#and through much trial and error settled on these

[mel-addams]

I needed to draw some characters with scales, so I made a few Rebelle 6 brushes to simplify the process! You can download the brush set here (at the Free Assets->Brushes section of the site) or here (in the Brushes forum thread)!

[Image ID: an example sheet of each of the brushes from the set, to show how they compare and give examples of suggested uses.]

These examples use clipping masks, and most are shaded on separate layers with regular brushes. Scale Faded is shaded with itself.

Scale Line is good for odd shapes, filling gaps, or sorting sharp curves, since the other brushes can get wonky at sharp angles.

Scale Random uses Rebelle's scatter function, and being true random, can result in lines of close-together scales. So (for now) Scale Scatter can be easier to get a freckle-like "random" look.

[bunnys-kisses]

Can I please get a tiramisu with a side of champagne with an innocent reader and Lando Norris, please. 🙏

bakery menu

want to suggest your own order? read the menu! i love the idea of an innocent!reader, that's so cute. with a sugar daddy!lando!! i imagine him being so sweet but then being a little devil in the bedroom! i hope you love this <3

tiramisu ("my little slut to ruin") + champagne (sugar daddy au) served by lando norris (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, sugar daddy au, fluff, dom!lando, mean!lando (in the bedroom), doggy style, dirty talk (a little degrading), innocent!reader, big dick!lando

lando didn't like the word "sugar daddy", because that implied he was paying you for sex. in all honesty, he felt nervous the first time he had sex with you.

you were a virgin, and he was taking your virginity. not that he really put much stock in the concept of virginity, but he didn't want to ruin your first time. he remembered that he fingered you for what felt like hours because he didn't want to bruise you.

when he did that he said to you, "i know this is stupid to say. but, i'm sorry for having a big cock." he made sure that you were comfortable before he (gently) fucked you. he remembered anxiously waiting while you basked in the after glow of orgasm to get a rating of his performance.

(you gave it 10/10!, even if you were a little sore the next morning)

since then you had grown into knowing what you like and don't like. you were curious as you never had a partner prior and through trial, error and the usage of safe words. you both figured out what you both liked.

lando didn't like slapping you, unless it was on your ass. you didn't like having you hair pulled. you both liked lando ran his mouth, even when his words got more depraved. lando liked when you called him daddy and you liked when he wrapped both arms around you when he took you doggy style. and you both liked after care, regardless of how intense the situation got. you both found comfort in holding one another as you settled down.

so was it really paying for sex if you were both getting off to it and had an open conversation? probably not!

-

you two had come back from a day of shopping. when most thought about a sugar baby spending their daddy's money. it mostly meant expensive items like diamonds and gold.

but not you. when you were picking up a bulk pack of cotton panties and winced at the price (under 8€), while lando sent you back into the store to get a second pack.

"it's fine, my love." he said as he gave you cheek a little pinch, "they're cute. they have flowers on them." and then scanned the rest of your items when you were away. you were a terrible sugar baby in that regard.

he one time found you cutting out a coupon from the cereal box and when he asked you what was going on. you said, "save us 2 euros." as you cut up the cardboard.

lando found it endearing. you clearly knew how much he was making a year, he could afford spending the extra 2 euros on cereal. but, you wanted to earn your keep.

you put the reusable bag in the bedroom before you got out of your clothes for the day. which meant padding around in a baggy t-shirt and sleeping shorts. you had socks on that were pulled up to your calves, they were a little bit big on you which made you think they were landos.

but they were very comfy as you went back to the couch. you sat down and lando threw an arm around you. he had taken one of the popsicles you bought on your last shopping trip and when you sat beside him, he pointed it towards you..

you leaned over and put your mouth around it, you made a sweet noise at the coolness on your tongue. it was very erotic. you looked up at him and gave the icy treat another lick.

sometimes lando forgot how innocent you were. you didn't know what you were doing when you pulled away and giggled.

"that was really good." you said, "can i have some more?" before he could respond, you happily ate some more of it.

when you pulled away, you could see lando swallow. you asked, "is everything okay, lando?"

he leaned in and pressed a kiss on your lips. the kiss was a big hungry as he felt his cock stir in his pants. when he pulled away, "finish it."

you took it from him, but when you did. he snaked his hand down the front of your shorts and he invaded your space. you yelped a little but moaned when you felt his fingers grazed across your pussy.

you quickly ate the sweet treat before lando took the stick and tossed it over his shoulder before be pulled him into a tight kiss. his fingers continued to play with your pussy.

"you're my good girl, right? my little slut to ruin?" he asked to test the waters if you wanted to go forward with it. he could feel his erection in his loose shorts.

you looked very hot pressed against the leather couch. you nodded, "i'm always a good girl for you, daddy." when lando gave you room, you quickly made your way to the bedroom.

lando thought you were painfully innocent sometimes. the idea that he was teaching you how to make yourself feel good made pride surge in him. it was so cute watching your little behind as you made your way to the bedroom.

he practically tackled you to the bed and rubbed his aching clothed erection against your ass as he palmed your breasts through your shirt, his nose was in your hair.

"daddy!" you yelped.

"you're so good for me. i've taught you how to feel good." he groaned as he continued to rub up against you, "i still have so much to teach you, poor thing can't take all of my cock down her pretty throat. maybe i'll get you a nice pink collar when i train you."

you whined, your panties felt soaked by his closeness to you. his hefty words in your ears as you wiggled under him. you soon felt his hands go to the waistband on your shorts and yank them down.

he continued to rub his cock up against your panty clad ass, he needed his baby girl. it wasn't fair that there were still so many layers on you.

he gave you a little room and watched you undress as he did the same. he stood there, beautiful as ever with his hard cock on full display. once you were naked, he got back onto the bed as rubbed his cock up against your cute little hole.

"you're so pretty like this. on your hands and knees, shiny hole for me." he groaned as he guided his cock into your pussy, bottoming out into you. he held onto your hips and started to thrust.

it was true, you were painfully cute. the perfect baby girl for him, even if he couldn't have sex with you. being around you and your sweetness was more than enough for him.

once he got a steady pace, he then wrapped his arms around you middle as he moved against you. he pressed his cheek up against your back as he rutted against you. the slick sounds of sex paired with your noises filled the room.

lando whispered praises into your skin as he moved. his cock felt so good inside of you, his breathing was heavy as he kept his pace fast. he felt the roll of pleasure in his body and he groaned heavily against you.

his cock throbbed inside of you. your cunt felt like a dream. it made him hot all over. you were painfully cute, even when you were being split by his impressive size.

"please, daddy. that feels so good." you whined as you arched your back. you could feel the pull of him in your stomach. your brain felt mushy, fueled by pleasure as he moved against you.

lando groaned against your skin, "you're the perfect girl for me. i lucked out, fuck. you're so good for me. clipping coupons and letting me fuck your sweet pussy. i lucked out." he kissed your heated flesh.

"please daddy."

"don't worry. i'm not goin' anywhere. i'm not leaving behind something so perfect." he kissed then at your cheek and rested his chin on your shoulder as he fucked you heavily.

his words made you hot all over, he watched you claw at the covers as he continued to thrust into you. he could feel the sweat down his neck as he continued to move.

the pleasure swirled through him as he moved. it all felt so good, it made him painfully hard. your combined noises made him shudder, he knew he wasn't going to last long. and neither were you.

you quickly came with your head in the sheets, your back arched further. you felt your heartbeat in your ears as he continued to fuck you. it was a erotic sight, the two of you fucking in the comfort of your own home.

"my precious girl."

"mmm, daddy." you whined, basking in the post orgasmic feeling.

he clenched onto you and finished inside of you with a hard thrust. he'd make sure you weren't in pain by tomorrow. he slowed down his pace to a still before he kissed the back of your head and whispered that he loved you.

you laid flat on the bed and found comfort in the soft covers as you panted heavily. lando then curled you up in his arms. he spooned you from behind as he kissed at your neck. you were so painfully cute, even when blissed out from the intensity of sex. he kissed at the shell of your ear gently.

"how was that? did i hurt you?"

you held onto his forearms as he held you and replied, "no, no. everything is perfect." you pressed your back further up against you and smiled softly, "you spoil me."

he chuckled and gave you another kiss on the neck, "always. i'll always spoil my baby." he squeezed you a little tighter. that was a promise to you.

[aidaronan]

The years go by. The retail jobs that Steve thinks are temporary keep piling up, but he has no idea what else to do with his life so he just keeps on keeping on.

Until a large tree falls on the lawn of the little house he managed to buy and he gets the quote on removal and the number literally hurts his soul.

He buys a small chainsaw instead. Over the course of a few weeks, he gets most of the branches cut up. He collects some large rocks from down by the quarry and digs out a fire pit in his backyard. On his days off, his friends come over and they sit out back and have a few beers. The pile of wood dwindles. The giant trunk is another story though. His chainsaw isn't big enough for it. Burning it would take forever, and Steve's terrified he'd disappoint Smoky the Bear. He's at a loss.

Until he sees another giant trunk in someone's yard carved into a bear.

He knows what to do then. Not a bear, but something else. Through trial and error, the trunk becomes the rough shape of a woman, the remnants of the branches like a crown on her head. It's not as amazing as the bear he saw, but it's his. He finds he loves the smell of sawdust and the feeling of creating something.

Just like that, Steve realizes what he wants to do. It takes several months and a lot of yard sales, but he scrounges up the tools he needs to start woodworking. He learns to measure twice and cut once. He makes tables and chairs and carves them with art and designs that get better and better the more he learns. Shockingly, people actually buy his pieces.

Even more shocking comes the realization that he's making enough money to do it full time. He puts in his two weeks notice at Melvald's and hands in his assistant manager badge.

He's not sure he's happy, but he is content. It feels good to work hard and actually have things to show for it. It also feels good to work muscles he hasn't used since high school. He carries on for a few years like that, creating and learning and creating some more. Then Eddie Munson blows back into town. Invited back so Hawkins can have their most famous alumnus sing the national anthem at homecoming. Steve's honestly surprised he shows at all. "Can't believe you didn't tell them kiss your hairy ass," Steve says. Because of course Eddie ends up around his fire pit, sipping on Steve's cheap beer like he doesn't have three Grammy awards on his mantel. The years fall away with each drink, reminding Steve of just how much it had hurt when Eddie left. He'd wanted Eddie so bad back then, more than he'd ever wanted anyone. He can feel the echoes of that deep ache across time.

"Pfft. Don't you know all famous people wax our asses now? All the rage in LA." Eddie cuts a look at him and smirks when Steve rolls his eyes, grateful for the lighthearted moment to snap him out of his maudlin nostalgia. "Really though I thought about it, but then I thought it would be way funnier to donate a metric fuckton of money to Hawkins High with the stipulation that it go to the theater and band programs. Kind of bummed they couldn't honor my other request though."

