#Trouser Tape Pant

[monster-disaster]

[minotaur] Boss

minotaur!Boss x human!Reader Good to know: blowjob

Summary: You have a job interview with Boss.

A/N: Let's go back to the pub we visited here and here.

The silence following the minotaur's words is deafening. His deep voice echoes in your suddenly empty head. Even the world feels frozen and motionless just like you. Your eyes are wide open, your lips dry, and your spine is straight and rigid against the back of the chair. Your shocked voice breaks the silence when you find the power to force it out of your chest. "Now?" Your gaze follows the small tug of his thin lips. The thick golden piercing in his nose shines under the dim light of his office. "Do you have anything else to do?" He asks. His question is almost mocking. A silent laugh shakes his broad shoulders. The black shirt he wears stretches on his upper body. The thin fabric does nothing to hide his stomach and the hard plates of his chest. "No." You have to clear your throat. "No." "I'm waiting then," he says, pushing himself away from the wooden desk separating you two. You can still feel the amusement in his words. He is waiting for you to run for the hills, you are sure of it. A small, determined frown pulls on your brows as you scowl at the air in front of you. Your chest heaves with a deep breath before you stand up and put your bag on your previous seat.

If he wants you to prove yourself, who are you to say no?

His gaze is heavy and burning as you approach him and stand between his spread legs. His jeans stretch around his trunk-like thighs. The bulge between them looks uncomfortable. "I'm waiting," he hums, pushing his hips forward to the edge of his chair. You force your eyes up to his face. "Then wait a bit more." The male smirks at your grunt. So you can be feisty, he thinks with a hint of satisfaction. His half-hard cock jerks at the new discovery.

Without another word, you drop down on the ground. The wooden floor is hard and uncomfortable under your knees. Your hands are a bit shaky as you place them on his legs, slowly moving them up on his thighs. You can feel the movement of his muscles under your palms.

You can do it, you tell yourself. You knew about the pub even before you came in a few days ago because of the advertisement taped on the door. You knew your job would be more than serving drinks and handling drunk idiots.

You caress his thighs, letting your nails dig into the rough fabric of his jeans and enjoying the thick flesh under your touch. His legs spread open even more, and you have to hide your smirk. He is not as unresponsive to your presence as he wants to show it. Your hand lands on the obvious tent in front of you, but you take your time. You palm his cock through his trousers, trying to feel his shaft and find out what waits for you under the fly of his pants. "Girl," he grunts. Impatience twitches his muscles as he watches you. You can't help but smirk at the slight warning in his gruff tone. "What?" You ask back teasingly, looking up at him as you lean closer and lick over the obvious tent. The armrest creaks under his hold. Of course, he can feel nothing because of his jeans, but even the sight of you licking him through his pants is enough to make his cock jerk with anticipation.

A relieved sigh leaves his chest when you have mercy on him and open his trousers. The tip of his cock almost hits you on the nose when it pops out. The male can't help but smirk at the shock on your face.

"If it's too much for you, I understand, little girl," Boss says, not even hiding the mocking in his words. He does this on purpose, and when you scoff, he laughs. That's what he wanted to hear.

Your fingers are not even long enough to grab the base of his shaft fully. Your thumb moves up and down on a thick vein for a few seconds as you try to get used to the sight of his cock. He is thick and heavy in your hand, and there is a piercing at the top similar to the one he has in his nose. The gold glints under the lights.

"Did it hurt?" You ask him, still staring at the jewelry. "Worth it," he grunts, watching your hand moving up and down on his shaft while you scoot closer between his thighs. Your warm breath fans over the tip of his cock. It glistens with his pre-cum. The male smirks with satisfaction at your expression as you still stare at his erection. You are surprised and amazed. You've never seen a minotaur so close before. The base of his cock is thicker than your wrist, and the head is bulbous with the piercing hanging underneath it. The golden jewelry is soaked in his juices. "Come on, girl," Boss breaks the silence after a while, pushing his hips up a bit to pull you out of your cock-trance. "You will see it enough times if you get the job."

Both of your hands are around his length, stroking him up and down as you lean closer and let the tip of your tongue meet his cock. You can't even call it a proper lick, but it's enough to make the broad male grunt in front of you. "Girl," he warns you again, gripping the armrest of his chair. The wood creaks in his hold. "Hm?" You hum teasingly but don't bother with words as you twist your hands around his cock. Your fingers graze up and down on his velvety skin, smearing his pre-cum all over his length. Flicking the piercing with your tongue, you watch him exhale through his nose. It's dark brown, matching the soft fur covering his whole body. The hair at the top of his head is slightly darker. His horns point at the ceiling with a slight curve.

"Show me how much you want this job." His salty taste spreads over your tongue as you lick over the bulbous head of his cock, teasing the small hole. With a hiss, Boss lets his head fall back on the headrest. Your mouth is tight and wet on his cock, as you try to not choke yourself with his erection. One of his hands lands on the back of your head. His palm is warm and huge in your hair. "Fuck," the minotaur growls when he feels your tongue licking along a vein on the underside of his cock. His hips move on their own accord. He bucks into your mouth, making you gag and spit on his length. Your lips are shiny with your saliva, and his cock is soaked in your drool and his pre-cum. Tears run down from the corner of your eyes as he keeps you on his cock, making you swallow him some more. Your nails dig into the hard meat of his thighs. There is no way you can take him into your mouth fully, the tip of his cock is already kissing the back of your throat while your hand pumps him at the base. "Now," he groans with a smirk on his lips. "That's a pretty sight, no?" Your lips are stretched around his cock as you drool around him, and your eyes are teary and half-closed. You suckle on his cock, flicking the piercing every now and again as you gulp down around him. His cock pulses in your warm channel and his heavy balls twitch every now and again, ready to cum and flood you with his seed. "I knew you would look good with a mouth full of my cock."

Boss almost laughs at the sight of you. Not even twenty minutes ago, you were almost shocked at his request to suck him off, and now you kneel between his thick legs, cock-drunk. Saliva drips down in his shaft and your chin, making a mess all over. Your tongue swipes along the edge of the tip of his cock, and he growls every time you reach his golden piercing.

For a second, he plays with the thought of throwing you onto his desk and fucking your wet cunt until you fall apart on him, but he has no time for it. You on your knees, gulping down on his cock have to be enough for now.

"I'm gonna cum, girl," he warns you, not letting your head out of his grasp as he keeps you on his cock. He can almost see the bulge at your throat as you take him deeper.

Fuck.

"Swallow it down, and you have the job," he says between clenched teeth. "Show me how much you want this."

Your eyes are wide and slightly red as you look up at him while he shoots his seed into your mouth. Your jaw aches, and your throat is already sore as you gulp, trying to keep his warm cum in your mouth, but a few drops still spill down from the corners of your mouth. His shaft pulses in your hand, and you are almost sure he gets bigger in your mouth with each spurt. By the time his cock softens, you are soaked in your own drool and his cum.

Boss cups your chin, tilting your head up to have a better look at you while his lips tug into a smirk full of promises. "We have to practice some more until you can swallow down everything I give you, no?"

- Masterlist Grimbrook Masterlist Patreon

[gildedkrone]

KINKTOBER 2023 🔞

Price, who is an excellent soft dom in the bedroom. Driven by pride and ego, he always sought to fulfil your pleasure before his own during your trysts. He’s always checking on you and making sure your emotional and physical needs are met through praises and mouthy lips on yours.

Price, who returns home from his job with a weary heart and tired body. The mission went south and kept him from his beloved sweetheart for an additional five days. He agrees in an instant and a few minutes later, his shirt is unbuttoned and his trousers are pulled down to his thighs.

“Luv, please … have mercy ���” Price groans when his tip is pressed against your ass for the third time. It’s long, stiff, and stands proudly, and he would’ve gripped your hips if it weren’t for the cuffs on his wrists keeping his grubby hands off your body.

“Patience, captain.” You smirk when he lets loose another curse before his temper cascades into a deep growl when he’s finally had enough of your teasing. It’s been weeks and he had looked forward to burying himself balls deep in his lover for days to satiate his urges and needs. Only to be tied down to the bed with your clumsy rear taunting him.

It’s the furthest his dick has gone into you and you purr, “C’mon, you can beg for more.”

The yelp from your lips accompanies a ripping sound and hands clasp around your neck to flip your over with the captain settling on your pelvis. He’s fuming, oh he is, and by all means he is unimpressed as you backpedal with an uneasy laugh, “Hey, cap, no need to be so angry yeah? I’m just teasing you.”

The broken pieces of velcro tape laid by your forearms and your hips are jerking and twitching when his dick fills your greedy hole so quickly and you are instantly regretting your decisions. Price would absolutely breed you until you are a shivering mess, all loose and strengthless with his seed spilling out around your white rim and onto the bed. Your torso, painted white from your own release and sticky and if Price is feeling really bold, licks a line between from your navel to your chest through the mess.

Make no mistake; Price may not be the youngest man you’ve been with but he’s got that stamina to just keep going and by the third round, he is only partially satiated while you are out of the count. He doesn’t stop of course, and you are bred over and over again until your ass hurts and your dick shoots blanks.

He makes good on his threat, and when he’s done, he rests his wet cock on your chest and runs the bath to get you cleaned up before he is snuggling you under the covers.

König is also a soft dom but, occasionally, he does have a mean streak which manifests itself in dirty talk and aggressiveness. The man works very hard in his career, how else would he be a colonel at 34, and needs an outlet for his stress occasionally and what better candidate than his boyfriend—you?

König knows he is much larger than your previous partners and is always cautious of being rough in bed with you. He doesn’t want to hurt you, even if you are built Ford tough. But you know to bring out the colonel in him, all you need is to tease him relentlessly and act like a spoilt brat before he is putting a stop to it.

“Schatz, bitte! B-bitte!” He pulls on the restrains as you slide off his dick again. König’s so damn hard from just the initial few touches and his muffled groans are much louder when his dick lodges itself between your cheeks. He’s desperate for you to just move.

“Kö, c’mon, where’s that self-restraint? Aren’t you a soldier or something?” Long auburn hair is messily splayed on the pillow and he wiggles his hips to get some friction on his neglected length even when you tut gently to keep his hips in place.

He pants, “N-no more … Let me feel you, bärchen. I’ll make you feel good, I promise ah!”

“Kö, what kind of colonel begs so easily? Should I tell your coworkers?” His eyes flash with indignation and the straps on the bedframe is pulled taut and then, snaps as König grabs your hair and pulls you off his hips. You barely register the pillow against your face before he pulls your hips up and his fat dick pushes past a tight rim into heat with a sigh from the colonel and it stings when he slaps your ass and gives you a good stroke.

“You are really asking for it, schatz. Do you need to be punished?” And by god, you are absolutely going to be screaming into the pillows as he uses your body like his cock sleeve. He will joke about his handprints on your hips later and you whine as the punishing pace begins and his cruel laughter fuels the drool falling from your lips.

Do not edit, reupload or translate my works without prior consent || masterlist || kinktober masterlist || requested by @hcnteur 💞

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: How To Master An "Effortlessly Elegant" & Put-Together Look

Table of Contents:

Treat your skin like royalty

Take ample care of your natural hair

Dress in crisp neutral outfits that cater to your body shape

Choose your accessories wisely

Embrace feature-enhancing makeup

Keep your nails clean, filed, and simple

Regarding your signature scent(s)

Follow your dental & bodily hygiene routines religiously

Treat your skin like royalty:

Use high-quality skincare twice a day

Wear sunscreen every day

Remove your makeup every night before bed no matter what

Use makeup that doesn't clog your pores/irritate your skin

Change your pillowcases weekly

Eat plenty of produce & drink lots of water

Prioritize sleep

Limit or eliminate alcohol, cigarettes, caffeine, and processed foods/sugary drinks

Keep your skin exfoliated/derma-planed

Take ample care of your natural hair:

Use high-quality shampoo/conditioner combos that suit your hair type & don't cause build-up

Hydrate with a scalp mask 1-4 times a month

Use cold or lukewarm water to wash your hair

Apply shampoo to the roots/hair covering your scalp and conditioner only on the "ponytail" section of your hair

Use a specialty hair towel after getting out of the shower

Always comb wet hair and brush 1-3 times a day when dry

Limit heat on your hair when possible & always use a heat protectant every time you do

Use non-elastic or silk hair ties

Get regular trims at least 3-4 times per year (get your hair layered if it's very thick)

Try to limit how much you dye or, especially bleach, your hair and do elaborate styles with tons of heat & harsh products

Dress in crisp neutral outfits that cater to your body shape:

Embrace minimalist basics (tees, tanks, blouses, sweaters, jeans, trousers, blazers, leather jackets, coats, etc.) in high-quality fabrics (Pima cotton, Merino wool, Tencel, mulberry silk, etc.)

Choose options in black, white, grey, charcoal beige, navy, burgundy, or cream depending on your skin tone and preferences

Invest in a collection of sleek footwear options (black boots, loafers, black pumps, white sneakers, etc.) in minimalist, timeless styles that suit the color palette, hemlines & proportions of your go-to outfits

Ensure your shoes and accessories feel proportional to the weight/silhouette of your outfit, color-coordinate with the rest of your look, and have streamlined hardware from head-to-toe (all silver, all gold, or one piece that mixes silver/gold and another gold & silver piece each to balance out the color palette)

Keep all of your clothes steam and lint-rolled, so they look crisp & fresh all-day

Befriend your tailor to take in or let out clothes as needed when purchased off the rack

Choose clothes/styles that flatter your body shape and proportions

Utilize belts and bra tape to adjust the waist, keep shirts tucked in, and keep straps from falling down or create an impromptu cuff/hem on your pants

When in doubt, select a neutral head-to-toe monochrome outfit

If on a budget, consider choosing black, grey, camel beige items to hide fabric imperfections that could cheapen your look

Choose your accessories wisely:

Select sleek, simple neutral (& almost exclusively) monochrome shoes made with smooth (recycled/vegan) leather with

Pair almost any outfit with a shoe featuring a slight platform, block heel, kitten heel, and/or a sharply pointed toe to elongate your silhouette

Complement your outfit with structured, pared-back handbags with no logos (Focus on quality and construction, not the brand name) in a neutral shade and timeless silhouette

For jewelry, choose at most one statement piece and all others should be focused on different areas of the body (e.g. don't mix statement earrings with layered/bold necklaces or stacked rings * bracelets). When in doubt, choose simple diamond chains or earrings, sleek bangles or chainlink necklaces & bracelets, simple pendant necklaces, and minimalist rings in hardware that all go together

Embrace feature-enhancing makeup:

Cover up any dark circles, blemishes, or hyperpigmentation with a color-matched concealer

Lightly contour with a bronzer that complements your skin tone

Fill in your brows for a naturally full look (or get them professionally tinted)

Apply a light wash of rose, coral, or mauve blush

Use black mascara with a little bit of eyeliner and/or a subtle wash of brown eyeshadow on the lids

Apply a "your lips but better" nude shade or "just kissed' berry lipstick or pigmented lip balm for a subtle wash of color

Keep your nails clean, filed, and simple:

Maintain cut, cleaned, and filed short nails

Opt for a square or almond nail shape

Choose a timeless nail shade (pink, nude, red, beige, dark cherry, navy, dark purple, black) with no nail art

Hydrate your hands and scrub under your nails daily

Regarding your signature scent(s):

Ensure your body wash/lotion and perfume scents don't clash

Test perfumes for a trial day to ensure they smell divine with your unique pheromones

Choose a fragrance appropriate for the seasonal/occasion

Apply a dab on each wrist and on your neck/behind the ears. If the scent doesn't project well on you, try applying these small dabs on the cuffs and shoulders of your jacket/walk into it to get it on your hair (if it would stain your clothes)

Don't layer more than one heady perfume at a time or scents that don't have complementary and/or shared notes

Follow your dental & bodily hygiene routines religiously:

Floss every day (after each meal if possible)

Brush your teeth with an electric toothbrush twice a day

Have mints on hand if you're a garlic, spice, or coffee lover

Keep your lips & hands well-moisturized and protected with SPF

Shower your body daily and be extra diligent in scrubbing your privates, everything behind, and under your arms

Don't use very hot water in the shower (it burns/dries out your skin)

Exfoliate 2-3 times a week with a sugar scrub

Moisturize daily or anytime you get out of the shower

Apply SPF on any exposed sun (especially in the summer or when the UV index is high in your area)

[2-dsimp]

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Yandere Spinoffs

The hero

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Cw: 🔞MDNI🔞 m! masterbation, degradation, Adonis being a freak and a pervert, yandere tendencies, slight humiliation, masochistic behavior, very suggestive

A/n: pt1 post dump for Adonis

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The twisted hero got his rocks off on the way you detested him so passionately. He thrives underneath the scrutiny of your eyes which reflected only his image right back at him and he intended to keep it that way no matter the cost.

