first 3 are x-readers, last is purely diaboys interacting. As said above, I can write a plethora of different fandoms or genres. These are just examples of my writing if you're interested but I can and will write pretty much anything! :)

Other info about my account, including master lists!

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Somewhere Out There Is Somebody (Part 1)

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, f!reader, Valentine's Day, Soulmate AU

Summary: On February 13, those over 16 receive an empty box in the mail every year. You place items in the box and they appear in your soulmate's box the following day. Until now, you haven't figured out who your soulmate is. But after an unexpected run-in with your least favorite aviator, you discover your other half may be closer than you think.

Word Count: 4030

TW: Soulmate AU, Fluff, Light Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Right in Front of You the Whole Time, Language

Note: Thank you to @wildbornsiren and @green-socks for helping me work out this concept. Your advice really gave me the confidence to pursue this idea! 💖 And also thank you for beta reading, Sam! 😘

I wanted to come up with an original concept for a Soulmate AU and I have not seen one done exactly like this so I figured I would give it a shot! I would love to know what people think of it as a concept as well as the execution in the fic! 🥰

Series Masterlist

Part 1, Part 2

You couldn’t believe it was already February 13th. You had been so preoccupied lately with the last few missions, increased training, and yearly inspections that it completely slipped your mind. Yet there was no denying the date when you checked your mailbox and found a red, heart-shaped box with a ribbon tied around it. 

“Oh, shit,” you cursed under your breath as you picked the Box up. It looked exactly the same as it did every year since it had first shown up in your mailbox when you were 16. Just as it looked the same as every other Box that magically appeared in everyone’s mailboxes on this day once they reached that age.

No one knew exactly how it happened or when it started. Some say a form of the Boxes had been around since the 1800s, while others claimed to have found mentions of something like them back in the 1500s, while some scholars tried to argue the proof of their existence as far back as the 1300s or even crude versions in Ancient Rome. But in modern times, a holiday was formed around the arrival of the Boxes, one centered on love and giving. They called it Valentine’s Day after one of the earlier mentions of the event in a poem. And every year at that time, the same thing happened all over the world.

On February 13, the Box would appear in your mailbox. When it did, you would place items into it, things that either showed off who you were or showed your love and admiration for the person about to receive what you picked out. Then, you would place the Box back into your mailbox by midnight. The next morning, the Box would still be there, but it would now be filled with different objects. Objects that your soulmate had placed in their Box the day before.

Over the years, you had received a wide variety of trinkets from your soulmate: various types of candy, love-themed stuffed animals, the occasional jewelry, a wooden rose, a well-worn baseball, a picture frame left empty just waiting for a photo to go inside it, a bottle of half-used cologne, a stack of recipes.

And every year, there was a famous love poem nestled at the bottom. You often wondered if he would write you original poetry if it was allowed, but the Boxes didn’t permit that sort of thing. Nothing handwritten or originally composed, no photographs, no business cards, no blatantly identifiable items of any kind. Anything you placed in your Box that was deemed too telling by whatever magic or energy made the Boxes work remained in your Box when you opened it the next day.

It had only happened to you once when you tried to send a pin with the Naval Academy’s logo on it the year you were accepted, but apparently, it was too much of a hint as to your identity to pass on to your soulmate. It seemed as if the Boxes wanted to help you find your soulmates, but didn’t want things to be too easy for you either.

Glancing at your watch, you cursed even louder as you realized that at this time of night, the only places in the area that might still be open were convenience stores or the Walgreens a few blocks away. However, this close to the deadline, stores like Walgreens that catered to the Boxes were usually packed with last-minute shoppers or picked clean by now. So, with a sigh, you jumped back into your truck and drove down to the convenience store at the end of the block. 

Unfortunately, there really wasn’t a wide selection to choose from. Just meaningless junk and useless items. Reluctantly, you settled on a California shot glass (broad locations were usually allowed and your soulmate had once sent the wrapper from a bottle of whiskey so you assumed he drank) and a car air freshener shaped like a heart in one of your favorite fragrances. It was pathetic, but at least it was something.