"Which was?"

"My old Hellfire throne. I miss her, but apparently she's not around anymore. Something about water damage."

"Oh yeah. Water main busted a few years back and flooded the theater. I remember that." "Yeah. Had to settle for the promise they'd make a game lounge and stock it with all the supplies a budding young nerd needs."

"That's really nice, Eds."

Eddie shrugs. "I've been known to be nice on occasion. You'll come to homecoming, right? Moral support?"

Steve hasn't been to homecoming in years because he sees the other people who stayed in town all the time, and he has no interest in seeing the people who didn't. He can only answer the same questions so many times. Oh, I'm doing woodwork now. Yep, I still live right here. Nope, still not married, no kids.

He goes though, and he answers the uncomfortable questions. Because Eddie asked him to. Because no matter how long it's been, Steve can't deny that some part of him still...

He says goodbye after, and Eddie leaves again, and Steve tries not to think about that too much in the following days.

He's halfway into the project before he realizes what he's building. He'd seen Eddie's throne quite a few times back when. What he doesn't have memories of, he makes up. He adds his own touches too, making it a throne fit for a rock star, a nerd, a friend.

He carves ornate patterns, he creates scenes of dragons being beaten back by a man with a guitar, crowds of people that could be knights or concertgoers.

It's his favorite piece he's ever done, and his hands are shaking when he dials Eddie's number. He gets an answering machine and stumbles through a message.

"I made you something. I guess it's kind of silly, but it's here in Hawkins if you want it. Or I'm sure you can afford the shipping if you don't want to come. Just, I made you a chair. It's more of a... Well, you'll see. Unless you don't want to... It's Steve by the way." He hangs up before he can embarrass himself even more.

Eddie doesn't call him back. One day passes and then another. Steve tries not to let it get to him. He works on orders and new projects. He enjoys his little backyard oasis. He rents a few movies and thinks they're okay.

He's debarking some wood in his driveway when the rental car pulls up, Eddie stepping out in ripped jeans and an old Metallica tee. "Hi again, Stevie."

"Oh." Steve clears his throat. "The thing's in the garage. I'll..."

Eddie doesn't say anything for a long time, circling the throne, running his tattooed fingers over each little detail.

"You made this whole thing?"

"I did."

"For me?" Eddie looks at him then, one hand still touching the wood like he doesn't want to let go. Even under the harsh lights of the garage, his eyes are such a warm shade of brown that Steve forgets to breathe.

He nods. "For you."

"Why?"

There are a hundred answers Steve could give, but he spent so long not knowing who he was or who he wanted to be. Too long. "Because you'll always be the one that got away. Because some part of me will always want to make you smile no matter how long it's been."

Eddie falls into the throne like he just got the wind knocked out of him.

"You don't have to respond to that," Steve says. "You can just say thank you and take the chair."

"I can." Eddie blows out a breath. "But that would be incredibly stupid considering half my early ballads are about you."

"What?" Unfair. Steve doesn't have a chair to fall into.

"Oh sure, I changed the hes to shes for a while there because..." Eddie waves his hand. "But they're about you, Steve. God, I should've asked you out. I just thought..."

Hearing those words is a lot like seeing that carved bear all over again, something clicking into place that wasn't quite right before.

"Go out with me now then," Steve says. "Or stay in. I've got a frozen lasagna and I rented Contact."

"Steve Harrington? Asking Eddie 'the Freak' Munson on a date? Did hell freeze over?"

"Pfft." Steve takes a step closer toward what he wants most. "Hell froze over in 1986, Eddie. You were there."

Five months and a lot of long distance phone bills later, Steve opens Harrington Woodworking in Los Angeles. That same day, Eddie takes photos for Rolling Stone posing in an ornate throne in his living room. He tells the reporter exactly who made it and what he means. At concerts, he starts singing those ballads the way he always wanted to. More often than not, Steve stands in the wings singing along.

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Thinking about Astarion having to deal with his reclaimed mortality once the initial euphoria of it is wearing off: 

When he’s startled from sleep, woken by his own racing heartbeat. 

Him jumping at the movement in the corner of his eye, only to find it’s just his own reflection staring right back at him, puzzled, before he watches his cheeks redden with embarrassment. 

The sun slowly losing its appeal as time goes on because Astarion keeps getting nasty sunburns after days spent outside, trying to make up for centuries confined to darkness. Whenever he comes home with itching skin and drenched in sweat, he finds himself almost missing hiding in the shadows. 

The odd sensation of feeling more and less at the same time: while some of his senses are now dulled to better suit mortality, others feel heightened to the point of sensory overload—a gust of wind feels like fire licking at his skin and he gets so very anxious whenever he loses Tav in the crowd, unable to distinguish them by the once divine scent of their blood any longer. 

Since he has a reliant supply of his own blood pumping through his veins now, he’s feeling aroused so much easier and more often than not at quite inconvenient times. He enjoyed having sex with Tav before, but now that he’s mortal again, he finds that he’s having to overthink intimacy once again—where his desires used to be driven by burning hunger, lust now feels like a pleasant, more natural bodily reaction. Having to seriously consider contraceptive measures, should his partner be able to get pregnant, is also a rather novel experience for him.  

Bathing still feels as good as before, at least. But where he spent hours in the bathroom out of pointless vanity then, Astarion now has to wash himself because his body would stink of sweat and, well, life otherwise. It will be years before he openly excuses himself for having to use the bathroom whenever nature calls.

And food—food would be the hardest to adjust to. It takes a lot of trial and error to find something that pleases his virgin taste buds (although he swears there’re some odd pieces of memories flashing in front of his eyes whenever he's snacking on wild strawberries or awfully sweet citron tarts). He ends up acquiring a taste for raw cookie dough, shredded cheese and sardines, eating little else for the next two years or so. To everyone's astonishment, he's gotten food poisoning only once or twice.

Astarion is no stranger to pain or injury, but he’s appalled by how long it takes to recover from the most minor cuts and bruises. It’s a well-kept secret between him and Tav that his first common cold had him convinced he was dying for a fortnight straight. 

Crying is much easier now, too.

Ironically, it’s mortality that forces Astarion to strive for more permanent, detail-oriented plans for the future. Now that life is finite, he wants to use the time he has wisely. He might keep travelling the realms until he breathes his last, or settle down, eventually. He might learn a new profession or accumulate some wealth in less honest ways. Maybe, one day, he wants to have a family, heirs to whatever he decides to make his own. 

Once Astarion has come to terms with being a mortal elf again, he realises living is not just about a beating heart. Living is about having endless possibilities but limited time. Choices and decisions that lead to only one thing: death. 

Now that Astarion is living again, he finally understands that death is just another part of the journey.

[bamfkeeper]

SFW Alphabet: Nightcrawler

a/n: yayy I finally got around to writing again, as I said here's a Nightcrawler alphabet. It feels good to write for the first time in a few months. I plan on writing actual fics though, once I have more out I'll take requests. For now, enjoy a SFW Alphabet! A NSFW will come later hehe. I'm getting the feel of writing him so I'll work out any kinks of things I don't like as I write more of him. I'm going to try to mix the variants of him and not stick with a solid version, so there will be mixes from comics and other shows, etc in his characterization. I hope you enjoy <3

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?):

Kurt is very affectionate, he's a lover, so he likes to be close to you at all times. He likes giving you hugs, kisses, or simply giving you gifts like flowers or chocolates.

He likes spending time with you too, and he will call you sweet things in German because he likes to see you blush.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?):

He'd be a great best friend, always making sure you're doing good and supporting you through bad times. He'd be a blast to hang out with, he'd teleport you around Genosha and show you all the lovely sights.

He'd always make sure you felt cared for, even as just a friend, he'd still ensure you were safe and sound. He likes to have fun, so anytime you wanted to do something, he'd be down.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?):

Kurt is a huge cuddler. He is so soft because of his velvet skin, so he is extra warm. He makes the best cuddle buddy for winter because he keeps you warm, like a heated stuffed animal.

He loves to hold you, he often will rub your back or play with your hair, he will also read to you in German, which almost always lulls you to sleep. He loves to have his tail wrapped around you as well, keeping you secure.

Sometimes he likes to be held though, his upbringing at the circus didn't offer him much affection that way, so he cherishes it when he can be more vulnerable with you. Sometimes he puts that goofy self away and he crawls into your chest and curls up.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?):

Settling down is always something Kurt has wanted to do, but with his lifestyle, it can be hard to determine when.

He's always wanted a family, and he values that at his core, he would talk about settling down a lot with his partner and together, you'd figure out a good time. I think he'd want to settle when Krakoa comes around, after the attack on Genosha, your plans to settle had to be pushed back.

Kurt is German so of course he can cook. He is an excellent cook at a lot of things, but some foods he doesn't normally eat are a bit rough for him. He learns from trial and error.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?):

If he had to, he'd do it in a way where your feelings would be taken into consideration. He'd be as gentle as possible, and he'd let you know that he still cares about you.

I don't think he'd want you out of his life, (unless you cheated or did something really bad), so even if you broke up, you'd still remain good friends.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?):

Being a religious man, commitment is important to him. If he were with you, it would only be you he'd loyal to and he would date in hopes to marry.

He would go off of you, but dating is a trial run for marriage, and he dates for that. He would imagine your lives together, and he would like to marry after a year or so.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?):

He is very gentle, he is sweet and tender and learned to be that way because of all the hatred he experienced in his life. Everyone was afraid of him growing up, so he learned to be extra sweet and gentle to make up for his 'scary' appearance. He doesn't want anyone to be afraid of him.

Physically, he is as tender as ever, his touch is so light and sweet. He loves to caress your back or cheek while you sleep beside him, even his tail will run gently up and down your body.

He is very in tune with his emotions and empathetic to those around him. He is understanding, and is always ready to help you if you feel overwhelmed or upset at all. He is very good at dealing with emotions, and will always do his best to make sure his partner is okay.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?):

Kurt loves hugs! He hugs friends, family, lovers. He does it all the time, and he is one of the best huggers out there. He can squeeze happily, hold tenderly, and spin playfully.

When he embraces you, you can feel the love radiating off of him. It is one of your favorite things to feel him hugging you, and of course his tail wraps around you!

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?):

He would be a little nervous, but he would say it first. He'd either randomly blurt it out to you, or he'd make sure you were having a special time together and he'd speak it tenderly to you.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?):

Kurt can get pretty jealous, it stems from his insecurity. When he gets jealous, he will remain close to you with a hand on your hip or around you. He might kiss you on the cheek to tell whomever you're speaking to that you're taken. His tail will wrap around your arm or leg too.