He craved to monopolize your time so he focused on being an absolute scummy bastard in your presence so that you’d grow to despise him even more so with all of your being. Seeking to further ingrain himself into a section of your heart designated just for him.

Adonis didn’t mind that you hated him, in fact he was charmed by the notion of an adorable heroling like you. Puffing up your cheeks like an angry chipmunk at him. Whenever you’d try so hard to catch him slipping from his poised gentleman act towards the public eye.

The man known to be sadistic turns into a masochistic mess as he absolutely adores it when you stare at him with that grimace of poorly concealed disgust. Thanks to you he already had to constantly excuse himself to the bathroom during press conferences just to fantasize more about being degraded by your sweet tongue.

Pumping his leaking thick dick which had a slight curve while he panted under his breath whilst biting his bottom lip so hard that he pricks blood. Adonis lets out a breathy whimper, tilting his head back against the bathroom stall door to have his cock jump in his rough palms.

Painting the wall, floor, and the toilet seat in his pearly strings of cum. Usually he didn’t have much of a problem with aiming his penis down at the toilet bowl. But you’ve got him so riled up from cursing him out under your breath. That he forgoes any kind of common decency and decides to make the janitors work harder for their pay checks every hour he’s in a meeting with you.

Sure he’s heard you spouting out all kind generous words to the poor and unfortunate 24/7. However, Adonis finds the sudden cold switch up in your tone and dialogue, to be so arousing to the point of where he purposefully fucks up on an hostage situation.

Making sure to have his concealed tape recorder rolling just to capture the sharp clusterfuck of degrading insults you’ve hurled towards him. Only for you to be met with a scummy grin plastered onto his face, golden eyes filled with deviant perverseness. Paired along with the crude sight of his hard boner protruding from his trousers pointing right at you as if you’re to blame for its sudden appearance of which you are but not on purpose of course…not that he or his dick cares.

To put it simply “The Hero” just loves the way you hate him and would absolutely go rogue just to fuck with you so that his darling heroling would rage even more at him with more passion.

[starlightsuffered]

can you please make kyle fics 😇 i loved your old ones

STRONG CONTENT WARNING

School Parking Lot

Info - Fauxcest, daddy kink, roleplay, ageplay, kinky scene, unprotected sex, some breeding kink, car sex, reassurance, getting off on the taboo, desire for cumflation/blow jobs, baby talk, dom male, school girl outfit, biting nipple, finger sucking, size kink,

I pulled up in my car. I felt my cock straining in my dark trousers. I took it out and let out a desperate sigh. I let it throb against the fabric of my shirt. I gave into temptation and rubbed it a bit.

“Ohhhh baby girl,” I let out a sigh of relief. I couldn’t wait to play out this fantasy. I’d begged y/n for weeks and she said she didn’t want a lot of people around. She agreed that her first week of work we could engage in this roleplay. I had felt a bit guilty for pushing it but telling from her sopping pussy when she let me kiss it goodbye this morning, she was excited too.

Finally, finally, she sent me the go ahead. Alleviation pumped through me. I was finally gonna get my perverted wish come true.

I marched into her work place, though right now we were pretending it was where she went to school. I straighten my tie and rolled up my white sleeves. I yanked open the door I knew went to her classroom.

She wore exactly what I’d asked. I swore under my breath as I took her in. My eyes drank in the delicious sight. Her breasts were nearly bursting out of the button down. The shirt was sheer enough I could see the mauve coloured bra she wore. She flaunted a short black skirt and long black stockings. The little school girl outfit had my cock drooling.

I stalked up to her. She gave me innocent doe eyes.

“Why am I here?” I demanded.

“Um, I don’t know, the office told me my daddy was here to pick me up,” she said in that tantalisingly submissive voice.

“Come with me,” I growled.

“Yes Kyle,” I agreed.

I pulled her to the car, I was so excited I could skip. I slammed her against the black body of the vehicle. I pressed my body against her so she could feel my hard length. I snatched my phone from my pocket and brought up the little sex tape she’d made me.

“Daddy had to leave his business trip, do you know why?” I demanded.

“I haven’t got a clue,” she said with faux innocence.

“Daddy found this among my work files. You think I was able to work after I saw this? You think I didn’t catch the next flight here and come to comfort you?”

“I’m sorry daddy,” she pouted. “It’s hard when you’re so sexy. I thought you’d like them. You just make my princess parts feel really wet and weird and I don’t know what’s happening.”

Fuck she was good at this. With how long it had taken her to agree I thought she might not know how to act. However, all this was perfect and I was getting dizzy from all the blood running to my cock.

“Get in the fucking car,” I snarled. She climbed in, wiggling her ass a bit too much for her own good I climbed in the back with her.

“You think you’re smart for doing this?” I snapped. She gave me a pitiful look.

“I’m sorry daddy, I thought you’d like it. I thought you’d wanna see your little princess when you were away,” she whined.

“Fuck,” I grunted.

“Daddy Kyle,” she purred. “Am I too old to sit on your lap?”

“Ohhhh, fuck no, get over here,” I said in a husky voice. She scrambled into my lap.

“Daddy,” she giggled coquettishly. “There’s something hard under me.”

“You want to know what that is don’t you?” I said in a deep voice.

“Uh huh,” she nodded.

She moved back so I could undo my belt. She licked her lips as she heard the jingle. I pushed down my pants and boxers. I pulled out my cock to show her.

“Oh,” she gasped. Her tits bouncing as she overdid her response.

“Yeah that hard thing was daddies big, thick, hairy, adult cock,” I cooed as I cupped her jaw. I pressed my thumb to her lips and she automatically sucked my thumb inside her mouth. She was whimpering and suckling on my thumb. My dick was rock fucking hard.

“Oh daddy, I want it,” she whimpered. I throbbed hard.

“Yeah? You want my big cock in your snug cunny?” I asked her.

“Yes, but d-daddy,” she looked cautious. She was pressing her huge tits against me. She looked so innocent and sweet. She’d be so delicious to ruin.

“I-I don’t have hair down there daddy. I know that might be what you want. I’m inexperienced,” she sniffled. Fuck this shit was hitting hard as fuck. I was only barely keeping myself together. I wanted to fucking pounce on her and just go wild.

“Want to know a secret baby girl?” I whispered, my fingers digging into her curves.

“What?” She asked with a girlish curiosity.

“Dad likes snug little hairless puffy pussies like yours. I think they're so much better than anything else,” I murmured in her ear.

“Ohhhh,” she moaned. Soon she was lifting up her skirt, and she wasn’t wearing fucking panties. I gulped.

She straddled me before sliding down slowly on my heavy dick. We both let out near wails of bliss. I grabbed her hips.

“Am I so small daddy can work me up and down on your grown up dick?” She asked with a giggle. I was ramming up into her while bouncing her. I was wild. I wanted to ruin and destroy her completely. I was so turned on it should be illegal.

“Oh, oh, oh!” She let loose such sweet, high pitched whines.

“Daddy has wanted to take your juicy cunny for so long,” I growled.

“Yes!” She cried. I wanted to hit her cervix.

“Daddy, I’m so naughty,” she said earnestly, gripping my shoulders to aid her movements.

“Why? tell me princess,” I ordered as I undid her buttons. Her nipples were hardened buds. I bit the left one and she groaned.

“I love daddy cum so much! I wanna suck you off every morning. I want my little school girl uniform to bulge a bit more because my tummy is so full. I wanna be cum drunk and unable to tell any of my friends at school who made me that way.”

“Oh yes,” I snapped with delicious pleasure. Her cunt was so fucking tight and perfect. I was bouncing her weak little body. Her tits moved up and down heavily.

“You want your baby girl to blow you all the time?” She asked in a whimpering tone.

“Yes, fuck yes. Oh that tiny tummy bulging with daddy cum. Fuuuuck me, I need to knock you up. It’s so perverted and taboo and wrong! I was to fill you over and over.”

“Pleassssse!” she nearly howled. “PLEASE!”

“DADDDY! Your cock!” She squealed. She was going so far down. My balls slapped her ass. I was deep and snug inside her. She was clenching and moaning.

“You gonna go to school with my cum running down your thighs baby?” I cooed. “Be a good girl and keep it inside you as long as you can?”

“Yes, fuck yes, anything you want or say,” she panted.

“I know baby girl,” I soothed. “You’re so good for me. Taking that sexy little video. You knew daddy would need to wank on his business trip didn’t you?”

“I knew, I knew, I knew,” she heaved.

“That’s my good girl,” I told her. I was on the brink of exploding.

“Daddy, touch my clitty please,” she begged. I stopped her movement. I pulled out and pressed my tip to her bundle of nerves. She threw her head back and rubbed her nipples.

“Does daddy’s tip feel good on your swollen clitty?” I asked.

“Mmmhmm,” she whined.

“Now, you’re going to let daddy bust a nut inside you with no protection aren’t you?” I asked as I carefully guided my cock back inside her.

“Yes sir,” she nodded.

“That’s it, bounce, oh fuck,” I grunted. I was moving her almost violently. She was hiccuping and moaning and sucking my thumb. She looked completely out of it.

“Dad, gon come,” she mumbled. Her snug, fluttering walls were all I needed to paint her insides white. I gasped as I shoved myself balls deep and emptied myself. I was groaning over and over.

“Yeah, yes,” I moaned as my nut worked out of me. “Just had to take you in daddy’s car even if people might see because you gave me those naughty videos.”

“Mmmmmmm,” she let out a submissive keen.

It was the best orgasm I’d ever had. Waves of perverted pleasure washed over me. I filled up her cunt with my special daddy cream as he needily whined. I fucked back up into her to hear the wet sound of the creampie some more. I was so satisfied. I hoped that was my largest load ever, she deserved it.

“Thank you,” I breathed. I held her close. She was still on my dick. She had wrapped her arms and legs around me. The scene was finished and she was feeling cuddly, needing reassurance after all the nasty things we’d said to one another.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I repeated. I smiled as I rocked her and rubbed her back. She was so perfect to let me act out this desire.

“We’re not bad are we?” She asked in a small Voice.

“No, it didn’t hurt anyone, and we’re two consenting adults, plus, it’s just a kink.”

“Thank you Kyle, I love you,” she promised me. I kissed her temple.

“I love you too.”

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming

[percervall]

AHHH IVE BEEN SUMMONED! from smut prompt list 1 please my I please humbly request Jenson or Mark with smut prompt 4 pretty please

Okay love you byeeeeee ❤️❤️❤️

Had to go the mafia route for you babe, big thank you to @feralnando for helping me plot this

warning: injury details, mafia!Mark, cockwarming

You had no idea what your husband did for work. It’s not that you didn’t have your suspicions, but Mark always made sure to keep you at an arm’s length when it came to how he ran his business. However, when he stumbles into the house leaning heavily on his second in command, you can’t ignore that he is involved with some bad people. The moment the door to the living room slams open, you shoot up from the couch like you just got bitten. 

“Joder, you’re heavy,” Fernando complains as he drags Mark into the living room. Mark just grunts, a hand pressed against his ribs. It would have been a comical sight to see the smaller Spaniard pretty much bear the entirety of Mark’s weight if it weren’t for the bruises already forming on your husband’s jaw, and the skin peeking through the cuts in his dark button down.

“What happened?” you ask, rushing to help Fernando walk Mark over to the couch.

“Business deal got out of hand,” Mark utters through gritted teeth as he takes off his shirt. His chest and forearms are covered in cuts, a bandage taped to his ribs. You turn around to get the first aid kit so you can clean these wounds, but Mark grabs your wrist.

“It’s just a scratch, I’m fine.”

“Mark, you’re bleeding,” you protest, “You should see a doctor, these cuts need to be cleaned and dressed properly.” 

“All I need, sweetheart, is you. Right here,” Mark replies, pulling you back towards him and into his lap. Fernando shakes his head, muttering something in Spanish before leaving the room. You gingerly move to straddle him, taking his face in your hands so you can assess the damage. Mark smiles softly, wrapping a hand around your wrist before pressing a kiss there.

“I promise baby, I’m fine. Just need my pretty girl,” he murmurs. 

“Need me, huh?” you reply, swallowing hard as his eyes turn dark. Mark undoes his trousers before sliding a hand under the hem of your dress to pull your panties to the side.

“Will always need you, sweetheart,” he replies, pulling his dick out, “Just. Like. This. Fuck.” Mark grips your hips and slowly helps you sink down into him, making both of you moan. You rest your forehead against his, panting at the sudden stretch.

“So good, always so good..” Mark mumbles as he buries his face into your neck. Rocking your hips just ever so slightly, you can feel him groan against your skin while his hands still your movements.

“Mark-..” you start when you hear him wince.

“I’m fine, just wanna feel you baby..” he cuts you off, pressing open mouthed kisses against the base of your throat. 

“I love you,” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair.

“I love you more, sweetheart,” he whispers against your skin and wraps an arm around you, anchoring you to him, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear the moment he lets go.

[stylesloveclub]

Prose (part 1)

In which y/n's taking way too many units, and Harry's the graduate assistant for her Literature class.

+++

 It’s a gloomy autumn day, the sun nowhere to be found, the sky cloudy and gray. Y/n stands in front of Dr. Richmond’s door, nervously pulling back her hair and righting the state of her sweater.

The wind outside was not forgiving today, blowing harsh and cold and whipping her hair all over like she was caught in the middle of a god damn tornado. She tucks any stray pieces behind her ears and pats her wind-stung cheeks – oh gosh, she probably looks a mess.

She should’ve worn something more professional, she thinks to herself as she tugs her skirt down. Maybe trousers and a blazer– or at least a pair of jeans. Not this stupid little black skirt that keeps riding up, halfway hidden underneath her cream-colored knitted sweater. It keeps riding up, no matter how firmly she keeps tugging it down, and she’s got a horrible inkling that she might’ve accidentally flashed her bum at the workers in the street while she was walking to campus today. 

She looks down at her shoes, a pair of black mary janes, paired with some lacy white socks to decorate her ankles. They looked super cute when she put them on this morning – but now she’s worried that she looks like a kindergartener. Is she too old to be wearing frilly socks? They’re just so darn cute… but she doubts the sixty-something year old professor that’s on the other side of the door would think the same thing. 

Wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt, she takes a deep breath. It’s now or never. She lifts her hand up to the door, and nervously brings her knuckles down to knock. 

It took all of her confidence to come to Dr. Richmond’s office today. She’s not a huge fan of talking to professors outside of class – drafting emails to them literally sends her into a spiral of stress, and she always feels like she’s gonna shit her pants when she goes to office hours– but she has no choice but to come and directly talk to Dr. Richmond today. She’d sent him two emails already (both of them had taken her over two hours to send because she actually despises writing emails and is always nervous that she’s gonna make a typo, or call the professor the wrong name, or accidentally attach her sex tape ((even though she doesn’t have a sex tape?)), but he hadn’t responded to either of those emails and she needs a response from him ASAP.

