#Z watches RAW

[wrestlezaynia]

"Son of a Butch," "Butch, please." R-Truth is a national treasure.

[prowrestlingindustrialcomplex]

Cody and Sailor Moon have one thing in common—they share the same bday.

Cody isn’t a crybaby like Sailor Moon but will fight a bitch back like Sailor Moon.

[purple-plum-petals]

Hi!! I love your homicipher fics! Have you thought about writing nsfw hcs? Specifically for Mr. Crawling and Silvair? I hope your night / day is going well! :)

⊱ Mr. Crawling and Mr. Silvair ⊰ || NSFW Alphabet (A-Z) Headcanons

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Character(s): Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silvair (Homicipher/文字化化, Separate) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns, No Sex-Specific Genitalia is Mentioned but it was Written with an AFAB Reader in Mind) Warning(s): 18+ Content, Virgin Asexual Author, Cum Eating, Facials, Minor Objectification, Cuckoldry, Mutual Masturbation, Face-fucking, Sexual Fantasies, Tickling, Praise/Degradation Kink, Breeding Kink/Creampies, BDSM, Overstimulation, Orgasm Control/Denial, Dumbification, Dacryphilia, Hair-pulling, Light Impact Play, Light Breathplay, Implied Cunnilingus/Blowjobs, Cock Warming, Mention/Discussion of Sex Toys… If I missed anything, please let me know! Genre: Headcanons, Smut (Minors Do Not Interact), Fluff Word Count: 7,200 words Request: “Hi!! I love your homicipher fics! Have you thought about writing nsfw hcs? Specifically for Mr. Crawling and Silvair? I hope your night / day is going well! :)” Author’s Note: I’m still very much working on getting better at writing spicier content, and I had no clue how to start writing these kinds of headcanons from scratch, so I went ahead and just filled out the NSFW Alphabet for both Mr. Crawling and Mr. Silvair as a jumping off point! It’s definitely interesting to think about how both of these characters would be in a sexually intimate setting, especially since – at least in my mind – they’d be quite different from each other in a variety of aspects even if they did have some overlap on a few of the points. I did my best to keep each of their headcanons at a similar word length (which was kind of hard to do with my Mr. Crawling bias, but I think I accomplished it haha). Anyway, I hope you enjoy these headcanons! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

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A: Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

👣: Mr. Crawling is immensely clingy after having sex, holding onto you and pretty much refusing to let go as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck or your hair. While he doesn’t want to get up from the bed or leave after the two of you have been intimate, if you’re hungry or thirsty or if you want to go take a bath, he’s happy to go fetch you something to restore your energy or help you to the bathroom to clean up. He’s quite good at aftercare, even if he doesn’t realize what he’s doing counts as it. Mr. Crawling just likes making you feel good, and he wants to keep you safe and happy! His favorite thing to do is help you bathe; he enjoys the way the warm water feels on his skin while he washes your back for you. 

💉: Mr. Silvair isn’t too affectionate after the two of you are intimate, but he’ll check up on you and ask if you need him to get you anything. If your wrists were rubbed raw from the restraints he had placed on you, he would make sure to carefully wrap gauze around your irritated skin. If you were thirsty or hungry, he would locate something safe for you to consume to get your strength back up. If you feel sticky or gross afterward, he’ll carefully wipe your body with a wet cloth to make sure you are clean and comfortable. He lets you sleep and typically goes about his own business. Sometimes, though, Mr. Silvair finds himself watching over you to make sure you’re breathing steadily, carefully combing his fingers through your hair. 

B: Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

👣: Mr. Crawling doesn’t have a favorite part of your body since he honestly enjoys every aspect of you but, if he had to choose, he loves your hands. He knows that they can hurt people and cause a lot of pain, but he loves the way they feel when you cup his face to softly caress it or whenever you thread your fingers through his hair. For himself, Mr. Crawling loves his hair the most (I know it’s not technically a body part, but I think it makes the most sense for him); he pretty much melts whenever you play with it, and his head is quite sensitive, so he blue screens whenever you pull at his hair or rake your nails across his scalp. I also feel like Mr. Crawling would be proud of his arms since they’re fairly toned considering they’re his primary means of getting around. Because of his impressive strength, despite what his thinner frame may portray, he’s able to hold you up and move you around with relative ease (he 100% can manhandle you, but only will if you’re cool with it). 

💉: Mr. Silvair finds every aspect of your body fascinating, and he could probably explain why each part of you was interesting from a medical perspective or that everything was pleasant to look at in one way or another. If he had to pick a favorite part of your body, though, he would have to say it’s your head (I know, kind of weird, but he does appreciate your intelligence and, well… Ending 06 is my other piece of reasoning haha). Specifically, though, he likes your mouth. He enjoys being able to hold your head in place while your jaw hangs open, all while he just goes to town while you drool and choke around his cock. Don’t worry, though – he’ll find some remedy to lessen the soreness you feel in your throat afterward. For himself, he’s quite proud of his hands. Mr. Silvair is skilled at many things, and being able to make you come undone with his fingers alone makes him feel a sense of power (plus, you called them pretty once, and it made him feel good). 

C: Cum (Anything to do with cum)

👣: Mr. Crawling gets extremely flustered whenever he sees his cum on any part of your body, from your hair to your face to your stomach. The sight of it alone on your skin makes his brain short-circuit and body flare up – it only makes him want to touch you even more. He likes being able to clean you up, too, leaning forward before he runs his tongue along your body or face, making sure there wasn’t a single drop of his cum left on you (even if now it meant you were covered in saliva…). He doesn’t mind tasting himself, but it most certainly doesn’t compare to your flavor. 

💉: I probably need to ask you to stay with me on this one, but I think Mr. Silvair would probably keep your cum stored away in a sample tube or something along those lines, having a desire to run tests on it to see what he could create. Views your cum as a valuable resource in his research...yay? Maybe he could even use your release to invent some kind of lubricant since that’s not easily accessible in the other world and make having sex much more streamlined… or he just keeps it around to show you later and see your reaction to the fact he keeps your cum stored away in his laboratory to tease you. 

D: Dirty Secret

👣: The thought of taking you in public, in a space where no one but you could see him, makes his mind race and his body feel like it was on fire – this man can act like a feral dog sometimes. I mean, even you sometimes forgot he was there, unable to see his form unless you concentrated hard enough, so imagine if the two of you went out somewhere in public and he (with your consent, of course), just started touching you? Groping your ass, his face between your legs as he runs his hands along your inner thighs… no one can see that it’s him making your face flush and not the excuse of a fever you told the concerned stranger in the hopes they would leave you alone. When you half-heartedly glare at him to try and get him to lay off for a bit, he just laughs at your expression… how rude!

💉: Mr. Silvar wouldn’t be opposed to having a threesome with another resident of the other world. After all, he would be curious to see how differently you acted when another person was there with the two of you, or if your body reacted in an unlikely way if another were to touch you. While I will not write NSFW for Mr. Chopped (the power dynamic there isn’t my favorite thing in the world), he would be the one Mr. Silvair would feel most at ease sharing you with; Mr. Crawling or Mr. Hood would be his second and third choices respectively since he knows how deeply you trust them. He might not even partake in sex either, just sitting off to the side while he lets another use you like a toy. As long as you know your his, though, he doesn’t mind watching you enjoy yourself with another (he has to be there, though). 

E: Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

👣: Mr. Crawling has absolutely zero experience with this kind of stuff, so he would need someone willing to walk him through the whole process, show him what you like, and teach him what and what not to do. What he lacks in experience, though, he makes up for in pure enthusiasm. It’s quite flattering how determined he is when it comes to making you feel good, even if it’s a bit sloppy and unpracticed. His thrusts are extremely unpredictable, never quite finding their rhythm… It’s alright, though; he’ll definitely get better with more time and the more he gets to understand what your body likes. You just have to give him the time to improve, and he’ll be certain to leave you breathless. 

💉: Mr. Silvair also has no experience when it comes to sex, or at least not any while he’s resided in the other world. He is a life-long learner through and through, though, and there’s nothing in the universe he’s not willing to learn about, especially if it has to do with humans and their anatomy. His thrusts are frighteningly accurate, being able to hit your most sensitive inner spots with ease to have you begging him to give you a moment to breathe. He’s an almost terrifyingly fast learner, too, being able to apply whatever new information he’s observed and gathered within moments. He can do it perfectly, too, and he does it in a way that has you questioning whether he was telling the truth when he said this was his first time doing anything like this. 

F: Favorite Position

👣: When it comes to favorite positions, Mr. Crawling loves being able to hold you close to him while also being able to see your face (he has to kiss you during sex – sorry, I don’t make the rules). He enjoys the rocking horse position since it allows him to be able to hold you close while still being able to maintain eye contact with you and easily have access to cover your face in kisses. While he prefers being the one making you feel good, Mr. Crawling would also enjoy the cowgirl position. He’s happy to let you use him to your heart's content while being able to look up and soak in the pleased look that’s plastered across your features while you slam your hips up and down on his cock. 

💉: Mr. Silvair personally enjoys the butterfly position, having you lay on your back atop his operation table all while he can watch and take mental notes on every single facial expression you make and every single twitch of your muscles while he drives you absolutely insane. He would also enjoy missionary, but he would spice it up a little bit by having your hands or wrists tied to something. After all, he doesn’t want you to touch him unless he says you can – just lay there quietly while he completely wrecks you with that annoyingly calm expression on his face. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy when you touch him, though. Mr. Silvair simply prefers being the one in charge and determining when and where you’re able to feel his skin beneath your hands. 

G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)  

👣: Acts goofy most of the time during sex, even if he doesn’t mean to. He likes being able to make you happy, and he finds your laughter to be music to his ears. Sometimes you two will be having sex, and he’ll suddenly start giggling completely unprovoked, just finding the experience with you so joyful. Being with you in any capacity makes his chest feel light and fluttery as a sense of giddiness flows through his veins. He’ll wrap his arms around you and nuzzle into your neck, causing your body to spasm and tighten around him while his long hair drapes over you and tickles your skin. Overall, Mr. Crawling enjoys being more playful when the two of you are intimate since it adds to the overall experience for him. 

💉: Prefers to be serious while having sex. He treats the whole process of intercourse like one would treat a research project which, honestly, can make you feel a bit annoyed in some instances (Mr. Silvair still doesn’t quite understand why, though). He’s methodical in everything he does, and being light-hearted or purposefully humorous isn’t high on his list of things to do. He has no problem if you want to be silly, however. He finds it cute when you try to see if you can make him chuckle. It endears you to him more, and it makes him want to keep you around for even longer. The only goofy thing he does is gently run his fingers up and down your sides while thrusting into you, finding the way your body wriggles and writhes away from his touch to be adorable. 

H: Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

👣: I think Mr. Crawling would have fairly long hair beneath the metaphorical belt. His pubic hair would be thick, curly, and a very dark shade of black. He doesn’t really keep himself groomed (kind of hard to do in his world, plus it was never a priority for him), but if you would prefer him to keep it trimmed, he’d be happy to! He doesn’t care one way or another. 

���: Mr. Silvair comes off to me as someone who would enjoy keeping themselves groomed and their appearance well-maintained, and I mean every inch of his body. I think he would have either no pubic hair or pubic hair that was trimmed to be the perfect length. If he did have any hair below the belt, it would be a gray color, one that was a shade darker than his regular hair and wavy in texture. 

I: Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

👣: One of the more human-like members of the cast when it comes to his affections; he’s as romantic as a non-human being can be. Mr. Crawling loves holding you close as he ruts into you like a wild dog, whispering praises against your skin. He even tries his best to learn phrases in your language so he can tell you how much you mean to him without you having to try and decipher it. He’s always so, so soft with you when you two are having sex. He’s honored that you’d let him have you in such a way, and finds your trust in him heartwarming – he trusts you, too, with his entire heart and soul. 

💉: Mr. Silvair canonically doesn’t comprehend the concept of “liking” or loving someone, so that also translates into sex with him. All he knows is that he finds you entertaining to be around and that he’s somewhat endeared to you at this point. He’s not romantic but, in between teasing you and making you cry (whether it be in frustration or overstimulation), he’s checking in on you to make sure that you’re still comfortable. He knows sex can be invasive, and he’s aware of how much regard the act is held in by some people in your world, so he does his best to respect that... Even if he does need to check himself every now and again. 

J: Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

👣 and 💉: Neither of them masturbates much because they simply don’t have a desire or time to do so. Mr. Crawling would rather wait for you to be there so you two can enjoy yourselves together, and Mr. Silvair simply has more important matters to attend to. That’s not to say they never masturbate, though, it’s just typically a rare occurrence. 

👣: Mr. Crawling typically masturbates by rutting up against something, like a pillow, rather than taking himself in his hand. His thoughts before meeting you were just focusing on the physical sensation of his cock sliding against the fabric of his clothing, but now he finds himself thinking of you – the way your voice sounds when you coo sweet words in his ear, the warmth of your body. Imagining your hands gently touching his chest and hips makes him cum right then and there, almost embarrassingly quickly… Yeah, he’s down bad. 

💉: Mr. Silvair treats masturbating as a chore. He’d much rather be doing something else than leaning against the wall of his operation room while his hand goes absolutely ham on his dick. He knows which areas on his body get the most reaction, so he purposefully presses all of his buttons just so he can be done with it quicker. This doesn’t change after meeting and getting to be intimate with you, though, he still sees it as a chore… Just now he imagines cumming on your face or inside you whenever he finally reaches his climax. 

K: Kink (one or more of their kinks)

👣: 

Mutual Masturbation: He likes spending time with you and doing things together, so why not spend some time watching each other explore yourselves? He likes observing you as you touch yourself, making mental notes of every spot on your body that have you biting your lip and furrowing your brows. While I wouldn’t say he’s into voyeurism since he does like being with you while you touch yourself instead of tucked away in the shadows just watching, he focuses more on the way your hands touch and caress your skin instead of focusing on the way he moves his hands across his body. Doesn’t last very long doing this, though, eventually pouncing on you and touching you himself.

Overstimulation (Giving): Mr. Crawling loves overstimulating you, even if he doesn’t realize he’s doing it half of the time. He just enjoys seeing you become a blabbering mess all because of him; he takes great pride in being able to make you feel good. However, the first time you started crying because he was simply giving you too much, he felt so guilty – the poor man was on the verge of tears thinking he made you feel bad. 

Praise Kink: While praising you is a bit more difficult considering the language barrier and the limited amount of words and phrases he has to choose from, he still loves doing it. Muttering against your skin how you’re doing such a good job, how he loves you so much, how you make him so happy. Mr. Crawling definitely makes sure to reassure you both inside and outside of the bedroom. 

Hair Pulling (Receiving): He loves, loves, loves it whenever you take his hair in your hand and give it a firm tug. Mr. Crawling enjoys it whenever he’s going down on you and you take his hair into your hands and push him even closer, making him become fully immersed in your scent and taste. 