He will grumble against you later on, he might feel a little more insecure after, but some reassurance and he will be okay again. If he got really jealous, he'd teleport you away and he'd take you somewhere so he could make sure you and everyone else knew you were taken.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?):

Oh his kisses...such sweet, amazing kisses. He has experience, so his kisses would be perfect. He'd learn what you like, and he'd make sure you were breathless every time.

His lips would gently graze over yours, he smiles that cheeky grin of his and he would press them fully into yours. The kiss might be tender, might be a little more passionate, but his soft lips would make you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close.

He loves lip kisses of course, but he also likes to kiss your wrists and the back of your hand if he's feeling playful. He likes getting his temple and neck kissed, even if it makes him blush.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?):

Kurt is excellent around kids. He knows how to handle them, and he is quite playful with them. He always tells you how he wants a few little ones in the future, and he hopes you do too.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?):

Kurt isn't a morning person, he is a little whiny and grumpy when he wakes up, and he is rather clingy. He doesn't like to get out of bed but will trudge after you and hold you from behind if you make breakfast.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?):

Kurt loves his sleep, he values it. In the circus growing up, his mistreatment went as far as being isolated to a cage with a thin layer of hay as cushioning. So, now that he can have an actual bed, he adores it.

He likes soft blankets and pillows, curling up in them like a nest, and holding you close to him. He buries his face in your hair, or he snuggles into your chest for safety.

He doesn't snore, he learned to be silent when he sleeps, you don't ask why. But he makes a tiny purring noise, and his tail stays wrapped around you to make sure you're still there when he wakes up.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?):

Kurt is a pretty open person. Some of the things of his past that are hard for him might take him a while before he tells you, but he just needs to work up the courage. You know that he was mistreated in the circus, so don't pressure him to tell you. He will tell you everything, it just takes time.

He might tell you something that he is uncomfortable with that reminds him of his past or childhood, his playfulness is more serious when he talks about it so you know he's not joking around. He is so grateful you take it seriously and it makes him love you even more.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?):

He is very patient, he learned to be growing up. He can handle quite a lot of shit before he might get a little riled up and upset. Even if he does get angry, he tries to be as reasonable as he can.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?):

He is like a safe, he locks away everything you tell him. Favorite flower, favorite color, little things you like and dislike. He remembers what seasonings you like best with what foods, how you like things cooked, literally everything.

He remembers important things like allergies and triggers, preferences, places to go, everything you say is so important to him. He surprises you with his knowledge too, even you forget you've told him things until he brings it up in conversation.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?):

Definitely when he said he loved you, it was such a special moment between you two and a defining day in your relationship. You grew so much closer, and it was a near perfect day. When he heard you say it back, he swore he died and went to heaven. His heart swelled so much and that day is definitely a core memory for him.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?):

Kurt is protective to a degree. He knows you can handle yourself, but he absolutely won't hesitate to step up and defend you. If anyone speaks about you in a poor manner, he jumps to defend you, especially if you aren't there. He doesn't let anyone talk bad about you.

If you are hurt or can't defend yourself, expect him to be more agile and aggressive than you've ever seen. He will swing those swords and defend you like precious treasure. (Which you are to him).

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?):

Every single date you have, Kurt puts so much effort into. He makes sure things are perfect, he remembers all the little things, he makes sure that you are enjoying yourself and that you have a wonderful time.

Every gift is special and sentimental. Even if it's silly and small, like chocolate, it is always your favorite flavor and brand.

Kurt will adjust to your love language, and acts of service is something he does a lot for you. He will cook, clean, anything if you're too tired to do it. And he never complains, always doing it with a smile on his face.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?):

The only thing that might be perceived as bad is he might be too playful sometimes. He might be a little too light hearted and silly when things need to be more serious, but he gets better with this habit as your relationship develops.

Sometimes his insecurities about his appearance can fester and they can make him slightly more irritable because he feels like you can do so much better than him. Just be sure to reassure him and it usually helps a lot to hear you say sweet things.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?):

Kurt for the most part doesn't seem too concerned with his appearance, but he does have insecurities when it comes to his looks. Sometimes if he sees an attractive person speaking to you, he feels a little down when he thinks about his own looks.

Besides that, he is very aware of his hygiene because he is covered in velvety fuzz, so he washes himself every day and makes sure he is clean.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?):

Absolutely. Kurt loves you with all his heart, you are his everything. Without you, he would feel like a piece of himself is missing. One of his worst fears is losing you, he often has bad dreams about it and wakes you up at night to make sure you're still with him.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.):

Kurt was not a contortionist in the circus, but he might as well have been. Kurt is incredibly flexible, able to bend and twist in unnatural angles. He will show you all sorts of things he can do and loves to hear your praise.

He shakes off from the shower like a wet dog.

One of his favorite smells is fresh, buttery popcorn.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Kurt is a devout Catholic, so he wouldn't want anyone bad mouthing his beliefs. Kurt is very accepting and wouldn't try to convert you or make you believe in things you don't want, he keeps his religious beliefs to himself and only speaks if asked about it. However, if you bad mouth him or his beliefs, he will bristle and he won't like it.

He is open minded to hearing discussions or answering questions if you don't believe, but as long as they are respectful. If you talk poorly about it, he won't be interested in continuing the conversation.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?):

As mentioned before, Kurt loves to sleep. He didn't get a lot of good rest in the circus. So now that he is able, he tends to nest and curl up in a pile of soft blankets and pillows. He loves feeling secure and safe, which is something he never really got before.

If you rest with him, he's either holding you or snuggled into you. He likes to sleep in a dark place, it makes him feel more relaxed. Some nights when he has trouble, he listens to religious passages and he falls asleep quickly.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[a-certain-romance]

No One Knows

Characters/Ships: Yandere!Ruan Mei x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut written by a minor, Possessiveness, Fingering

For years, Ruan Mei has struggled with her ongoing research in the origins of life. Failed experiment after failed experiment. The emanator she created was only a short-lived example of all those years of hard work. Maybe it was too ambitious. And frankly, too large to manage. She needed something more stable, and tangible for long enough to be studied.

Through hours upon hours of trial and error, she finally succeeded in the creation of her most prized possession: you, her perfect little creation.

Her attempts at creating life were finally fulfilled with the help of that trailblazer from the Asteral Express. You were timid at first. Her modifications gave you the knowledge and ability to speak and read, but it took some time to warm up to her. Ruan Mei desperately wanted to study you immediately, but she’ll settle for simple observations until she gains your trust.

It was a slow process. If Ruan Mei has learned anything, it’s that she needs to learn how to show you affection. She spent more time with you when it didn’t involve her research. Although she’s been apathetic for some time, you’ve given her the courage to step out of her comfort zone. For the sake of this project of course.

Whatever she did worked. You eventually became as clingy as her past experiments. It’s only natural for you to adopt that same loving nature as the others have, but this time she’s enabled it a little more. She lets you be in the same room when she’s doing side projects and shares her knowledge of the biological and ecological aspects. She shares a lot of her pastries with you, and even makes the time to bake things with you. Sometimes when she’s spending a lot of time writing, she lets you lay your head on her lap for a while. She used to only see you as an influential accomplishment, but now she feels a sense of protective ownership over you.

She can’t keep you at the space station forever. Even though Herta doesn’t mind, she’s starting to get a little too curious about what Ruan Mei is keeping in that unoccupied level of the station.

And worst of all, her little creation is starting to wonder what’s behind those big steel doors that keep her locked in. And that just won’t do. She’s seen you giving those doors such longing looks, seen you tap and occasionally scratch the glass window. She makes a mental note to re-enforce the durability—‘just in case’. She knows she should observe your new behaviors a little closer, but she came to that conclusion a little too late the day she caught you stealing her card.

Were you…actually trying to escape? But why? She transformed this entire area just for you. Her past experiments have prepared her for what it takes to give something life; from food to sunlight to entertainment to company, what more can you possibly need?

“I’ll show you how much you need me.”

Her kisses are feather light at first. She pins you against the very door you intended on breaching. Even the pinning is gentle. You could probably struggle against her, but something tells you that she can easily overpower you with enough motivation.

Just as gently, her knee pressed right against your core. Her lips brush against your cheek, “Do you want more?” She asks sweetly. A little too sweetly. You shake your head, and she flips you around forcefully. In her breathy voice commands: “Hands against the door.”

Your palms shakily press against the surface. “Perfect,” she muses.

She strokes here hands all along your body, eventually settling on your waist. “Look at the way your body reacts to my touch. You’d miss this if you left me.” She kisses and nips your skin with satisfaction as her lips move down your neck.

“Only I can make you feel like this. I created you; I know your body like the back of my hand,” her thumb tugs at your waistband, causing your breath to hitch, “See? Spread your legs for me…yes, just like that, wider. That’s my girl.”

She rolls your pants down carefully to the floor, prompting you to kick them off. Your underwear follows soon after. She returns to her stance behind you. Her gloved hand finds its way to your entrance, and her middle finger is the first to push past your folds. “Be good for me.” She rasps, planting kisses around your shoulder blade.

Your slick coats her finger with every stroke. She retracts from you for just a moment to bite her soaked glove off with her teeth. She tosses it behind her before returning to your inviting warmth with an added finger. She sighs pleasurably, almost nothing is obstructing her skin from yours.

Her other hand forces you to look out the window as she scissors her fingers inside you. The glass is somewhat clouded from your panting, but you can make out the sight of how her green eyes bore into yours.

Her fingers curl and rub feverishly against your sweet spot. Your body shudders as you inch closer to your climax. “Let go,” she moans, “let go and cum for me.” Your slick spurts through her slender fingers as you climax.

As you come down, Ruan Mei whispers a few “good girl”s as she kisses your neck. Her arms wrap around your body possessively with no intention of letting go.

She’ll make arrangements for a more permanent residence to keep you close. No one knows of your existence, and she intends to keep it that way.

[weskie]

A Moment of Peace (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

this man needs a nap soooo bad, fluff | Fic Directory

You find him so very beautiful like this.

Wesker does not indulge in rest nearly as much as he should.  He takes only what he needs to function, and he does it quite well for the most part.  To the untrained eye, exhaustion never touches him.  He is a force to be reckoned with in every aspect of life, but even the man made god has moments where fatigue settles in despite his best efforts.  There was a world to perfect, a dream to make reality, and such goals would not come to fruition with his head buried in a pillow.

But right now, he needs this.  

You thread your fingers through locks of his hair, nails scratching softly against his scalp in long strokes.  You’re not sure exactly how you managed to convince him, but he’s been asleep on your lap for nearly an hour now.