As you headed up to the sizeable check-out line, you stumbled to a stop as you recognized the man at the end of the line. You stared at the back of his head all day during briefings and meetings so even from behind, it was impossible to mistake him. For a moment, you considered waiting for him to finish checking out or even just leaving the store now without your purchase, but it was almost 11:30 pm and time was running out to get your items into your Box. So, taking a deep breath, you stepped into line.

Sensing someone approaching from behind, Hangman glanced over his shoulder and did a double take as he recognized you. He flinched slightly and his shoulders tensed, yet his usual cocky smile slowly spread across his face. “Well, well, well. Fancy seeing you here. I would have thought Miss Perfect would have had her gift planned out weeks ago. Cutting things a little close there, aren’t we?”

You felt the familiar heat rising in your chest that happened anytime you were around Hangman. Ever since the day the two of you had met at the Academy, you had gotten along like oil and water. Always trying to one-up the other or prove you were the best, your interactions usually ended with some sort of heated argument or screaming match. The universe seemed to enjoy your little feud because, by some bizarre twist of fate, the two of you had ended up in the same squadron after graduation. And you were both transferred together to the next one. Then to the same class at Top Gun. And yet another joint squadron change. It was practically unheard of, and yet, since the first day of either of your careers, you had been working together. But it never lessened the antagonistic tension between you. If anything, it only got worse as time went on.

When you were in the sky, the two of you could work together in perfect harmony and despite everything, you were the perfect wingmen for one another. Yet, the moment the two of you got face-to-face on the ground, that was when things became hostile. Just like now.

Trying your best to maintain your composure, you snapped, “We’ve been out of the country for the last two weeks. When was I supposed to get anything? Besides, you’re here too.” Looking down at his hands, you rolled your eyes as you spotted the fighter jet-shaped object he was holding. “A keychain? That’s the best you can do? Wow, Bagman. Some girl out there is so lucky to have you as her soulmate.”

Hangman’s jaw clenched tightly and you could tell he was trying his best not to start cursing you out in the middle of the checkout line. Instead, he just sneered, “Yeah, well, you’re one to talk. I’m sure your soulmate is going to love that tacky glass and a single air freshener.” 

You felt your cheeks growing warm as you stared daggers at him, but it wasn’t all due to anger. Though you would never admit it, you knew he was right. This was a pathetic excuse for a present for the person who was meant to be the love of your life. He always gave you such lovely, meaningful gifts and this was the best you could do? You wish there was some way to explain what happened. That this was all due to bad timing and an insanely busy schedule and that you had wanted to give him so much more. But without a way to send personal messages, this was all you could do. 

However, just because all of that was true, it didn’t mean you were going to let Hangman get away with pointing it out. Still glaring at him, you said, “As a matter of fact, I know this is exactly the sort of thing he will love. You don’t know anything about him or me outside of work, so why don’t you just shut the fuck up, and worry about your pathetic gift and how disappointed your soulmate is going to be in the morning.”

For a brief moment, the expression on Hangman’s face wasn’t one of anger or rage. It was one of pain. And you realized he probably felt as shitty about his gift as you did about yours. You knew there was more to Hangman than he ever revealed to the other aviators, and at this moment, you felt like for the first time you might have gotten a glimpse of this other side of him. But before you could say anything, he steeled his face once more and whirled around to face the counter without another word.

Even with his back to you, you could see he was still very upset. His broad shoulders were tensed as he stood slightly hunched over and drawn in on himself. Suddenly, you had the urge to wrap your arms around him from behind and press your face against his shoulder blades as you whispered soft apologies to make up for what you had said. But you quickly shook your head to snap yourself out of it. This was Hangman. The two of you fought more than cats and dogs. This was just how it was between you. And yet, as he finished paying and glanced quickly back at you one final time, you couldn’t help but wish you had apologized after all.