Sensation Play: While Mr. Crawling may not enjoy more painful experiences, he does like general sensation play quite a bit. He likes the feeling of your breath fanning against his skin while you pepper his flesh with gentle kisses and nips. He enjoys tickling you while his hips sensually thrust in and out, feeling the way you squeeze around him as breathless and airy giggles escape past your lips. He loves whispering into your ear while running his tongue along it before taking your lobe between his teeth and lightly tugging.  

💉: 

Breeding Kink/Creampie: Mr. Silvair, after learning more about human reproduction, has a deep-seated curiosity regarding whether or not the two of you would be able to have offspring. That’s kind of what starts this particular kink for him – he wants to know if you both are sexually compatible in that aspect, and he is curious what the resulting child would look and act like if they were born in the other world. If you’re unable to give birth or get pregnant, even if his initial interest in breeding is certainly from a more scientific aspect, he still finds the image of you full of his seed while it drips down the curve of your ass to be quite arousing. 

Bondage/Shibari (Giving): He enjoys tying you up and pinning you down, being able to have full control over you in the bedroom. He’s perfectly content if you agree to light bondage, like having your hands restrained, and would never ask you to do anything more than that. However, if you trust him enough and feel comfortable doing some more intense bondage, he’s not going to complain. Would definitely be interested in the art of shibari, finding the way the rope looks pressing into your skin tantalizing. 

Orgasm Control/Denial (Giving): Another kink that feeds into his desire for control. Mr. Silvair enjoys being the one in charge of your release, and he likes seeing how far he can push you until you finally break and plead for him to let you cum. He loves seeing how stupid and desperate he can make you, sometimes with just his fingers alone. 

Overstimulation (Giving): Much like orgasm control/denial, he likes pushing you to your breaking point. However, unlike the previous bullet, he likes seeing how much stimulation you can take until you’re crying for him to stop. He thinks it’s fascinating, seeing how quickly your desire for his touch can change – one moment you’re begging for him to touch you, and the next you’re weakly pushing his hand away. He does eventually relent, of course, but only after letting you cry for a bit. 

Dacryphilia: There’s something about seeing your tear-streaked face that makes it feel like he’s just been hit with an arrow in his chest. It’s endearing and oh-so cute the way you look while you sob all because he’s making you feel that good. It makes him feel proud, in a way, seeing you in such a pathetic state all because of him. 

L: Location (Favorite places to do the do)

👣: He enjoys having sex with you on a bed (boring, I know), but he likes the softness of the mattress and the many pillows and blankets that can be used to bring even more comfort by keeping the heat from your bodies trapped. He also likes taking you in small, enclosed spaces, like an empty locker or cabinet (sorry folks with claustrophobia). Much like the reasoning with the bed, he likes how the smaller space forces you both to be immensely close to each other. Plus, these spaces bring him comfort, so why not mix the two things that make him feel safe together? 

💉: Either in his laboratory/operation room or in one of the many different cages or prison cells that he has access to (bonus points if you allow him to chain you up hehe). Mr. Silvair doesn’t need a soft mattress or pillows to enjoy sex with you. He’s fine taking you on his operation table or the cold concrete floor of the small prison cell, even if your back moving up and down across the ground rubs your skin raw. He’ll patch you up after, no worries, but he doesn’t need a lot of bells and whistles to have an enjoyable time. 

M: Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

👣: Sweet words and gentle touches. The other world is one full of violence and death, one where survival trumps all else. While there are entities like him who only resort to violence when either their safety or the safety of someone they’re fond of is in danger, it’s still not a happy or bright place to exist. Mr. Crawling does what he can to enjoy life, laughing in situations that probably aren’t even that funny just to try and make existing more enjoyable. Then you come along and make him feel cared for – loved – and safe, and he’s never been happier. Being able to lay with you, to feel you clench around his cock with your warmth while you pepper kisses across his face and let him know how good he is… Yeah, this is the life. 

💉: Power and control. He enjoys being able to restrict your movement, being able to dictate when and where you’re allowed to cum and, if you disobey him, he’ll punish you with a sadistic smile on his face. However, he would be lying if he said that was all. Mr. Silvair thinks the fact you trust him with your safety – your life, your heart, your existence – gets him going, whether he realizes it or not. Trusting another in the other world showcases how much two people believe in the fact the other would not do anything to purposefully harm them, and you feel that way toward him (and he feels the same toward you). Whenever you call out his “name,” the one you had given him, he finds his hips unconsciously moving even faster at the sound...

N: No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

👣: Anything involving pain would be a hard no for Mr. Crawling, both giving and receiving. Even though his senses are dull and what would be extremely painful for a human wouldn’t be for him, he still doesn’t particularly enjoy being harmed. When it comes to hurting you in any way, that’s pretty much something he will never concede on. He doesn’t want to do a single thing to hurt you, even if it’s an enjoyable kind of pain. 

💉: Pretty much nothing is off the table for him – Mr. Silvair enjoys experimenting, and that’s no different for him in the bedroom. The only extremely hard no would be coprophilia since he just doesn’t see the appeal nor does he want to test to see if he would like it or not. I also feel like he wouldn’t necessarily want a bratty partner or a partner who is constantly trying to take control back in the bedroom. 

O: Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

👣: Loves giving oral 101%, and he will give it to you anywhere – in public, in private, while you’re sleeping (with your consent, of course). Mr. Crawling adores having his mouth on you, being able to taste every single part of you while his tongue forces its way inside you, feeling your release dripping past his lips or dribbling down his chin… You taste good, too, better than anything he’s ever had before; he might get addicted to it, to be honest. He eats you out/blows you like a man starving, wanting a chance to have a taste and make you cry out his name while you pull harshly on his black locks and encourage him to keep going. He’s very enthusiastic about it, too, putting in so much effort and energy to get you cumming on his face or in his mouth. 

💉: Prefers giving oral over receiving it, but it’s not his favorite thing to do either way. It’s nothing personal, he just prefers using his hands, his cock, or a toy to get you off rather than his mouth. If he does allow you to give him a blowjob, he’ll place a collar around your neck and pull on the chain if you get cheeky – after all, he’s the one in charge here. Mr. Silvair enjoys making you kneel in front of him, watching you with a small smile as you take him into your hands and pump once or twice before taking him into your mouth. If the rare occurrence happens when he gives you head, you better thank the universe. He looks so hot, holding your thighs apart while he slowly runs his tongue along your length/slit and teases you until you’re asking him to touch you more. 

P: Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)  

👣: Enjoys the slower and sensual side of things, but he typically can’t control himself as soon as he’s inside of you, so he ends up being somewhat fast and rough (not all the time, though... his thrusts remain immensely unpredictable no matter what, and he never seems to find a good rhythm to follow). Mr. Crawling enjoys the intimacy of sex, and he finds comfort in the closeness of your bodies while you two are connected at the hips. He loves being able to hold your hands and place kisses across your cheeks. Sometimes, he’s so caught up in the act of showering you with words of praise and sweet displays of affection that he forgets the fact he’s currently inside you and is supposed to be moving. He does see the appeal of rougher sex, though – it makes him feel almost animalistic whenever you two decide to set the pace for the night. 

💉: Mr. Silvair can quickly switch between the two, sometimes almost at a break-neck speed, to the point it feels like you got whiplash from the sudden change of deep and slow thrusts to fast and somehow even deeper ones (he’s very precise when it comes to hitting those sweet spots inside of you – it’s actually kind of terrifying how quickly he can locate them). He pretty much does whatever he thinks will get the most reaction out of your body and acts accordingly – nothing more, nothing less. He tends to prefer rougher and faster sex, enjoying the noises the quick snap of his hips can draw out of your mouth. However, sometimes, he finds himself preferring a slower and softer pace. This way, he’s able to focus on and truly soak in the expression on your face and appreciate the way your body feels under his palms (this sometimes just leads to you cock warming him). 

Q: Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)  

👣: Mr. Crawling is down for anything at any time. Pretty much, if you ask him to have sex, he’ll happily do it for you. Need him to eat you out or give you a blowjob, he’ll gladly oblige! After all, he is always pretty much kneeling, so he’s not being made to go out of his way to do it (even if he would go out of his way to please you). Want something more than just his tongue? That’s perfectly fine, too! There’s a private room over there he’ll gladly take you in, or maybe you’d want to try doing it in the empty locker? He’ll try not to take too long, but it’s hard since he loves being able to enjoy you to the fullest. So, Mr. Crawling can do quickies for sure, but he likes being able to take his time with you.  

💉: While he’s not opposed to quickies, he prefers being able to have proper sex with you to get the most out of it. After all, he can’t exactly see how long it takes for you to break or how much time it takes for you to start crying and babbling if you only have a few minutes to enjoy one another. However, he does make it a little challenge for himself to see how quickly he can get you to climax. Mr. Silvair will even make educated guesses on how fast you’ll finish just by making note of your current expression, body language, etc. He likes seeing how flustered you get if you think someone is going to enter the room the two of you are in, begging him to go faster which only makes him want to slow down – how mean! 

R: Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)  

👣: Mr. Crawling is down to experiment but, as stated before, he doesn’t want to try anything that causes him or you harm, even if pain is something you enjoy. He just has no desire to hurt you in any way, something which is quite different from other members of the cast who are definitely more sadistic (cough, Mr. Silvair and Mr. Machete, cough). I feel like he would be down to partake in certain aspects of BDSM, specifically B/D (bondage and discipline) and D/S (dominance and submission). He just wants to have a good time and be close to you, both physically and emotionally. 

💉: 100% down to experiment with anything (except the previously mentioned coprophilia). If you wanted to try some breathplay or impact play or even blood play, he’d be down for it. I honestly think he would enjoy breathplay since it adds more to the differential in power that he enjoys so much (there’s also a stirring in his chest when he sees how much you trust him with your life, but shhh…). Mr. Silvair is a man hungry for information and new experiences, so yes, he’s willing to try a variety of different things even if they could potentially be dangerous – he’ll always make sure you return to your original form. 

S: Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

👣 and 💉: Both of them are inhuman, which means that neither of them need any food, water, or rest to survive. Honestly, the two of them have unlimited amounts of stamina, and they can go for as long as you need them to (which could be two rounds or even eight – nothing is holding them back in the stamina department). 

T: Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

👣 and 💉: Neither of them owns any toys because, well… you can’t access them easily in the other world. If they do end up there, though, they’re probably dirty or damaged beyond repair (please do not use nasty sex toys, people – infections and diseases are no joke). 

👣: Mr. Crawling would be down to use toys on you! After all, why not? It’ll just make the experience more fun, right? You’ll probably have to explain what he’s supposed to do with them, though, since he’s not quite sure what some of them are for. If you want to use toys on him, he’s completely fine with that! Want to wear a strap and give him backshots? Go right ahead! Want to tape vibrators to him until he’s whining and writhing? He’d be happy to oblige! Overall, he’s pretty chill about it and is somewhat enthusiastic about adding toys into your sex life. 

💉: Mr. Silvair enjoys using sex toys on you, some of his favorites being cock rings/chastity belts, strangely-shaped dildos, and vibrators. He loves being able to secure the variety of different vibrators he owns to your body, making sure to cover every erogenous zone he’s noted. He doesn’t typically want toys used on him (but he’d probably try out a variety of different sex toys on himself after a while, though, curious about how each of them felt or what they did), however, and the only one he’d be willing to use consistently would be fleshlights. He’d make you watch him use it, never once allowing you to use them on him. 

U: Unfair (How much they like to tease)

👣: Mr. Crawling is very fair, and he always makes sure to give you exactly what you want in the bedroom. However, that’s not to say he never teases you, he just doesn’t do it very frequently. Sometimes when he’s going down on you, he’ll pause his minstrations to nip at or kiss the fat of your thighs, keeping your hips held down so you can’t buck up against his mouth. When you start getting antsy, he just giggles at your expression before returning his attention to that oh-so-needy part of you. 

💉: If the word unfair was personified, it would be Mr. Silvair. I’d argue teasing you and making you cry – either because you can’t cum or have cum ten times in a row – are the aspects of sex that he enjoys the most. Edging you is one of his favorite things, though, watching you whine and try to move your hips on your own when he stops moving… bad move, though, because now he’s just going to make you wait even longer for release. 

V: Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

👣: He’s not loud, per se, but he does make quite a variety of different noises whenever the two of you are intimate. He whimpers and whines frequently while you’re having sex – they’re barely audible, high-pitched, and come out sounding as though he’s completely out of breath. Sometimes you wonder if he’s in pain with the noises he makes, but he’s not. He just really enjoys being able to feel you like this as he pants like a dog in heat. 

💉: Completely quiet most of the time. Really, the only noises you’ll probably get out of him are barely audible sighs or the sound of his breathing hitching when he feels you stretch/tighten around him. It’s not that Mr. Silvair doesn’t enjoy having sex with you, he just doesn’t express that feeling verbally. You can tell in the way his hand squeezes the fat of your thigh or the way his hips stutter when he moves in and out that he’s having a good time. 

W: Wild Card (Random headcanon)

👣: Mr. Crawling loves taking showers or baths with you, though he leans more towards baths since it’s less painful on his joints (I headcanon that Mr. Crawling can stand, but walking for extended periods of time is painful for him – ambulatory wheelchair user Mr. Crawling when?). While yes, he can technically sit in the shower, having water spray his face isn’t exactly pleasant… He doesn’t view bathing with you as sexual, he just finds it relaxing as he helps you wash your back or you help him make sure all the soap is out of his hair. His favorite scent would have to be lavender – it’s very calming for him. 

💉: He keeps a journal tucked away full of terms and gestures from your world. Mr. Silvair has a deep desire to understand humans and everything they have to offer, even if he believes it's from a stance of craving knowledge (really, he wants to be able to express his endearment of you in a manner you can understand). He has a page on kissing and different kinds of kisses, a page on gestures of endearment, another on hugging and cuddling… The fact that humans’ bodies release a hormone whenever they simply spend time to bond with another socially, a hormone that turns the dial on their brain for whatever emotion they’re currently experiencing, is fascinating to him. 

X: X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

👣: Mr. Crawling is tall – and I mean extremely tall whenever he stands up (my man has got to at least be seven feet), so I can assume that he’s probably relatively proportionate under the belt. I feel like he would be big, almost concerningly so, clocking in at around 8 inches in length. Even though his size is impressive, his dick doesn’t have much girth to it and is on the thinner side, but it is thicker towards the base compared to the head (not that you can take all of him – you can certainly give it a try, though). It’s on the veinier side, too, with a very distinct and present one on the underside of his cock. 

💉: Much like pretty much the entire cast, Mr. Silvair is also on the taller half of the height spectrum. However, I feel as though he would have a more modest, yet of course still impressive dick size. I imagine him to be 6 ½ inches in length and relatively thick from the base to the head with very little change in girth. Whenever you see his cock, you’re kind of awestruck for a moment because how can a man have such a nice-looking dick?? It doesn’t make sense! There’s barely any hair, there’s no visible veins or bumps, and it’s long and thick enough to drive you wild… Plus, it’s just really nice to look at, honestly. 