Initially, he’d joined you on the couch in your shared abode.  You with your book, and him with his mountain of folders.  Incident and laboratory reports, he’d explained.  Trial and error with various strains, incident follow ups after staff exposure, costs, damages… more thorns in his side delaying his dream with every fool's mistake.  You could tell from the moment he sat down that he was running on empty, and no amount of coffee you’d brought him seemed to rouse him from his drowsy state.  The intermittent act of pushing up his glasses to rub at his eyes only grew in frequency as time ticked on, and you pretty much left him with no choice.

All it took was your fingers curling at the nape of his neck to soothe him.  Just a gentle touch, an invitation– wordless, but no less sincere– to shoulder the weight of his burdens and give him relief.

To your surprise, he didn’t even fight you on it the way he usually would. He wasn’t too busy, nor was there a thumb and forefinger placed at your chin while he gives you the same old excuse of another time.  He merely tossed the packet of paper onto the arm of the couch and shifted to lay on his side, cushioning his head against your lap.

He looked so strange like that too.  Like there was an air of repression to the act, like it was forbidden to him in some way or another to have the comfortable luxury of a lover who cared to hold him.

“I’ll make sure the world doesn’t burn without you,”  you’d told him, having just slipped the sunglasses off of his face.  “Just relax.”

It took a while, but eventually you felt the decompression– the way his body slackened and he became comfortable enough to rest on his back.  Not long after that, he was out.

And here you are.  

You take the chance to observe every feature, committing each detail to memory so that you could perhaps paint him picture-perfect with your eyes closed.   You’d like to run your fingertip over the curve of his cheekbones, or perhaps even the slope of his nose, but you fear waking and depriving him of something he needs so dearly.  He’s a light sleeper, and you’re amazed you haven’t roused him with your own yawns by now.  

Your left hand lays on his chest, just over his heart.  Each rise and fall has become its own rhythmic comfort, lulling you closer and closer to dozing off along with him.

You’d love to, but later… 

You wouldn’t miss the beauty of his serenity for the world.

[seravphs]

lazybones

wc — 2k

tags — 18+ only, fem dom, sub gojo, riding

Have you been too hard on Gojo lately? 

You peek at him from the corner of your eyes. He’s next to you on the couch, freshly back from a mission. Even though he’s just sitting there, he’s being annoying again. It’s his presence, the general lack of respect that exudes from him. You clench your teeth against the urge to scold him. 

Playing teacher is a leftover habit from your school days. Yaga couldn’t control him, so you took it upon yourself. It took a lot of trial and error to figure out what made Gojo obedient. Taming the strongest is a delicate balancing act, never giving him too much of the carrot or the stick - right now, you might be teetering too much on the side of punishment. How long has it been since you gave him a reward? 

Gojo might be irritating, but he’s still deserving of respect as the pinnacle of Jujutsu society. He works hard, even if he doesn’t show it. 

You glance over at him again. He’s never injured when he comes back from missions, but sometimes there’s another problem he has to take care of. Since you first checked on his condition five minutes ago you've been waiting for him to ask for help or deal with it alone, but the visible bulge in his pants hasn’t gone away. The five minutes you gave him clearly wasn’t enough. 

You glance meaningfully between his thighs. “Are you going to take care of that?” 

“Nah,” he shrugs. “I’m exhausted. Too much work.”

Nodding, you return to your work. Halfway through shuffling papers, you realize that your threshold for normalcy has changed since knowing Gojo Satoru. He has that effect on people. Adapt or die. 

The couch shifts. Exasperated, you look over - only to see Gojo rolling his hips gently, grinding on nothing. His mouth is open and his eyes are closed as he pants softly. 

“Are you serious,” your voice is completely toneless. 

One eye cracks open, brilliant blue all the way to its core. “Hurts,” he groans. “This is the first time all week-“ 

“Can’t be that bad,” you say, even as you wonder why you’re entertaining this conversation, why you’re not getting up and leaving. “You look like you have all the time in the world. Can you even get off like that?”

“No.”

“Are you stupid?”

He moans. You know he’s only doing it to fuck with you. “Yeah, be meaner,” he goads. 

You don’t know why you’re saying it. “Do you need help?” 

He blinks. “Sorry?”

“Forget it,” your face burns. “If you don’t-“

“No, no,” he rushes to get the words out. “Help is good. Help would be great. Can you just, ah, can you-“

You reach over to palm him over his pants. He shudders, his spine taut as he arches instinctively towards your touch. His eyes roll back in his head. How badly did he need this? You shove his shoulders back so you have more room to work, preventing him from hunching over you. He grins up at you as you climb over him, straddling his thighs. 

“Shh,” you murmur. You don’t recognize your own voice. It’s sensual in a way you’ve never imagined you could be, especially not for him. There’s something soothing about it, melodic and low. “Don’t say anything. Just let me handle it.”

“Okay- ah, fuck,” he hisses as you grip him a little more meanly. 

“What did I say?”

Wisely, he doesn’t say anything. He’s always been a quick learner, usually the first to pick up on lessons. 

“Good boy,” you coo. A soft breath escapes through his half open lips. You settle on his lap, continuing to work him through pants until he can’t take it anymore and throws his head back, baring his throat. His Adam's apple bobs as he heaves for breath. It’s too tempting. You kiss a bead of sweat arcing down his neck, tasting the salt of his skin before you bite down. 

His muffled groan would tell you how much he liked it even if he wasn’t shaking with desire. Your lips curve into a smile against his neck before gracing him with another piece of evidence to carry with him tomorrow. 

When you pull back to survey him, there’s more red on his body than you left. He’s so wound up that he’s nearly bitten through his lower lip. You make a humming noise of disapproval at him, but it’s not a major concern when you have such an easy solution. 

He grabs at you as you climb off of him, but you shove his hands away. “Patience,” you scold as you tug your stockings off. His eyes light up, but you pity him. He doesn’t know what’s coming. 

You shove the black mesh into his mouth. “Keep that there until you can learn not to hurt yourself.” 

Whatever complaint he can voice through the fabric is lost as you drag his zipper down and reach into his boxers. His cock drools as you stroke him lazily, not putting too much thought into his enjoyment. This part is for you. 

It’s not enough, you know. He needs more stimulation. But you like the way he’s growing more and more needy. You want to drive him insane, want to see him lose everything for you. You want to peel back the persona of the strongest sorcerer and make him lose himself in lust. 

It’s almost sick, the way you want to see him brought low. A part of you wonders if you need to consider some kind of professional help for the enjoyment you’re deriving from this, the other, greater part is simply enjoying the high color in his cheeks. 

You know how to take him apart, piece by piece, and you do it with a beautiful, precise brutality. He breaks for you, lets you arrange him to your liking. 

“You can speak now,” you tell him, tugging your stockings out of his mouth. He moans in relief. 

“Can I- can I please come?”

“No one’s stopping you, sweetheart.”

He’s so out of it that he can’t control his expressions. You giggle at the face he’s making, almost sexier for how silly it is. You reach forward fondly to wipe the saliva at the corner of his mouth, doting on him. 

“So messy,” you murmur.  

The noise he makes in response is barely even human. 

“I can’t, not like this,” he whines. “Why are you torturing me?” 

“I’m not doing anything. You know what you have to do if you want to come.” 

He grins up at you, dazed. “You’re really going to make someone as pretty as me beg?”

“It’s because you’re pretty that I’m making you beg. Now come on, gorgeous. Put that mouth to work.” 

“You’re evil,” he whines. You can feel him twitching. 

“And?” 

“So mean,” there’s a slight hitch in his breath when your other hand reaches towards the nape of his neck, your nails gently scratching at his scalp. “You’re hurting my feelings, you know.”

Dragging your nail over the head of his cock produces a delicious shiver from him.“Come on, pretty boy. Don’t you want it?” 

He drops his head again, hanging over the back of the couch. “Fuck,” he pants. “Yeah. Please. I’ll do anything, please let me come.”

“Try a little harder.” 

He groans, throwing a hand over his eyes. “Damnit, what do you want from me?” 

You pull away. 

He yelps, scrambling towards you. “Wait. Wait! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. Please, come on?” 

“Tell me something I want to hear, princess.” Your strokes are slow, matching the tempo of your conversational tone. There’s a ruddy blush already spreading across his cheeks, dappled strawberry on cream. You want to bite it, so you do. Noise tears out of his chest, entirely authentic surprise. It’s only a second before you pull away, no harm done but the idea of it. Gojo scowls at you. 

It doesn’t change the fact that he got naked for you, or that he’s staying under you. You like him best like this, understanding of his place. 

A monster of a man, tamed just for you. 

“You’re obedient like a dog. Can you bark like one too?”

He gives you another scathing look which only merits a laugh. 

“No? Maybe next time.” 

You grip him a little tighter, rubbing your thumb into the sweet spot right under the head of his cock. He tries and fails not to twitch. It’s not good enough. You want to see him flail, sob, choke. You tease the sensitive tip and watch him crumble. 

“Fuck,” he whimpers. “Fuck, fuck, I’m so close, please.” 

His breath breaks on a moan, a strangled noise as he tries and fails to control himself. You love it, this part of him, still holding onto a quickly crumbling idea of pride or strength. It endears him to you so much you cup his cheek, comfort enough that he might be convinced to let go. 

His next word is lost in the sound of a hiccup as tears begin to build in the corner of his eyes. You can sympathize. He’s at the point where pleasure feels too good and everything begins to feel too sensitive, too painful. His nerves, already more refined than the average person’s, must be burning, yet he holds on. 

Not for much longer. You’ve built a rhythm now, stroking him fast, but he seems to love the manhandling. The rough treatment pushes him closer to the edge, closer to what you know he needs. His hips jerk with minute movements, trying not to drive you away once more. He wants to be good.  

He’s practically drooling as you push him around. The slick noises of your palm against his skin quicken as his abs clench, finally unraveling for you. You keep at it, stroking him through it to the edge of overstimulation. 

“Too much,” he whines. “It hurts!” 

You slow down. “So you don’t want more? Too bad, I was going to let you fuck me.” 

Gojo’s voice sounds ruined, but his hands are going to your hips instead of pushing you away. He tugs you even closer. You can feel him growing hard again, his cock pressed between your bodies. Even though he looks like he might sob if you keep toying with him, he nuzzles his head against your chest. 

“More, Satoru?” 

“Anything you’ll give me,” he promises. 

You test him first, offering nothing to test the limits of his sensitivity. He doesn’t whine anymore, knowing by now to let you do as you please. His big hands are splayed over your hips as he helps you bounce in his lap, fucking between your thighs, but not where he wants. 