The door opens before her knuckles even make contact with wood, a short stout man walking out of the office with his briefcase in hand. He’s balding, with only a thin circle of gray hair lining the back perimeter of his head, and a pair of classes sit on his large, oily nose. Y/n stumbles, her eyes widening as she embarrassingly lowers her knuckles from the door and takes a startled step backwards. 

“Oh– um, Dr. Richmond?” she stammers nervously, her voice at a much higher pitch than usual. She’d love to stick a pore strip on his nose and unclog all those blackheads.

“That’s me,” he grumbles, sighing heavily, not even looking at her. He’s the head of the English Language and Literature department, a busy man surely. Students probably pester him every hour of every day. Still, she wishes that maybe she could’ve gotten a more… enthusiastic response from him. 

“Hi, sir,” she says, swallowing thickly. “I-I was having some issues with enrolling in your English 270 lecture and– um,” she’s starting to lose confidence as Dr. Richmond blatantly ignores her, rummaging through his briefcase for his keys. “I was… wondering if you had a second to, um, discuss it?” Her voice quietly fades towards the end, not sure if Dr. Richmond was even listening at that point– as he’d taken out his phone and started replying to a text while she had still been talking. 

He takes a solid five seconds to type out and send his text before responding to y/n. “Take it up with Harry,” he mumbles, still not looking at her. “M’done for the day.”

“Harry?” she repeats, her voice confused and eyebrows pinching together. But Dr. Richmond’s already walking away from her, halfway down the hall. “Oh,” she mumbles to herself sadly, lips pouting. All that, for nothing. He literally just walked away from her. 

She sighs heavily, ready to turn on her heel and walk back to her apartment from this failed mission – but then a voice sounds from inside the office. "In here!" it calls out.

She peaks her head inside timidly. 

Behind the desk sits a boy, with chocolate brown curls swirled atop his head. “Hello,” he hums, putting the essay he’d been reading down on the desk and looking at her with all his attention. There’s a soft smile on his pretty pink lips, twisted to the side with a dimple poking at his cheek. His eyes are green and glimmer kindly, framed by a pair of dark tortoise shell glasses.  “How can I help you?”

This man is much more attractive than grumpy old (and oily) Dr. Richmond. 

Y/n struggles to find her voice. “Are you… um, are you Harry?” Her eyes flicker all over this attractive young man’s face, trying to figure out if this is a hallucination or if a boy that pretty actually exists in real life. 

“Indeed I am,” he chirps, his chair squeaking as he leans forward. She briefly remembers seeing the name “Harry E. Styles” listed as the graduate teaching assistant, underneath Dr. Richmond’s name on the course website, and is finally connecting the dots. He’s dressed in a white button up, the top few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to reveal tattooed forearms and an anchor on his wrist. His fingers tap against the desk rhythmically, and she finds her eyes drawn to the glittery rings decorating them. Her mind goes blank. 

It’s clear that he’s a few years older than herself – but not in a bad way. He just looks taller and broader and… smarter than most of the boys her own age. He has just the slightest bit of stubble on his upper lip, and his eyes just shine with wisdom and intellect.

“Did you have a question?” he asks, voice a little teasing as he jolts her out of her little trance. She tucks her hair behind her ear, embarrassed, and quickly averts her eyes from his hands.

“Yeah, um– Dr. Richmond said you’d be able to help me with my enrollment issues?” 

“Sure,” he crosses one leg over the other (y/n definitely notices the way his meaty thighs bulge) and leans back in his seat, hands folded neatly on his knee, “What’s up?”

“Well, I wanted to enroll in English 270, the Romantic Literature and Society lecture–” Harry nods attentively, “ –but the class is restricted to students in the Department of English Literature… which I’m not.” His eyebrows furrow hesitatingly, and she’s quick to defend herself. “I’ve taken all the prerequisites, though! I did well in all of them, and I emailed the department coordinator and they said that it’s fine for me to enroll in this class. It would just be a manual enrollment instead of the standard enrollment but they’ve done it for me for all the other literature classes I’ve taken that were also major restricted. All I need is a permission code and the professor's approval!” She pauses, taking a breath after her big ramble. “Or your approval, I suppose,” she adds as an afterthought. 

He’s silent for a bit, sitting there with furrowed brows and pursed lips, just staring at her. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, squirming under his intense gaze.

Finally he asks, “What do you study then? If not literature?”

“Um– I’m a psych major.”

“And… why would a psychology major need to take an upper division literature class?” he presses. Not trying to be rude, but just to understand. 

“Oh. I just… really enjoy books,” she says shyly. “It’s not for any credit toward my major. But I promise that I’ll stay on top of the work and participate and all that!”

He leans his forearms on the desk. His eyes are thoughtful, and he takes his time before speaking. “Your name was…?” he trails off.

“Y/n,” she fills in quickly. He nods.

“Miss y/n,” he sits up straighter, and looks her in the eye, “How many other units are you taking this semester?”

“Um…” she counts them off in her head.  “16?”

“So with this class you’d be at 20?” he confirms. 

She nods, nervously chewing on the inside of her cheek. That is a lot of units. The last time she took 20 units she had a mental breakdown so intense that she spent an entire night just crying to her roommate (Iris), incapable of doing any work or studying because she was just so stressed out and overwhelmed. She had to skip classes just to catch up on the work that she’d fallen behind on for her other classes, and found her weekends swamped with essays and studying and missed assignments. She only just barely survived, and as soon as finals week was over, she literally collapsed with exhaustion, her body and brain so burnt out that she was sick for weeks. She’d promised herself that she’d never do it again… and yet here she is not even two semesters later.

She can already imagine how stressful this semester is going to be. 

“You understand, miss y/n, that this is not an easy class?” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and somehow it’s attractive. “We have weekly readings and essays and discussions, and the final paper is not a matter to be taken lightly. You truly believe you can manage that on top of all your other classes?” 

She gulps nervously, but timidly nods. He can tell that he’s laid it all on a bit harshly. 

“I’m not trying to scare you,” he says softly. “I’m just trying to be… realistic. You seem to be a highly motivated student – and I admire that you’re pursuing topics that truly interest you – but I’d hate to see you burn yourself out.” 

“I think I can handle it,” she says, quiet but confident. “It’s something I enjoy so it’s more like a hobby than a class. And I think it’ll be fun? I saw on the syllabus that we’d be analyzing Frankenstein, which is one of my favorites…” 

His lips twist in a soft, endeared smile. He also loves Frankenstein. 

“Very well then,” he murmurs, his eyes glimmering thoughtfully. “What was it you needed to get enrolled? A permission code? I think if you just give me your student ID number I can get that sorted out…”

+++

The weather today is better. 

It’s still cloudy and gray outside, but the wind is much more forgiving, just a gentle breeze rustling through the trees. Orange and red leaves fall to the ground, crunching underneath y/n’s feet as she walks to class. They match the red sweater that she’s wearing today, soft and knitted with hidden tones of orange and brown woven between the threads. The colors of autumn, her favorite season. 

A pair of wired headphones trail from her back pocket to her ears. She’s listening to her fall playlist, Lana Del Rey’s Season of the Witch setting the tempo of her walk to campus. In one hand she carries her book – The Secret History by Donna Tart – and in the other she carries her iced chai latte. Her fingers are freezing as she holds her iced drink, and a shiver crawls down her spine every time she takes a sip – but she doesn’t regret her drink order at all. She’ll have an iced chai in her hand no matter the weather. 

Wanting to make a good impression on the first day of classes, she got up extra early today to get a head start. She washed her face so that she’d look extra bright and awake, ate a proper breakfast at her dining table instead of her usual banana-on-the-walk-to-class, and put on an outfit that she thought gave… studious. Her autumn sweater, dark blue denim jeans, and white sneakers. She even chose her book to match the academic vibe she was going for today (she was between The Secret History and Happy Place, and Happy Place just felt too summery for such a gloomy day… plus The Secret History has been on her TBR for way too long.).

She arrives at the lecture hall approximately… 20 minutes too early. But it was on purpose! She’s only taken a few classes in the literature building (most of her classes are in the social science buildings) and wanted to have enough time to find the room before class started. How horrible would it be for her to be late on the first day, when she’s desperate to make such a good impression on Harry? And Dr. Richmond, of course– but mostly Harry. 

He was nice. And she wants him to like her. Ballad of a girl who craves academic validation.

The door to the lecture hall is locked, so y/n takes a seat on the floor right next to the door, and cracks her book open. She’s only 15 pages in, but she’s already enthralled. She can’t count how many times this novel has been recommended to her – always in those “best books to read in fall<3” tik toks, or the list of classics recommended by the New York Times – and she gets it. She zones in, her eyes flickering from one page to the next as her headphones softly play Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac. She’s not one to usually listen to music while she reads (she usually finds it to be too distracting), but she’s so engrossed in this world and these characters that she barely remembers that she’s still listening to music. The people walking past her in the hallway fade away, the fluorescent lights transform into the dark library her book characters are currently huddled in, and no sound passes through her wired headphones – not even the heeled boots clicking against the tile floors, getting closer and closer to her. 

She only realizes that she’s not alone when those brown boots stop right in front of her, shining brightly in contrast to her worn out sneakers. She looks up suddenly, yanking her headphones out of her ears. Harry towers over her, key in hand, which he sticks into the lock. A soft smirk twists at his lips, and his green eyes flicker to where she’s looking up at him from the floor. 

“Miss y/n,” he says with a pleasant nod, a hint of amusement in his voice, “You’re here early.”

She folds the corner of the page she’s on and stands up, gently shutting her book. “I didn’t want to be late,” she responds, fussing with her stubborn headphones, which refuse to tuck into her back pocket. “I don’t have many classes in this building… didn’t want to get lost or anything on the first day.” 

He opens the door and lets y/n in first, following in closely behind her. “Punctuality is good.” He props the door open. 

She looks around the lecture hall. It’s not nearly as big as the classrooms she usually sits in for her psychology classes – those classes are huge, usually filled with a bunch of freshmen from all sorts of majors trying to fulfill their lower division GE requirements and whatnot. Those lecture halls could fit up to 400 people. This one probably wouldn’t fit more than 60. 

Not a problem though, considering that this class only had about 40 students enrolled (she checked last night). 

She wonders where she should sit. Too far in the back and she’d make the wrong first impression… but too close to the front and she might be the annoying kid that asks too many questions. Third row is her best bet. 

There’s still about 15 minutes before the class is scheduled to start, and she’s still the only one in the lecture hall apart from Harry. She feels a bit awkward, being the person in the sea of seats, but Harry pays no mind to her, shuffling through papers and logging onto the computer at the front podium. Though her book sits opened on her lap, she can’t help but stare at him.

He’s wearing brown trousers, well fitted around his legs and cutting off perfectly at his ankles as if they were custom tailored for him. Cream colored socks adorn his ankles and those shiny, brown leather boots click against the floor with his every step. Very professional, but also casual with the way his white button up is rolled up at the sleeves and unbuttoned at the top. He’s missing those cute glasses today, though. 

She watches as he struggles to turn the projector on, his eyebrows furrowed as he presses all the buttons on the panel. The lights in the classroom turn on and off again, and the computer audio mutes and unmutes before he finally figures out how to get the screen to roll down and the projector to flicker on. Despite him being only a few years older, he looks like an old man toggling with the buttons and trying to get technology to work in his favor. She bites back a smile, and quickly looks down to her book when Harry’s eyes briefly flicker to hers. From her peripheral vision, she can see him laughing as well and shaking his head at himself. 

She traces her fingers over the pages of the book, clearly well loved and worn out. She got it from the library just last week, after having been on the waitlist for the book for the past month. She can see why it’s so popular though, already so engrossed by the plot. The pages are old and yellow, the edges folded and ripped with years of use, and it has that old book smell that she just adores. How old is this book? It was published in the 90’s, wasn’t it?

Harry’s voice interrupts her thoughts. “Reading something good?” 

She looks up at him with wide eyes. He’s managed to successfully display the course syllabus on the projector screen, and is now walking around the desk with a stack of papers in his hand. He stands in front of the very first row, leaning his weight onto one leg with a hand in his pocket. 

“Oh, um–” she falters, “I actually just started it. I’ve heard it’s supposed to be really good.” She sits up straighter in her seat, “Have you heard of it? The Secret History?”

Harry purses his lips, “Sounds familiar… haven’t read it though. You’ll have to tell me if it’s worth reading, alright?”

She nods, smiling shyly. Call her delusional but… it feels like a bit of an honor for him to trust her with a book recommendation. That takes a lot of trust, doesn’t it? To trust that someone will recommend a good book to you? 

She’s totally making a big deal out of nothing. She does that sometimes. 

“How about you?” she asks, her voice embarrassingly quiet. She’s shy, and nervous, and she’s not that good at small talk, and Harry is looking at her with these intense, green eyes that make her feel like she’s saying the most important thing in the world. She clears her throat, forcing her voice to not come out scared and shaky, “Read anything good lately?”

He grins, and she can tell this is probably his favorite thing to talk about.  “M’reading, like, five books at once,” he admits sheepishly. “Kafka on the Shore, if you’ve heard of it… Notes from Underground, by Dostoevsky for one of m’own classes…” he purses his lips in thought, “Started re-reading Paradise Lost as well. We’re analyzing it in one of the other classes im TA-ing, n’ it’s one of my favorites to teach,” he says with a shrug. His eyes are so thoughtful as he lists off the books that he’s reading, flickering green and gold. He’s just… beautiful.

“I haven’t read any of them,” y/n says regretfully, wishing that she could impress him with some sort of intellectual talk about one of these books. “I’ve had Kafka on the Shore on my list for a while, though.” 

He smiles. “S’a good one.” There’s a dimple in his left cheek that pinches cutely, the glimmer in his eyes a sight to behold. His pretty pink lips purse thoughtfully, his heart shaped cupid's bow twitching as though he has more to say – but then another student walks in. 

Harry’s head whips around. His jawline is sharp, and he nods politely at the new student. “Good morning,” he murmurs to the girl – that same welcoming voice that had made y/n’s heart flutter that first day that she met him. 

He turns back to y/n, and hands her a paper from the stack in his hands. “The syllabus,” he says, his eyes kind and warm.

She swallows thickly as he walks away from her, enamored already. 

+++

“Classes will be Tuesdays and Thursdays,” Dr. Richmond lectures from the front of the class. His voice is croaky and old, so he has a tiny microphone clipped to his shirt pocket to project his voice to the back of the class – despite the small size of the lecture hall. “Thursdays I’ll lead the class,” he drones on, “We’ll analyze the romantic era… how their literature was a reflection of their politics… how they set the foundation of modern day consumerism, capitalism, patriarchy, globalism, imperialism…” he waves his hand passively. “The works.”

 He takes a long sip of water, and his swallow echoes through the class, amplified by his shirt microphone. Y/n cringes at the wet mouth sounds as he smacks his lips together. 

“On Tuesday’s–” his voice booms through the microphone again, “you will come to a class discussion led by Harry. This means that you’ll have the entire weekend to do the readings…” 

Nearly all the eyes in the room flicker to Harry, who’s been standing quietly in the corner with his hands folded behind his back while Dr. Richmond continues to lecture. He gives a small, almost bashful wave to the class at the mention of his name, his eyes scanning the room of unfamiliar faces. Their eyes meet, and his lips twist into a smile. This is the third time she’s caught his eye during the lecture.

He stares at her for a second, eyes glinting as if the two of them have a secret that they’re not sharing with the rest of the class. It makes her heart race in her chest, smiling back at him secretly.

She breaks their eye contact when Dr. Richmond croaks out with the last of his voice, “Any questions?” 