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

👣 and 💉: Okay, so I know others probably will not agree with me here… but I honestly don’t think anyone in the cast has much of a sex drive, let alone a high one. I mean, they’re not human, so their cultural/social norms are different than ours, and I wouldn’t hold them to “typical” human desires on a biological/psychological level either. As I said before, I doubt any of them have been laid because sex just isn’t something the residents in the other world partake in – they’re too busy killing/fighting others, eating humans who find themselves lost in the other world, etc. Is this my asexual and world-building brain working? Probably haha. 

👣: Mr. Crawling really only wants sex whenever you want it, but he’s always enthusiastic and does get aroused whenever you ask if he wants to be intimate. While he does love feeling the warmth around his dick whenever you’re clamping down on him, almost like you were hugging him and not wanting to let him go, he enjoys the emotional connection during the moment more than anything else. I headcanon him (and all of the cast, to some degree) as existing somewhere on the aroace-spectrum. For Mr. Crawling, I see him as being reciproromantic/sexual with an average libido – he gets riled up whenever you’re riled up, though there are times he does get horny without you needing to do or say anything.  

💉: Much like Mr. Crawling, Mr. Silvair will have sex if you ask him to – he’ll make you beg for it, though, so he’s not as nice as the former. He prefers the control/power he gets from having sex rather than the sole act of intercourse (not to say he doesn’t enjoy the feeling, though). Plus, he finds the activity interesting since he knows it’s something most humans partake in with one another for a variety of reasons, from procreation to recreation. If you ask him to have sex and he isn’t in the mood, he’ll just use his hands or some toys and play around with you until you’re satisfied. I headcanon Mr. Silvair as being quoiromantic and eegosexual with a low libido. 

Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

👣: Mr. Crawling doesn’t need to sleep (you know… being non-human and all), but he’ll curl up next to you on the bed and hold your body close to his while pretending to sleep alongside you. It’s kind of adorable, the way his head is nuzzled under your neck while his legs and arms are wrapped around your body, holding you close to him like you were a bodypillow or large stuffed animal. While you sleep, though, he’ll eventually place his head against your chest, listening intently to the sound of your heartbeat and the feeling of your chest rising and falling with each breath. Moments like this, laying there with you in silence, make his mind wander to scenarios with you he’ll never be able to fully experience. 

💉: Does not rest often, finding it a waste of time that could be spent doing something else. He understands you need your sleep, though, so he lets you do it in peace after you both have had sex. Mr. Silvair always manages to somehow make sure you have enough pillows to keep you comfortable or blankets to keep you from getting cold (you can’t help but wonder where he finds clean linens in such a grimy place…). Occasionally, however, he finds himself sitting next to you on the bed, fingers absentmindedly combing through your hair before he pulls his hand back as though you had burnt him – he doesn’t understand it, and he’s desperate to figure out an answer. 

[hornychristianprincess]

NSFW A-Z: ANTON

a/n: this is just my personal analysis based off my perception and observations of anton's personality. all of this is fiction/fantasy

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Anton can be initially trash at aftercare. He’ll still be trying to process his own emotions about what just happened before he can even think to tend to yours. He has a tendency to assume things so a part of him will just think you’re fine until you tell him otherwise. With some instruction, he can improve. Once he gets in the habit of doing it, you’ll never have to ask again. I also think this cutie would be prone to shyly asking you questions about the sex, wanting to know that it was as good for you as it was for him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Anton spends a lot of time in the gym so I think he has a lot of pride in several parts of his body, but most strongly his broad shoulders and muscular arms. Being that he was once a professional swimmer, this is the part of his body stands out the most. It represents his hard work and unique talent.

On his partner, I feel like Anton would be too overwhelmed to pick one thing. He’ll like everything about you, even things that are nonsensical like your ankle or the back of your knees.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Anton will have a hell of an orgasm if you let him come in your mouth and swallow it. Something about it is almost gross to him, and in that way it turns him on even more. He’s also kind of curious about fucking you raw and coming inside of you; I could see him experimentally pushing it back in with his fingers, something exciting about seeing a part of himself oozing out of you. Most times though, he’ll settle for finishing in a condom, especially because I get the feeling he has a lot of anxiety about getting someone pregnant on accident.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Deep down, I think Anton is curious at the idea of degrading his partner, not just verbally, but physically too. He has sometimes sadistic fantasies of slapping someone on the face with his cock, face-fucking someone to the point of tears, and even watching you get ravaged by someone else. These thoughts are paradoxical for him though, because he simultaneously would lose respect for someone who would allow themselves to be treated that way. He’s also really nice so could never bring himself to talking down to someone he loves. So for now, these are things that he enjoys in fantasy and porn only.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

If Anton’s had sex, it was with a long-term girlfriend or close-friend-turned-lover. He needs to have an intimate level of closeness with someone before he’s able to even think about taking that step.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes cowgirl the most. It takes the pressure off of him to have to take the lead in your pleasure, he gets a great view of your body, and you’re able to maintain the pace. I think he’s also very turned on by doggy style, something about the view of your ass and the pleasure he’s able to deliver from this angle making it appealing to him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Anton makes jokes to cover up mistakes or moments where he feels extra nervous/awkward. Once he’s inside you though, he becomes so focused and overwhelmed that he couldn’t laugh even if he found something funny.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Most times, Anton can’t be bothered to groom himself. Once he has a sexual partner, he’ll start to become self-conscious and put more effort into shaving himself regularly. He honestly relies on his partner to tell him how they want him to look.

On his partner, he doesn’t care. I think he’s feels fortunate to even have access to pussy, so how it looks is irrelevant to him.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

I think Anton is still working out what intimacy looks like for him. He doesn’t have the maturity or the sexual experience to know how intimacy should feel. It takes him a while to even feel comfortable having sex without overthinking his every word and movement. For him to get to the point where he’s accessing the emotions required for intimacy, he’d definitely need time and a lot of leadership from his partner.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I think he’s a little bit embarrassed about jacking off, but can’t help but feel called to do it anyway. He does it quite often as a way to let off sexual frustration. He’s motivated to masturbate after a particularly awkward interaction with a crush. If he doesn’t let off steam in this way, he’ll just be sent into a spiral of overthinking until he goes crazy.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Recording: Anton would be pleased if his partner agreed or initiated the recording of their sex. I think something about watching himself from outside of his body increases his confidence about how well he did. He’s able to consume it in the same way he would consume porn. I also think he’s more motivated to try harder when he knows it will be on video.

Mirror Sex: Similar to recording, there’s something about being able to see himself in action that increases his confidence and thus makes him try even harder. He likes seeing how he looks from your point of view and adjusting accordingly. Moreover, I could see him making little innocent observations about how you look in the mirror, saying things like, “Do you like watching yourself cry for me?” and “You look so pretty like this.”

Anal: Similar to what I said earlier about him wanting to come in your mouth, I think Anton is turned on by things that he views as slightly gross or forbidden. The idea of you letting him use your body in this way feels like the ultimate privilege. It feels like his birthday every time you tell him it’s okay for him to touch you there.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s a simple guy – the bedroom is comfortable, safe, and private.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He’s turned on by someone who takes care of themselves physically and puts in the effort to look good for him. Lingerie, perfume, and makeup are all things that make him feel giddy and excited at the thought of fucking you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I think he’s not attracted to women who are just as shy as him, simply because with him also being an introvert, you’re at a stalemate with no one there to take the lead. I also think he’d be opposed to inviting anyone else into the bedroom. He’s overwhelmed enough as it is with just the two of you. The last thing he needs is to have anyone else. Moreover, with him still trying to work through his own confidence about his sexual abilities, seeing someone else fuck you would just drain him of all life energy.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Anton really enjoys giving head. There is something comforting to him about being nuzzled between your legs and lapping at your wetness. He gets very turned on by giving head to the point of sometimes coming in his pants. He also can get carried away sometimes, overstimulating you and not realizing it until you have to push him off of you. He’ll be so confused and apologetic until you explain that the only reason you’re pulling away is because it was too good.

I honestly think Anton isn’t too partial to receiving head. He worries a lot about hurting you in the process, especially because he’s prone to unconsciously bucking into your mouth. Moreover, he feels the best when he’s able to make you feel good, and would prefer to spend his time inside of you than watching you suck him off.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s honestly all over the place when it comes to speed, one moment you’ll be riding him and he’ll tell you to go faster, and in the next moment, he gets overwhelmed and tells you to slow down. Over time, he gets better at developing patience and fucking you slower so that the sex will last longer. Once he makes you come, though, he loses all motivation to be slow and just starts rutting into you until he comes.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

With the way Anton struggles to control himself sometimes, sex is frequently quick, but he’s always motivated to go again if he feels like he could’ve done better. It’s too easy to convince him to have a quickie at home right before you go out somewhere – the temptation is too strong to resist.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Anton is sometimes gullible and easily persuaded, so I feel like he could be convinced into having sex somewhere risky. However, don’t expect him to be at his usual form because the anxiety of potentially getting caught will prevent him from doing his best. He’ll be jumpy and become alert at the smallest sounds. Be prepared for him to back out entirely. Risky sex with Anton will only be successful if the conditions are right. Even so, I think Anton enjoys the thrill of doing something he feels like he’s not supposed to do. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

As I’ve already alluded to, I think his excitement and nerves can cause him to come pretty quickly, especially in those early days of a sexual relationship where he’s still getting to know his partner’s body and what they need to feel satisfied. However, he likes to please above all else, so if he feels like he wasn’t good enough the first time, he’ll want to keep going for another round until he can feel satisfied knowing the sex was good for both of you. The longer you’re together and the better he gets, the less of a need there will be to go for rounds.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Anton is intimated at the thought of using toys. Sex is already overwhelming enough for him, so he doesn’t need any additional things to have to consider. Similarly, I think he would be wary about having toys used on him. He would be scared and embarrassed at his own potential to react whinily (probably not a word but oh well yk what I mean) in response to such external stimulation.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

It’s never in the forefront of Anton’s mind to tease, but I think he can be a tease in a way that’s accidental. Sometimes because he’s trying to savor the moment, he’ll move really slow in a way that is excruciating for you. When he’s at his most confident, he’ll start flying at the mouth a bit more, making some teasing observations about how fucked-out you look. Still, I don’t see him as ever being a person who would intentionally withhold pleasure from his partner.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not loud in his daily life so I doubt he would be loud in the bedroom. In fact, he can be silent for so long sometimes that it can almost be intimidating. When he experiences pleasure, I think he’s the type to bite his lips or form his mouth into a straight line, making a hmpph kind of noise or sighing.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

It was Anton’s birthday, and at your lead, he had found himself sitting upright on the edge of the bed, a silk blindfold obscuring his vision. He could hear you finicking around in his nearby vicinity, the excitement of what was to come cause him to grow hard and stiff in his pants. He leaned back against the bed, awaiting you, relieved when he could feel the warmth of your presence. He heard you utter a tiny, “Ready?” before taking off the blindfold and revealing yourself in a matching, baby pink bra and panty set.

“Suprise,” you remarked casually, watching him chuckle a little as his eyes roamed your body. “Do you like it?” you asked, already knowing the answer as his hands reached out to hold your hips.

“I love it,” he replies, his eyes finally and almost regretfully leaving your body to find your face. “Is this my gift?” he asks with a hopeful smirk.

“Yes. You just have to unwrap it first,” you confirm, and then, as your eyes meet, you lean in to connect your lips in a kiss that starts off soft but becomes sordid as Anton builds his confidence with time.

In what feels relatively like only seconds, he has you completely naked and bent over the bed on all fours, his cock naked and pressed against your cunt with the knowledge that you’re on birth control. Just as he’s about to enter you, he pauses to reach for his phone. “Can I record this?”

“Of course, my love,” you permit, and with his phone on selfie camera and angled right in front of your face, you’re able to watch from the screen as Anton’s expression becomes intense and focused the moment he moves to push his cock inside of you.

Anton fucks into you purposefully, so big that it’s as if he’s digging into your stomach with each thrust. He takes occasional looks over at the phone that’s still actively recording you desperately taking his cock. He makes small adjustments each time he notices his image reflected on the phone screen, pulling your ass up higher or deepening your arch with the palm of his hand against your spine. When he observes your fucked out expression, he feels his lips twitch into a smirk as he remarks, “You fuck me so good. Look so hot bent over for me like this.”

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I am a big dick Anton truther, there is something about his tall build combined with the way he carries himself that just suggests monster cock in all respects.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Anton has a decently high sex drive and is pretty shitty at hiding it when he’s in a relationship. Close to everything will cause him to pop a boner, and once he acknowledges it, it won’t go away until he comes.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Like I said earlier, he’ll only be comfortable relaxing once he’s able to confirm that you were pleasantly satisfied. Once that’s happened, he’ll be so relieved that he’ll fall asleep relatively easily.

[sukunastoy]

NSFW ABCs (N-Z) (Heian Era Ryoumen Sukuna)

A continuation of this! (A-M).

CW/TW: It’s true form Sukuna, that’s the warning.

Masterlist

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs).

He's not going to cuddle you. Just plain and simple. You might get lucky and be allowed to sleep against him, but there isn't any romantic gestures in it. If he does hold you tight in the night, it's because he isn't allowing you to get far for when he wakes up and wants to go another round.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Hes only giving if it's to overstimulate you. And he does that mostly with his tummy mouth. It's tongue is huge and he will fill you with it just to watch your eyes roll back as you can't handle the intensity. He enjoys overstimulating you as he's ramming into you by letting his tummy mouth lap at your swollen clit and send you into repetitive, unprepared orgasms.

Otherwise, you're on your knees taking turns on his dicks; swallowing them down and hoping you don't run out of breath cause he isn't going to pull out anytime soon.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He's fucking you like it's a race. Just because he's fast and rough, it doesn't mean it will be over soon.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Look, you're getting railed whenever Sukuna wants to rail you. He might be passing you in the hall and suddenly shove you up against the wall to bury his cock(s) in you. And if he doesn't take long, it's only because he plans on dragging you to his room to finish you later.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Nothing is really a risk to him. He'll dismember you in the moment just to hear you scream because he wants to fuck you through such agony. He'll patch you up when he's done, so he isn't too worried about any kind of risk. He isn't going to let you die and escape him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Sukuna is insatiable, so his stamina will go for days if he wants it to. Forget any plans you might have for the week, because you're going to be his personal fuck toy until he is otherwise bored with it.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Toys don't really exist, but even if they did, Sukuna isn't using them, and you wouldn't be allowed to have any. His dick(s) provide more than you can even handle already.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

You've never met someone more unfair than Sukuna. He doesn't tease to be cute, he teases because he wants you to be such a mess that you're basically begging him to fuck you. He'll let his tummy mouth lick you raw but offer no penetration otherwise. He might tie you up in his room for days, fucking you until you're just about to cum then he'll pull out and leave you to stay and whine. He'll edge you for weeks, and won't offer you any relief. He might let you think he's going to finally finish you off, but he'll halt and leave you screaming in despair instead.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's not terribly vocal. You'll hear his grunts and growls, but unless he's insulting you, he keeps fairly quiet. He isn't afraid to let you know how pathetic you are though, and he might talk about that for hours. Rarely you'll get some form of actual praise, so you better accept it with grace.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He'll kill for you/because of you. Especially if someone touched you other than him. You're his property only. The worse someone treated you, the more gruesome and torturous their death will be. You might be just a toy, but you're HIS toy. It's nothing he'd ever admit, even to himself, but you being at his side completes him in a way nothing else ever could. It’s definitely not love, but it’s a sense of enjoyment and personal fulfillment. You’re the best at what he wants, and even though he sometimes scares the shit out of you in bed, you know exactly what he likes. You scream, moan, cry, beg, and even laugh perfectly (in those odd occasions when the two of you are just lounging.) And he isn’t interested in losing that.