“Can you even go again?” 

“I told you-” You decide that he can. “Oh god-” 

You’re hot and wet and tight around him. After so much teasing, his brain short-circuits. He said he could, but with the way he’s acting, you really don’t think he can handle it. You go to climb off him again, but Gojo moves before you can. 

“No,” he whimpers, hands pressing you down harder. He bucks his hips up, trying to get deeper, trying to fill you up. You don’t know how he still has the strength to carry you, but he’s the strongest, after all. He picks you up just to drop you back down onto him. 

You’re fucking like animals now, wet and messy. You can hardly hear anything over your combined moans and the noises coming from between the two of you, filthy, slick sounds. His hands are digging into your hips so hard that you can feel the bruises he’ll leave tomorrow. 

Every drag of his cock against your pussy is bordering on painful as he chases his own pleasure, blind to everything but his need to mark you. You’re so full it aches, but beautifully, until it transforms into something else, satisfying an all-consuming need inside of you. 

When you come, your orgasm wracks through your body. You clench down on him involuntarily, gasping as your pussy throbs around him. It ruins you, the way he presses up into you, trying to fuck you through it. Your thighs can’t stop trembling, your eyes rolling back in your head. You don’t want to imagine how you must look right now. 

“Close,” Gojo gasps out. He’s been reduced to monosyllables for the past few minutes, all wit vanished from him. No sooner than he says it, his head drops onto your shoulder as he presses you down onto his lap, spilling inside of you. You whimper at the feeling, heat spreading through your core. 

“What the fuck was that?” Gojo breathes shakily into the silence that ensues. 

“Just- just shut up,” you reply. You hadn’t expected it either. 

Gojo laughs and tucks a sweaty arm around you. “Were you hiding that from me all along? I mean, I knew you were into me, but-” 

You do the only thing you know will shut him up. You kiss him. His eyes are hazy when you pull back. 

“Um. Okay,” he says. “One more time?”

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

read this post by @bitethedevil and ended up writing this idk don't take it too serious

Read on AO3

-

Tav's fingers skittered over the red skin of Raphael’s naked back. It was always hot to the touch and smooth, its texture almost like leather. Patches of tiny scales grouped together in different spots, especially around the big joints connecting his wings to his body. Raphael fascinated Tav - not quite in the same way she fascinated him, but they were birds of a feather, so to speak. In fact...

"I've been wondering about something," she said, breaking the sleepy silence that had settled between them some time ago.

"Mm?" Raphael was utterly relaxed, the laziest Tav had ever seen him. On his belly in his (their!) bed, shirtless and shoeless - the scandal! He'd been enjoying her aimless touches. His Majesty, indeed.

"Can you fly?" She ran her palm across the thin membrane of wing she could reach, then the sturdy bone. "You've got these huge wings, but I've never seen you use them." She'd witnessed them fully stretched out once or twice, but otherwise he always kept them folded close to his body. A shame. They were magnificent. Heavy as anything, though - especially when he was dead asleep. Tav had almost been suffocated a few times trying to spoon him, and he refused to sleep in his human glamour just to let her be the big spoon. Waste of magic, he said. Spoilsport.

"What an inane question." Raphael didn't even open his eyes. "Of course I can. My wings are not for show, little mouse. No more so than a bird's are."

"Well..." Tav chose her next words carefully. She'd learned through trial and error how much she could prod her devil and when. Most of the time he was amenable to light teasing, but sometimes, when he was in a good mood like this, she could have some fun. "There are some birds out there who have wings but can't fly, you know. Peacocks, for example. They're kind of like big chickens, if you think about it."

Raphael slowly lifted his head, turned it so he could look at her over his shoulder. Tav bit her tongue in a futile attempt to squash her impish grin. His orange iris burned in the inky depths of his black sclera. A few locks of his hair were free from his usual coiff.

"Big chickens," he repeated flatly.

"Yes," said Tav, her voice strangled by the giggle she was trying to suppress. "How do I know you aren't an infernal peacock?"

"I can fly, you insipid little gibbon," he snapped, but he wasn't angry. She could tell by the twitching at the corners of his lovely mouth. Tav coughed, choked on a laugh.

"I think you should show me."

"Do you."

"For posterity's sake, of course."

"Of course."

Tav waited, watched, moved to make space for Raphael as he sat up, languidly stretching like a big cat. Accidentally whacking her with those wings she was so obsessed with.

"Apologies, dear," he drawled, about as sorry as a horny kobold in a bathhouse. He smiled when she scowled. He stood to his full height, preening as she ogled him. In nothing but a pair of trousers, he truly was a sight. Without warning he beat his mighty wings and took off, soaring across the room to land on the other side, where he nonchalantly poured himself a glass of wine. Tav spluttered in the wake of that massive gust of air. Raphael sipped his wine, staring at her as if to say, "well?"

"Good distance! You looked a little wobbly with your execution, though," Tav said. It wasn't true. He was majestic in flight, but he didn't need to know that. His ego was big enough. She combed her fingers through her rustled hair, grinning when Raphael’s eyes narrowed.

"Perhaps you're right." He put his glass down and sauntered towards her. Tav's heart leapt into her throat, fear and excitement together. "I need a counterweight."

"A what? Hey!" She didn't struggle when he picked her up, shifting her in his arms until he was holding her bridal style. It was a thrill to be held by her devil, and yet. She giggled nervously, her cheeks warm. "What are you doing?"

"Why, showing you that I can fly, of course!" He declared, making a scene of looking around. "But we simply cannot do it here. There's hardly enough space. Hm...ah, perfect."

He walked them to the balcony overlooking the endless landscape of Avernus. Tav sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly aware of what he was about to do. Now she began to try and wriggle free, but his grip was iron.

"Okay, you've proven your point! There's no need for a second flight, your technique was perfect!"

Raphael had no mercy. He smirked down at his little mouse, showing teeth. His eyes alight with dark mischief. "Big chickens, Tav," he said, and leapt off the edge. She shrieked, clung to him like a limpet, feeling and hearing his chuckles as he effortlessly flew them around.

After the intial spike of shock, Tav relaxed, just a little. This wasn't so bad. Raphael was an adept flier, and if she ignored the monumental height she was suspended at, it could almost pass as romantic. Soaring about the hot skies of Hell in the arms of her underworld Prince. Feeling every powerful flap of his wings. His strength. Avernus, from a distance, was beautiful in a devastating way. Unfortunately for Tav, she'd forgotten quite how fiends liked to play.

"Oh dear," Raphael said, stoic. He'd been waiting for her guard to lower. Tav's stomach lurched when she sensed his grasp on her slacken. "I seem to have lost my balance."

"RAPHAEL NO DON'T- AAAAAAHHHH!"

He dropped her. Tav screamed as she plummeted to the ground, terrified and betrayed. Raphael was rapidly becoming a shrinking red blur as she fell. He was probably watching her with sick satisfaction. She cursed him. She cursed herself. Mostly she cursed him. Bastardbastardbastard -

"Fret not, little mouse," he purred, hideously amused. She was in his arms again. "I've got you."

Tav couldn't speak; could only tremble, dig her fingers into him. He laughed the entire flight back to the house, deep and rich and raw. Tav planted herself on stable ground the first moment possible, glaring at him.

"You're horrid," she hissed. Raphael cackled.

"Oh, come now. You didn't truly believe I would allow you to fall to your death, did you? Such little faith. Ah, but how sweet your screams were...I shall be hearing them in my dreams for weeks."

"Horrid," Tav muttered again. She wriggled between the bedsheets and buried herself under the covers. It didn't take long for him to join her, surrounding her with his cloying heat.

"You'll forgive me, won't you?" He murmured sweetly into her ear, raising goosebumps all over her skin. One big clawed hand slipped beneath her shirt to gently rub her stomach just the way she liked. Wordlessly she pressed into his touch.

He played her like a fiddle, always.

[nectardaddy]

B.I.L.L.S , t. hanamaki

american hero. . . b.i.l.l.s. by towa bird

If I had a dollar then I wouldn't have to bother 'bout the bills. I'm so tired of paying rent.

pairing : hanamaki takahiro x f!reader

cw/notes : poverty/financial insecurity, conversation about/wishing for "what could be" (and a deep dive into the feeling of wanting), use of the pet name "sweetheart," humor as a coping mechanism, language, eating used as a metaphor, lots of metaphors in general, established long-term relationship, I am genuinely very proud of this fic so if you got tagged out of the blue that's why <3

word count : 2.6k

The apartment was dingy and run down, a muted tone of gray that submerged the entire cramped space into desolace. A desolace that bled into the other rooms, through the floorboards, through every nook and cranny of the compact unit - through the bones of the pair that inhabited it. Pictures and posters littered the drab walls. Old developed pictures and various music flyers stuck to drywall with bits and pieces of scotch tape - real frames were far too expensive - as they tried desperately to combat the dreary aura of the space. 

But it was difficult to fight against such longing; around every corner being yet another issue that would only ever be resolved with the one thing the pair didn’t have: funds. Air conditioning that went out every other month, as the landlord was too stingy to really fix it and complained with every call and maintenance request about the issue. Mold in the air vents, water pressure that was just short of a small stream, a lock on the door that barely bolted with a small chain lock that was used as a "replacement" that didn't really do anything. It reeked of dust and mildew, a musty smell that lingered no matter how many candles were lit and blown out. And trial and error to shut the, horribly painted, bedroom room; over the months they learned to turn the knob and slam rather than just slam. 

It was a constricted, at times uncomfortable; limited space meaning old cardboard boxes stayed within the living area or bedroom - mementos gathered dust that all but covered the unit entirely. Memories shoved in a box that would barely ever see the light of day, or simply, didn’t want to. Such a place didn’t deserve such warmth. A god forsaken space didn’t deserve the radiant coziness that came with trinkets and baubles, didn’t deserve the framed pictures - that would crash to the ground anyway, as the drywall often crumbled and fragmented - and surely didn’t deserve the mellow residents who resided in it. 

Both home from work, and both exhausted beyond belief, they sat together on an old, thrifted loveseat. A gaudy flower pattern that was stained and smelled of cigarettes from the latter owners, but a place to sit nonetheless. The man shuffled through a slew of mail, the woman, with her eyes closed and trying not to fall asleep right then and there, sat next to him. 

“I’m so fucking tired of paying this shit,” he grumbled before throwing the envelopes onto the rickety coffee table. A table that was discounted, dirt cheap, as one leg was cracked and wobbly. Oftentimes, it broke when too much weight was put on it, duct tape lined the connection between the leg and table itself. All it held was other envelopes - bills, an array of clipped coupons, and a long forgotten coffee cup, that’s rim was chipped and the handle cracked. 