That night, you tossed and turned in bed, haunted by what had happened with your run-in with Hangman and how you should have handled it differently. However, all of it was forgotten the moment you woke up and remembered what day it was. Springing out of bed, you threw on some clothes and rushed out the front door.

As much as you wanted nothing more than to run downstairs and return with your Box as quickly as you could, it just wasn’t possible. The entire building had the same thought. As soon as you stepped out of your apartment, you were met with a crowd of people all struggling to make it to the stairwell. The landlord had hired someone for each floor to attempt to control the traffic, but as usual, it was a useless endeavor. There was nothing to do but wait your turn as the horde of people slowly made their way down the stairs and to the row of mailboxes by the front door. 

When you finally made it to your mailbox and retrieved the package from inside, you hurried back upstairs with the Box clutched tightly to your chest. Some people couldn’t stand the anticipation and had ripped open their Boxes in the lobby, but you preferred to open yours in the privacy of your apartment. Luckily, getting back up was a lot quicker than getting down. The crowds had thinned as most people made it down to their mailboxes and you were able to make it back in only a few minutes.

Once inside, you leaned heavily on your door, trying to calm your excitement. You waited all year for this moment, to get just the tiniest glimpse into the person who was supposedly your other half. Yet no matter how happy you were, you couldn’t help but dread the feeling of disappointment he must be having seeing what you placed inside your box this year. You just hoped you could make it up to him next year, potentially even in person. But maybe that was too much wishful thinking. 

Taking a deep breath, you opened the lid. The second you saw what was inside, you dropped the Box as if it had burned you, spilling the contents across the floor. Gasping, you slid down the door to the ground, your hands pressed tightly over your mouth. You couldn’t believe your eyes. There had to be some kind of mistake. Somehow the Boxes got mixed up and yours was sent to the wrong person while you received this one instead. Because this could not be your Box. 

Yet, there was no denying the truth. A piece of paper stuck out of the Box. Glancing quickly at it, you saw that it was your yearly love poem, though this one had a theme of forgiveness and doing better in the future as well as love. As in, asking forgiveness for such a crappy gift this year. Because there, peeking out from underneath the table where it had landed, was the only other item from the Box: a familiar-looking keychain shaped like a fighter jet. 

A million different explanations ran through your head as you tried to think of some rational explanation that didn’t end with your soulmate being your wingman. They probably sold these same keychains in thousands of stores across the country and maybe he finally figured out your clues and realized you were a fighter pilot. Maybe he got his pilot’s license this year and this was his way of sharing the news. Maybe he might have gone to an airshow and wished you were there with him. Or…. maybe the keychain you now held in your hand was the same one you had seen last night in the convenience store.

You had to find out for sure. There was no way you could go about your day until you had verified this was all just some big cosmic misunderstanding. So, you grabbed the keychain, your bag, your keys, and your jacket before hurrying towards the door. 

Your jacket was only half on as you threw open the door and were almost hit in the face with a fist that was in the process of knocking. Dodging back, you saw Hangman standing in the hallway, his chest heaving as if he had just run the whole way here. Glancing down, you saw that in the hand he didn’t have raised, he was holding your shot glass and air freshener. So, it was true….

At the same moment, he noticed the keychain in your hand. His eyes grew wide as he whispered, “No fucking way…”

“How?” You stumbled backward, and for a moment, you thought you might collapse. But a large hand shot out and grabbed your elbow, steadying you. Hangman had touched you many times before, yet there was something different about this time. It felt safe and comforting and it sent a small shiver across your skin. 

You wondered if Hangman felt it too because his grip tightened and he pulled you a little closer to him. His eyes searched your face as he asked, “Are you okay?”

No, I’m not okay! What about this situation makes you think I’d be okay? You wanted to scream at him, but you know it wouldn’t do any good. So, you just pull your arm out of his grasp and take a few steps back. “Yeah, I’m fine. I-I just need a minute.” 