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

He is built to kill. All four of his arms are massive and toned, including his chest and abs. He might lounge around and seem lazy at times, but someone with that much power needs to be strong, and his body easily reflects it. Not to mention his cock(s). You thought at first he was a shower cause they were already so big, but he turned out to still be a grower, and they’re even bigger when they’re hard and throbbing for your body.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Sex is like breathing for him. It's always a need. He does have incredible self control though, but it doesn't mean he isn't thinking about pounding you into his bed all the time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep)

He'll fall asleep relatively quick after shoving you out of his bed or rolling to his side. He's not going to cuddle or give you any aftercare, so if it's at the end of his day and he's looking to pass out after he's done with you, it will happen really fast. Though you have snuck back into his bed and cuddled up against him at times once you think he's asleep, just wanting to be close to your king. However, he's quite aware of what you're doing, as he's not the deepest sleeper. He just lets you think you’re being sneaky and getting away with something. Just be grateful when he pretends to not notice.

And MAYBE…you’ll get his hand to gently rest on your hip while you’re cuddled against him.

Maybe.

|| Hope you enjoyed! Comments and reboots are much appreciated! ||

[squeakadeeks]

Fabric overview: Neoprene scuba

next up on my favorite fabrics is neoprene scuba! This is a newer fabric to me but once i started using it, i couldnt stop haha.

neoprene scuba is a polyester double knit fabric with a sponge-spacer in between that can vary in size from barely noticeable to 3mm or more. its sometimes referred to as spacer fabric as a result. the term "scuba" can be thrown around a lot, but it typically refers to a thick, double knit poly fabric. It will usually have stretch via the knit weave. (this is something to watch out for, consistency in labeling is worth making note of)

I love neoprene scuba for its ability to hold smooth, defined forms. the thickness is great for smoothing, and the spongey layer gives it a good, shapely body structure. plus the double knit weave creates a soft finish. because of these properties, its my #1 go to for cartoony costumes.

neoprene scuba is also great for bodysuits and form-fitting things as well due to its smoothing properties. I like it a lot for boot covers.

Typically the two main things i use scuba for are bodysuits and capes. Capes for the shape, bodysuits for the smoothing. also it doesnt fray much so I have on occasion left edges raw!

Things to watch out for: 1) as was alluded to, its not easy to shop for. because of the variation in sponge thickness, if youre buying online its not easy to tell if youre getting a thinner, standard double knit or a true spacer scuba. also the terms can be hard to track from neoprene, scuba, spacer, bonded wetsuit fabric, etc. it takes some footwork to find the right fabric. 2) by nature, its a stretch fabric and its not easy to make...unstretchy. this stretch can pose challenges for draping, especially on capes. 3) its heavy and its itchy. no surprise that twice the layers of fabric mean that it can get heavy fast, and the sponge layer is made of little polyester pokers that can irritate the hell out of skin. lining a bodysuit or finishing internal seams is a must. 4) neoprene isnt easy to top stitch. its like trying to top stitch marshmallow. i havent been able to top stitch neoprene in a way that doesnt create a rounded bump effect (which hey, you might even want depending on the application). 5) its a thick heavy fabric, so its another needlesnapper when sewing. also because the dual layers, pressing seams is not always easy. 6) sometimes it has a waterproof finish that makes paining hard, ive also had the sponge layer *literally* suck paint up when trying to airbrush it. (again, think about how applying watery paint to a sponge would go)

despite the downsides, its a fast favorite of mine. what it can do well, it does *so* well. its a special fabric thats akin to sewing with a thin layer of plush marshmallow (as as mentioned...pros and cons to that)

I get my neoprene fabric from big Z mostly, but its also offered at fabric wholesale direct and spandex world. jo anns also has some fascinating scuba suedes that im a big fan of as well. it has a price point between 9-20$ a yard.

[konigbabe]

heavenly sin

Pairing: RE4!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Word count: 3.4k

Tags/warnings: smut (pure unfiltered filth, no plot); voice kink; p-in-v sex; unprotected sex; female gendered anatomy; female masturbation; fingering; cunnilingus; established relationship; no y/n; references to Christianity and ferocity; extensive wordplay

Summary: It's been known that Leon is one kinky bastard.

A/N: Written as part of my A to Z kinks game. N is for narratophilia aka being aroused by sexual storytelling.

Tried something a little bit different to explore my knowledge of English. A wordplay of sorts (I basically threw random words together in hopes that it'd make some sense). Bon Appetit.

masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

“You enjoying yourself?” As Leon discards his gloves, casting them aside like insignificant relics, you feel the pillow crumple beneath his weight. A testament to the force of his being. The air feels sizzling hot, thick with heat and suffocating in its intensity. “If I knew my words would get you so riled up,” his other hand cups your breast, thumb circling the erected nipple and watching as goosebumps rise over the sensitive skin, “I’d do this much sooner.”

It started as a joke, a fleeting spark in the sea of banter. Leon’s flirtatious nature entwined in perfect harmony with his tender heart.

Fresh out of the shower, your heart longed for the man whose sudden departures have become routine. A standard in your life.

The sun made its final descent below the horizon, the sky painted in shades of amber and gold – the bedroom awash in a warm and inviting glow, as if every object was kissed by the sun's final rays. The light filtered through the sheer curtains, creating patterns on the floor that danced like flickering flames.

And in the midst of it all, Leon's call came through, cutting through the stillness.

The conversation began innocently. Calling to let you know he’ll be home soon. It was as though his tenderness was butterfly's wings, fluttering in your chest and making your heart skip a beat.

His sincere words slowly spilt over into something else. Something more. Something promising.

It’s now that the phone lies next to your ear, and Leon's voice, like a silk ribbon, unwinds into your consciousness, stirring a deep and primal desire within you. Building the anticipation need inside you.

“After that, I’d bent you over the table. You’d already be naked and dripping,” Leon’s voice a song of Solomon, “but I’d be far from done with you.”

A gasp, soft and quiet, escapes your parted lips. Every fibre of your body, every cell is set on fire. The setting sun casting flames over your naked skin of yours. Flesh burning. Body wrapped in a cocoon of passionate flames – your palm pressing against the sensitive nub, the pressure light as a feather. Slow, languid strokes of your fingers follow Leon’s words.

Muscles tightening as the pressure keeps adding with each sentence. Slow and steady. With a pace of a gentle stream. Dipping one finger deep inside your slick walls, only to stop when you reach fully inside.

A stream of docile moans flows from your throat.

“Just to feel you take my cock. Hear those gorgeous gasps as you beg me to give it to you,” hand gripping the messed-up sheets underneath you, squeezing tight as you add another finger, curling them upwards.

“Rough, just how you like it. Pretty sure we’d break the table,” Leon’s words are accompanied by a light chuckle, hiding much more sinister and vivid ideas inside his head.

The way his name rolls off your tongue makes him cuss. Your voice carries the weight of longing, desire, and devotion. Making Leon wish to finally be home.

“Fuck. Could spend all day between those lovely legs of yours.” Leon’s voice descends to a low murmur, tinged with raw, feral hunger.

With a touch as tender as a butterfly’s wing, thumb circling the aching nub of nerves; it ignites a wildfire of ecstasy within your body. As you lightly graze your opening, feeling the softness of your slick walls, a delicate gasp escapes your mouth, akin to a prayer of submission to this moment of pure passion and pleasure.

“Just to taste that pretty pussy of yours on my tongue.”

Leon's voice pours into the phone, rich and sinful. You hear the front door open with a soft creak, the sound echoing through your body. He's finally home, his presence filling your senses with a heady aroma of musk and lust, a tantalizing potion that you can't resist.

He gazes at you with eyes like storm clouds brewing with desire. The air is thick with the scent of sex and your yearning, hanging in the dimly lit bedroom, resembling a heavy fog. You keep your gaze locked with his, transfixed as Leon strides in, his figure outlined by the glow of light seeping in from the hallway.

You don’t stop–

–instead, your fingers delve deeper. Nails grazing the tender walls, the slight discomfort only adding to the pleasure. Like a deer caught in headlines, your eyes stay on his.

The sound of your slickness echoes in the room as you thrust in and out, unconsciously matching the rhythm of Leon's steps – left in, right out, left in, right out – a dance of carnal desire.

And just like that, he stands on the side of the bed.

Leon’s eyes gleam with a fierce intensity. A perfect blend of predatory sensuality and effortless ease. With the grace of a pather; clad in a black henley shirt, the first two buttons undone, exposing the slight curve of his clavicles. It molds to his chiseled form as though it was a second skin, making Leon exude a primal magnetism that draws you closer to your high.

Spellbound by the scene in front of him – by you; fingers deep inside, eyes glazed over with orgasmic ecstasy as your work yourself to your high.

The air is thick with the sweet scent of your desire, a heady aroma that fills his senses with an overwhelming urge to indulge in your rapture.

He steps closer, placing one knee on the bed. The mattress creaks under his weight, but his gaze never leaves yours. It's as if you're the only person in the world that matters to him right now. The heat emanating from his body is palpable, and you feel your heart race as his presence commands the room.

“You enjoying yourself?”

His tone is low. A seductive purr sends a wave of electricity through your veins. Hot like molten lava. Dripping like honey, sweet and luscious. They linger in the air, coating everything around you with a sticky warmth.

His name leaves your lips in a deep sigh. Soft walls squeeze your fingers.

As he discards his fingerless gloves, casting them aside like insignificant relics, you feel the pillow crumple beneath his weight. A testament to the force of his being. The air feels sizzling hot, thick with heat and suffocating in its intensity.

Leon’s arm flexes, the sinewy muscles bulging when put to work. Your eyes lock onto his, drinking in the raw masculinity and primal allure of his being. A contented moan escapes your lips, an instinctive reaction to the overwhelming sensuality of the moment.

“If I knew my words would get you so riled up,” his other hand cups your breast, thumb circling the erected nipple and watching as goosebumps rise over the sensitive skin, “I’d do this much sooner.”

His towering form casts a shadow over you as he leans closer. Lips so close you can almost taste the desire that emanated from him. The heat of his breath dances across your skin, making your senses swirl in a dizzying haze of lust; igniting a fire that burns with the intensity of Samson's strength.

“Wanna gimme a kiss?” he whispers, his lips almost brushing against yours. You’re still able to feel the soft graze of the plump skin atop of yours, sending a fluttering sensation to your heart.

You can't help but feel intoxicated by his voice, each word rolling off his tongue with a silky smoothness that sends shivers down your spine. It's almost like he's casting a spell, using his voice as a weapon to ensnare you in his grasp. And you willingly surrender, caught in the web of his honeyed words; like Delilah, powerless to his will, swept away by the power of his seduction.

Lips grazing his, you push your face upwards to be closer. The kiss is both gentle and fierce; a tantalizing dance of lips and tongues that leaves you breathless and wanting more. The taste of him a mix of mint and spice. You stop the movement of your wrist between your legs. Stilling, feeling the wet squeeze around your fingers, your mind becomes a blank canvas, a vast expanse of nothingness.

The taste of him lingers on your tongue as he pulls away. Thick fingers wrapping around your wrist, he nudges your fingers out of you. A displeased grunt leaves your lips at the sudden emptiness. Only to have your breath stop; watching as Leon brings your hand, fingers visibly sticky with your juices, tongue swirling around the tip of your index finger before taking two of the fingers in his mouth. It’s as if he’s tasting the forbidden fruit, savoring the flavor of your arousal like the sweetest nectar.

Feeling the wet tip of his tongue swirl around your fingers, you can’t help but let out a soft moan. The rough texture brushes over the pads of your fingers. Licking every drop of you off of your fingers, leaving them clean before he licks his own lips.

“Missed that taste.”

His eyes never leave yours, dark and intense with desire as he slowly releases your hand.

“Missed you almost that much too.”

His words wash over you like a warm embrace, seeping into your pores and settling deep within your bones. As his body moves over yours, his hands glide across the burning expanse of your skin, tracing patterns of passion that leave you breathless in anticipation. The soft touch of his lips on your navel sends ripples of pleasure through your body, each sensation building on the last until you're gasping for air.

Leon sinks to his knees at the end of the bed; his movements smooth and graceful. Years of never-ending training left him in full control of every muscle. Arms sliding underneath your knees, he holds you firmly as he grips your hips with unyielding strength.

A single tug. Confident in its prosecution. He brings you to the edge of the bed, your glistening cunt hovering in front of his face. The sight of him there, between your legs, both captivating and overwhelming.

The wet tip of his tongue peaks from within his kiss-bruised lips.

Before you know it, you’re completely undone. A mess. Leon's tongue turns your body into a temple of pleasure; his movements sinuous and calculated. With each flick and swirl of his tongue, he's coaxing you to heights of ecstasy.

His tongue traces every inch of your throbbing cunt, flicking and teasing your clit as you squirm beneath him, one hand grasping his soft hair while the other squeezes your breast. His fingers, thick and rough, plunge deep inside of you, finding all the right spots to drive you wild. Each thrust of his hand sends jolts of pleasure through your body, making you moan and writhe with need.

"Such a fucking filthy little thing," he growls against your skin, the heat of his breath making you shiver. He devours you with his mouth and hands, taking you to the brink of ecstasy and back again; fingers scissoring and pumping, working you over until you're a quivering mess of desire.

The blunt pressure of the tips of his fingers pressing mildly against your inner walls sending pinnacles of bliss across your body until you’re mewling at the sharp pleasure that ripples down your spine.

You claw at the sheets, unable to control the waves of sensation that crash over you.

And then, with a final, shuddering gasp, you let yourself go, your body convulsing in waves of pure pleasure. Ecstasy; Leon’s name a sweetened melody on the tip of your tongue.

He stands up afterwards, a towering figure before your eyes. Your aching legs fall from his shoulders onto the bed. Leon looms over you, appearing almost god-like, a divine being sent to ravage you with its passion.