“Then don’t,” the woman hummed in response, a cheeky reply to a serious notion. An exhaustion riddled in her voice that made him look over and sigh, heart strings pulled taut at seeing her weary form. “We can run away together and never have to see this shit hole again.” 

He stayed quiet for a moment, letting a pause settle between them. Allowed the sound of the fan in the far corner of the room to take over the silence he offered, the hum of it engulfed the room as it rotated to cool the entire apartment. “Maybe we should,” he sighed before a small smile pulled at his lips. “We can go off grid and everything, y’know they make shows about people that live like that, right? We could be famous.”

A breath of air passed through the woman’s nose as she chuckled, and she opened her eyes to look over at him. “You’re an idiot.” Even as she smiled at him, he couldn’t help but notice just how tired she looked. Her eyes were dark and hazy, unfocused even, as it seemed like all she wanted to do was close them again - to sleep. Her work uniform crumbled and wrinkled as she sat with her legs up on the small couch, too worn out to change upon coming, to what they reluctantly called, home. 

Home, to them, was coming back at odd hours. Never fully holding each other as the other had to whisk themselves away - to provide, to work. Times were fleeting, just as much as the money that came in. Gone within a second and drained from responsibilities. Every second together was taken with an ironclad grip, and sewn together with cups upon cups of coffee just to try and enjoy it all.

“Where would you want to go if we had the money to leave?” The off kilter question left his lips easily, without much thought put behind it. Because to him, that's all he ever thought about - leaving. He hoped one day he was able to scrape up enough funds, pack everything up, and leave the cramped unit all together with her by his side.

“Anywhere, honestly, this place sucks ass.” She groaned as she stretched her legs off the loveseat. A series of pops from overworked limbs hit his ears and made him frown - she didn't deserve to be this tired, not for this piece of shit apartment. Not for anything.

“I’m serious.” His normal, almost whimsical, tone went with the wind as he sat up a little straighter. He looked over to her with red tinged eyes, fatigued and strained, that swirled with an unforeseen worry.

“So am I.” A curt reply as she locked eyes with him. A realist, maybe a bit pessimistic to some, but the woman grounded herself in reality more than he. Didn't want to waste herself away with thoughts of what could be than what is. What could be was a sham, a figment of imagination she couldn't bear herself to think about often; as the thought of what is yanked her to the very pits of longing that she would later have to tear herself out of. 

“I know where I’d want to go.” A dream he hadn’t told her before, he wished he had the money to surprise her with it. But that day was far off in the distance, a mere glimmer of a memory, and he cracked under the pressure of wanting to share. At least this way, they could experience the dream together.

“Yeah? Where?” She closed her eyes again and let her head fall to his shoulder. 

“I’d want to go to Tokyo.”

She snorted at the thought, “spare me, Hiro, not this shit again.” A half hearted joke that landed a bit on edge, toed the line of snappy through drowsy laced words. A former wish she had heard before from him, a joke to only go to Tokyo to get piss drunk with friends. 

“No, not the bar hopping thing.” He assured and waved off the remark with a small chuckle. 

“Good, because you do that shit with Mattsun here anyway. You don’t need to drag me to Tokyo just for me to babysit you two idiots there.” Babysitting, truly, was an understatement to the woman. The thought made her cringe as she recalled past memories of his dear friend passed out in their bathroom, head in the toilet and completely out cold. 

“I want to take you to Ueno Park to see the cherry blossoms one day.” His voice was a twinge quieter than before, a bit breathless as he couldn’t believe himself for finally saying the dream aloud. Deep brown eyes shifted over to look at the woman, whose head still rested on his shoulder - completely silent.

The comment had her at a lack of words, letting another silence pass by them once more; but it lingered far too long. A silence that, as moments passed, began to have a weight to it and started to suffocate her. Every inhale became shallower than the last, and she couldn’t find it within herself to take a single breath more of the humid, musky air the apartment provided. She felt herself tumble into the gaping hole of wanting, needing, craving - pure, unbridled hunger for more than what is. A ravishing feeling that took her by the shoulders and shoved, falling head first into the empty, hollow feeling of what could be.

What could be was far from reality, what could be couldn’t happen.

She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked over at him, eyes a bit wider than before and lips parted through means to say something - nothing ever came. “You told me three years ago you wanted to do that.” Quiet words answered her unspoken question and she sucked in a breath. She remembered telling him that vividly, could recall the day to a tee as it held importance to her.

It rained that day, poured down onto the street as they ran back to their shared apartment - a better one than what they had now. Steps taken hastily, hand in hand, as he practically dragged her through the downpour with a laugh. Both forgot an umbrella, so they ran through the rain getting more and more soaked with every step. It wasn’t far from their unit, the pair only went down the street to a convenience store. But the storm they tried to outrun inevitability caught up with them, so the leisurely walk back home turned to a sprint.

Upon their return, they found themselves sprawled out on their bedroom floor. Their clothes drenched from rain and water puddled onto the hardwood underneath them. A silly action, to lay on the floor wet. But neither minded as they giggled and laughed with one another, enjoying the other’s company. 

Strawberry blonde hair stuck to his forehead and he raked a hand through it. A chuckle left his lips from an earlier conversation before he looked over at her once more, “if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you want to go?”

“What kind of question is that, Hiro?” A teasing tone laced within her cadence as she locked eyes with him. Bright and hopeful, full of love, and not an ounce of exhaustion swirling within them.

“One that I’m curious about, obviously, so indulge me.” The whimsy in his words was easily apparent, one of which she got used to quickly. And there was a sass in the timbre of his voice that muddled with care, a juxtaposition to his usual standalone brassiness. 

“What’s yours?”

“This isn’t about me, it’s about you.”

He watched the woman smile before she averted her eyes to the ceiling, scrunched her brows in thought a moment before she looked at him once more. “Probably Ueno Park, in April, to see the cherry blossoms.”

“Are you serious? Anywhere in the world, and you want Tokyo?” He never looked away from the woman throughout the conversation, and when she met his gaze once more he smiled. 

“Did you ask just to make fun of me, asshole?”

“No, god no.” He laughed, lips pulling into a silly smile before he took her hand in his own. “I’m just trying to figure out where I should ask you to marry me one day.”

The inescapable feeling of want consumed her, leaving nothing left behind as she was swallowed whole. A swirling sensation in her stomach that sickened her, made her ill to think about too long as all she could do was stare at him. “Takahiro.” Her words fell to a whisper as eyes flickered between his own, desperately trying to gauge the situation but to no avail. “You can’t be serious?”

“As a heart attack, sweetheart.” The smile he had started to falter, and the concern that saturated her eyes made his heart sink. But through that concern, the smallest, most miniscule, glimmer of need shone through. Even through tired, bloodshot eyes and a tinge of cynicism, she wanted the dream just as much as he, if not more.

“Hanamaki,” she breathed. “Be real for a second-” But she was cut off as he turned to face her, the old loveseat squeaking under the shift of weight, and he took her hands in his own

“I am being real, so put that name away.” Erring on defensive, put a care behind it that she couldn't ignore. A rare seriousness in his voice that made her swallow hard. “I’m taking you to see those damn cherry blossoms at some point, and when I do I'm asking you to marry me.” 

She opened her mouth to say something but promptly shut it, not knowing what to say to the man. But she felt as the ravenous feeling turned to a starved, almost primal, one. Felt her stomach twist into knots at the thought - she wanted to swallow the notion completely. Needed to feel the crunch and snap of it in her mouth, wanted her teeth caught in it, needed it to be consumed until nothing was left. She abstained from could be for too long and needed to devour the concept entirely. 

But could be wasn’t what is. What is left a bruise, tender and raw, that left a rotten taste in her mouth. She felt the urge to spit out the thought as it circled within her mind like a vulture, ready to dive within a split second. “But-”

“We will, I swear.” He cut off her protest and squeezed her hand. But to no avail, as she only looked at him with a sense of apprehension.

“But we're-” 

“I know, I know,” he sighed. Brown eyes slid over to the envelopes on the coffee table, bold red letters catching his attention that made him close his eyes. “Believe me, I know.” A disheartening belief that caused him to take a deep breath before opening his eyes again to look at her. He brought a hand to her cheek, pale fingers gently brushed over her skin with a warmth that was inviting, loving, and selfless. He gave her a small, out of sorts, smile, “but I want to do this. For you. For us. Hell, because we deserve to do something nice. I want us to have something to look forward to other than the same, shit ass, walls everyday.” 

She paused a moment, let his words sink in, before she bit down hard on the concept and refused to let go. “Ok,” she nodded carefully. “Alright, we’ll go to Ueno Park one day.” Could be tasted sweet and savory, mouth watering to think about. It eased a craving that deflected from what is - so just this once, she let herself free fall into it. “Do you even have a ring to ask me with?” 

His smile pulled into a grin at her question, and he chuckled. “Would you say yes to a ring pop?”

With a paltry laugh, she leaned into his hand that was still on his cheek. “As long as it's strawberry, then absolutely, you dumbass.”

“Strawberry it is, sweetheart.” 

However, he didn’t really need the sweet, confectionary ring. In one of the many old cardboard boxes within the living area and bedroom that collected dust - a particularly well kept, small box hidden in the back of their tiny, shared closet - was a ring he bought three years ago. Bought shortly after the conversation was had, when he still had the money to stretch. Stuffed between memories that would barely ever see the light of day, because a place like this didn't deserve such warmth.