He’s met with silence.

“No? Okay good, class dismissed. See you all on Thursday.” 

The class bustles with life, backpacks zipping and pull out desks squeaking as everyone slowly trickles out of the room. A line forms in front of Dr. Richmond’s podium, with students eagerly introducing themselves and asking questions about the syllabus, only to be redirected to the back of the new line forming in front of Harry’s corner. Harry smiles kindly at every question and speaks with eloquence, strikingly different to Dr. Richmond’s grumbling and groaning. 

It’s glaringly obvious that Harry is going to be a class favorite. 

In the middle of answering a redheaded boy’s question, his gaze wanders over to y/n, watching her as she packs up her things, eyes following her to the door. She tucks her book under her arm and plugs her headphones into her ear, throwing her bag over her shoulder. 

Her drink is finished, just a cup full of melting ice at this point, so she stops at the trash can right at the front of the door. As she throws it away, she manages one final glance back at Harry. He’s already looking at her. He grins when their eyes meet, and gives a small wave goodbye. 

She bites back a smile, then hurries out of the classroom before he gets the chance to see her giddy eyes and heating cheeks. 

+++

Y/n honestly doesn’t love going to office hours. 

It’s hard, because on one hand, she knows that she should go to them and form a relationship with her professors so that they can write her letters of rec in the future… but on the other, they’re so crowded and awkward! Every other student is there for the same reason as her, going into office hours to ask their silly questions and try to butter up the professor. There are usually at least a dozen college students in there, waiting for their one second interaction with the professor before they all get kicked out at the end of the hour. It’s annoying and a waste of her time. Plus, she doubts Dr. Richmond is all that into getting buttered up 

That’s why she chooses to go to TA office hours instead. Usually much more quiet and much more intimate. Not that many people like to go to TA office hours for some reason, which means she usually gets to have one-on-one help. And sometimes (if the TA is really cool) they’ll basically give her the answers to the homework – a good thing, right?

Well… not when the TA is this ridiculously attractive and charming boy with curly brown hair and pretty green eyes that she can’t help but have a teensy little crush on.

 Like… can you blame her? He’s smart and handsome, and so incredibly kind and sweet. His eyes glimmer when he talks about his favorite books and his lips are always curled into a smile that makes her heart bubble. Always so polite and respectful, doing gentlemanly things while his boyish dimples pinch his cheeks. His voice is slow and sultry like smooth honey – and you can just tell that his mind is a beautiful place just from the way he talks. 

He’s just… endearing. Straight out of some romance book– and y/n loves romance!!! She can’t help but have a little bit of a heart flutter when she sees him standing in the corner of the lecture hall, especially when their eyes meet and he smiles at her cutely. 

He’s just being nice – she knows that, and she is well aware that she’s very delusional and that nothing is going to happen… but still, the prospect of going to his office hours and potentially having a one-on-one conversation with him makes her giddy and nervous at the same time. 

She pulls herself together and shakes away all the silly thoughts clouding her brain. Hoisting her bag up her shoulder, she enters the small office, the gold plaque reading Styles, H. shining proudly as she walks through the door. 

Harry doesn’t hear her walk in, his brows furrowed behind his tortoise shell glasses. A red pen is in his hand, brutally attacking a freshman essay. He looks up, a tad bit startled, when she knocks on the door timidly. 

The furrow in his brow immediately softens and turns into that familiar, kind smile. “Miss y/n,” his eyes shine like the nighttime sky filled with stars, “My first student of the day.” 

“Oh,” she checks the time. “I thought office hours started like, thirty minutes ago. Was I wrong? Am I early?” She intentionally wanted to show up a little late, not wanting to seem too eager. 

“No, no – you were right,” he hums, putting his pen down. “Not many students tend to show up to our office hours, is all. Especially not during the first week.”

She bites on the inside of her lip and wonders if she should be embarrassed for being the only one to show up, but Harry is quick to continue,“I wish more people did come, though. Like– if nobody shows up, all I do is sit here and grade for an hour.” His lips purse out cutely, a thoughtful pout, “And I hate grading.” 

“Oh– I’ll probably be here a lot,” y/n says mindlessly. “I always have questions. And Dr. Richmond kinda scares me.”

Harry sputters out a laugh, and y/n’s cheeks heat up. Maybe that was inappropriate to say. But then Harry leans in and whispers, “He scares me too, sometimes.”

It’s these charming little moments that make him so endearing. She tries not to get too distracted by his dimples and how his fingers tap delicately against his thigh, hugged deliciously by another pair of well fitting trousers. 

“Um– if it’s not a bother, I was wondering if I could ask about the first assignment? I was kind of confused about what's expected from us for the free-write thing…”

“M’all yours,” Harry murmurs, gesturing to the seat across from his desk.

+++

Y/n’s fatal flaw is thinking that she can beat a rainstorm.

She actively knew there was an 80% chance of rain today. She saw the rainy streets. She heard the weather forecast. But did she bring an umbrella with herself to campus? 

No.

Somehow she rationalized in her brain that she didn’t need it. It was barely sprinkling when she walked out of her apartment, and the walk to class was only like 15 minutes! She’d make it to campus and then she’d be indoors all day and by the time she needed to go home the rain would probably have died down, and everything would be fine.

Oh how wrong she was. Silly girl. 

The rain is pounding down on her right now. Big fat raindrops soaking through her hoodie and turning her light wash denim jeans into a completely new color. She has many regrets. What had started off as a cute little walk in the rain has turned into her running through a fucking monsoon or something. The slight, gentle drizzle had escalated to pouring rain in a matter of seconds. She had left her apartment with her earbuds playing Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer, romanticizing her little stroll in the rain – but now her wire headphones are barely hanging on as half-speedwalks/ half-runs down the sidewalk with her head down. 

When she gets stuck at a crosswalk on a busy street, she glances frantically to her left and right, trying to find a tree or a building to take shelter under. But the sky is wide and open, no roof or canopy for her to hide under. She stands helplessly, the rain pouring down on her. The only thing she can do is pull her hood up and grip it tightly so that the rain doesn’t get in her face. 

The rain pierces through her clothes, and the wind feels extra cold against her wet jeans. Thank god she at least wore rainboots today, she thinks to herself as she stares down at the ground. This would suck even more if her socks were getting wet. She had thought far ahead enough to anticipate the possibility of puddles – and yet still didn’t imagine the need for an umbrella. The hems of her pants are soaked and feel horrible against her ankles, and she knows for a fact that she’s gonna have to let her hoodie air dry or something during Dr. Richmond’s lecture. Ugh. She hopes the lecture hall is warmer than it is out here.

She readjusts her headphones, pushing the earbuds further into her ear after they nearly fell out whilst she was running here. She likes this song, and it’s kind of romantic to be listening to it in the rain (it would be even more romantic if she wasn’t SOAKED TO THE CORE). If there’s anything y/n will do, it’s romanticize the shit out of any situation. 

Cars are driving past quickly, but she can’t hear them, her music loud enough to drown out their annoying engines. She stares at a nearby puddle, looking at how it ripples as each drop of rain splatters into it. She wonders if mother nature has a personal vendetta against her – if Earth had personally planned to make it rain super hard the minute that she stepped out of her apartment. Why does she always do this? This isn’t the first time she’s caught herself soaked because she was too lazy to bring an umbrella with herself – and it probably isn’t the last time either. She crosses her arms across her chest and hides her hands in her sleeves, hugging herself tightly as a feeble defense against the biting rain. Why won’t the stupid crosswalk turn on? Her slightly damp hair falls into her eyes as she looks back down at her boots, letting out an annoyed huff. 

The shadow of a new person tickles her peripheral vision. They brought an umbrella. She scolds herself once more. 

 It takes her a second to realize that, although she can still see the rain drizzling around her, splattering against the ground and splashing onto her boots… she actually doesn’t feel the gentle patter of raindrops against the top of her head anymore. She looks up. 

Somehow, she is now under the umbrella. And the person holding said umbrella… is Harry. 

He looks gorgeous as usual, dressed in a dark blue trench coat, black trousers, and some sleek black boots with gold buckles on them. Standing to her left, he holds his umbrella up between them in a way that shields both of them from the rain. He stares forward innocently, pretending like everything is normal – like he hadn't just snuck up next to her and shared his umbrella with her. She can see a slight smile tugging on his lips though, and when she stares at him long enough, he peeks over at her with a glint shimmering in his pupils. His pretty pink lips curl into that sideways smile, and he says nothing. 

Y/n can’t help but give a dumbstruck little laugh. Of course it would be Harry. 

He winks at her, ever so charming and mischievous, then turns back to face the road. The crosswalk switches from Stop to Go, and Harry takes a step forward. Y/n follows in his stride.

They say nothing, and walk to their lecture shoulder to shoulder.

+++

“So,” Harry says with a clap, his voice loud and strong, “I hope you all got the chance to do the first chapter of our reading.” Unlike Dr. Richmond, Harry doesn’t need a microphone to project his voice to the back of the class. All eyes are staring at him, ears listening intently. And all the girls are staring at his pretty pink lips, and how they curl over each word (y/n included). 

“I know life gets in the way, so if y’ever don’t get the chance to finish the assigned reading… tha’s okay,” he says with a quirk of his lips. “M’not gonna be mad. I just ask that you don’t let it turn into a habit, and y’don’t pretend like you read it. M’gonna know if you’re bullshitting me… so just don’t even try.” The entire class laughs, and Harry’s dimple pokes his cheek. 

“So– be honest– how many of you guys read the first chapter?” 

All the students raise their hands, and Harry nods approvingly, “Nice… very nice.” He’s a natural at the front of the classroom, entertaining and intellectual at the same time – confident and eloquent. His words are thoughtful and slow, but not one student seems to be bored by his slow drawl. No – instead everyone hangs onto his every word, dripping soft and thick like golden honey. He answers questions easily and plays off of student responses like a pro, and everyone seems keen on impressing him with fancy literature talk.

“You might have seen on our course page that I posted a series of discussion questions… I’ll try to have these up at least a week in advance so that you can have them in the back of your mind whilst you’re reading. I always find it to be particularly stimulating to be reading a novel with a question in mind… dunno, makes me feel sharper while I read. Does anyone else feel that way?” He talks to the class as if they’re all friends, mildly flirtatious in the natural, charming way that he is. 

The group of undergraduates nod back at him, enthralled by his smile and his wit and just everything about him. God, his smile is just so charming. “Okay... how about we get started with the first one? Wait– actually, before that… I’m just wondering, have any of you already read Frankenstein before?”

Two students out of the forty raise their hands – a boy wearing a Bob Dylan t-shirt, and y/n. 

Harry’s eyes meet y/n’s for the first time since they entered the classroom together. They’d walked across campus together in comfortable silence, past the campus Starbucks and the Social Science buildings, and when they got to the Literature department building Harry had held the door open for her, while shaking off the rain droplets from his umbrella. They walked through the halls side by side as well, Harry’s shiny boots clicking in time with the squeak of y/n’s wet sneakers against the tile floors. All he had said to her during the entirety of their walk was “After you,” when he’d opened the door for her. 

Now he looks at her for the first time in what feels like ages, and gives her an approving nod. He already knew that, from that very first day when she’d come to his office, asking for permission codes and what not. She feels her heart fluttering excitedly, just from that single nod. 

“Interesting… so it’s a first read for most of you. Brilliant! We’ll have a good time reading it together, I promise,” he says, his green eyes gleaming. “I love this book – it’s sometimes called the first science fiction book, written at a time where technology was first being introduced, and it’s regarded as one of the most famous novels of the Romantic era. Mary Shelly, the author, was a prominent Romantic era writer who shared the common Romantic appreciation for the natural world and how art can evoke emotions, which we can clearly see in her novel. We’ll take a few different approaches while analyzing it. Most prominently through a Romantic lens – but we’ll also do a feminist reading and religious reading, as well as a biographical approach… which brings us to the first discussion question – ‘Frankenstein is ultimately a novel about creation– a new and terrifying exploration of bringing life into the world. Based on what you read in the introduction, how can we see Mary Shelly’s personal experiences with life, birth, and death in the themes explored in Frankenstein?’” He looks up from the sheet of paper that he just read the question aloud from with bright eyes, “Anyone want to start us off?” 

The class is silent, the crowd of students suddenly much quieter compared to when they’d been going back and forth with playful banter to Harry’s jokes. Everyone’s a little too nervous to be the first one to say anything, and nobody wants to say the wrong thing. Harry holds his breath, and searches for a hand to save them from this awkward bit of silence. This kind of shyness is normal for the first day of classes – in fact, he’d expected it – but it still doesn’t mean it’s any less awkward. His eyes flicker from one side of the class to the other, from the front row to the back.

He almost misses y/n’s hand, timidly raising from her set spot in the third row. Harry’s eyes light up. “Miss y/n,” he murmurs, “go ahead.”

“Well, in the introduction we learn that Mary Shelly had a few failed pregnancies before writing her novel, and that her own mother had passed during childbirth complications. Shelly goes on to depict the cycle of life as destructive… Frankenstein’s monster is this disfigured creature that the creator is running from, which we see right at the beginning. The introduction implies that this “horrifying” birth and the death of the creator at the hands of what it created, might be symbolic of her own experiences.” 

“Excellent. That’s exactly right,” his smiles meet his eyes, and they twinkle, impressed. “The reason we have this as the first discussion question,” Harry turns back to the rest of the class, “is because I want you guys to keep it in mind while reading. Look for the ways Shelly describes birth –  take note of the strained relationship she creates between the creator and his creation. Also, recall how Shelly herself proclaimed this book to be her “hideous progeny” – to use such intense language whilst also calling it her “progeny” holds a lot of implications of what Shelly’s view on Creation is – whether is biologically or creatively. This is something that we’ll discuss further in depth when we get farther into the novel, so I want you all to start thinking about it now.”

All the students in the room nod intently, writing down what Harry said word for word.

“Furthermore, has anyone noticed that we’ve already seen a lot of references to fire? Pretty obvious symbolism, right?” The class nods. “Does anyone know why she chose fire, specifically?”

It’s silent again. Y/n looks around herself to see if anyone else might have the answer, but everyone stares up at Harry blankly.

“Don’t be shy on me now, guys. Promise m’not mean,” Harry smiles, “Just wanna get the discussion flowing.”

Y/n shyly raises her hand again. “It’s a reference to Prometheus, who stole fire from the gods – she even alternatively calls her story The Modern Prometheus.” 

 His eyes glimmer, a shine behind his irises that doesn’t show up when he looks at his other students – just y/n. As hard as he tries not to pick favorites… he can’t help but harbor a little bit of favoritism towards her. “Very good, Miss y/n,” he praises with a soft smile.

Y/n’s cheeks turn hot and she ducks her head down, unable to stop the reciprocating smile from spreading on her face. 

+++

“Miss y/n,” Harry calls out to her as the students file out of the classroom. “A word, please.” 

Y/n hoists her bag over her shoulder and makes her way to the podium where he stands. He’s packing up his own things, his own beat up copy of Frankenstein being placed delicately in his bag, along with a stack of other papers and things that he has to grade. A few other students have approached him, asking questions that they were too shy to ask during class, but with a sly smile he tells them to ask their questions at his office hours (Thursdays at 5 – but y/n already knew that!). Her fingers twist nervously behind her back as she stands awkwardly by his side as the rest of the students ask their questions and trickle out. 

He waits until all the students have left, and it’s just him and y/n standing by the podium, before he says anything to her.

“You were making some excellent points today in class,” he looks up at her briefly with a smirk, “I appreciate your participation. Class is always more difficult to lead when students don’t participate.” 

“Oh,” she blinks. She’s never been thanked for participating in class. “Erm– yeah. I-I’m happy to participate.” She readjusts her bag, tugging it higher up her shoulders, “S’just kinda like a big book club if y’really think about it.” 