Disposing of his shirt, you lay on the bed motionless, senses on high and in anticipation as you watch the man strip. With every article of clothing that comes off, Leon’s body reveals itself in all its glory. Shoulders and chest sculptured, shaped by years of intense training. Someone who’s worked hard to achieve such a physique. Rippling muscles that flex with every movement he makes. His arms thick with veins and biceps that bulge with raw strength, capable of holding you up effortlessly. You can see every ridge of his abs, each one chiseled to perfection.

“Enjoyin’ the view?” he rasps after ridding himself of the last article while you shamelessly stare at Leon’s sheer size and the strength of him.

“Very much,” you breathe out when he crawls on top of you.

His cock rests atop your stomach, heavy and pulsing with need; leaking as he marks you in his precum. Yet, neither of you moves. Unbothered, you remain locked in his gaze before his lips capture yours in a short passionate kiss. Drawn together by the irresistible pull of gravity, your lips meet in a collision of desire and longing.

Legs wrapping high around his waist, his hand leaves the side of your neck and travels the side of your body, igniting a trail of heat as it goes. Leon strokes the length of your thigh, only stopping when his fingers rest under your knee momentarily. Then you feel the blunt tip press against your aching cunt. The anticipation inside you unravels like a tightly wound spool, releasing a flood of sensations that spreads throughout your body.

“Ready?” he breathes out; his warm breath tickles your skin as his lips brush against yours once again.

The silky texture of his hair brush against your fingertips. Legs tightening around his upper body, you pull him closer to you. “Yeah.”

The pressure against your throbbing cunt intensifies as Leon presses forward. The crown of his cock splits you open with ease, enveloping him. Welcoming him eagerly in your wet heat. As if he belongs there.

Leon’s touch’s electric, sending shivers down your spine as he claims you with each bite and kiss. His teeth graze your chin, softly nibbling at the skin as he lets out a guttural grunt. Keeping one hand on the side of your neck, possessive and tender, surely to feel the rapid pulse of your jugular vein, he hooks his thumb underneath your jaw and pushes upwards.

When your head is tilted upwards enough to his satisfaction, his lips latch on the front of your neck. Small, quick bites decorate the stretched skin. Followed by a wet kiss, he sucks on the skin. Vulnerable and exposed.

Moans cascade from your lips, an ode to his cock splitting you apart slowly. A divine intrusion into your depths, filling you.

He stills when he’s buried balls deep inside of you; bottoms out in your quivering walls, slick with post-orgasmic arousal.

The feeling of fullness, of being completely filled, is almost too much to bear. Your breath hitches in your throat, body trembling with pleasure as it strains to accommodate him; to make enough space to take him in.

Your eyes flatter shut as he waits, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck while his hand cups the underside of your breast with his thumb teasing your nipple in a leisurely manner.

A moment of content falls between you. Bodies molded together; two halves of a whole.

After a few seconds, you press the sole of your feet into his skin, feeling the taunt muscle contract underneath you.

A subtle but unmistakable gesture. A wordless plea for more.

A fuck me of sorts.

Your body speaks volumes, a language he's learned to decipher. And with a low growl, he responds to your invitation. A low roll of his hips. A test of your readiness. It becomes a measured beat that tests your strength, the pressure of his cock firmly pressed against the walls of your cervix.

It has you sent into a harmonious frenzy.

Leon continues with the rhythm. Relishing in the tight squeeze of your cunt, in the way you sing for him, his name a sacred hymn on your lips. Your body responds eagerly to his touch, every nerve ending on fire as pleasure courses through you.

His hands sear a blazing trail on your burning flesh. Every touch feels as if he’s branding you, etching himself onto your skin.

The wetness of his lips causes goosebumps to raise on your skin. Moving like a reverent prayer. Worship of your body as his tongue swipes over your sensitive nipples.

Your name escapes his lips and is met with a low moan.

Tantalizing and peaceful.

Leon’s unhurried movements slowly transform into something more. Rough and hasty. Teeth nibbling at your jawline, feeling the bone underneath the skin, your nails bite into the tight muscle of his shoulder blades. Surely to leave indents that will bloom into bruises and marks. Your back arch, offering yourself up to him as you focus on meeting his thrusts.

As his hand wanders down the length of your body, his fingers dance along the curves of your waist and hips before grazing the globes of your ass; giving it a rough squeeze before wrapping his fingers under your knee and pulling away from your neck.

Meanwhile, his other hand braces his body weight by your face. Leon’s fingers entwine around your ankle. Pushing your leg up and over his shoulder, you moan over the painful stretch of your hamstring as he gazes at you.

He moves with a frenzied urgency. Lowering himself to rest on his elbows, his fingers find their way to your clit.

The way he flicks over the sensitive nub elicits a series of moans and cries from you only to be silenced by his lips crashing onto yours.

The kiss is wet and messy. Hungry. Both of you eager to take and dominate, his tongue dancing with yours in a frenzied manner.

It's like he's a man possessed, lost in the rhythm of his movements and the feel of your body beneath him. You writhe and moan, lost in a haze of sensation and desire as he takes you higher towards that ultimate release. That sweet orgasm. Every motion is a symphony, a perfect blend of power and finesse, as he explores the contours of your body with a deep hunger.

Mind becoming blurry, your senses are consumed by the raw, primal desire Leon elicits with his thrusts. Moving to brace himself better, it feels impossible when you feel the blunt pressure hit even deeper than before. Gasping, you move your hips, trying to take him as deep as possible.

The smell of sweat and sex fills the air, and you can hear the sound of skin slapping against the skin as Leon moves with increasing speed and intensity. His determination to tear you apart only grows each time your hips meet, sending bolts of electricity throughout your every cell. His thumb flicks over your clit, applying pressure and circling the aching bud until you’re quivering underneath the mass of a man above you. Inside you.

The sound of his grunts and moans blends into a symphony of pleasure, each note building up the tension within you. You feel like a volcano on the brink of eruption, bubbling with molten passion until it finally snaps. Erupts.

A tidal wave of pleasure washes over you. Sweeping you in a vortex of delight. A thousand stars explode in your mind, each one brighter than the last, painting your vision with vibrant colors. Your body convulses, spasming in rhythm with the waves of pleasure that ripple through you.

Gasps leave your lips. Desperate for air, you cling to Leon, whose thrusts never wavered. Whose fingers continue to tease your clit, now throbbing and exploding with sensitivity. His eyes lock on yours, lips parted with low moans escaping from between before you bring his face down to you, swallowing each cry of pleasure but eventually, he pulls away.

You watch as Leon’s eyes snap shut, brows furrowing in pleasure as he stills. His full length buried inside of your spasming cunt, filling you up with his cum.

Your body’s spent. Yet your mind’s still reeling from the sheer intensity as Leon remains buried inside; his breath ragged and uneven before he pulls out with measured slowness, teasing your oversensitive clit with a gentle tap. You shudder at the sensation of him trickling out of you.

“Hi.”

The simple word leaves your mouth in a breathless whisper. A mere welcome that was meant to be addressed when he first entered your home instead of now. A warmth spreads through your body, settling low in your belly as you take in the sight of him; the way his blond hair falls across his forehead, resembling a halo of an angel. Cheeks tinted in light pink and lips curved into a small smile as he looks at you.

“Hi.”

[remember-the-fanfics]

Imagine the first time Gen z Overlord meeting Angel Dust for the first time when Charlie and Vaggie brought Angel Dust to the hotel while GenZ reader was in the hotel preparing the welcome party preparations with Razzle and Dazzle, GenZ reader ignores Angel Dust's attitude and is kind and respectful to him by giving Ángel Dust cake that Genz reader for him?😃😃

"Razzle, Dazzle! This has to be perfect for Charlie and Vaggie will be back with the first guest!" Yelled (Y/n) decorating the not completely burned cake, the last two burnt cakes will be eaten by them or the tiny dragons.

"No- alittle to the left! No Razzle, that's down- finally thank you!" (Y/n) yelled watching the two put up a sign. "Okay, so I don't want to pressure whoever is coming so I think 'HELL-O (the o is silent)' is funny, it's a pun. I'm totally not feeling stressed about this." (Y/n) voiced to Razzle and Dazzle as the two came over to see the cake, words looking like it was blood and covered in rainbow sprinkles.

The pair looked at (Y/n) blankly.

"I used all the white with the actual frosting and being in hell most colors are red, black, and death."

"-and this is the entrance and Oh wow." (Y/n) heard Charlie say, they brought the cake towards the group. "You really decorated well, (Y/n)."

(Y/n) sees Charlie leading a fluffy yet skinny spider man sinner from the doorway with Vaggie trailing behind.

"Thank you, it was mostly Razz and Dazz since I was baking a cake for the guest." (Y/n) said putting the cake on a conveniently placed table, dusting off their hands. "Who are you?"

"You live under a rock? I'm Angel Dust, everyone on the streets knows me or wishes to." He said and (Y/n) blanking starred up at him.

"W-well (Y/n) here doesn't usally watch what you usally star in Angel." Said Charlie.

"Oh! He's an Actor then? I don't often watch TV, I'm usually working or helping Charlie." Said (Y/n) before Angel Dust started to laugh.

"I've never meet anyone who hasn't already seen all of me if you get what I mean." He finished and looked at the cake. "Hah. Funny if it didn't look like a rainbow was trying find me but thanks. Just know I'm only here for the free grub and room."

"Well I hope you atleast give a chance one or twice." Said (Y/n) before a sound from the kitchen was heard. "Shit, they're trying to eat the burnt cakes." They yelled rushing towards.

"How many did you burn? Razzle, Dazzle. Don't eat to much!" Said Charlie speeding after them.

"You never said you had child labor." Said Angel Dust taking a bite of his cake.

"(Y/n) was technically an adult when they dead also they are an Overlord."

"That explains why they've never watch porn with me in it-. Wait. How the hell does that child have that much power?! That's like giving a toddler a knife."

"I questioned it everyday."

-

"Isn't Angel Dust a drug?" Asked (Y/n), sharing the last burnt cake with Vaggie and Charlie because Angel Dust kept his.

"It another word for PCP." Said Vaggie, slightly cringing on how the cake was somehow raw and brunt at the same time.

"Like a pipe for plumbing?"

"That's PCV, kid. How do you not know these things?" Asked Angel.

"I died before I could I guess, my parents would probably kill me if they ever saw me with any drugs." Said (Y/n) shrugged. "So what kind of actor are you? I feel like i heard your name before since you mentioned it earlier."

"I'm porn star."

"...Well that explains alot of why people would be weird when I asked who they were talking about. I hope you enjoy your stay."

[sherewrytes]

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 3

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home @clp-84 @thelightknight21 @favvkiki 

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Song for this chapter: Happy Little Pill Troye Sivan

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Chapter 3: Happy Little Pill

I finally made it home, my head still spinning from the earlier with yn…

Or is it the pills…or the weed…fuck weed brain is shit sometimes

 I yank the boxes out of the back seat before heading up to my apartment. When I step inside, the smell of pizza and the low hum of video game music hits me—Yuuji’s still awake, sitting with Choso and Toji, all of them glued to the screen, battling it out on Sparkling Zero, the latest Dragon Ball Z game. Toji just mutters, "Hey, you’re back," barely glancing away from the game.

I drop the boxes by the door with a loud thud, and that’s when everyone turns around, their eyes flicking from the boxes to me, waiting, maybe expecting something. The room falls into an uncomfortable silence, thick enough to choke on. Yuuji tosses the controller to Toji, then mumbles something about heading to bed.

But I’m already on edge, the tension buzzing under my skin like electricity. "It’s fine," I snap, waving a hand dismissively. "You don’t fucking listen anyway, so do whatever you want."

Choso stands up, his expression turning cold. “Don’t take your shit out on him,” he says, his voice steady but sharp enough to cut through the room.

I run a hand through my hair, feeling the heat of frustration bubbling up inside me. "I’m not taking anything out on him," I snap, my voice sharper than I intended. "Just tired of dealing with everyone's bullshit."

Toji rolls his eyes, casually leaning back on the couch, his gaze unfazed. "You’re the one who decided to get into it with Y/N, man. You think it’s easy for any of us to watch you self-destruct?"

I glare at him, anger flaring. "You don’t know shit, Toji. You think you understand what I’m going through?"

Choso shakes his head, shooting me a warning look. "Stop. Just stop. You’re being an asshole for no reason. You don’t have to take your problems out on us."

I scoff, the tension in the room thickening. "Whatever. Just mind your own business." I storm toward the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, desperately trying to cool down the fire inside me.

Toji follows, the sound of his footsteps echoing behind me. "Look, man, you’re not going to be able to keep pushing everyone away forever. Sooner or later, you’ll have to deal with this."

I slam the fridge door shut, turning to face him. "What do you want me to say? That she left me? That I can’t fix this?" The bitterness spills from my mouth, and I hate how raw my emotions feel.

Toji crosses his arms, his expression serious. "I just want you to stop acting like you’re fine when you’re clearly not. You think shutting everyone out is going to help? You need to talk to someone."

"And what? You think spilling my guts to you guys is going to solve anything?" I retort, clenching my fists. "You think I want pity?"

"It's not about pity, Sukuna!" Toji's voice raises slightly, frustration evident in his tone. "It’s about support. You need it, whether you want to admit it or not."

I open my mouth to fire back, but the weight of exhaustion settles over me like a heavy blanket. "I don’t want to talk," I finally say, my voice quieter. "I just want to be left alone."

"You’re not alone, man," Choso pipes in, his voice steady. "We’re here for you, whether you like it or not."

I feel the tightness in my chest ease ever so slightly at their words, but

 I can’t let them in. Not now. Not after everything.

I shake my head, turning away from them, focusing on the dull ache of my thoughts instead.

"Fine," I mutter, dragging my boxes back toward my room. "Just keep playing your game or whatever."

I hear Choso mutter something under his breath, but I don’t bother to listen. I slam my bedroom door shut behind me, the sound echoing in the small space.

As I drop the boxes on the floor, I feel the familiar sting of tears welling up in my eyes.

 I don’t want to feel this way; I don’t want to feel anything at all. 

I sink onto my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to clear my mind.

You should’ve fought harder, 

I think bitterly.

You should’ve fought for her.

But I didn’t. I let my anger and my fear push her away, and now I’m left with nothing but regret and the suffocating silence of my empty apartment.

I sit alone in my room, and for once, I let the tears fall. I don’t even try to stop them.

(I really fucking lost her…) 

The thought hits like a punch to the gut. 

(Fuck…)

Anger flares up, raw and bitter, and I lash out,coming off the bed, I kick one of the boxes on the floor. I hear something shatter inside. My jaw clenches, but my hands shake as I grab the box cutter from my dresser and slice open the top.

Inside are picture frames, one after another, all of them hers—the memories she kept. The photos glare back at me like a silent accusation. Shots of us laughing together, looking like nothing else mattered. Pictures of me, her, and Grandpa, his arm slung around us both like he was holding everything together. Photos of us with Yuuji and Choso, a messy, mismatched family that once felt unbreakable.