But the warmth was willingly given anyway, whether the pair knew it or not.

series taglist (open, send an ASK) + a few moots bc I am genuinely very very very proud of this

@causenessus @softpia @renardiererin @kodzu-ken @phoenix-eclipses

@wyrcan @honeekyuu @wakashudou @wolffmaiden @eggyrocks

@dailyakira @cupidsblonde @mollyrolls @wolffmaiden @zumicho

@jadeoru @sandwhitches

[sluttywonwoo]

All I can think about is somnophilia with Wonwoo (with consent of course) I feel like he would try not to wake you up but is just so horny and then he goes feral or something but sweet at the same time LOL

you’ve talked about it before, he knows you like it, but it still makes him feel a little pervy. he supposes it is, regardless of whether or not you’re asking him to. you’re unconscious, totally unaware of your surroundings. wasn’t it at least a little wrong?

still, wonwoo’s so hard he can barely stand it. he needs relief and you’re practically offering yourself to him on a silver platter.

he doesn’t want to wake you. if he did, he knows you’d just ask him why he didn’t use you in your sleep.

so, with another self-pep talk (“she’s into it, you’re into it, don’t be a pussy c’mon”), he gingerly pulls back the covers to reveal your sleeping form.

his cock twitches again as he takes in the sight of you. you’d worn one of his t-shirts to bed. it’s long on you but it had ridden up in your sleep, exposing both your panties and a strip of bare skin just above the elastic band on your hip.

wonwoo’s careful as he slips into bed next to you. you’re not a light sleeper but too much movement would likely wake you up, and it’d be a bummer to end this before it even started.

you curl up to him instinctively and he smiles, kissing you on top of your head.

with a bit of trial and error, wonwoo’s able to get a hand down between your legs so that he can begin to touch your over your underwear. it’s agonizingly slow, but it works. you don’t so much as stir but you do start to get wet. he can feel your arousal soaking through the fabric and coating his fingers, and he wants nothing more than to rip those stupid boy shorts off and bury his face in between your thighs.

but since he can’t, he settles for this. for touching you over your panties. for sliding them to the side ever so gently and rubbing your clit in a way that makes you furrow your brows in your sleep. for sliding one finger inside of you and then two, watching with a smirk as you frown in pleasure.

he fingers you until you’re dripping down his forearm (he can’t help but pause to lick it up— he’s just a simple man and he’s only so strong and he really tried to resist but just couldn’t help himself…) and then rolls you onto your back.

you cling to him, even when he pulls away to get his cock out. it’s only for a second, just long enough for him to shove his sweats down under his ass, but you reach for him in sleep-laced desperation, whining like you’re on the verge of tears.

wonwoo shushes you even though you’re dead to the world and takes another second to admire his work. you’re so worked up and you’re not even conscious. he can’t remember the last time he’s seen you this wet… your pussy’s glistening in the darkness of the room and he just wants to spit on it, add to the mess, make you even wetter, but he knows it’ll be too loud so he doesn’t.

what he does instead is get into position and notch the head of his cock inside of you, pushing in slowly until he’s bottomed out.

wonwoo has to bite his lip to keep from moaning. you feel so good around him. you’re clenching already and he knows you’re not doing it on purpose but it makes him want to curse your name and your cunt for rendering him pussydrunk this early on.

he draws his hips back, almost pulling all the way out, and then eases them forward again. it’s experimental, trying to find a pace that’ll get you off but won’t wake you up, but his luck runs out before he can get it locked in.

“nonu?” you ask sleepily, blinking your eyes open to see your boyfriend on top of you. “what’s going-”

“shh baby,” he whispers in response, “go back to sleep.”

“but?”

“it’s okay, angel. just rest. you have to work in the morning.”

you start to nod, then cut yourself off with a surprised moan. “feels… good,” you mumble.

“yeah?” wonwoo affirms, leaning down to kiss you on the lips now that you’re somewhat awake. “i’ll make you feel even better, okay?gonna take care of you, baby. just be a good girl and rest while i do all the work.”

[novanoms]

Specific vore mood of the night:

Giant and tiny are outcasts of their respective societies, finding comfort in one another through much trial and error. The most significant being a language barrier they’ve yet to efficiently work around. Personality wise, the tiny is much more active, playful, just a whimsical little guy. The giant is very calm, almost cold with how little they express, just a brick wall of an individual.

Anywho, they’ve gotten to the point where they can communicate basic ideas like, food, water, rock, etc. Tangible things. At some point, the giant starts to feel this unbridled protectiveness towards this tiny ball of sunshine. It starts to spiral from anger towards the tiny’s kin for kicking them out, to this self-consciousness that the giant is no where near deserving of the title of ‘protector’ for the tiny. It gets to the point where the giant panics when the tiny is out of sight, constantly seeking to be near them just in case. For fear of them being hurt, or even taken away.

The tiny, however, is oblivious to slightly confused by this change. With the giant’s stone cold expressions as well as the lack of proper communication, they don’t really notice the shift. They still go about like before, they now just have a paranoid guard dog wherever they go. This only further spurs the giant into their thoughts, as the overwhelming pit in their stomach surges at the thought of the tiny being exposed to the threats of this world. While the giant always manages to lock these feelings behind their expressionless exterior, it quickly gets out of hand the second a threat does show up.

Whether it’s a too-close encounter with a wild animal, or something as simple as a thunderstorm, the second the tiny displays tangible fear, the giant’s protectiveness goes into overdrive. The tiny receives a quick comforting nuzzle in the giants palm before stuck in their maw. They can hear the heavier breathing of the giant as they rest for a moment, too confused and freaked out from the initial threat to truly react. A second later they’re guided to the back of the throat by the giant’s gentle yet hasty tongue, swallowed down with as much grace as they could muster.

By now, the tiny has gotten a grasp on where they are, hearing the passing of the giant’s beating heart that seems to be quickening in pace. As they’re pushed into the organ, it grumbles in greeting and constricts as they move around to get their bearings. Not enough to hold them in place, but enough to feel them clearly. While the tiny is scared and confused, they still trust that the giant did this to help, and that this action means no harm.

Meanwhile, the giant is just spiraling into self-loathing. Why did they do that? They know why, but they shouldn’t have. The giant tries to comfort the tiny as best they can, but the words are non sense, just as they always were. They can feel the tiny squirm, it has to be fear. They really are a monster, undeserving of this innocent being’s presence. The second this passes, they’ll be afraid of them. The tiny will run farther than they can reach, and they’ll lose the little spark that gave them so much joy.

The giant’s thoughts pause, along with any other movement as they feel a very distinct feeling in their middle. The tiny, nuzzling into the slightly cramped organ, the squirming of their limbs seeking comfort in the plush folds. They can feel the tiny pressing into the front wall, a small hand petting the tum from the inside as an attempt at comfort. The giant, overwhelmed with the situation, settles to simply hold their gut, focusing on the calm movements that soothe their racing heart. They wouldn’t dare hurt their little friend, and it brings the giant so much comfort knowing that despite the barrier, the tiny knows it too.

[raapija]

OKAY, HERE WE GO FINALLY

So, let me introduce you to Nando's Nuggets aka his three little McChildren aka Carlito, Landito and baby Oscar 😘😘😘 (...aka the ultimate nepo baby trio of F1)

This kind of (I feel like this is a hedcanon more) belongs in the pookie au, go check it out ! ->

Huge thanks to everyone in my inbox for fueling this obsession 💚

Lando was a happy little accident born when Fernando was just 18. The relationship with Nando and Lando's mom, Ms. Norris, was pretty chaotic and turbulent and they ended up breaking up before he was even born. Lando stayed mostly with his dad and grew up as a grid-baby with other F1 drivers taking turns in babysitting him. He went through school in the UK since Nando kept his residence there most of the time and Lando got the English accent from there. He's always been around motorsport and it was just a matter of time before he would end up in F1.

Lando and Oscar grew up apart from each other, as Oscar was living in Australia. But whenever they were together while it was Nando's turn to have Oscar for a week or so, it was the highlight of their childhood. They got along well since they were pretty close in age and quite similar in other ways, too. Lando's mom wasn't around a lot when he was growing up, but as of lately, she has reached out to him again and is in good terms with the whole bunch.

✨✨✨

After Fernando separated from Landito's mom in the late nineties, he got together with this little known Aussie GT driver named Mark Webber. It was love at first sight and they had a really strong bond from the very start. They decided to get a kid together, which was wild since both were quite young and because of how difficult it was at the time for two men to get a child together. But, they somehow pulled through it and in April 2001, baby Oscar came along. (He is biologically Nando's through a surrogate) After a few quite happy years with this little family of two boys, Mark and Fernando eventually started to drift apart and the relationship fell flat. Through a mutual decision, they broke up and Oscar went off to live with Mark in Australia. Fernando still spent a lot of time with Oscar of course, but it was never enough. It was always sad to say good bye at the airport.

As time went on and Oscar grew older, he wanted to stay in the UK more. He got interested in karting like his two other brothers, and eventually moved over to try and make it into motorsport and connect better with Nando's side of the family. Mark was still very much around as he became Oscar's manager and pulled all kinds of stunts to get little Oscar in the best possible teams. Mark and Fernando are still very good friends and get along well. Oscar is definitely the most spoiled of them all.

✨✨✨

Carlos was an absolute menace and a troublemaker when he was young. When he was around 13-14, he took part in one of Nando's karting camps in Spain and that was really the only thing the kid was interested in. Later, tragically, Carlos would lose his parents in an accident and since he was such a difficult child, no one would take him in. But alas! Fernando heard about it and since he had seen how talented and passionate Carlos was about driving, he wanted to give him a chance and enrolled him into more karting classes at his own expense. Eventually, they became close and Fernando figured out since nobody else was gonna have him and the poor kid needed a proper home, he adopted him. Carlos immediately took the role of big brother to Lando and Oscar and would start to settle down since he now had a responsibility to be their role model. In time (and with lots of trial and error), Nando raised Carlos to be a sensible and well-adjusted young man who could safely be let out into the world knowing he was gonna be okay.

Carlos' protective nature over his little brothers and dad resulted in him beefing with Lance for years since he didn't exactly like the idea of his dad dating a guy who's four years younger than him. When Nando and Lance got married, it was finally enough proof that Lance wasn't going to leave and break his dad's heart like others had before. Now they're in good terms and Carlos thinks of him quite fondly, but will never admit it. Fernando is incredibly proud of how far Carlito has come and how he's now at Ferrari.

Lance has a pretty good relationship with the bunch overall despite Carlos' apprehensions. He often takes Lando or Oscar on fun trips and likes to hang out with them. Carlos sometimes asks Lance to go golfing with him since he can actually give him some competition.