You hurried off into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water off the counter. Draining it in just a few gulps, you wipe the back of your hand across your mouth as you try to figure out what to do next. Your mind was running a mile a minute and all you wanted to do was to lay down in your bed, burrow under the covers, and forget this morning ever happened. However, this was not something you could just ignore for now and figure out later. Hangman was still in your living room just waiting for you to return. You knew you had to face him sooner or later, so it might as well be sooner.

As you walked back into the living room, you saw Hangman standing by your bookcase. When you got closer, he held up the picture frame you had received in your Box a few years ago. With a wistful smile on his lips, he said, “You still have this. And you kept it empty…”

With your arms crossed tightly across your chest, you gave a half-hearted shrug. “I never had the right photo with the right person to put in it.” As you reached out to take it from him, your mind flashed to the hundreds of photos with you and Hangman people had taken over the years. “Or I guess I did and just didn’t realize it.”

Jake ran his thumb across the back of your hand. “Sweetheart, I–”

The pet name was the final straw as you felt something snap within you. “No, no, I’m sorry.” You pulled away from his touch and placed the picture frame back on the bookshelf. “I’m sorry, but it can’t be you. It– It just can’t be.” 

Hangman turned away but not before you saw the pain flash in his eyes. “Sorry to disappoint you. I guess you thought you’d be paired with someone better. Someone you could at least stand to be in the same room with.” He started heading towards the door, but you jumped in front of him to stop him from leaving. 

“No, it’s not that at all. Hangm– Jake.” His head was still hung low so you took his face between your hands and turned it so he was staring at you. Taking a shuttering breath, you explained, “It can’t be you because I don’t think I can handle the fact that we’ve known each other for almost 10 years and didn’t know. That my soulmate was right in front of me this whole time and I never…. That I wasted so much time arguing and fighting with him that I never allowed myself to see him for what he truly was.”

But it didn’t matter how much you wanted things to be different. There was no denying the truth at this point. In hindsight, it all made perfect sense. That heat in your chest you felt every time Hangman walked into the room wasn’t hate at all. It was love. Love you thought you could never have so you used it to fuel your anger towards him. You had turned the magnetic pull between you into something ugly and bitter all because you were hurt he could never be yours. And because of that, you almost ruined everything. 

Jake must have seen the tears forming in your eyes and the way your lip trembled as you tried to hold it together because his pained expression softened into one of understanding. “Oh, sweetheart.”

He softly took your arm and drew you into his chest. The gesture was so tender and soft that you couldn’t fight it anymore. Tears began to pour down your cheeks as you buried your face into his shoulder. Jake’s hand gently caressed your back, rubbing small, soothing circles across it while you sobbed. And it felt so right. The hot feeling you got in your chest whenever Hangman was around spread throughout you and when he lightly pressed his lips to the top of your head, you thought you might explode.

As your tears began to dry up and your sobs faded, you still remained wrapped in his embrace. In fact, you never wanted to leave it. But there were still some things you needed to figure out.

So, you lifted your head slightly, and whispered, “The worst part is, I know it’s you. I’ve known since the minute I first saw you back at the Academy. Sitting in class with that stupid toothpick in your mouth and the big ol’ grin on your face. You were the most handsome man I’d ever seen, and I instantly fell for you. For a moment, I even let myself imagine you might be my soulmate.” You tilted your head up to look him squarely in the face. “But when I asked you about one of the poems my soulmate had sent me, you said you’d never heard of it.”

Hangman smiled softly with a sorrowful gleam in his eyes. “I remember that day perfectly. You walked up to introduce yourself and when I saw you, I couldn’t breathe. You were the most beautiful person I had ever seen and your voice… When you mentioned the poem, I had a momentary flash of hope that it could be you. But it was a really popular poem and one I had sent a few years before, so I just figured it was wishful thinking. And I couldn’t admit it right then anyway. Because with her – with you – I was Jake. As open and real and vulnerable as I’ve ever been with another person. But when you asked me in class, in front of the rest of the cadets, you were talking to Hangman, and he would never be caught dead reading poetry. So, I lied. And it seems that I doomed us both.” 