My chest feels like it’s caving in, a hollow ache where there used to be something real. Each picture is a reminder, a slap to the face of everything I’ve fucked up, everything I’ve lost. And somehow, seeing them all here, in these broken frames… it just makes it hurt worse.

I can’t look at these. I shouldn’t have opened this box. The photos are mocking me, each one a reminder of what I had and lost. I feel the heat of tears streaming down my face as I sift through the frames, memories flooding back in vivid detail.

Look at how happy we were,

I think bitterly.

What a fucking joke.

I picked up a picture of us at the beach, laughing and splashing water at each other. Y/N’s smile is bright, her hair blowing in the wind, and I remember how carefree we felt that day. The sun had been shining, the waves crashing, and we’d promised to always have days like that.

And now look at us, 

I think, rage mixing with sorrow in my chest. I toss the frame back into the box, and it clatters against the others. I can’t handle it.

I grab another one, this one of me, Y/N, and Grandpa at a family barbecue. Grandpa had his arm slung over my shoulder, and Y/N stood beside me, her hand on my back. We’d both been laughing at one of Grandpa's terrible jokes. That was before everything went to shit.

God, I miss him.

I slam the box shut, my heart racing with anger and pain. I run my hand over my face, trying to wipe away the tears, but it only makes it worse. I can’t breathe, the weight of my emotions crashing down on me. I want to scream, to throw something, to destroy everything in this room.

What have I done?

I pull my phone out, staring at the screen. I know I shouldn’t reach out to her, but the urge is overwhelming. I need her. I need to fix this, but I don’t even know how. I type out a message and then delete it.

No, don’t do that.

But the next moment, I find myself typing again, my fingers trembling.

Y/N, I’m sorry. Can we talk?

I hit send before I can think twice. The seconds stretch into eternity as I wait for a reply, my heart pounding in my chest. I want to pace, to throw my phone against the wall, to do anything but sit here and wait.

I’m still staring at the screen when i just see

Seen.

Just like that, my heart sinks again. She saw it and chose not to respond.

What the hell am I doing?

I toss the phone onto my bed, unable to look at it anymore. I want to forget. I want to drown myself in anything other than this ache. I lean back against the wall, trying to shut out the world.

But the memories don’t stop. They flooded in—her laughter, the way she looked at me, how her presence made everything feel right, even when it was wrong. I bury my face in my hands, letting the sobs wrack my body.

I really fucked this up..

I reach out without thinking, fingers brushing over the blunt I left on my nightstand earlier. It’s routine by now—something to take the edge off, to quiet everything that won’t shut up inside my head. I flick the lighter, watching the flame for a second before lighting up and taking a slow drag, feeling the burn in my lungs, hoping it'll numb something deeper.

(Alexa, play "Can You Feel My Heart" by Bring Me The Horizon.)

The music fills the silence, heavy and raw, matching the ache that I can’t shake. I let the lyrics drown me, let the weed fog my mind. It’s not enough, but it’s all I have right now—anything to dull the pain clawing its way through me.

The familiar sounds of Bring Me The Horizon fill the room, the heavy beats pulsing through my chest like a heartbeat. I take a deep drag from the blunt, the smoke swirling in the dim light as I close my eyes.

“Can you feel my heart?” The lyrics resonate with my inner turmoil, echoing the chaos that has taken over my mind. I let the smoke seep deep into my lungs, holding it for a moment before exhaling slowly, watching as the gray haze drifts away.

Inhale.

 Exhale.

I lose myself in the music, letting it drown out the noise of my thoughts, the weight of my failures. I let the smoke fill my lungs and the melody fill my heart. Each note hits me like a wave, and for a brief moment, the pain feels a little lighter, the memories slightly dulled.

What the hell have I done?

 I can’t shake the feeling of regret. I never wanted to push Y/N away, but it feels like I’ve done exactly that. I take another drag, the high creeping in, the world blurring around the edges.

It shouldn’t have come to this. I think of her face, the way her eyes glistened with tears, how it tore me apart inside to see her hurt.

“Can you save my bastard soul? Will you wait for me? I'm sorry, brothers, so sorry, lover”

 I can’t help but think how fitting the lyrics are. The smoke wraps around me like a shroud, and I lean back against the wall in my room again, letting the music take over, hoping it will drown out the memories of Y/N’s hurt expression, the way she told me to leave.

As the chorus builds, I feel the weight of everything crashing down again, but I can't fight it anymore. I take another hit of the blunt, needing more, wanting to escape this reality even for a little while longer.

I don’t want to be broken anymore. I just want her back.

I let the sound wash over me, the pain turning into a low hum, my thoughts drifting into a haze. I lose track of time as the world around me fades, and all that’s left is the music and the smoke.

Just for tonight, I don’t want to think about anything else.

The lyrics echo in my mind, each line digging deeper into the pit in my stomach. I take another drag from the joint, the smoke swirling around me like my thoughts—chaotic and tangled.

“I hate being alone.” The words hit hard. I can feel the weight of the silence in my room, a stark contrast to the warmth of Y/N’s laughter, the softness of her touch. 

Why did I mess up such a good thing? 

I can’t stop replaying every moment, every fight, and every chance I had to fix things before they spiraled out of control.

“I long for that feeling to not feel at all.”

 I sigh, frustration bubbling up as I wipe my eyes. I should’ve known better than to think sleeping with her would make everything okay.

 It was reckless, and now I’m left with the consequences. I smack my forehead, as if punishing myself will somehow erase the pain.

“The higher I get, the lower I'll sink.”

 I can feel the truth in that line. Every hit I take feels like a momentary escape, but I know it won’t last. 

It’s a band-aid on a gaping wound, and soon enough, the high will wear off, leaving me with the raw, gnawing emptiness inside.

“I can't drown my demons, they know how to swim.” 

My heart aches with that realization. The weight of my past mistakes, the loss of my grandfather, and now the chasm Y/N has left behind—those demons are relentless. They’re always there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for me to slip.

“What comes after the numb feeling inside?”

 I wonder, my mind racing. Will I ever feel whole again? Or will this ache follow me, a constant reminder of what I’ve lost? What if I’m destined to feel this way for the rest of my life?

I take another deep drag, letting the smoke fill my lungs, hoping it will cloud my thoughts, if only for a moment longer. But deep down, I know the truth: this isn’t a solution. I can’t hide from my feelings, and I can’t run from the mess I’ve made.

“God, Y/N... what have I done?”

 The whisper escapes my lips, thick with regret. I set the joint down and lean back against the wall, letting the tears fall as I stare up at the ceiling, wishing for anything to take this pain away.

The tears keep coming, harder and faster. My throat tightens, and I start to cough, choking on the mix of tears and smoke.

Fuck this shit.

I force myself up out of my room and head back to the living room. Toji, Choso, and Yuuji are still there, glued to the game, the sounds of explosions and cheers filling the room. And then I see Gojo and Geto have shown up too, looking comfortable like they belong here.

Gojo glances over, his eyes narrowing with that same look he always gives me, and holds out a beer. I stare at it, then at him. The whole scene feels off, like I’m watching from somewhere else, too hollowed out to take any of it in.

Without a word, I turn around and head back to my room, shutting the door behind me.

 I can’t do this right now…

I could feel their eyes on me as I turned away, the laughter and chatter of the group fading into the background. It was like I was stuck in a bubble, cut off from the warmth and camaraderie that usually brought me solace. All I wanted was to escape the reality of my situation, to crawl into a hole and disappear for a while.

I pushed the door to my room shut, blocking out the noise. The moment the door clicked into place, the familiar weight of loneliness settled back in, heavier than before. I sank onto my bed, feeling the fabric dampen with the remnants of my tears. My mind was racing, a storm of guilt and despair swirling around, leaving no room for clarity.

“Fuck this shit,” 

I thought, frustration clawing at my insides. I couldn’t keep running from everything. I needed to face it, to confront the mess I had made with Y/N, with my own damn life.

But how? 

I felt trapped, like I was spiraling into a pit with no way out. I couldn’t even find the words to say what I felt, to explain how I’d let everything fall apart. I reached for my phone, hoping maybe texting Y/N again would help, but hesitated. What would I even say? I didn’t want to make things worse, to push her further away.

After a few moments of staring at the screen, I tossed the phone back onto the bed and buried my face in my hands. It was too much. I needed to think, to breathe, but the reality of my choices suffocated me.

I heard laughter from the living room, a sharp reminder of what I was missing out on. I thought about joining them again, about trying to act normal, but the idea felt like a façade. I was too far gone, too consumed by my own turmoil to pretend.

Instead, I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the silence around me becoming deafening. I replayed the last few hours in my mind, trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong. The arguments, the unspoken words, the way Y/N looked at me with hurt and confusion.

I couldn’t escape the haunting thought that I might never fix this. That I might lose her for good.

“What am I supposed to do now?”

 I whispered to the emptiness.

The music shifts to Breaking the Habit by Linkin Park, and I can’t help but let out a bitter laugh. 

(Really?) 

It’s like the universe is mocking me at this point.

I reached for my usual baggie on my night side grabbing a Xanax and popping one then grabbed the weed jar and some paper, rolling it up with shaky hands before lighting it. I inhale, hoping the smoke can fill the cracks that feel like they’re widening with every second. I get off the bed, shuffling over to another box I’d grabbed from Y/N’s place, sitting there like it’s holding all the shit I’m not ready to face.

The smoke curled around me as I took a deep drag from the blunt, trying to drown out the chaos in my head with every inhale, I opened another box, the familiar scent of her lingering, and there it was—the collection of gifts I’d once given her. Little tokens of affection that now felt like chains binding me to my regrets.

“For fuck's sake, Y/N,”

 I muttered to the empty room, frustration spilling over.

The lyrics from the song hit me hard, each line resonating with the turmoil I felt inside. I could see it all clearly now—the moments where I’d let my anger and pride get in the way, where I hadn’t fought for her when it mattered most. “I’ll never fight again. And this is how it ends.” Those words echoed in my mind, a haunting reminder of how I’d allowed things to deteriorate.

I pulled out a small barely gift-wrapped box, the paper slightly crumpled and torn but still intact. I remembered the day I’d given it to her��her face lighting up with that genuine smile that had always made my heart skip. 

This was supposed to mean something.

 I thought bitterly, a part of me wishing I could go back and change everything.

The song shifted again, the chorus cutting through my haze: 

“I don’t know how I got this way. I’ll never be alright.” 

And it wasn’t. Nothing felt right anymore. I was stuck in this cycle of self-loathing and despair, unable to find a way out.

I flicked the ash off the blunt, my mind racing. The gifts, the memories—they were reminders of what I’d lost. Of the love I’d let slip through my fingers.

“What have I done?” 

I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The question hung in the air, unanswered, as I took another hit. I couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N, about the way she’d looked at me, the tears in her eyes when she shoved me away.

It felt like I was breaking apart, piece by piece, the walls closing in around me. I needed to fix this. I needed to fight for her, to tell her everything I felt, but I didn’t even know where to start. The thought of reaching out filled me with dread, but the idea of letting her go was even worse.

The low hum of Breaking the Habit by Linkin Park fades out, leaving an unsettling silence in the room. My mind is buzzing, the weight of the decision pressing down on me like a thousand bricks. I’ve had enough of this shit, this constant escape, this haze. I sit on the floor, my back against the bed, eyes glued to the messy room around me.

The space feels suffocating, but I can’t bring myself to leave it. The air is thick with the scent of smoke, remnants of the last few hours. My hands shake slightly, and I’m light-headed, the high of the weed still lingering, but I know I’ve pushed it too far. I get up slowly, like the effort of moving is too much, but I do it anyway. The room sways a little as I make my way to the dresser.

The song switches. Coming Down by The Weeknd starts to play, its haunting melody creeping in like a shadow. I barely register it at first.

All alone All Alone All Alone. 

The intro, a reminder of my current life

The lyrics, though—

"I always want you when I’m coming down"—hit me hard, and I freeze in place. That’s exactly how I feel. Always coming down, always needing something when it fades.

I shift through my drawer, fingers trembling as I search for something—anything—that’ll take the edge off, ease the tension I’ve let build up in my chest. I don’t know how many Xanax I’ve already had. Maybe two, maybe more. I can't remember. My brain is foggy, but I don’t care. I find it—morphine. A small pill, white and unassuming. It promises relief.

I sit back down, back on the floor in front of my bed. The ashtray beside me catches my eye. 

When the fuck did I put that there? 

My thoughts are clouded, slipping through my fingers like water, but I feel the weight of that question. I stare at it, trying to piece together the memory of how it ended up there. But there’s no answer. Only silence, only the constant beat of the song, and the gnawing need for something to make it all stop.

I pop the morphine in my mouth, feeling it dissolve on my tongue as I lay my head back against the bed, eyes closed. My body sighs, the tension slowly draining, but it’s never enough. It’s never enough to make the hurt go away.

I reach for my stash, hands moving instinctively, and the thought comes to me, sharp and clear: 

Fuck it, Imma roll up another. It's that kinda night.

The lyrics echo through my head: “I always want you when I'm coming down,” and I let the weight of them wash over me. Always coming down. Always wanting something to fill the emptiness.

I roll the joint with mechanical precision, the familiar motion grounding me. The smoke, when it hits my lungs, feels like a friend. A constant. But the moment is fleeting. Always is.

I light it up, the flame flickering before the burn settles, and I take a deep drag. The world narrows down to the haze around me, but I’m still here, still broken in pieces, caught between wanting more and wanting to forget.

The smoke curls in the air, the room hazy as I exhale, but it doesn’t ease the pressure in my chest. It never does. The thoughts of her—Y/N—are like ghosts, haunting every damn corner of my mind, even when I'm trying to escape. Her voice, those words, echoing louder now in the silence.

Just get out!

Her words. A slap to my face that cuts deeper than any high could numb.

For fuck’s sake,

 even when I’m high, she’s still here, still fucking plaguing me. I can’t seem to shake it, not the anger, not the guilt, not the damn regret. I run a hand through my hair, frustrated, my heart pounding against my ribs. I fucking hate you... I mutter under my breath, the words bitter, a mix of rage and something else I can’t quite place. Something raw, something painful.

I take another hit, the smoke filling my lungs, and with it, that familiar burn, but it doesn't settle the storm inside. It doesn’t make the pain stop. It just makes it quieter, for a moment.

I sit back against the bed, staring at the ceiling, mind swimming in the haze, but one thing is crystal clear.

I miss you.

The thought hits me like a punch in the gut. Hard.

I miss you in ways I can’t even describe. I miss the way your eyes would light up when you laughed, the way you’d challenge me, even when you knew it pissed me off. I miss the way you used to look at me like you understood, like I wasn’t some fucking mess that needed to be fixed.

I wish I could take it back. I wish I hadn’t pushed you away.

But then again, what the fuck do I know about love? What do I know about keeping something good when I’ve spent my life burning everything I touch?