“It is, isn’t it?” he agrees with a quirk of his lips. He zips up his bag, and pulls it over his own shoulder, “How are you planning on getting home?”

A strange follow up question, she thinks to herself. But she responds, nonetheless, “Oh, I was just gonna walk.” Harry peers out of the window, then looks back at y/n, his eyebrows raised. She follows his gaze, and realizes that it is still raining like crazy outside. 

A heavy sigh escapes her lips without her permission. Of course. “I guess I’ll just wait it out,” she shrugs, walking towards the door alongside Harry. 

He locks the door behind them, with her lingering closely by, waiting for him. “Do you live far?” 

“No, not really. Just a 15 minute walk.” They walk towards the building exit, and Harry pulls out his umbrella. “Not too bad, as long as there isn’t a monsoon going on outside,” she finishes with a petulant grumble.

Harry chuckles lowly, his dimples shining brightly. “I was just going to offer… y’know, since it’s still raining and you’re umbrella-less…” his eyes twinkle teasingly, “I could drive you home? Wouldn’t want you to get soaked again when you’ve only just dried off.” 

“Oh!” she bubbles, looking at him with wide eyes. “Really? You would do that?” He nods, but she presses, “Are you sure that wouldn’t be a hassle? I mean– like, really I could just stay here and read until the rain dies down–”

“S’not a hassle,” he reassures. “Y’don’t even know when the rain will be gone– could be all night. It’ll be cold, n’dark… it’d make me feel better knowing you got home safe, yeah?”

“Gosh that’s… that’s really nice of you,” she says, almost pouting. 

He just smiles, pushing the door open and opening his umbrella for the two of them to huddle under. His car is parked in the graduate student parking lot, so it’s not too far of a walk (although they’re doing more of a brisk speedwalk, trying to get out of the rain and wind as fast as possible). The rain patters harshly on top of his umbrella, but they manage to stay dry, shoulders brushing together and their warm bodies radiating heat onto each other.

He unlocks his car and opens the passenger's seat for her, making sure that she’s covered from the rain as she slides into her seat. He then runs over to his own side, quickly shutting his umbrella and throwing it into the backseat. His fingers are numb as he turns the car on, and he immediately blasts the heat for the two of them, putting his frozen fingers in front of the warm air. “God, not even three minutes out there n’ I’m already freezing m’bits off,” he mumbles to himself. He turns to her, and smiles when he sees her copying his actions, “Isn’t this so much better that walking home?”

All she can give is a nod, wriggling her fingers in front of his heaters. Her teeth are chattering as she barely manages to chatter out, “S’freezing.”

“Wind would’ve blown you away before you even made it home, I reckon.” He plays with the windshield wipers until they’re on the highest setting, but even then his windshield is blurry from the rain. He makes sure to drive extra slow and cautiously, reversing out at the speed of a snail and turning his high beams on.

It’s only when she’s sitting in the front seat of his car that a somewhat important thought floats to the forefront of her mind – “is this allowed?”

“Is what allowed?” He's half paying attention, half checking both sides of the road before turning left onto the street. 

“Like– I mean you’re sort of my professor, I guess,” she stumbles over her words, “Is it… would you get in trouble? For like… giving me a ride?”

Harry’s eyebrows pinch thoughtfully, “Well, first of all– Dr. Richmond’s your professor, not me. Secondly– I don’t see why it would be against the rules. S’just a car ride,” he shrugs. 

She relaxes in her seat, nodding. She supposes he’s right. It’s just a car ride.

“But– if anything,” he adds on with, turning to her momentarily with a mischievous glint in his eye, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Y/n’s lips curl. “Okay,” she giggles. 

It’ll be their little secret. 

+++

HOPE U GUYS LOVED IT!!!!!! part 2 is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (oct 14) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!! more tarry to come!

Prose (part 2) is already posted on patreon! : In which not many students attend Harry's office hours, and y/n's kind of burnt out

Prose Masterlist

[n0ts0surel0ck]

Some autistic Sherlock headcanons!!

Based on my own autism

Sherlock hates getting his hair cut. He can’t wear ear defenders and he despises the small talk and how loud the clippers and blow dryers are. So, he generally wears his hair long and/or cuts it himself. Mariana eventually starts cutting it for him, since it equally bothers him when his hair touches his ears or neck. She’s just… not very good at it.

John finds a salon for Sherlock that does sensory appointments. It’s a silent appointment, so he doesn’t have to talk, and John gets him some earplugs to help with the noise. They’re not as good as his ear defenders but they do for the short time it takes to get his hair done. He mostly gets a dry scissor cut so he doesn’t have to be wet and so the clippers don’t touch him. He doesn’t like the vibration. He finds that he actually enjoys the sensation of a blow dryer when the sound isn’t overwhelming him. The heat and the air pressure are soothing.

Sherlock is very particular about fabrics. He despises polyester and other scratchy, synthetic fabrics. Everything he wears has to be 100% cotton. If he got his way, he’d wear an old pair of holey, decade old pajama pants and a jumper everywhere, but he doesn’t. He understands that he has to be presentable. He likes linen, the material doesn’t touch him as much, doesn’t stick to sweat, and allows for plenty of airflow. During spring and summer, and often stretching into fall and winter, he wears a pair of grey linen trousers. When it finally gets too cold, he switches to a pair of cotton ones that have an elastic waist band. He hates when there’s a lot of pressure below his diaphragm, so he keeps it loose. Shirts are mostly tees in the summer, a bit too big so they don’t touch him much. In the winter, he wears big sweatshirts, a half-peacoat, and a green scarf.

He’s been buying men’s high-top converse since he was in middle school and refuses to wear any other shoe. They’re comfortable, allow him to move without being heard, and don’t add to his height. He hates breaking in new ones, and so holds on to the ones he’s wearing for dear life. John has seen him wrap duct tape all the way around his shoe to keep the sole from falling out before.

His bedroom is kept perfectly organized by absolutely agonizing effort. He is particular about that space, since it’s where he rests. He doesn’t work in there. His chemistry equipment is in the living room and he never goes into the room on cases unless John forces him to change clothes. His room is a sensory heaven that he works tirelessly to keep so. Cleaning is difficult for him, but he resets the space every time he leaves it, even when he’s in a rush.

The rest of the apartment is a bust. His executive dysfunction takes over as soon as he crosses the threshold into the hallway. He leaves toothpaste uncapped, cups and plates everywhere, clothes wherever they fall. It drives John insane and he tries to clean up after himself, but it feels like an insurmountable task.

His hyper fixations overtake conversation constantly. Sometimes he and John will engage in conversation that is just… incomprehensible to those around them. John’s talking about the weather and Sherlock’s talking about Pendolino trains. Neither is acknowledging the other’s topic of conversation, but they’re responding to each other in turn and seemingly having a lovely time.

He likes to stim “with” John when something exciting happens. He grabs both of John’s hands so they’re facing each other and has John pull him back and forth quickly. He likes it when John and Mariana mimic a stim back to him, especially vocal ones. When the three of them are in the office together, it’s just an echo chamber of mouth pops and buzzes.

Sherlock respects the fuck out of routine. His in unconventional, but he follows it almost religiously. This means he respects other’s routines just as aggressively. He never moves John’s items, and if he borrows anything, he puts it back exactly where it was, position and all. He noticed John folding laundry in a certain way and now, if he steals one of John’s shirts and washes it after, he folds it in that certain way.

[theangelbabies]

hey just saw your blog and love it sm! do you do headcanons for more than one person? like i have an idea of reader who is obsessed with hello kitty. as i love it and Sanrio sm! 🤭🫶🏽

for example some of the things could be the matching trousers and buying them stuff like earmuffs or necklace or something.

im thinking about more than one person in the Harry Potter fandom. If you can do it, May the people included be:

Tom Riddle

Draco Malfoy

Matteo Riddle

Harry Potter

Cedric Diggory

tysm!!

HIII!! Sorry it took me soo long to respond! Of course i write for multiple people:3 I actually love this request because i absolutely adore hk and sanrio!!<3 (Its my first time writing anything so if u have any tips tell me and sorry for any mistakes pls be mindful:p)

let’s get started!

𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑹𝒀 𝑷𝑶𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑩𝑶𝒀𝑺 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑺𝑨𝑵𝑹𝑰𝑶

♡𝑻𝒐𝒎 𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆 :

- At first when he walked into your room… he literally almost walked out LMAO

- He would find it absolutely childish which you found actually funny

- You explained to him why do you like it andddd he would still not understand why do you like it so much

- maybe after some time he would get used to it, hes still a bit confused but more why do you spend so much money on buying it😭

- ABSOLUTELY DESPISE SLEEPING AT YOUR ROOM BECAUSE OF ALL THE PLUSHIES

- he feels like hes being observed by all of them

- he wouldn’t really listen to you when youre yapping abt sanrio characters because he’s too focused on doing homework but after some time he would admit that hes favourite is

“The one that looks like penguin” … which is badtz maru 😭🙏

- he wouldn’t rlly support your obsession by buying it without occasion but he would buy it for you for your birthday, valentines or any other holiday:3

♡𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒐 𝑴𝒂𝒍𝒇𝒐𝒚 :

- He would be confused at first definitely but i feel like if you would explain why you like it to him he would be more understandable

- Draco actually got used to everything pretty quickly which kinda shocked you, but it’s only because of tiktoks about the hello kitty lovers…

- SPOOOOOOOILS YOU WITH EVERYTHING WITH HK AND SANRIOOOO!! he would buy u anything you want

- Would wear the matching hk pants with only to stop the constant begging coming for u to match😭😭

- He says he doesn’t like sleeping in your room also because of the plushies BUT THEN YOU CATCH HIM SLEEPING BETWEEN THEM IN YOUR ROOM WHILE CUDDLING ONE OF THEM

- Gets jealous when he catches you cuddling your plushie 😣

- He would listen to you at first when you’re talking about the characters but then he would zone out but he would still listen and actually find it really cute how fascinating you’re talking about it

♡𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒐 𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆 :

- HE WOULD FIND IT ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE

- I ♡ sweet matty so i headcanon he loves this life

- know the tiktoks, he saw them and he finds them hilarious and he wants to even make one (i don’t know if u know what i mean or if u saw it but there was this one tiktok with boyfriend tied and mouth taped while sitting on bed full of hk/sanrio plushies😭😭) HE WOULD TOTALLY WANT TO DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT!!

- Hes the type of bf that fights and hit your plushies when you’re not there or went to the toilet 😣

- Matty has problems with sleeping but he always sleeps the best when he is sleeps cozied up between your plushies like hes literally like this :

- Loves stealing the plushies because they smell like you which helps him with sleeping and comforts him

- Doesn’t buy u much of the plushies because he think u already have so much of them but he definitely buys u things like jewellery or keychains etc!

♡𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝑷𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 :

- He loves it from the beginning, you don’t even have to explain it to him, he doesn’t need it, he doesn’t mind anything

- Has matching pfp with you on social media

- Harry looooves doing the face maska with you, the first picture at the beginning of the headcanon is literally the two of you

- He buys u even more plushies to this point that u have to tell him to slow down because they don’t fit in your room anymore

- You have to give him some of them which he doesn’t complain abt because as mattheo he has sleeping problems because of the nightmares he has ☹️

- DEFINITELY HAS MATCHING PJS AND HE EVEN PROUDLY WEARS THEM OUT WITH YOU (at least in commom room if you’re also in Gryffindor and if not he definitely wears them to sleep whether you sleep together or alone)

- Has matching bracelets with u with hello kitty :3

♡𝑪𝒆𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒄 𝑫𝒊𝒈𝒈𝒐𝒓𝒚 :

- Cedric doesn’t mind, he finds it actually really sweet and laughs at it but absolutely not in a mean way

- Loves to hear u yapping about your passions (sanrio🤭) and definitely tries to remember the characters

- He also doesn’t really like sleeping in your bed but because he feels like theres not much space for you two to cuddle ☹️

- Ced loves to tease you about it especially when you’re talking with your friends

- Has matching pjs with you!!

- Buys you anything you want and definitely supports your addiction with hk and sanrio

- If you have the earmuffs he definitely loves to steal them and wear it himself lmao

- Reposts tiktoks about your obsession all the time🤭

- Gets you the hello kitty cake for your birthday <3

˚✧₊⁎⁎⁺˳✧༚･:*+.\*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'

Thats itttt!!!🤭🤭 I hoped you guys liked it. Im still trying to improve my writing skills so if you have any fic ideas please send me sum so i can keep getting better and better :** Tried my best today, again sorry for the wait and have a good day/night babies <3 Love Yall!!

[kurooandkenmasslut]

HIS HEART!

DOUMA X F!READER! X ?

Summery: after being shut out of your abusive parents house in the cold, icy weather, you thought no one could save you or help you now. Oh how you thought wrong.

Warnings: This story contains strong, hurtful language. Such as cursing, names (like slut, bitch, useless), mention of some blood. Spoilers of season 3 and 2. This story had two alternative endings, so if you don't want it to end this way, you can read the other one! Alternative n2 is you get with s1 else so! I might change this up a bit later on, so keep your eyes peeled!! (Change as in adding more detail and dome heavy manga spoilers!) Enjoy!

"Get out you useless slut! Nobody wants you here!" Your father screamed. Your mother was beside him, her brown eyes glaring down at your weak frame. They hit you, beat you, and tied you to your room wall. They even taped your mouth shut to muffle your pained screams. Your father grits his teeth as he untied you and threw you out the door and slammed the door shut.

You had some major injuries. Like a stab in your hip, arm so close to dislocating, legs in cuts and bruises, and ankles burning from the harsh ropes. But you ran and ran. You panted, finding it hard to breathe, legs wobbling. Your mind is hazy and your legs were about to fail you, your eyes started close down, as the air around you seemed suffocating.

But just as you were about to collapse and never rise again, you fell into a muscular chest, almost warm, but then again, cold. Your head slowly twitched up, and your (e/c) got lost in this mysterious rainbow one, lashes long, creamy white hair framing this mysterious person's face.

"P..p-please h-help m..me.." you barely rasped out. You haven't got water in days, and it showed. Long fingers touched your face, long claws lightly scraped your smooth face. "It's okay my dear, just close your eyes." He whispered, his voice sounded welcoming, but it almost sounded evil, and it was like your mind was telling you to run and not close your eyes, but you obeyed his wishes and closed your eyes.

Your ears rang and you heard muffled voices, and you shifted a bit and opened your eyes, blinking repeatedly. After you opened your eyes, the voices stopped, and it slightly alarmed you. This isn't your dirty ceiling, it was more of a... clean one. You propped yourself on your elbows and held your head closing your eyes in pain. ow, you sure got a massive headache. "Ah! It seems like you've woken up!" The voice started you, and you shot your eyes open. There he sat, the mysterious guy. His white, unusual pale face, rainbow eyes, red top, and black drips coming down from it. His hat seemed to have the same pattern. His beige and baggy trousers matched his outfit.

"Wh..where am I?" You mumbled, eyes scanning the room. You looked down at your body, noticing the bandages. 'Looks like I've been treated, maybe this isn't a bad place.. maybe someone from the village took me in? He doesn't look like anyone I know from the village though..' You thought.

"You are in my home! Dont be afraid my dear beauty, I don't bite! Oh, how rude of me! I didn't even introduce myself!" He said, and chucked at his silliness. He got up from his seat and started walking over to you. "My name is Douma/Doma! What's your name, my darling?~" He cooed and ran his index finger along your chin. "(N-Name) (L/N).." you softly whispered.

'Ahh! She's so adorable! Not to mention a fine beauty! Way prettier than the girl I ate yesterday, and prettier than Daki! Hm~ maybe I won't eat her just yet..' Douma/Doma thought and grinned, showing his fangs. "Well then! You are now a part of my cult my dear!" He cheered. "...cult?" You questioned, tilting your head sideways. "Mhm!" He hummed. He didn't want to make you into a demon, but if he had to, he unfortunately would.