You shook your head frantically. “No, Jake. This isn’t just on you. I lied too. I was so upset that you weren’t my soulmate that when you started asking me about what sort of music I listened to and you mentioned a bunch of artists, including the band whose CD I had sent you, I said I didn’t know any of them because I couldn’t handle talking to you right then. I just wanted the conversation to be over. But if I had just told the truth, you probably would have realized who I was. So, this is just as much on me as it is on you.”

“Thank you.” He placed another kiss in the middle of your forehead and a wave of warmth flowed through you all the way down to your toes. Then he chuckled, “I guess the universe knew we were idiots and needed as much help as we could get. Maybe that’s why we’re still stuck together through every mission and every transfer. Not even the United States Navy is a match for soulmates.”

“I guess not,” you giggled. Then, turning more serious again, you said, “I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. I am lucky to have you as a soulmate. And I’m not disappointed in the slightest.”

“I’m sorry too. I do in fact love my glass and air freshener.”

You rolled your eyes. “You called that glass tacky yesterday…. And you’re not wrong. You don’t have to pretend to like it. I know it’s crap.”

Jake grabbed your shoulders and held you away from him so you could see his face. “I’m not pretending! I really do like it!”

“Why?”

“Because you gave it to me.”

You groaned as a huge smile lit up your face and you playfully slapped his chest. “Oh, God. We’re going to be one of those super mushy, romantic couples that drives everyone crazy with how in love we are, aren’t we?”

“I’m counting on it.” There was absolutely no humor or playfulness in his tone. Just complete sincerity. And as you gazed into his pale green eyes, it felt as if you were staring directly into his soul. It felt as if you were staring directly into your own heart. 

Jake’s fingers brushed against your cheek before gently tilting your chin back. Your eyes fluttered shut even before his lips pressed against yours. Before this moment, you thought you knew what a kiss felt like, what love felt like. And yet, nothing you had ever experienced felt anything close to kissing Jake. It was like sticking your finger into an electrical socket but instead of pain, your body vibrated with a euphoric buzz of pleasure. 

And as he drew you in closer against his chest, it felt as if your hearts began to sync and beat in time until the two thumps melded into one. There was not a single sliver of doubt left in you. Jake Seresin was your soulmate and you couldn’t be happier about it.

When the two of you finally pulled apart, you continued to gaze into each other's eyes. You reached up and ran your finger across his kiss-swollen lips as you asked, “Well, what now, Jake?”

Jake took your hand and pressed his lips firmly against the back of it before he whispered, “Now, sweetheart, I think we start making up for lost time.”

Taglist: @valoraxxx-blog, @m3laniehearts, @autumnleaves1991-blog,  @rule107, @vintageleather, @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak, @slutforadambanks, @americaarse, @reneki, @ynbutbetter , @sugarcoated-lame, @imagineadream, @sadpetalsstuff, @salty-thembo, @rachelizabethgraham, @duckandrobin, @queenbbarnes, @grincheveryday, @uselesslyromantic, @choochoo284, @littlebadariell, @blue-aconite, @thescarletknight2014, @dempy, @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @shirley2996, @kkrenae, @zebralover, @startrekfangirl2233

[seducemefanficsandheadcanons]

Hiii! Can you write some "Matthew pulling his partner into the closet at a fancy party" smut please! (Who he's with is up to you!)

IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG SMUT IS SO HARD TO WRITE ESPECIALLY FOR MATTHEW

I HOPE I DID IT ALRIGHT I WILL WRITE MORE FOR HIM EVENTUALLY I PROMISE

Taking the party elsewhere (Mika x Matthew, smut)

TW for explicit smut, oral s3x, cum swallowing

Minors DNI

Mika is 21 here. I aged her up.