The high isn’t enough to make me forget you. It never is. The lyrics to the song “I always want you when I’m coming down” echo in the back of my mind, but it's not just the high. It's not just the drugs. It's something deeper. Something that keeps pulling at me, even when I don’t want it to.

I can’t escape it. I can’t escape you.

I take another drag, holding it in longer this time, but it doesn’t clear my mind. Nothing ever does. It just makes everything sharper, makes your absence feel even more suffocating.

I reach for my phone, the motion almost automatic, like it’s the only thing I know how to do when I’m drowning in this mess. My fingers hover over the screen for a second, but I press your name anyway. My thumb shakes, the screen lighting up in the dim room as I wait for you to pick up. The song continues, the lyrics hitting me like a goddamn truth:

“Pick up your phone, I’m all alone.”

It’s pathetic, I know. But I just need to hear your voice, even if it’s just for a second. Just to tell myself it wasn’t all a lie. Just to hear you tell me I’m not completely fucked.

But you don’t answer.

The call goes straight to voicemail, and for a second, I just stare at the screen, the silence in the room louder than the song now. My chest tightens. My fingers twitch. I don’t know if it’s anger or something else that crawls up my throat, but I toss the phone back onto the bed like it’s a weight, not caring where it lands. The screen flickers off, and I’m left with nothing but the empty room and the echo of your absence.

Fuck.

I sit there for a moment, just staring at the phone like maybe it’ll ring, like maybe you’ll magically pick up and everything will go back to how it used to be. But it doesn’t. It won’t.

God, I fucking miss you.

Geto walked into my room, his footsteps barely making a sound as he took in the mess. The roach of the blunt was barely glowing, now just a burnt stub, and I had stuff scattered all over the floor—like pieces of my life falling apart in front of me. I was sitting there, slouched against the wall, the ashtray close by, high as hell, trying to ignore everything, but it wasn’t working.

He walked over and handed me a bottle of water, but I didn’t want it. I didn’t want him to look at me, didn’t want anyone to see this version of me. I slapped the bottle away, hearing the thud as it hit the floor, and mumbled, “I don’t need it. I’m fine…”

But I wasn’t. I couldn’t keep the tears from falling. They just kept coming, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe through it.

Geto’s eyes flickered with concern as he took in the scene before him—my room was a disaster, much like my mind. He crouched down, unbothered by the mess, and quietly pushed the bottle back toward me.

“Drink it,” he said softly, his voice steady. “You’re not fine, Sukuna.”

I shook my head, a mix of anger and sadness bubbling inside me. “I said I don’t need it!” I snapped, the words coming out harsher than I intended. But the truth was, I felt anything but fine. The grief was suffocating, a thick fog that clouded my thoughts, and I could feel the tears threatening to spill over again.

“Gran... fuck man, why me?”

 I choked out, my voice cracking as I buried my face in my hands. It felt like I was falling apart, and I didn’t know how to put myself back together.

Geto remained quiet, letting me vent, and I appreciated that. It was rare to find someone willing to sit in the dark with me, someone who didn’t try to fix me but simply allowed me to feel my pain. After a moment, he spoke again, his tone softer.

“You’re not alone in this, you know.”

I scoffed, bitterness creeping into my voice. “It sure as hell feels like it.”

He sighed, moving closer and placing a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got us. You’ve got me. But you have to let us in. You can’t keep pushing everyone away.”

I lifted my head, meeting his gaze, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “How can you say that? Look at me!” I gestured around the room, the chaos reflecting the turmoil inside me. “I’m a fucking mess.”

“And that’s okay,” he replied firmly. “We all have our demons. You don’t have to face yours alone.”

His words hung in the air, and I felt a twinge of hope. Maybe I didn’t have to do this by myself. Maybe I could lean on someone for once instead of pretending to be strong all the time.

I took a deep breath, the air catching in my throat. “I don’t want to lose her, Geto.”

He nodded slowly, the gravity of my words settling between us. “Then fight for her. But first, you have to fight for yourself.”

I looked down, my heart racing at the thought. “What if I’ve already lost her?”

“Then you fight harder,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. “You show her that you’re worth it. That you can be better. That you want to be better.”

I stared at the floor, uncertainty swirling in my chest. It was terrifying to think about confronting Y/N again, especially after everything that had happened. But maybe Geto was right. Maybe I needed to show her that I could change, that I could be the person she needed.

I picked up the water bottle, my fingers trembling slightly as I opened it and took a sip. The cool liquid felt refreshing against my dry throat. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can,” Geto insisted, his voice steady. “Just take it one step at a time. Talk to her. Tell her everything. Just be honest.”

I nodded, the thought of being vulnerable both terrifying and exhilarating. “Okay. I’ll try.”

Geto smiled, his expression easing the tightness in my chest just a little. “That’s all I’m asking. Just don’t give up on her or yourself.”

As he stood up, heading to the door, I felt a flicker of determination ignite within me. It wouldn’t be easy but I think I can try

Maybe not I took another swig from the bottle, letting the cool water wash away some of the pain. I pushed myself to my feet, but as soon as I stood, a wave of dizziness washed over me. My vision blurred, and before I could react, my legs buckled beneath me. I hit the floor hard, the world spinning out of control as everything faded to black.

In that moment, all the pain, the grief, the memories—everything that had been weighing me down—vanished into the darkness, leaving me with nothing but silence.

[wrestlezaynia]

Shout-out to the grown men screaming "I love you Seth" in the audience this evening.

[t00thpasteface]

I never considered hawkahey before but I love it! Father is so calm and sweet except when worked up, whereas Hawkeye is always so acerbic and snarky except with the ones that he loves. The very definition of dog and cat boyfriends. :3 Thank you for opening my eyes!!

YAY!!!! welcome to the club!!!

the big thing i like about hawkahy, besides the ten metric tons of narrative symbolism they can carry together, is the way i think they resist a lot of your typical shippy/romcom templates. i've spent a LOT of time in fandom spaces over the years and i've gotten mostly pretty tired of the same formulas, especially when half the time it requires chopping off canon aspects of either/both characters just to make them fit. at least, i try to be conscious of a few different red/blue, this/that dichotomies when i write/draw them, and play around with the sorts of expectations one might have for them both as individuals and as a pair.

i actually have A Lot Of Thoughts about this so i'm gonna put my yapping under a readmore:

i think the show itself does a lot to twist expectations, by virtue of having begun as a satirical comedy (which is still what i think it does best), a genre which relies very heavily on ironic inversions of common character/social archetypes that the audience would be coming in with preestablished tastes/expectations for. hawkeye seems like a self-centered hedonist, but he's also highly introspective and articulate, so he's often quite capable of waxing poetic about why and how he does what he does, instead of just acting on raw instinct with no higher thought. meanwhile, mulcahy's entire thesis as a character is just lampshading or inverting every expected feature of a priest character; if he's the "father", then the other personnel are latchkey kids. the last thing i want to do is flatten any of that!

here's some specific tropes i try to keep in mind and intentionally upset, whether explicitly or implicitly, in my hawkahy art/fic:

hawkeye as the aggressive boundary-violator, mulcahy as the helpless victim having his lines crossed— hawkeye can be pretty pushy and insistent, but he's not one to commit actual assault, especially not to someone who wouldn't hurt a fly. even in an early-seasons scenario, i don't think he would move much faster than what mulcahy's comfortable with, at least not with anything more serious than jokes and come-ons; i think he prefers to awaken things in people and encourage them to loosen up, rather than pull them along by himself.

also, mulcahy is not a pushover; he just knows when to pick his battles and prefers to bite his tongue. he's certainly blown up on hawkeye before. it would also be fairly easy for mulcahy to throw hawkeye over his shoulder or snap the guy in half like a twig if he wanted to. when mulcahy does get pressured into doing something he doesn't want to do, it's the focus of an entire episode, i.e. the exception that proves the rule. if hawkeye's going to tempt him into something, it'll be because he really wanted to deep down and thus made that conscious choice, not because he got drunk at a party and hawkeye decided to try and cop a feel.

hawkeye as someone who needs a tumultous relationship and thus won't be satisfied by stability— i talked more about this in a previous post, but i think hawkeye does want to settle down eventually. like i said, he comes off as a hopeless romantic. we know he watched a lot of movies; he almost certainly grew up on those "screwball comedies" that were so big in the 30s and featured neurotic nutjobs pratfalling their way into a genuine happily-ever-after. i don't think he'd want to settle down with just anybody, nor do i think he really places a lot of value in fulfilling those milestones of "get married by X age, buy a house with Y rooms, and pump out Z kids" just for the sake of fulfilling them and keeping up with the joneses, but i think he'd love to marry for love. again, he was certainly planning on it before the war, and he admitted that he's still carrying a lot of hurt from having that domestic future taken away from him so abruptly.

mulcahy as the innocent ingenue— this one is complex, and of course i'll preface this by saying i'm predisposed to not being all that intrigued or entertained by genuinely innocent characters. i find them to be something of a nonstarter, narratively speaking. beyond that, they tend to be unrealistic in certain settings and demographics. yes, there will always be people living in a bubble for every possible background and age group, but i find it implausible that a man could be 30 or 40 years old and enlisted in the military and still somehow be as naive as a sea sponge in a pineapple.

mulcahy is definitely not all that worldly, and starts off with a somewhat myopic view of his role in the grand scheme of things, particularly as it pertains to the motivations and effects of missionary work. he did join the military of his own volition, but i also think the mulcahy we see at the end of the war (and even at several points in the middle of it) is not the same mulcahy that volunteered to be here in the first place. what's more, we see from lines like "i know all about motels" or his hesitance to say hello to his family on camera that he probably picked up a lot of the hard lessons and ugly experiences that are typical growing up working-class in a big city. i think it's a disservice, both to the character and to the broader themes of the show, to assume that mulcahy's optimism and cheeriness must come from a place of inexperience. yes, he has plenty of room to grow, but he wasn't born yesterday, and i think his optimism is far more the result of a conscious choice to do good than an innocence to the evil in the world.

as for sexual stuff in particular, he mostly reacts to hawkeye's promiscuity with knowing winks and smiles, and even jokes with him about it, which i think is pretty clearly enabling him. sure, he bolts out of those VD talks, but with henry's public speaking skills, can you really blame him for eagerly excusing himself? plus, he has a strong incentive to act more innocent than he really is, because if he plays dumb, it means he won't be preemptively excluded from the conversation by people who think he's easily offended by bawdier talk. he may not be up to date on all the slang, nor is he always observant of certain subtle cues, but he's not a pearl-clutcher; that role is fulfilled by frank, margaret, and charles, so it would be redundant to make mulcahy also gasp and scold people like hawkeye for having premarital sex. mulcahy largely serves to validate hawkeye as being in the right in these disputes. which brings me to:

hawkeye as the amoral maniac, mulcahy as the moral compass— this one especially flies in the face of the spirit of the show, i think. hawkeye is doing his absolute fucking best! he would do anything to save a life, and it doesn't matter whose. he's willing to run into active artillery fire to rescue enemy soldiers, to stay behind and monitor a patient while the camp moves out, and to potentially get himself killed just to stand by his principle of never carrying a gun. he sleeps around as a coping mechanism, but more than that, i think he also does it out of a genuine desire to share some happiness with others in an otherwise miserable and dehumanizing place.

even mulcahy doesn't care that hawkeye does all that other stuff on the side. he wouldn't do a lot of it himself, but that's not an issue to him. again, his entire schtick as a character is being "unpriestly" to comedic/dramatic effect, like winning at poker, getting drunk before a sermon, etc.; he's far more accommodating than he is preachy. he has a profound respect for hawkeye that can be seen even in season one, because hawkeye always looks out for the frightened and vulnerable, and that's what matters to him above all else. mulcahy loathes lip service and values action over feel-good talk, which means he cares more about hawkeye doing the right thing than the superficially squeaky-clean thing.

pairing hawkeye with mulcahy invites some incredibly rich commentary on what "morality" even means, but i think getting hung up on the fact that hawkeye drinks, gambles, and has a LOT of premarital sex is completely missing the point and only reinforcing the puritan ideals that mash itself is trying so hard to upset and dissect.

the cute, sweet, blushy, short one is the sub and/or bottom— nah son. hawkeye is always talking about getting pregnant. mulcahy works out and likes to roughhouse. you do the math here.

ALL THIS TO SAY... i really encourage people to look beyond the stereotypes of horndog and cinnamon roll, or frat boy and nerd, or whatever other thought-terminating cliche one may be tempted to apply to these guys. hawkeye is a sleaze, but he's also sensitive and articulate. mulcahy is a sweetheart, but he's stubborn and resilient. they both go so much deeper than the superficial tropes, and what makes them work so well as a couple IS their ability to bring out those interesting, lesser-known facets in each other, both as characters interacting with each other and as symbols placed in juxtaposition to serve the themes of the show.

[lovely-luna-writes]

NSFW alphabet

Mondo Owada

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A- aftercare (what their like after sex)

Mondo is a sweet guy afterwards. He helps you bathe/clean up, he cuddles you and reassures you how much he loves you.

B- favorite body part

He's most likely a boob guy.

C- Cum (where does he like to cum?)

Inside. But if your afraid of pregnancy he'll settle for your thighs or stomach.

D- dirty secret

Just the thought of eating you out turns him on.

E- experience

He has zero experience but he acts like he does to seem cool.

F- favorite position

He likes to experiment but he prefers missionary.

G- goofy (how serious are they?)

Depends on what his partner prefers (submissive or dominate). I feel like Dom on Dom would be hilarious, not being able to stay serious.

H-hair

I honestly feel like he doesn't give a fuck if he's shaven. (black colored and curly)

I- intimacy

Mondo is the kind of guy to prefer raw pleasure but he'll be romantic when he wants.

J- jerk off

He lovess to jerk off (who doesn't?). He did it a lot before he met you and still does it a lot.

K- kinks

Breeding is pretty much it but if you have curtain kinks he'll help stimulate those as well.

L- location (fav place to do it)

Most places with cushion (bed, couch, etc.) He also likes shower sex from time to time.

M- motivation (what turns them on)

Thinking about you in sexual ways.

N- no (turnoffs)

piss or shit. tf?

O- oral

He absolutely loves oral. He prefers giving it to you rather then receiving. He often goes pussydrunk (Definition - enjoying giving a woman oral so much it puts you in a state of euphoria.)

P- pace

He starts slow but gradually picks up the pace as he nears orgasm.

Q- quickies

He's down for a quicky. He doesn't really care as long as you both get off.

R- risk

He wants to be risky somedays then others he's feeling shy

S- stamina (how long they can go)

He's pretty good with stamina. Three or four rounds I'd assume.

T- toys

He doesn't like toys. Why have a fake dick when he's got a real one? He's semi-ok with vibrators but yk.

U- unfair (how much they like to tease)

He likes to tease you, watch you get flustered, feel your heart quicken, it's a treat to him.

V- volume (how loud they are)

He's loud, he often groans and grunts.