TIMESKIP!

It's been a few months now, and you've already warmed up to Douma/Doma. And now, you think you've fallen for him. He consistently treated you well, fed you, made sure you slept well, he made sure you had the best time with him. But the only thing was that he didn't take you out in the daytime, which made you question it, but quickly shut the thought down and just thought that he was busy during the daytime.

But recently, a new woman came in and he had taken an obvious liking to her. Seemingly, according to Douma/Doma, she had previously been in an abusive relationship with her husband while she was pregnant, her name was. Kotoha Hashibira.

And honestly, she was a kind and lovely woman, but you were jealous. You fear that Douma/Doma liked her better than you, and you could see that she had taken a liking to him, and he did too. He's more around her ever since she gave birth to her baby, Inosuke. He looked so adorable, you even got to hold him. "I think he likes you!" Kotoha giggled, her smile was genuine and warm, maybe Douma did deserve her.

You closed the shoji door gently and flopped onto your futon as tears slipped from your eyes. You covered your body in your duvet and hid your face with your hands. After all the times you spent with him, he loves her now. You loved Douma and Kotoha, you did and you tried to suck it up and face reality but it hurts, it hurts seeing your saviour, the one who saved you, the one who took care of you, the one you loved being with another woman.

You sniffed before setting your plan in your head to talk to him about it. You slid the door open and walked down the hallway you'd walked down for the millionth time, only to see Kotoha running with Inosuke in her arms, her facial expression showed that she was genuinely terrified, horrified. After Kotoha ran past, a few seconds later Douma almost flew past. "Lord Douma! I need to speak with you!" You said, but he only snapped his head back at you, his gorgeous, breathtaking eyes, now have some writing in them. Uppermoon Two. Uppermoon two? What does that mean? Your eyes adverted over down to his face, around his mouth. ..human blood? That would explain the pale skin and the fangs.

But he only ran in the same direction Kotoha had run. His head makes a mental note to deal with you later. You widened your eyes. Sure, you had a few thoughts run through your head when you met him. He was pale, he had razor-sharp nails, not the kind of nails humans would, and he had fangs, it was unusual to have multiple colours in your eyes like him, but you never questioned it because, after all, he did save you.

After they both left, you went back into your room, completely speechless. You didn't comprehend what to do. You've heard stories from the town about demons.

Alternative ending n1: if you stayed.

You decided to stay, after all, your heart beats, and pounds when he's near, and your body just couldn't move an inch towards the door to escape. After all, he did 'save' you.

You heard light footsteps coming to your door, the same familiar light steps, he took. The loud knocks rang throughout the room, making you shiver. "My darling~? May I come in~?" He sang, you rasped out a somewhat affirmative and the door slid open revealing Douma himself.

He closed the door and slowly walked over to you. "Hm. I guess it's not a secret anymore huh?~" He cooed. He put his right hand under your chin and put his face closer to yours. "Say.. instead of being a weak human.. why don't you come and join me, my dear.. we can live together forever! I won't let anything happen to you. you can be my forever bride! Maybe even be an upper moon alongside me! Come with me, come with me..." He chanted. You couldn't give in. Youu couldn't.. oh who were you kidding? Of course, you were gonna give in to him, you loved him.

"I... I will come with you, Lord Douma.." you said, which made him laugh in pleasure, grinning widening his eyes, which made him long a little crazy.

He stuck his finger in your neck, pumping his blood in you. After a good portion, he put his finger out. The blood affected you, and it was obvious. The blood made you choke and hold your throat, and you passed out.

You opened your eyes, wincing at the light. But Douma quickly stuck his head in your vision, his smiling face looking down at you. "My oh my! You look more beautiful than before! Akaza is going to be so jealous! Do you know who Akaza is? He's my best friend! Even though he doesn't show it, I know he label's me as his best friend too! But I think he's just so moody because he was an upper moon before me, but I'm still ranked above him!" He ranted, and you tilted your head.

"What's an uppermoon?" You questioned, and he answered you, and you both talked all night. "Say, wanna go out for some dinner, I heard your stomach rumbling!~" He teased, which made you blush and nod.

Eventually, you flew passed all the ranks and were officially upper moon two, alongside Douma, just like he said. Muzan had liked your strength and confidence, so, he let you be upper moon two.

"Ah, it seems like you are here too, akaza-san!" You said, you and akaza were in the infinity fortress, which could only mean one thing, a uppermoon has fallen. "I guess.." akaza said, eyes trailing around the castle. You got startled when you felt something on your back, which made you glance behind you, but shook off the tense feeling when you saw Douma'a gorgeous face.

"Hello, my dear! I wonder what happened." He trailed off and nuzzled his face in your neck, and you saw from the corner of your eye to see akaza fake gagging. You saw a vase in the corner, and you almost forgot who it was when it started shaking. That was when Gyokko, uppermoon five came out, also the one who smelt like fish.

"Oi! Biwa woman! Where are Kokushibo and Lord muzan?" Akaza yelled. "I summoned Kokushibo here first, he has been listening to your conversation. And muzan will come in shortly."

During the meeting, Gyokko had mentioned something about how he knew something but wasn't sure of it, and that had scintillated you and Douma's attention, so after the meeting, you two tried to talk to him.

"Gyokko~ can you pleeaassseee tell me? I promise to treat you after~!" You poked fun at, trying to get him to take the bait. Gyokko blushed before shaking his head. "I'm not telling you (Name!)" He yelled. And that's when Douma picked his head up and asked him, which he denied.

Suddenly, Akaza came up behind Douma and hit him, causing his face to fall apart. But he regenerated in a blink of an eye and grinned. "Oi! Akaza! Hit him again and I swear to god-" "now now now (name!) Play nice! We were just playing! After all, he's just jealous!" He said and laughed, making a vein pop out of his head. "Why you-" He yelled, ready to land a good hard punch on him, but that's when Kokushibo came in.

"Akaza." He said, a place with Kokushibo is always intimidating and always has tension. You've always admired him, for his strength and his seriousness. You admit you get a small shiver down your back, and it seems like Akaza had visibly shaken.

While that was all happening, you saw Gyokko trying to slip away. "Biwa lady! Teleport me to the place with Hantengu!" "OI!" But it was too late, he had evaporated, along with the demon. And it seemed like everyone disappeared too, well, except Douma of course, he would never leave you. The strum of the Biwa had sent you back to your home with Douma, in a specific position, you were sat on his lap, making you blush violently. He brushed his hands on your thighs, trailing down further. "Say.. how about we have some alone time?" He grinned, and you agreed.

Alternative ending n2: if you escaped.

As Kotoha passed by, she managed to catch a glimpse of you and she mouthed, 'Run'. You trusted her, and you misjudged her. And so you ran back to your room before Douma caught sight of you and started packing your important stuff before running out the other door, in the other direction. You thought he was a demon, after all, you saw him feasting on a human, and you saw his eyes, which had 'Uppermoon Two' written in them. You realised that he didn't 'save' you, the only thing he saved you from was himself, he waited for the perfect time to eat you. So, you had no choice but to run, it was a good chance anyways since he'd always had an eye on you.

You ran and ran, and ran, keep running, you chanted, run run run run, and you paused for a break. You panted before looking up. You saw a man, he had white hair, he turned around, his purple eyes widening at your frame. "Oi! You there! What are you doing?!" He yelled. You ran over to him.

"I'm (Name) L/N! I have a long story but please can we go somewhere else!? A demon is going to be looking for me and eat me!" "I'll take care of him for you." "NO DON'T! HE'S AN UPPERMOON TWO!" You screamed. He was shocked. He doesn't know who you are, and you don't know who he is. You don't seem to be in the demon Slayer Corps, so how do you know what a uppermoon is? After he heard uppermoon, uppermoon two to be exact, he knew it would be dangerous, especially since he didn't prepare, and he was injured, plus, it wouldn't calm you down if he waited for the demon to come over.

"Fine, come with me." He grumbled he grabbed your hand and started sprinting. You could see that he was way faster than you since he was dragging you.

"Where are we going?" You asked. "We're going to the Demon slayer corps, but it's too far away, so we'll have to get a place to stay for the night before going again. But tomorrow we'll be there." He said sternly. He seemed to take the job seriously. You took in his appearance. His hair was all messed up, scars roamed everywhere on his body, and there was no blank place on his body where a scar can't be seen, 'he must've been a tough and brave fighter', you thought. His uniform showed his buff chest, making you blush a bit. He had white sleeves, he lifted his hand to itch his face, noticing how they were scars on his arms too. He had a white belt with trousers. But the two things that popped out for you were that he had a unique sword, and you assumed it was for a demon, and the other thing was that.... he had no eyebrows. But you didn't mind.

"Oi! Stop staring at me, it's getting creepy!" He scolded you, and you jumped and blushed. He was handsome, you had to admit. "So... um... what's your name?" You asked, you wanted to be friends with him.. possibly even more.

"Sanemi Shinazugawa." He said, he didn't even ask for yours but you said it anyways. "My name is (Name) L/N! Nice to meet you!" "Yeah I know, you said it already." He grumbled and rolled his eyes. You looked down and realised he was still holding your hand, but his hands felt warm, so you didn't complain.

"So what happened?" He asked after a few minutes of walking in the village. "I'll tell you later." You mumbled, he understood, they're were people everywhere so explaining your life story with people listening wasn't the best idea.

After you two got to the place where you two were staying, you started explaining. He was listening well, and centralized.

After you finished explaining, it was silent for a few seconds before he asked you a few more questions. He told you it's best if you bathe and prepare for the next day, so you did.

"hah?! There's only one bed?!" Sanemi yelled and you blushed. "I can sleep on the floor if you want?" "Okay" He mumbled and you smiled. You walked over to the bed and grabbed the spare pillow and blanket and lay on the floor.

"I didn't mean literally, you idiot." He mumbled, but you were that tired you didn't even hear what he said since you were fast asleep. He grumbled before putting his hands under your knees and back and lifting your body onto the futon. "Tch.. silly woman.." He mumbled to himself and fell asleep.

The sun shone brightly through the window. You yawned and opened your eyes. Another day yet again. You got up and did your usual stuff, like brushing your hair, and your teeth and changing out of your pyjamas. It seemed Sanemi still hasn't woken yet, and the earlier we are, the closer we are to safety.

"Shinazugawa! Wake up!" You said, lightly shaking him. You sighed, he must be a deep sleeper. "SHINAZUGAWA!!" You yelled and he woke up startled. "OI! WHY ARE YOU YELLING?!" "TO WAKE YOU UP FOR FUCKS SAKE??"

(You'd swear that the people next door to you is pissed and reporting you and sanemi to you to the staff.)

After that lazy ass Sanemi, got up and did what was necessary, you two hit the road again. "Hey, what age are you?" "19." (Let's pretend he is in my au 💋) "Wow! I'm 18! Our ages are so close!" You squealed and Sanemi just looked at you dumbfounded.

Finally, after you got to the Demon Slayer Corps, he dragged you over to some man called, 'Kagaya Ubuyashiki's estate.'

"Hello my dear child, welcome back. How was your journey?... It seems another presence is in the room. Who is this person, my child?" He softly questioned. Sanemi explained who you were and your story to you. Kagaya nodded his head in understanding.

"Well then, Welcome to the Demon Slayer Corps, (Name) L/N."

Timeskip!

Two years ago you were promoted as the ' Wisteria Pillar.' You helped Shinobu with her poisons and meditation for patients. You were happy with your job, as a hashira, and as a nurse.

"Oi! (Name)! Wanna go to the town?" Sanemi asked, and you nodded your head eagerly. You've taken a great liking to Sanemi, and you hoped he did too. You hid your sword under your lilac haori and tried not to scare the people in the village not far.

You and Sanemi went from market to market, but one, in particular, caught your gaze. "Hey hey hey 'Nemi! Look at this! This matches your eyes!" You squealed. It was a cute bracelet that had some shades of purple and some charms on it was white.

"'Nemi I'm gonna make you wear this!" "I'm not gonna wear that stupid band around my wrist." He said and rolled his eyes. "Please please please ~ ill get one for me too to match you!" "Tsk... fine.." He grumbled and your giggles and paid for the two bracelets. You slipped it on his wrist and wore yours too. "Ahh!! We're like twins!" "Don't be silly 🙄" "Hey! 😟😔" Then he ruffled your hair, messing it up. "C'mon, slow poke." He teased and you ran at him and clung to him.

"Oi (name) I gotta tell ya somethin." Sanemi called. "Yeah? What is it?" You smiled. You gave him the smile that made him smile. Not a crazy smile he gives demons before slaughtering them, the loving smile.

"I-... fucks sake.. um... I- UGH I LIKE YOU, DUMBASS!!!" He screamed. You wore a shocked face, totally not expecting that. "Well?! DON'T JUST GIVE ME THAT SHOCKED FACE AND ANSWER ME!" He yelled at you, again. You giggled at him. You were happy he wasn't gonna give you some corny thing and went straight to the point. It was Sanemi Shinazugawa after all.

"Oi oi oi oi, why are you laughing you punk-" "I like you too idiot!" You squealed. The tips of his ears were pink before, now his ears were red and so was his face, now he was the one who wore a shocked expression, totally not expecting that. You grabbed his hands and leaned close to his face, making him redder than Giyuu's red side of his haori. Sanemi went back into reality since he put his hand at the back of your head and pushed it, making his and your lips connect. It was like fireworks exploding in your stomach, it felt amazing. When you disconnected from him, your lips tingled. You blushed and kissed him on the cheek.

"Let's go back, yeah?" "Okie!!"

"Oi! Shinazugawa! W-wh.HAH.. where did you get your bracelet?" Tengen teased, trying to tease him through laughs. "YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH IT YOU FLASHY RETARD?!" Sanemi yelled and Tengen put his hands up in defence. Sanemi turned around and smiled at the memory. You were all his, and he was all yours. Maybe just maybe, if you two make it out alive, he would marry you and love you until the day you two die, and that's a promise in his heart.

[charmandabear]

17 Shadowheart x Karlach

From @astarionfreak 's smut ask game ~ other entries

17. "I'm not wearing any underwear."

Perhaps a preview of what's to come for the Office Hours side chapter? 👀👀👀 (Notably, this isn't actually the Office Hours universe, despite being a modern au lol)

Shadowheart's dress is based on this art by @metal-junk, and Karlach's is from my own sick twisted imagination. If anyone wants to make art of her outfit, though, I won't complain 😍

Karlach checks her reflection in the mirror. Not too bad, honestly. The sleek high waisted trousers highlight the musculature of her abs, and the open cropped blazer shows off her glowing heart. She's come to appreciate this thing, once a death sentence, but ever since Dammon found the right parts to allow her to exist in the material plane, it's become a symbol of her survival. Plus, it makes her look cool as fuck.

She has some concerns about the jacket flapping open and flashing her boobs to everyone, but Shadowheart insists that the dress tape will keep it firmly in place, even through the natural heat of Karlach's skin.

"Love, are you almost ready to go?" Shadowheart calls from the bathroom. Karlach gives her hair one last adjustment before calling back, "Yup, ready when you are."

Shadowheart emerges from the bathroom and Karlach's heart nearly stops. Her long silver hair is out of its usual braid and flows down her back like a waterfall. Her dress is a stunning black silk that hangs over her curves perfectly. The bodice has straps that frame her breasts and meet up at a collar around her pretty porcelain neck. Delicate silver chains drape across her front and sides, and the ones around her hips gather at two waist-high slits, showing off her thick thighs. Karlach's mouth starts to water, and she can feel the arousal dampening the gusset of her underwear.