Word count- around 1500 words

Also posted on Ao3 and Wattpad

Even though Mika is an adult now, she's still the granddaughter of Harold Anderson, and of course, the daughter of David Anderson. So, her obligation to the company hadn't gone away just because she moved out and began her adult life. James was in the process of taking over the company, but until that could happen, she would have to be in charge of throwing any events her father demanded of her.

Thankfully, she didn't have to do it alone. The five incubi were truly a blessing, each of them contributing and helping with the events Mika was forced to hold with little complaint- other than Sam, who'd complain on occasion. But he knew the amount of stress these events put her under, so he always shut his mouth and did his parts, cleaning and preparing the mansion alongside the brothers.

To say Mika was grateful for the boys would be an understatement. They really had all been incredible, helping her with anything. She still had responsibilities, but they made those responsibilities seem less suffocating.

Especially Matthew.

Matthew was the fourth of the brothers. His bright personality- and his bright blue eyes to go with it- had immediately drawn Mika in when they met. 

To put it simply, the two fell in love and had stayed by each other's sides ever since. They were always there for each other, showing endless love and support.

The party had begun about an hour ago. The grand lobby was filled with older businessmen and women, chatter filling the air along with the occasional clink of glass. The lighting was warm, just bright enough to keep the mood comfortable.

Mika had begun feeling a bit restless. The room felt stuffy, and she felt her cheeks begin to hurt from the constantly plastering a fake smile on her face. She began plotting an escape, maybe she could sneak outside? David might look for her though... 

"You alright?" Matthew asked as he approached her, noticing the tight expression on her face. He was wearing his black and blue tuxedo, a drink tray in his hands.

Mika let out an exhale when she saw him. Seeing him was enough to make her feel a little better, but not much. "Yeah, I'm okay," she replied as she took one of the glasses off of his tray and began drinking it. "What time is it?"

He glanced over at the clock nearby on the wall. "It's about seven thirty," he replied, earning a sigh from her.

"It feels like time is moving so slowly..." she finished her drink- perhaps a bit quicker than actually necessary. But she was desperately hoping the buzz of the alcohol would dim down her anxiety.

Even from across the room, Matthew had been able to see how tense her shoulders were, seeming to raise slightly each time a stranger bumped into her. Her words had just confirmed what he already knew. "Hm...wanna get outta here?"

Mika sighed and nodded. "I do want to, but I can't."

"Sure ya can, look," he gestured over across the room, where David was thoroughly distracted by James. The eldest incubus had been working to win the approval and respect of her father, but for good reason, it hadn't taken much time. 

"See? He won't even realize you’re gone," Matthew said happily. He truly wanted to give her a break, she seemed so stressed, at least to him he could see the difference in her body language. 

Mika pursed her lips for a moment, conflicted with herself before her face broke into a smile. "Okay, okay. Let's go outside," she said.

Soon, the two began quickly maneuvering their way through the crowd, heading towards the back door. 

But the crowd had gotten really crowded when more food started getting served in that part of the house. The hungry guests unintentionally shoved them around, causing them both to slam against the wall with an "oof."

As a final resort to avoid using his magic and also prevent them from getting trampled, Matthew opened a nearby door and pulled Mika in with him. The two leaned their backs against the wall of the supply closet as they realized what happened, matching giggles beginning to escape their lips.

"Are you okay, Mika?" Matthew asked as he turned on the light switch, illuminating the small room. It was mostly filled with random, miscellaneous objects that didn't have any better place around the mansion.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Mika replied, combing her hands through her long, raven colored hair, which had gotten slightly ruffled from pushing through the large crowd. "Are you?"

"I'm good too," he replied. "So much for going outside..."

"Yeah...now we're stuck in here. I can't walk out of the closet while my dad's here..." Yeah, because walking out of the closet, hair tousled, face slightly red, and alongside who her father thought was her 'servant' was an incredible idea. She blushed even more at the implications of what he'd surely assume.