W- wild card (random headcanon)

His voice breaks when he orgasms.

X- x-ray

tip - 8D3737, shaft - 8D4C3E, cum - F7F0EA, soft - 6.4 in, hard - 7.3 in, girth - 5 in.

Y- yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He's a horny guy but not so horny that he craves sex 24/7.

Z- Zzz (how fast they fall asleep afterwards)

He sleeps like a damn baby afterwards. Probably takes him like ten minutes to fall asleep after.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[zeestarfishalien]

Part 13: My Bones Became a Drip

No TW for this chapter (let me know if I missed anything)

Masterpost/chapter list

Recap:

Jason spins, eyes wide and searching, landing on the glowing white haired teen and his unconscious brother draped across their arms. Even with the cape still covering Tim’s face, he knows it’s Tim.

And the teen…

oh…

The teen is Spooky, Danny. He’d recognize that funky jumpsuit anywhere and those eyes are the same Lazarus green eyes he sees on a canid face every damn day.

He’s frozen mentally. Physically he’s moving forward to check Tim’s vitals and look for any obvious signs of injury but it’s all autopilot, all things that were drilled into him so that it became second nature, so that he could function even when his emotions are running wild like they are right now. He’s furious and relieved and anxious and surprised and ecstatic and so much more nuances of the same. It’s a cyclone of vicious emotions attempting to claw their way to the surface, fighting each other for the top spot.

His instincts purr, they’re safe they’re safe family is safe , while he gets on coms with Oracle to make sure she knows they’ve got Tim and that he’s alive.

Gingerly, he takes Tim off of Spooky’s hands and hoists him onto his hip like he’s a sleeping toddler so he can free one of his hands.

He gently reaches out to ruffle hair that has the same wispy feeling as before.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. Family , his instincts say. I love you , says the odd rumbling tone that ripples out from somewhere in his chest.

Danny clicks and a similar rumble in higher pitch comes from him and somehow Jason knows that it means, I love you too. Family.

[I felt we could all use a little refresher but on to the new chapter!]

Jason wants to cry and rage at how long it takes him to notice the way Danny scratches gingerly at the skin around the collar on his neck. They’re in the bat cave waiting to hear news on Red Robin’s checkup. Danny had followed, a ghost of a thing, barely visible most of the time, and his feet had yet to touch the ground after he passed off Tim. However, he stayed with Jason. He didn’t appear nervous, but neither was he eager to explore the wonders of the world around him.

When Black Bat sent him a little wave, he perked up a little, tilting his head to the side, assessing the vigilante. He slowly raises his hand in a small wave back.

Immediately after, his hand reaches up to ever so carefully shift the collar.

“You okay, Spooky?”

Wide bright green eyes snap to Jason in some form of surprise.

He nods, but the hollow groaning sound that emanates from his body tells a different story to Jason. It says, uncomfortable, burns, powers hurt, not enough energy.

“Is that collar dampening your abilities?”

Danny opens his mouth to speak only for the syllables to catch in his apparently raw throat. Raw from smoke? The collar?

He coughs, and Jason can hear his lungs rattling on the inhale. Spooky….

The chirp from Danny speaks clearly, some, not all.

“Well fiddle sticks…let me get Z or one of the other magic guys on the phone and see if we need magic, tech, or both to get it off.”

The cracking and groaning that comes as a response is more emotion than actual words, but it gets the message mostly across. His situation isn’t urgent. The power he holds is too great for the collar to block much of. Danny shares the way that the power flows over and around the collar like it’s an annoyingly large boulder in a stream. It may block the most convenient route, but the water will still find a way to go downhill.

“Still…” he argues. “If it’s not comfortable, we should find a way to get it off.”

Danny shrugs like it’s of little importance to him. Jason knows that kind of attitude. It’s very common among the hero types.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Dick watching them. His brother mouths, “I can call her,” and Jason nods his assent. He already owes her one favor. Let her pay back one of her debts to Big Bird.

~•~

"Heyyyyyy Z..."

"The next words out of your mouth better not have anything to do with that mind boggling fiend of Jason’s," she rattles off bluntly.

Pressing his lips together, Dick debates how to reply, but evidently his silence is reply enough.

She sighs. "What is it this time?"

It's probably better to get straight to the point. "They've got a suppression collar on."

"What? But that's not possible. The size of the device capable of completely suppressing that spirit's powers would have to be..." she trails off as something occurs to her. "Except it's not fully suppressing their power, is it? We would have noticed that."

"Yep. Got it in two," Dick says cheerfully but his smile doesn't last. "They seem able to use most of their abilities fine, but whatever material it's made from irritates their skin now that they're back in their body."

"Good to see I'm the first to know" she cuts back sarcastically.

"You are. It all just happened tonight. They rescued RR from a warehouse fire. They've been following Hood ever since."

There's a long pause and then she sighs again.

"Is RR alright?"

"He will be. He's resting now, nothing he shouldn't be able to recover from, but he'll be down for a while," he lets warmth trickle into his voice. He appreciates her asking about Tim’s health. Not everyone makes that effort.

"Okay, well that might complicate things. If we're going based on past experience, whoever collared Spooky is probably the same person or people that put them in that wretched abomination of a coffin. Which means...tech," she ends with a sigh. "Specifically, mad scientist levels of tech. I swear I'm going to strangle whoever is behind all of this wretched spirit-tech when we find them because I don't know that I can get that collar off without it blowing up in our faces."

"How should we approach this then?"

He can hear another long drawn out sigh from Zatanna's end.

"Lemme....Let me talk to Marvel and I'll get back to you with a game plan."

"Thanks Zee!! You're the best!!"

"Fuck you, Dickwing."

She hangs up before he can quip back so he just smiles at his phone.

~•~

Jason turns his attention back to his spooky friend.

“What’s on the agenda now that you’re free?”

The spirit freezes. The temperature around him drops, too. He frowns to himself, and stormy eyes look a little lost.

“You can stay with me until you figure it out. I’d like the company. Your company specifically,” Jason offers softly.

He nearly breaks down at the look that slowly dawns on Danny’s face. It’s like Jason gave him the world in his little selfish offer. All Jason wanted was to keep his companion.

“Thank you.” The words are half garbled and sound like they had to have hurt coming out, but Jason understands them all the same, and that’s all that matters.

Black Bat sidles over with a long strip of thin cloth in her hand, some scrap of non-conductive polymer used on something or other. [reference to City pigeons bleed green?] Jason is not sure where she got it from, but she holds it out and gestures to her neck with the other hand.

Spooky drifts closer and carefully snags the hanging end of the cloth, careful not to brush his fingers against Cass.

“May I help you?” She signs, repeating it slower when Danny looks confused. Jason is about to translate when comprehension dawns on Danny’s face.

He looks to the cloth and then back to Cass before slowly nodding. He dips back down to the ground, the tips of his toes brush the floor, and replies with sign, though it’s simple and hesitant.

“You hold.” He demonstrates holding his collar up at the narrowest part of his neck.

Cass nods and replicates his action. Danny carefully eases the cloth between the bare skin on his neck and the collar. It’s a tight fit, but he manages to make it work.

Jason steps away for a brief moment, returning with a needle and thread.

“Want me to tack it in place so it doesn’t slip?”

Danny nods, but his eyes follow the needle in Jason’s hand closely. He makes sure to move slow and steady so Danny doesn’t startle or panic. It takes a few minutes to sew together three separate spots on the fabric to hold it in place on the collar, but it’s done with no fuss and no panic on anyone’s part.

Danny is more relaxed by the time Dick peeks out of the changing rooms and meanders back over.

"It's good to see you up and about Spooky. Sorry we gave you such a cold reception. We get a little single-minded when one of us is injured," Dick says amicably.

Danny shrugs but doesn’t seem interested in attempting more communication with the man. He looks dead on his feet, no pun intended.

Dick for his part, tries not to show his disappointment in being ignored.

Alfred appears in the doorway, looking pristine as always except...ah, there's a few wrinkles in his suit, and his worry lines are deeper than usual.

"Master Tim will make a full recovery given time and rest. Luckily, he avoided the worst of the smoke and was rescued before things got out of hand." He aims that last part at Danny who ducks away and flickers in and out of sight from the grateful tone.

Jason stands and stretches with a long groan. It must have startled Danny because he blips a few feet before catching himself and drifting back close to Jason.

~•~

The brother, Red Robin, Tim... is okay. He's alive and being checked over by professionals. That's really all that matters to Danny.

He is tired though.

That's part of the reason why he doesn't give much of a response to the energetic one, Nightwing. The other part being that this one's words and actions don't match what he's actually feeling. He's clearly, at least to a ghost's senses, masking and shoving all of his emotions and problems into a box that will one day explode on him.

Sensing that sets Danny on edge. He doesn't like that false cheer, one so deeply ingrained that even Nightwing might not know it's false.

Luckily he doesn't have to attempt to summon energy to respond because the elder gentleman comes out to let them know that Tim will be okay.

His gratitude towards Danny has every part of him squirming beneath his skin. People don't just...thank him. Not before... and he certainly hasn't done much now to garner that level of acknowledgment. He has to fight to stay visible even as they're leaving. He doesn't want to worry Jason.

Previous | Next

I'm so excited to post this finally!!! It's been a rough one to wrestle with and it's definitely a little funky round the edges but I'm still happy with it.

I think there's a reference to City Pigeons Bleed Green by @clockwayswrites Go check out their stuff it's amazing!!! I could be wrong on which fic it's from but it's definitely one of Clock's works. (Lol pun intended)

As always, please let me know if there's anything confusing (sometimes I word stuff strangely and it doesn't make sense).

I am part way into the next chapter as well, but with my life how it is at the moment, who knows when I'll get it finished. Could be tomorrow, could be 6 months from now.

Next chapter is a good one which is part of what made this one so hard. I can't wait to write and show y'all the developments I have planned. I can't wait to see it myself!

Anywho, thank you so much for your support. You guys are amazing. Don't forget that.

[reallyromealone]

kikaku uramichi request

Srry I thought I added those

A I k T z

Absolutely my dude

Kikaru uramichi x male reader

Male reader, bottom male reader, smut, nsfw

A 🍬 Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

(Name) was hazy as he let his lover clean him up, Kikaku diligent and careful as he held water to (name)s lips "drink up" he was always soft and sweet when he was like this, just like his work he took taking care of (name) very seriously.

"The baths ready, let's get you cleaned up"

I🍬Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

"So beautiful" he gasped out as he fucked his lover raw, (name) writhing as he was fucked into oblivion, Kikaku was always at that sweet spot of soft and loving and rough and devious, saying loving words as he did the filthiest things to the poor man.

He always wanted him to know he was loved while he took as he pleased.

K🍬Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Nothing felt better than coming home to see his lover dressed up in a slutty little costume and playing innocent, today being a cute maid costume that showed his cute ass.

(Name) was pretending to clean as he glanced over "welcome home master~"

God he loved it when (name) indulged in his roleplay kink.

T🍬 Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

(Name) sat on Kikakus lap as they watched a movie in the livingroom, Kikaku having a glass of alcohol in one hand as he fucked (name) with a vibrator with the other, (name) whining through the gag "shhh, were watching a movie" he almost laughed as he pressed it against his prostate.

Z🍬Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He had just finished aftercare before passing out with (name) in his arms, he always tried to make sure that (name) was taken care of before collapsing, as much as he loved fucking it did take a lot out of him.

[rotting-ink]

Which of the Ros want a quiet day in while snuggling and which want to fuck raw style all day long?

Held at gunpoint and asked?

L Rawlins: They just like holding the Witch close a lot of the time. Curled up, no work, just h holding close.

S Della Rovere- FUCK ALL DAY BABY LETS GOOOO. They have so many rooms in their place and they HAVE to christen them all!!

Z Chambers- Wouldn't mind either on god, but hey, they would enjoy a break and lie down to snuggle.

V De Winters- Don't tell anyone, but please just hold them for a while. They can forgo sex, they don't get enough gentle nonsexual contact.

Seir- LET THEM BE THE LITTLE SPOON FOR A BIT AND THEN SWITCH TO BIG SPOON AND OOOO BABY THATS A PERFECT THURSDAY.

Saleos- Rammed all day. Fucked bare back, raw dog, every position, till the room smells of sweat and skin and cum, no stopping, pinned down, bitten, collared, ooooo baby!

Starling Knight- Please. A little nap. Getting to hold and be held. Please.

A Lancaster- Let them be in your guts all day long, no worries, they're HAPPY. Gets to release so much stress and they love watching you squirm and take it all and beg.

E Rawlins- Is this even a question with this section? Raw dogged into hell, ridden, sucked, bitten licked, yay!

Quincy Beaumont- They'd love to have slow, grabby sex all night, cmon baby.

D Woolf- .... This might be a hot take, but please use them all day. Fuck em, bite them, ride, rub them all day. It leaves them in a nice subspace amd they can lie there and twitch afterwards.

[today-it-is-this]

today, it is this — i watched romeo + juliet on broadway yesterday. yes the one starring kit connor and rachel zegler <3 i had written so many of my thoughts in my journal yesterday but i have more today so i thought i'd type them here. i'm so in awe of the whole ensemble, truly. and this applies to most theatre! day in, day out, they show up and consistently perform for a different group of people every single time. that must take so much energy, and for romeo + juliet specifically, they're on stage, running up and down the aisles, climbing up and down the ladders, jumping off the ledges, executing fights and choreographies... all while balancing delivering those shakesperean lines with absolute precision and emotion. two hours and 30 minutes almost everyday, sometimes even twice a day. it's mind-boggling to me! and the fact that they'll be doing this for five months total is even crazier. kit and rachel are amazing on stage and have such intimate chemistry. it's wild to me to watch these two, who've always been on film and tv, give live performances. it is such a privilege to watch them perform live (and SING live too!!!) with no cuts or edits. pure and raw performance. they draw you in and take your breath away. i remember feeling so mesmerized by kit when he was speaking to benvolio, really close to my side of the stage. the pure joy and relief in his eyes! his and rachel's soliloquies are so beautifully done! however, i do think that the rest of the ensemble really solidify the whole show for me. every single one of them is so ON it. and of course, sam gold's direction, sonya tayeh's choreo, and jack antonoff's music. this idea to make romeo + juliet for gen z was so off-putting to me that i thought it was gonna be dumb and corny, but sam gold did it so well. it makes so much sense. it's old english, yes, and the emotional beats are never taken lightly, but certain intricacies and mannerisms here and there feel so accurately rooted in gen z culture. it's unafraid to be hedonistic (lots of close make-out calls, grinding on each other, and vaping) and gen z humor was incorporated so seamlessly (especially from gian perez. so iconic I LOVE). i love that despite being limited to a small circle stage, they maximize and think outside the box to make it feel as BIG as possible, using all the aisles, under the stage, the overhead walkways. it's brilliant and just adds to the production value. i'm so happy to have my doubts proven wrong. this was such a blast, i hope everyone involved is so proud of themselves.

13/10/24