"Holy shit." Karlach can't find it in her to be any more eloquent than that. Shadowheart laughs, a light sound like bells, and grabs her clutch and her wrap from the dining room table.

"You look amazing too, sweetheart." She crosses to Karlach and stands on her toes to give her a kiss. Karlach, unsatisfied with a dry little peck, grabs hold of Shadowheart and immediately deepens the kiss, her tongue seeking entry between her lover's lips. Karlach slips her hand underneath that tantilizing slit and up around to her ass, delightfully surprised to find it completely bare. She breaks the kiss, panting, and stares at Shadowheart's cheeky grin.

"Oh, didn't I mention? I'm not wearing any underwear," she says in a husky voice, and Karlach's pussy clenches in a pavlovian response.

"Wha- I- and you tell me this now? Right before we need to leave?" Karlach splutters as Shadowheart giggles devilishly in response. "You expect me to sit through the entire coronation knowing that there's only a thin layer of silk between me and the promise land?"

"Think of it as your treat for doing something nice if murderously boring for a friend," she grins. Then she grabs Karlach's hand and drags her toward the door of their shared apartment. "Now come on, Lae'zel just texted me, they're all downstairs in the limo waiting for us."

***

Everyone, of course, looks absolutely stunning. Astarion and Tav look like gods damned super models in matching brocades, whereas Gale is wearing an understated but elegant deep violet suit. Lae'zel looks extremely uncomfortable in her silver blazer and leather body suit, the straps of her bra poking out beneath the lapel.

But Karlach only has eyes for Shadowheart. She chats amicably with everyone, and every time she laughs the silvery chain catches the light, bringing Karlach's attention directly back to her stunning cleavage. Karlach hides behind her champagne glass, worried that if she opens her mouth to say something, it'll be to tell the driver to pull over so she can immediately eat Shadowheart out on the side of the road.

But she manages to maintain her composure, even all the way through Wyll's coronation, despite the growing ache between her thighs every time Shadowheart uncrossed and recrossed her legs. When they finally make it to dinner, and after Wyll has made his appearance by their table to receive his obligatory congratulations, only then does Karlach dare to slip a hand onto Shadowheart's thigh beneath the table. She hears the other woman's breath catch in her throat, and the look Shadowheart flashes her is smoldering.

"Pardon, everyone, I need to use the restroom. Shadowheart, will you accompany me?" Karlach finally says in a stiff voice. Lae'zel makes a disapproving grunt.

"I do not understand your custom of women using the bathroom in flocks. Must I attend as well?" she glowers, and Astarion lets out one of his high-pitched giggles.

"Lae'zel, I don't believe they require your assistance for this one," he says, flashing a salacious smile at Tav who flushes a violent purple. Karlach doesn't even register Lae'zel's response because she and Shadowheart are already out of earshot of the group, making a beeline for the closest bathroom.

They barely manage to close the door to the single stall bathroom before Shadowheart has Karlach pressed up against the door, ravaging her face with kisses. She slips her hand beneath the hem of the blazer and runs it across the planes of bumps and scars along Karlach's ribcage.

Between breathless kisses, Shadowheart laughs, "They all know exactly what we're doing in here." Karlach runs her fingers through Shadowheart's silvery locks and gives them a firm tug right at the scalp, causing Shadowheart to quietly moan with pleasure.

"Frankly, I don't give a fuck. They all see what you look like, I don't think any of them will blame me," Karlach murmurs against Shadowheart's lips, punctuating her statement with a nip to her lower lip.

"Well, they're not blind, they can see you too," Shadowheart pants, moving her lips down Karlach's neck and to her clavicle. "I could not stop staring at your tits, love, they look amazing." She wrestles with the lapel of the blazer momentarily, before finally ripping the tape off and eliciting a strangled groan of both pain and pleasure from Karlach. Shadowheart immediately soothes the tender skin with her tongue. She cups one breast in her hand while she takes the other into her mouth, swirling her tongue around Karlach's nipple. Karlach drops her head back against the door, trying to keep her whimpering moans under control.

Shadowheart slides her hand down Karlach's abs and quickly unbuckles her belt, unzipping her pants just enough to slip her hand beneath Karlach's lace panties. She lets two fingers slide between her folds, and she chuckles when they immediately get covered in slick.

"Oh my, someone's been thinking about this," she coos, giving Karlach's nipple one last flick with her tongue before snaking up to her neck, nuzzling in the heat radiating off of her skin.

"Are you fucking with me? I'm pretty sure that coronation lasted six hours and I spent the entire time thinking about my head between your legs- ah-" Karlach grunts as Shadowheart slips her fingers into her cunt, curling them upwards slightly. Her knees buckle as she presses herself harder against the door, her hips bucking into her lover's hand. Shadowheart straddles Karlach's thigh, grinding against her while slowly pumping her fingers in and out.

"Gods, Karlach," she moans breathlessly, speeding her fingers up as her own need grows. Karlach hisses and roughly grabs Shadowheart's hair, pulling her face closer so that their lips are less than an inch apart.

"Fuck, kiss me while you make me come," Karlach pleads, and Shadowheart eagerly complies. She moves her lips against Karlach's, thrusting her fingers into her in time with her hips. Karlach loses her faculties as Shadowheart brings her closer to climax, clinging onto her long hair for stability more than as a tool of control. She wraps her tail around Shadowheart's calf to ground herself even more, worried that if she doesn't, she'll simply collapse. The two pound against the door rhythmically, certainly making a racket in the hallway outside but neither of them can be pressed to care. All that matters is bringing Karlach to orgasm, and when she can feel Shadowheart's arousal seep through her pants and dampen her thigh, she comes with an explosive wave of pleasure that reverberates through them both. Shadowheart continues to ravage Karlach's lips as she rides through the aftershocks of her climax, steadying Karlach's rutting hips with her hand.

Shadowheart breaks the kiss, breathing heavily. She doesn't have much time to recover, because within seconds Karlach has her spun around with her back to the door.

"Oh no, you don't get to give me a mind blowing orgasm and think I'm not going to return the favor," she hisses, pinning Shadowheart's wrists together above her head. She becomes putty in Karlach's hands, letting her lover mould her into any shape she wants. Karlach quickly drops to her knees, eagerly pushing aside the panel skirt separating her from Shadowheart's dripping cunt. She laps her tongue along her slit, relishing in the debaucherous sound that escapes Shadowheart's mouth.

"Oh you might want to hold on, Fringe," Karlach smirks devilishly. "Maybe grab hold with one hand and cover your mouth with the other, else we'll give anyone walking by outside a free x-rated show." The tip of her tail skates up the inside of Shadowheart's thigh, and Shadowheart catches the loud moan with her hand just before it tumbles out of her. Taking Karlach's advice, she grabs hold of the tiefling's one good horn and braces herself against the door as Karlach's tongue pushes its way past her folds. Karlach slips her hand under Shadowheart's thigh and drapes it over her right shoulder. Her tail teases her entrance while Karlach closes her lips around Shadowheart's swollen clit, sucking lightly. Shadowheart digs her nails into her cheek, trying to keep her noises under control, but she's finding it harder and harder as Karlach slides her tail into her cunt, the cartilage point dragging against her walls deliciously.

Karlach presses her long claws into the supple flesh of Shadowheart's ass, leaving evenly spaced pink puncture marks. Shadowheart cants her hips wildly, overwhelmed by the sensation of being fucked slowly by Karlach's tail and her skilled mouth moving around her clit. She bites down on the skin of her palm to try to keep quiet, but the shrieks tear through her nonetheless. She tightens her grip around Karlach's horn, feeling the pressure build as Karlach's tongue laps up the slick juices flowing freely from her.

"Fuck, Karlach, faster, please." Her words are muffled by her hand, but Karlach hears the plea loud and clear. She increases the pace of her tail pumping in and out of Shadowheart while she alternates light flicks and slow stripes on her clit. Shadowheart's legs begin to shake violently and she squeezes her knee around Karlach's shoulder as her orgasm wracks through her, the white hot lightning vibrating through her core and crackling out into her fingers and toes. Karlach dutifully drinks in Shadowheart's spend like it's the sweetest wine.

Shadowheart finally collapses against the door, fully boneless and unable to hold herself up. Karlach stands, wiping her face crassly on her sleeve before capturing Shadowheart's comparatively cool lips in a tender kiss. She presses her forehead against her love's and hums contentedly.

"Next time, tell me you're not wearing underwear after the event, please."

[ransprang]

Hi! Since you're asking for request i have a nsfw for you. Dante has a crush on the small seamstress who repair his trenchcoats. She's gonna make him a new one (maybe the one of DMC5?) so she gonna take him the new measurements and maybe Dante having her so close he decide to go wild and release all his sexual frustations?

Okay so this was revealed to me in a dream! Enjoy

Dante x F!reader (N/SFW in the trenches of love)

- descriptions of BJ

Dante made a routine visit to his local seamstress after a battle as usual. He particularly liked going there as he enjoyed the company and sight of the special y/n. She was known for her sewing far and wide but more than that Dante got flutters in his stomach and urges he would rather not share with anyone. This felt less of a chore and more of a break to him after a fight.

As Dante reached y/n's boutique he felt a bit nervous, but carried on regardless. He stepped into the shop looking for her, with a smirk on his face. He was up to no good today, Dante was feeling a little naughty. Y/n returned Dante the banter he brought with him, she countered his flirtatious attitude while keeping a modest distance due to her shy nature.

"Y/n you know what time of the month it is, and its not what you think!" he finger gunned and earned a raised eyebrow from the disappointed seamstress. "Dante, looks like you've outgrown good humor and perhaps your measurements too, now stand there so I can measure you." He rolled his eyes with a smile and stood before the woman, she was shorter than him. y/n's head came up to the base of his neck so she had to look up to maintain eye contact while he looked down. He could've almost kissed that forehead Dante thought to himself. He just gave her an awkward giggle as she maintained a ever so smiley face which she kept whenever Dante was around.

Y/n took out her measuring tape and started going around his shoulders. wrote something in her notepad, then she measured his chest and did the same. Then she measured his waist "still cinched...", Dante laughed and rubbed the back of his head embarrassed. He was feeling urges of letting his intrusive thoughts win but he was holding back his tongue as to not embarrass himself further after his entrance joke.

Y/n finally got on her knees and wrapped her measurement tape around his hips and was getting the reading near his zipper when suddenly she heard "suck it". y/n raised her eyebrows in shock, losing her smile to gasp and look up. Dante was looking down biting his lower lip. His expression showing a tad bit of disappointment that he actually said that, mixed with clear restraint. Dante subconsciously took his hand and placed it at the back of y/n's head and whispered again "suck it" with more conviction. He knew the situation was too far gone after the first time he said it so he decided to commit.

Y/n was struck with confusion but she didn't want to say no. Her hands let loose of the measuring tape and let it slip as her hands slid to the sides of his pants. After a moment of silence, Dante was losing his patience and his hard on was pushing against his zipper, so close to her mouth. He used his free hand to slowly unzip his pants and pulled down his trousers. Y/n looked at his dick, its pink tip touching the tip of her nose. She could feel a churning feeling in her heart, heart beating fast and mouth salivating. Y/n breathed heavily looking up into his ocean blue orbs. She slowly moved her soft lips and wrapped them around his member and slowly started moving back and forth with the aid of his hand hold back her hair in a pony.

Dante let out a sigh of relief and threw his head back, closing his eyes. "Aaah" he released as he increased the pace of y/n's head bopping by pushing her head. She gagged, increasing the grip against the sides of his hips. It was long since Dante felt the pleasure of having a woman's lips on his cock and especially a woman he actually liked. As he grew closer to climax he gritted his teeth and tensed his stomach as he groaned. He thrust faster into y/n's mouth as she choked and her saliva dripped down her chin. He made one last thrust pushing her head hard towards the base of his dick and counter thrusting as far as he could down her throat. She felt warm jizz slide down her throat as he closed his eyes tightly breathing relief through his mouth.

Y/n finally had the strength to push herself away and fall back on her bum on the floor. Dante immediately tucked his semi hard penis inside his pants, forgetting to unzip his pants. He dropped down to sit right next to her. Y/n was looking at him with a small smile as he panicked to grab the nearest fabric laying around in her shop to help clean up the saliva mess. y/n was finally catching her breath and she let out a laugh, Dante saw the lightheartedness and laughed with her and they both just giggled for a bit at the events that just happened. He had his hand around her shoulder give her a strong squeeze "that....was very good y/n, didn't know you had more talents". Y/n had a massive smile on her face "This was my first time", -"What?!!!" he let out a shocked exclaim. Y/n laughed "well yeah, I don't have the time nor any hot men that come around." Dante actually had a concerned and shocked expression, he seemed to be speechless. Y/n got up with the most arrogant smile and corrected her dress, "well Dante get up we still have work to get done." he got up baffled and wide eyed, Dante knew he was so impressed and he would definitely be paying more frequent visits.

Your Saliva,

Admin Sav

[revelisms]

A small moment with Primo and Terzo from a fic I haven't gotten around to finishing 🪴

WC: 1.4k | Hurt/comfort, dysfunctional family dynamics, bandaging wounds, mentioned blood, big brother Peemo doing his best.

The hall echoes around the pincher's thunk-thudding steps like a cavernous wallow: frigid and endless and lonely, as always. At the root of it stands a black-haired boy, stuck between the prongs of a three-branched tree. 

Brother—father—mother and thing. 

His knee is still bleeding.

A hand coiled strangely at his own shoulder, his eyes dismal on the tooth-rotted yellow of Nihil's office, he thinks and scowls and thinks again about how Copia, not more than five years on his bones, had tried to press a healing charm on his leg, with a shiver of magic that felt enormous. 

He'd smacked his hand away, wide-eyed. Then he'd picked between the tears in his pantleg, found the nasty scrape still angry and red, those blue eyes peering miserably up at him, and scuffed. 

Sister has the little freckle-face by the hand, now: her words a silken soothing only a distant memory of his remembers.

The hand on his shoulder squeezes, loosens.

He's off, without another breath—unable to stand any of it: the emptiness, the silence; muggy and dust-soaked and wretched and old. His shoes batter off the stones.

The tussle of habits and buttoned silks are used to this, by now. A mewling stray, some call him: but for all he glides like a cat through the bramble, he just as well soars: a small nightingale flitting through those staccato sunbursts of light and shadow and creaking doors, panting and running, running away from it—from nothing at all.

Still four wings. Still a cage of stone.

He stumbles over the grasses past the stoop to the East Wing: claps his hands on the glass door to the greenhouse. The air is thick with early spring, and damp with the first traces of nectar.

"Nonna." The old goat, nosing over his plants, of course doesn't hear him. He squeaks the door a sliver wider. "Nonna."

Primo sighs, pinching soil into his eyes, and immediately swears a storm. "Yes, what?" He swats his bony hands clean, gruffing dimly. His blondish hair hangs raggled and limp, a few strands slipped loose from the knot at his nape. He's in his gardening clothes, today: wrinkled shirt and trousers, green apron, smattered with fertilizer and grime.

"You three were supposed to be back hours ago. Sister Maria was ready to send a search warrant." His pale eyes leer, gentle for all they glower. He clicks his tongue. "What have you got into, now?"

Terzo, twig-like in the doorway, shrugs. His nails pinch at his shirt. "I, uh—"

His elder brother makes a wordless assessment: a bland stare that slips from his hair to his shoes. "You fell."

He chews on his lip. "I was just in a tree," he mumbles, sourly.

"Little one, we have been through this," Primo chides quietly. "You are too clumsy to do such things." He busies himself over the sink, finding a clean rag for his fresh-scrubbed hands, and hunts for his box of bandages. "One day, you'll break your neck," he grumbles on, peeling the cardboard open, and sighs again. "Come here."

Reluctantly, Terzo does. 