"Are you sure that you're okay?" Matthew asked, though now there was a bit of a teasing undertone in his voice. "You're a little red, Meeks."

"Yep!" Mika forced that stupid blush away. "Just trying to figure out what to do now that we're stuck here."

"Hmm...well, we could play a game!" Matthew suggested, picking up a pack of uno cards.

"We could..." Mika agreed, but a sick thrill ran through her. The room is small; their bodies are already practically smushed together... "But I have another idea..."

Matthew felt a rise in her energy, a slight blush forming on his own face. "What is it?"

She grinned at him, that same smile that always made his heart trip. "Well...we're not going to have to leave here for a bit..." 

She stepped closer to him, her hands taking his. "Why don't we do something more fun?" 

He blinked in surprise, before a smirk appeared on his lips. His hands found her hips and pulled her a bit closer. "You sure about that? What if someone hears us?"

Mika grinned, a bit deviously. “Then we’ll just have to stay quiet.

“Good luck with that,” he said as he chuckled and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers, capturing hers in a heated kiss.

Mika wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as she returned the kiss with a matching passion and need. Her hands combed through the hair on the back of his head, causing a shiver to run down her spine.

Her hands then trailed down to his lower stomach, her palm lightly rubbing him over his pants, teasing him. His breathing sped up a little as she trailed her kisses down his neck, her teeth just lightly grazing his skin.

When her kisses met the edge of his shirt, she slowly dropped down to her knees, looking up at him with those big green eyes that stole his breath away. “Is this okay?” she asked, fiddling with the button of his pants to explain the question.

Matthew swallowed thickly and tangled his hand in her hair. “Y-yeah, go ahead,” he replied, blushing darkly.

Mika grinned before unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down to his ankles slowly. She then brought her hand back up and rubbed him through his boxers, causing another shiver from the flustered incubus. She pressed a kiss over his boxers, and she couldn’t help but let a quiet giggle escape her lips when his hips slightly bucked closer to her face.

She pulled down his boxers and immediately his length sprang out, a strangled sound coming from Matthew. She tentatively wrapped her hand around his length and began slowly peppering kisses from base to tip, taking her time and teasing him mercilessly.

She pressed her tongue flat against the base of his cock, licking a strip until she reached the head. She wrapped her lips around him, her tongue swirling around him. His grip in her hair tightened, breathy gasps of her name escaping his lips.

She slowly began to take more of his length in her mouth, but when she realized she wouldn’t be able to fit completely, she used her hand to stroke the rest. 

“Mika-” he groaned, his knees shaking as she began taking him at a quicker pace. “Shit- feels so good…”

Mika hummed in response, causing vibrations to run down his shaft. She could feel him twitch at the feeling, bobbing her head back and forth as she let him thrust into her mouth. She could feel wetness form in her own panties, seeing the almost blissed look on his face, hearing the sound of his groans of pleasure, it only turned her on more.

She could tell he was getting close to his peak when he began slightly thrusting forward. “Please- I’m gonna-”

She didn’t dare stop, and it wasn’t long before he spilt into her mouth with a strangled moan.

Mika didn't hesitate to swallow it all up, looking up at him with slightly glossy eyes as she did. 

She broke into a grin as she stood up, licking her lips. She looked almost smug, and Matthew couldn’t help but chuckle. “Th-thanks?”

“No problem!” she snickered.

Matthew smiled, catching his bearings before pulling her close and whispering in her ear. “It’s only fair I pay you back…”

[acwolyf]

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[proteincreature]

TW/CW: Cals, ED, AFRID, undereating, raw meat

Getting the motivation to eat is just next to impossible I swear. I don't have the spoons/energy to think about something tolerable to eat, actually prepare it and eat it. My main same food is turkey and I just want to eat it raw but I know that's a bad idea.