Primo helps him up on the counter, his thin hands cold as claws, and takes his time examining the damage: knee, wrist, cheek. "Always in trouble, aren't you?" he wonders, zeroing back on his battered knee. "You shredded the poor thing." 

The room is so green, so warm, so sunkissed and quiet—a softer sort, now. Terzo keeps his eyes on the ferns, his cheek between his teeth. Avoids the sight of his brother's back turning to look for the rubbing alcohol and cotton pads and whatever else shouldn't be in here but is, because of how routine this has become: how unlikely he is to go anywhere else: how often he has peeked his head around the corner with bleeding fingers and bleeding elbows and a bleeding heart in his hands.

And Primo, somehow, with his box of bandages, always seems to know how to tape shut the cracks.

"You must be more careful, Zito." He says it with a worrisome glance and a furrowed brow: more a mothering hen than the horned thing they've all assigned him to be. The cotton pad he's soaked in alcohol stings. "How your brother has the patience. Now—sit up, please. Hold still."

Terzo frowns, does as he's told, shifting his dirty nails against the paint-chipped counter. There's a cluster of herbs soaking in the window's sun: tarragon, sage, basil, mint. He plucks a sprig of fresh spearmint, sticks it between his teeth, muddling on it. Primo always keeps some there for him to do so, even though he complains. 

"You will eat me out of those leaves," the old goat grumbles—per usual. He smears smooth the bandage on his knee, cleans off his elbow and sticks another one there. "You had lunch, yes?"

"In town."

"And what did you have?"

Terzo picks at his pantleg. "Piadina."

"Good." Primo dabs another cotton pad over his cheek. "And did you get your Chinotto?"

"Uh-huh." He smiles toothily, twists the soda cap out from his pocket. "'Nother for the collection. I'm gonna paint this one purple. See?"

"I see." Primo presses a small bandage over his cheek. "You will have a full set of armor, by the time you are done with those."

Terzo sticks the cap back in his pocket. "That's the point."

"Well, then—perhaps that will help you with these falls of yours."

The light shifts over the glass: a dappling through the pines that cluster around the clearing. Terzo watches it speckle across the floor. His fingers press five knifepoints into the counter.

Softly, unasked, a thin hand cords through his hair.

"You are alright, yes?" murmurs a low voice. "Only a few scrapes and bruises?"

And a little boy with magic that could dwarf him who his mother loved who Secondo could care less for and that must mean Secondo didn't care much for him, either—

He blinks at the plants piled around the room. Shrugs.

A quiet sigh ebbs across from him. "Then all is good, mh?" Primo's fingers comb softly through his hair again, mussing the strands into some floral nicety. And before Terzo can let that comfort shiver through him, let the tears pricking at his lashes build and burn and fall too, that hand draws still over his temple. "Come here."

He slumps into his apron. It reeks of compost, and that wet earthiness of worms, and a trace of his cologne: the one that smells more spicy than sweet. Terzo breathes it in like a blanket he was born with, breathes it out like the first gulp of fresh air he's had in an age. 

"It is alright, little one," Primo is muttering on, rubbing gently over his shoulder. 

Terzo doesn't think it is.

He doesn't know what he thinks about any of it, really.

He thought he wasn't going to fall from that stupid tree.

His bat-eared brother wraps around him like a dragon, like he's a little piece of gold in a rotted den—or, maybe, just a speck of rot, itself. But if he is, he hopes it's the kind he'll stick in his flowerpots, mingle up with the roots so it can grow into something else.

"You want to see the maggots I've harvested?" Primo hushes, smiling slyly.

Terzo blanches to his ears.

"Found them down by the river. They were nested in a deer carcass."

His head twists from his brother's shoulder. "Wait—is it still there? Can we go see it? Please please please—?"

"So you don't want to see maggots, but you...want to see that." Primo ticks a pale brow. "Satan, what am I to do with you?"

A small hand paws at his apron. "I won't touch it—I promise! Pinky-promise! Double-triple-quadruple promise!"

Primo kneads his fingers into his eyes, again. "You will help me with the roses first, eh?" Terzo's mouth pops open, ready for a beewinged bluster. "And then," his brother hisses on, before he can start, "maybe."

The smile that lights up the room might be worth it all—even if it is at something so grotesque. 

"Maybe," Primo reiterates again—but Terzo's already off the counter, sprung free like a wind-up doll, hunting for the clippers and gloves, and, well.

It seems there's not much room to say no, after that.

[skruttet]

Hodgkins

The body is presumably sculpted from styrofoam, the legs, hands and facial skin are made from leather and glued on top of the body material. The nose is separately cut from different-toned leather. The mouth and eyebrows have been painted and pig bristles have been attached as a moustache. Ears for Hodgkins have been cut from a soft, light piece of fur. The jacket is made of beige corduroy, a decorative leather belt and buttons are glued to the back. Under the jacket is a red and white checked shirt and the pants are beige suede. Hodgkins has a handkerchief made of the same fabric as his shirt in his pocket and a pipe in the other pocket.

The Joxter

The Joxter's body, legs, hands and face are made the same as Hodgkins'. Under the eyes the cheeks are painted in pink. The hair is made of blonde flax tow. On his head, Joxter has a tall and wide-brimmed hat made of leather. A linen cord is tied around the top of the hat. The jacket is made of beige fabric and its buttons are made of small pieces of leather. A pipe wrapped in dark brown felt sticks out of his pocket. Under the coat is a colourful shirt or scarf tied behind the neck. The trousers are light brown, worn corduroy. For the Joxter's other hand, a rope has been made from brown string, which he has attached to a branch of the tree trunk while balancing on it.

Moominpappa

Moominpappa must also have been carved from styrofoam or balsa/jelutong wood, and Polyfilla has been brushed on it, which is then painted. The eyes are also made in the same way as the other figures by gluing a piece of white leather and painting the colour of the eye on it. The tail is made by gluing a white, oblong piece of leather into a "sleeve" and the tail tassel of the linen cord comes out of its tip. The leather part of the tail is still painted in the same colour as the body.

The Muddler

The Muddler's body, arms, legs and face are made the same as Hodgkins and the Joxter. Under the eyes, there is a splash of orange-red colour. The hair is made of flax tow like the Joxter and the top is made of fur like Hodgkins. The Muddler's ears are mottled fur with dark brown spots on a light brown base. On his head, the Muddler has a saucepan made of almost black velvet fabric (you can see the fabric from the bottom of the saucepan, which is facing up), on top of which a piece of silver duct tape is attached. The handle of the pot is also formed from the tape. The jacket is tailcoat-like and made of black felt fabric, and its buttons on the front and back are made of pieces of leather. The Muddler has a white undershirt and a scarf around his neck. The pants are beige fabric and multi-coloured leg warmers are wrapped around the legs.

The Nibling

The body of the Nibling is probably also made of either styrofoam or soft types of wood, but on top of it there is the Nibling's skin glued from grey suede, from which the tail is also made. The nose of the Nibling is made of shiny black leather and its large whiskers are made by sticking pig bristles through the leather.

-Conservation and research of three-dimensional Moomin tableau made by Tuulikki Pietilä by Riina Uosukainen

[the-fiction-witch]

Measuring

Media The Maze Runner

Character Newt

Couple Newt X Reader

Rating Smut + Funny

Concept Measuring

Smut Nudity / HJ / Mild BJ or Kisses / Cumming / Jizz in hair

I stood in the garden shed pad and pencil in hand, counting up all our tools, all our seeds, all our garden stock that we had lining the selves in the shed. I made sure to make accurate notes as this would be used then to make the list for the box and the list for the builders to tell them how many of each tool or item we need making up for us. It should be zarts job as keeper however he outsourced it to me as usual. I was making my notes peacefully when the shed door opened wide. I glanced over to see a familiar sight.

Y/n our only girl currently, in her usual little shoes, the same cargo trousers as everyone else but she had cut them into shorts due the hot weather, a loose blue shirt with it slightly hung off her left shoulder exposing her bra strap. She had her hair in a long plait a blue ribbon worked into her plait and around her head like a headband to keep the hair out of bed face, her measuring tape around her neck and her own writing pad In her arm. She was our laundry girl and repair girl cleaning and fixing all the clothes of the glade. Frankly she had been a godsend in that respect as It meant at least we could have some fresh clothes every once in a while. 

"Hi love" I smiled 

"Take out your dick" 

I froze up for a moment having to have a moment of buffer "uuuuuuuhhh… what!?"

"Take out your dick" she repeats

".... Yeah that's what I thought you said. One more time I think I might be loosing my mind"

"Take out your dick. Your penis. Your cock. Your manhood. The doohickey between your legs" 

"I. Have. So many. Questions"

"I don't have time for this newt come on"

"Have you been out in the sun too long love?"

"Fine I'll do it" she sighed coming in more but I backed away holding my pencil like a machete as I didn't have mine and the pad to protect myself

"Ahhh no! No! Ain't nobody touching my doohickey!" I complained "now please. Explain what the bloody hell is going on"

"I'm making a graph" 

"A graph? What kind of graph?"

"I'm measuring every boys height and penis length I'm trying to see if there's a correlation"

"....why?"

"I have a day off and I'm bored" she shrugs "come on newt I have to do everyone in the glade for my research, I have them all written down"

"-im not the first person you came to with this?"

"No, I didn't know were you where your going to be my twentieth seventh subject"  

"How on earth did you get anyone to agree to that?"

"Well I'm also going to have to make a largest to smallest scale for the graph"

"AHH. That's how. You realize the only reason anyone has agreed to this is A to show the only girl in the glade there cocks and B because they all wanna see if they have a bigger cock then someone else"

"Science is science I don't care why they agreed so long as they do" she shrugs "so… may I measure?"

"No" I told her

"But my graph! Science!"

"Your graph will be fine without one participant"

"Please"

"No. Besides once Minho finds out where I am on the scale he'll never let me live it down" I sighed returning to my work 

"Why? Are you going to be one of those really weird variables?"

"Y/n. Just no."

"Fine. Fun crusher" she sighed 

I shook my head as went back to my work making notes and counting things up but as I did I noticed her out the corner of my eye with her tape measure checking my height

"Y/n!"

"Newtie 5'10 and a half" she notes on her little pad 

"You're not going to give up on this are you?"

"Nope"

"Fine" I sighed "on the condition I get to know everyone else's"

"Okay"

"Alright" I sighed making sure to lock the shed so knowone would come in 

"Go on then" she smiled with her little tape measure

"Alright alright." I told her undoing my pants unable to stop glancing at her as I did eventually they dropped to my ankles and she waited smiling at me moving to kneel on the floor In Front of me stroking her tape 

"Come on I haven't got all day" she says so I slowly tugged my underwater down enough she could do her measuring. She wasted no time immediately starting her work it was

 "For god sake newt it keeps changing" she complained

"It's cold in here love!" I complained 'don't get hard. Don't get hard. I know there's a girl like an inch away from my cock but don't get hard! She's gonna notice that'

My thoughts were rather suddenly interrupted but her blowing a warm breath across me "come on little guy I know it's cold in here but I'm trying to measure" she giggled stroking her hand up my shaft a few times

"Uuuuuuuhhh…." Well. There goes the idea of not getting hard 

"Yay there he is" she giggled returning to measuring and making her notes "thank you newt" she smiled giving me a kiss but that was enough- "Ahhhh!" She squealed in shock "newt!" She screamed 

"I'm so sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry" I told her as quickly as I could even if I was still a bit disoriented quickly pulling my pants up as she got to her feet 

"Seriously!" She yelled 

"I'm sorry!" I told her "it uhh it's in your hair"

"I know!" She complained as I had managed to hit both her face and her hair 

"I'm really really sorry y/n" I told her letting her use my hoodie to clean her face and hair 

"It's fine." She sighed "what I get for helping"

"Have you… helped anyone else today?"

"No, but I figured you'd need a hand" she smiled giving my cheek a little kiss too 

"Thank you very very much" I smiled giving her a kiss too "so where do I rank?"

"Not sure. A bit unfair given you were hard" she giggled

"Ohh trust me any guy in the glade saw you on your knees they were hard" I told her 

"Interesting" she giggled "it's fine some boys were. I'll show you my graph later" she smiled giving my cheek another kiss and heading to the door "think positive newt you beat gally" she smiled as she headed out into the glade 

[telekinetictrait]

"Right now, I hold on to myself, sometimes literally. I hold on to my sides, my arms, my stubborn ankles, because in this house of nostalgia and fear, of time warps and trivia, I'm the only one I know about for sure." (Memory Mambo – Achy Obejas, 1996)

i'm running out of things to say, in all honesty. there's only so many times i can say that a decade is focusing on comfort before i get super repetitive. but, anyway, the nineties! baggy sweaters and pants, spaghetti straps, tank tops – etc, etc. oh. preppy sweater vests also. umm. plaid pants. sneakers. docs. grunge, specifically seattle grunge. riot grrl. pop country. r&b. hip-hop. the fresh prince of bel air. clueless. ten things i hate about you (one of my favorite movies ever). dave grohl <3. super baggy clothes. chokers! friends! rent! i'm just listing things from the 90s! i have no idea what to talk about!

also, this decade is modeled by a draft of my current simself <3 previous looks that were based on myself were just, like, brunette and slightly not skinny. but here's a draft of my simself in all my acne-scarred, hairy, stretch-marked, eye-bagged, physically disabled glory!

1800’s / 1900-1909 / 1910-1919 / 1920-1929 / 1930-1939 / 1940-1949 / 1950-1959 / 1960-1969 / 1970-1979 / 1980-1989

cc links under the cut!

see my resources page for genetics AND ALSO seaslugsims' acne redux / ohwiepowie's just a little bruised bruised knees / teabaker's joint tape / bellassims' crutches

uallach : syaovu's exia hair v3 (left pony + bangs) / base game necklace / jellymoo's nami shirt / r0ach3z’s emo kid gloves / definitely not grunge revival shorts / base game shoes

udelia : cazmari-mods' nora hair / zeussim's renaissance choker v2 / pixelette-cc's rosemary outfit / sondescent's babydoll shoes with socks

ufrasie : pigeonhome's scruffy hair / jellymoo's vintage headphones / definitely not grunge revival shirt + jeans + shoes

uliana : imvikai's dina hair with bangs / base game earrings / kamiiri's victoria sweater / greenllamas' scizzorhand skirt / aveirasims' slyd charlene heels recolor

uma : okruee's rin hair / uxji's wolf lipsticks / definitely not grunge revival necklaces / sforzcc's thistle dress / trillyke's blake socks / sondescent's leaf crusher shoes

undine : jellymoo's rowan hair + bandana / base game necklace / jellymoo's yasmin dress / sondescent's babydoll shoes with socks

ursella : oakiyo's coraline hair / ice-creamforbreakfast's mcmoo earrings / dyoreos' jelly choker / base game tank / kimoanasims' wave jeans / definitely not grunge revival shoes

ustyna : softpine's rubber ducky hair / get together top + cherryacets4's tie recolor / dyoreos' drifted shorts / jellymoo's sikk high tops

utilia : subtles4stubble's revamped bombshell hair / base game aviators / zeussim's judy sweater / clumsyalienn's sally trousers / greenllama's off duty platform docs

uvie : simmister's maxified franzi hair / base game necklace / sondescent's plaid top / sondescent's peekaboo cargo / sondescent's sim stomper shoes

thank you to @seaslugsims @teabaker @bellassims @syaovu @jellymoo @mossylane (mossylane uploading the grunge revival kit... you have saved my life.) @cazmari-mods @zeussim @pixelette-cc @sondescent @pigeonhome @imvikai @kamiiri @greenllamas @aveirasims @okruee @uxji @trillyke @oakiyo @ice-creamforbreakfast @dyoreos @kimoanasims @softpine @cherryacets4 @subtles4stubble @clumsyalienn and @simmister !!!