It's 10:30 pm, and I'm currently at 885 cal, will be at 1134 when I have ritual ice cream. I try to eat a Min of 1500 a day but since I walked today I should really aim for 1700 but I doubt that's happening today. I'm willing to eat 300+ cal in raw turkey but at that point it's probably worse than not eating.

[realcatalina]

St. Barbara by Lucas Cranach the Elder

Lucas Cranach the Elder is not among painters we associate with Netherlandish art. However, he made the trip in 1509, and painted Emperor Maxmilian and future Charles V during the occasion.

While we have no prove he painted also netherlandish royal ladies, it is clear they inspired the St. Barbara(above) which he painted around same time. C.1509-it is excellent example of netherlandish fashion from that time...and very suitable as costume inspiration. Except the halo of course. :-)

It's quite rare we can tie painting to specific year, but that makes it even more valuable in terms of creating chronology of fashion for specific country. And I am very gleeful that this fits to my chronology- late 1500s/very early 1510s.

The saint Barbara in this golden outfit is left wing of portable artalpierce(triptych) belonging to Landgrave Wilhel of Hesse an Anna of Mecklenburg.

Which is also called-Jesus flanked with Saints Barbara,left and Catherine,right,1509 Lucas Cranach:

If you want to see the painting in more detail, here is the link:

PS: I forgot to say that this stripy embroidery is reminisense of spanish embroidery(examples more bellow)

(Update-i have no idea why this image shows so large. The picture i put in is no larger than my thumb. It's probably some glitch. Sorry.)

and thus probably brought into Netherlands by Joanna I of Castile or Margaret of Austria's time in Spain as Princess of Austurias(both happening in late 1490s). I don't recall another example of this, in netherlandish fashion, so far.

But I'd expect that at court it could have lingered for bit, especially among royals women. Margaret and Joanna's daughters.

[satcskinny]

🍸🫒💫D4 - 80.1kgs (-0.4kg)💫🫒🍸

I ate a whole tub of halo top yesterday. I'm eating a lot of low-calorie foods, and at the end of the day I felt like a pig but I'm still eating a lot less than I was. I ate 1500 calories. I wonder when I'll plateau. No use thinking about that. Im nearly back under 80. I never want to see 80 on the scale again. Thats why this has to work!

I'm feeling the excitement before I go to bed, knowing I'll wake up skinnier than the day before. Tomorrow Ill aim for 79.8kgs or below. This means I'll have to stop eating around 6pm to let my body fast.

I love that I'm following a similar journey as some of you, I see your posts and the weight loss and it makes me believe that i can do it tOo. I dont want to be left behind.

#a4a diet#@tw edd#3d not sheeran#not ana just using tags#b0dy ch3ck#anor3c1a#i need to lose so much weight#st⭐️rving#tw ana bløg#tw 3d vent#weight loss#tw restriction#@na motivation#i just want to be thin#st⭐️rve#tw ed ana#tw 3d shit#tw ana rant#tw skipping meals#4norexla#4n@diary#4n0r3x!4#4nablr#⭐️ ing motivation#stuffing jelly#stuffingjellyintomypockets#stuffingjellyinmypockets#honey-diet#honey diet

[dietcokeandoats]

tw substance, 3d rant

went to a party and then the street fest again today. i didnt eat before i went bc i woke up super late (thanks sp33d for keeping me awake too late ln) and then at the party/fest i had 2 seltzers (100 ea.), a beer (140), a tiny amount of paloma (like 75 max it was really small) and 1 serving chips + mango salsa (like 200 max). we started drinking at 3:30 lol so its been spaced out. i had another beer at home like an hour ago (140) happy i didnt get something high cal at the fest again

but now im at 755 max and im lowkey hungry and my bf will notice if i dont get eat. but we started doing c0k3 and so i feel like food will just make me feel nasty and also my bf wont want anything either. nothing i could order (or have energy to cook) will be under like 500 cal

ive been losing pretty consistently on 1200-1500 bc of my current bmi so i could but idk. tempting to just go without.