It's strange for everyone that their step-dad is almost the same age as them (and younger, in Carlos' case), but somehow they make it work. He never actually considers himself to be a parental figure to them, more like a weird kinda fun uncle 🤷 It's weird, the whole family is weird, but they make it work. ❤️

Family portrait:

+This son inherited the magical powers:

[cicibaebie]

. ˚◞♡  →  pretty lady, w. rojas

one shot trial one !

warren rojas | 4.5k 

just a fluffy warren one shot <3 awkward confession time, sweet kisses :-)

*not edited, forgive me for bad writing 🫶

warnings: the reader's nicknames that are given are predominantly female – girl, lady, woman + no use of reader having particular features – skin colour, hair type, body type, etc | mainly sfw – though much kissing at the end !, use of nicknames (darling, hun, pretty girl/lady, sweets, etc), mature language

“boo, no,” came the quiet exasperated sigh through your lips. you shook your head with a frown, and stared down at the crazed page before you; scribbles of chords, lines and a long series of notes that seemed to only get progressively more snappy. the sight only made the simmering agitation in your chest closer to its near-boiling point. you bit your lip, and squinted your eyes at the page. maybe if you stared incredulously at it long enough, it would burn to ash.

this shit was truly too tiring. 

another sigh, it felt like that was all you were doing, huffing endless long breaths. you loved music, really, cherished it too close to your heart. and it was all trial and error, you knew this. but fuck, it was tiring. the disappointment and anger that forms when you aren't satisfied with your creations are enough to doubt everything. and no one likes that feeling. the feeling of losing that grasp and love for your art. 

no one liked feeling the fear of not being good enough either. the fact that you had to hand this to other people to gaze upon and approve of only heightened that same, exact fear. (your fear was valid, of course. but honestly, the band was only ever supportive and constructive towards everyone’s input and pieces. so yes, your fear was valid, but truthfully, unnecessary.)

maybe it's all a bit dramatic right now, but it's true! 

you pushed your hair behind your ears, and with your eyes still on the page, you readjusted yourself so you were now lying on your stomach. you huffed as you settled with the paper in your grasp, and with one more quick scan of the notes, you felt the displeasure plaguing you only grow. you picked it up with narrowed eyes, and roughly crumpled it, tossing it across the room. see how exhausting this is? 

today was a bad day, a grumpy day. you never liked those. you rather liked the days when you found enjoyment through your craft, the days when you could just fucking blaze through writing without a single insecurity or doubt towards it. 

normally, you would write with the others. maybe as a whole group, maybe a one-on-one with graham or karen. maybe warren. shit, you didn't care. ʲᵘˢᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶠᵘᶜᵏᶦⁿᵍ ᵇᶦˡˡʸ. but it was late at night, and everyone was asleep, just before you were about to do just that, you instead, felt that randomly adrenaline-rushing motivation to just write. you can imagine how it felt when you proceeded to do that exact thing and hated every single thing that you came up with. the anger you were feeling so largely now stemmed from the sheer dissatisfaction towards the sound of the string of chords you came up with. 

you were pretty sure you were beginning to see red. maybe you were possessed because you were starting to feel the urge to smash your pretty red guitar against the ground many, many times. and you cherished that thing like it was your baby. 

you rested your head in your arms with a small frown, and huffed. you decided that, yes, going to bed would be best. maybe tomorrow would be better. you stared at the door and pursed your lips. the good lawyer and bad lawyer in your head were currently having a nasty debate. go to bed and come back tomorrow with a fresh start or stay, and continue to get progressively angrier. the bad lawyer was sorely losing. 

the disappointment towards your work tonight was beginning to make you feel rather sad, instead of angry. and with that, you rapidly decided that it was, indeed, time to go to bed. 

you braced yourself before pushing yourself up, and sitting in a kneeling position. it was uncomfortable, the hard floor wasn't all that kind to your legs, it actually rather hurt. you took a moment to brush your jean-covered legs before actually standing. you pushed your hair over your shoulders and glanced over at your instrument. your earlier aggressive, heavily violent thoughts towards your instrument made you feel just a tad guilty. you paced over to it, and picked it up from its stand with gentle hands. you stepped over to the open case on the floor, the soft red velvet warmly inviting the guitar.

as you packed up, you began to zone out and get lost in thought. whilst closing the case and reaching to clasp each buckle closed, a soft, nearly impossible-to-hear knock interrupted your actions. 

your hands stilled, and you looked over to the door with your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you were thoroughly convinced everyone was asleep. looking back on it, you should have known otherwise. nearly everyone went to bed before you, even those who went to sleep at a relatively late time. you were always a night person—but you weren't the only one. 

the door opened, and you tilted your head a bit to get a glance at the unexpected guest. when the sight of a cheeky, sheepish smile and brown curls came into your vision, you had to let out a soft laugh. he only smiled wider at the sound and looked down to hide it. “hi warren,” you sang, looking away from his shy form to get back to your earlier activity of packing up your things. 

warren rojas. you two weren't best friends, he wasn't your karen karen and you weren't his peaches, but he was something. you didn't know what, but you knew you did really, really like warren. you always thought he was cool as fuck. chill as fuck too. he was the easiest person to talk to, you could sit with him for hours and just talk about the weirdest things that have no relevance whatsoever. not to mention, leave it to him to know how to have a good time. he was fun, brought it everywhere he went, and simultaneously mastered the art of being a sweetheart. 

“hi,” he said, grinning as he eyed your form, still clad in your day clothes, a patterned halter top and your signature blue bellbottoms. “what are you up to this late at night, hm?” the curly-haired man walked in, shutting the door behind him and curiously looked at the various crumpled balls scattered across the room. 

you let out a small ‘shit’, his short look at your mess acted as a reminder that you probably should tidy it up. placing the guitar case back on the ground, you paced over to each of the white papers, gathering them in your arms. “well,” you huffed, “i was going to write, but it didn't really go the way i wanted it to…” 

softly smiling at your mumbled words, he walked over and quickly picked up the rest (the majority) of the papers. “what about you, cheeky boy?” you asked in return, dumping the crumpled balls into the trash. behind you, he grinned at the nickname. always smiling when around you, he was. you looked up at him as he came to stand next to you, following your earlier actions. he brushed his hands and turned back to you with a hum, “couldn't sleep, ‘nd heard you playing,” he tilted his head at you rubbing your eyes. 

a sheepish ‘oh’, passed your lips, “sorry if i woke you, war’, thought i was being quiet,” 

he shook his head at your murmur, and waved a hand with a small smile, “you can’t wake someone who wasn’t sleeping in the first place darlin’, don’t worry about it,” he wasn’t lying either, really. it wasn’t uncommon for warren rojas to pull all-nighters, and proceed to sleep most of the day. he’d usually pass out after hot-boxing his room. 

nodding, you bounded over back to your case and picked it up again. “okay, well, i’m gonna go to bed now, thanks for helping me tidy up,” you grinned softly at him, “i’ll see you tomorrow, war’,” 

“see you tomorrow, sweets,” came his gentle reply, still standing there like a moron just watching you. he considered stopping, not wanting to seem like a creep, but ultimately those considerations were put to rest within two seconds. maybe he could play it off well enough. you had to have known he had a crush on you, and he knew it. he’s such a sweetie, bless him, but not subtle whatsoever. 

you gave him one last pretty smile before walking to the door, and just as you were about to open it, your hand ready on the handle, you stopped. you pursed your lips as a thought passed your brain, and raised your eyebrows with a hum. “d’you wanna smoke some cush?” 

a beat of silence. 

“fuck yeah, man.”

                                                          ୨♡୧

“y’know, i love your hair,” 

you gently whispered, twirling a curly brown strand between your fingers, and surveyed his face. his eyes were closed, and his body was so relaxed you would have thought he was sleeping. maybe he was, you didn't know any better. warren had his head in your lap, the rest of his body slung across your bed. you had been playing with his hair for the past 15 minutes. once you started, he’d gone completely silent and shut his brown eyes. maybe he really was sleeping. 

he absentmindedly hummed in return, and you smiled at the sound. with one hand in his hair, you picked up the joint from the ashtray set on your bedside table, and took a puff. “it may possibly be even better than mine, i must say,” you declared, placing the joint in warren’s expectant hand. 

at your words, he scoffed dramatically, shaking his head. he took his own puff, before battling your words with his own. “no way dude, are you fucking kidding me?” he exhaled with a scrunched face, making sure to turn away from you as the smoke trailed out of his mouth. “i got a mop on my head, you got some farrah fawcett shit going for ya,” 

that whole sentence nearly shook you to the bone in your state. mop on his head? then saying you could compete with farrah fawcett? you couldn't believe it.“you’re putting me up against farrah fawcett?” you widened your eyes at him, brows furrowed in sheer disbelief, “the farrah fawcett?” he nodded dramatically at your shocked words, “shit, man,” you raised your eyebrows with a hum, bobbing your head. “damn,”

“i’m fully serious,” 

“yeah, i know you are. i just don’t know if i can trust your opinion, angel. i mean it’s farrah fawcett,”

he passed the joint back to you with a floppy arm, and you reached over to place it back in its respectful seat in your ashtray. “you better believe it, hun,” he murmured, closing his eyes once again as you played with his hair. 

“you’re so pretty,” at his whispered words, your hands, where they were making a small braid in his mane, ceased their movement. the sweet compliment was unexpected, and truthfully, popped up out of nowhere. you pouted down at him, feeling your heart swell at his words. maybe he was sleeping and dreaming about farrah fawcett. “warren, your eyes are closed, y’know,” he reluctantly opened his baggy, bloodshot eyes, and looked at you. 

“nuh-uh, not anymore they aren’t,” his brown eyes surveyed your face and he nodded to himself with finality. you cheekily smiled, nearly gushing, “warren rojas got a li’l crush on me?” you cooed, untangling your hands from his curls to pinch his cheeks. 

he tiredly pushed your hands away with a hidden smile, you quietly laughed to yourself. you felt adoration fill your chest. really, that pestering anger inhabiting your heart before had melted away as soon as your cheeky boy had popped up on the other side of that door. he didn't even need to do anything, he didn't even need to know that you weren't having a good day, or time, or whatever. warren rojas just had to be himself to make you practically beam like the sun. 

geez, he had a crush on you? you had a crush on him. a big one too. 

you clicked your tongue as he turned his head away from you, and you rested one hand on his chest and the other on the top of his head. warren had a smile covering his face, but he was shying away. you couldn't believe it, not only were you compared to farrah fawcett, you made the warren rojas shy. what a night!

“stop it,” his voice was partially muffled into your lap, and you brought a hand up to your lips. the big smile on your face felt permanent. “you got a crush on me?” came your voice again, this time quieter, not as teasing—just as filled with adoration. he wiggled around, still groaning. 

you lightly tapped his cheek, a silent ‘look at me,’ passing from you to him. a small smile was glued to your face as warren turned, brown eyes landing on your beaming face—to which he grinned. that stupid grin stayed on his face as you raised your eyebrows at him and kept eye contact, whilst he looked away and gazed at the ceiling instead. he wanted to keep eye contact with you, it was a continuous challenge between you two. he never lasted more than ten seconds—don't be cheeky! you let out a sigh, and looked away as well, trying to pull yourself together. you feared you were having a heart attack with how fast it was beating. the remnants of smoke clouding the air and your lungs only seemed to intensify your feelings—which were already so much. and you didn't know it, but he felt the same. maybe even more so.  

“shit, can you blame me though, sweets?” he exclaimed, sitting up. you jumped as he nearly knocked heads with you. even he didn't expect this, earlier before his mouth betrayed him! god, you plagued his mind, and it just slipped out. really, you were like a stubborn piece of gum stuck to the side of his brain, it was frustrating. warren was a complete ladies' man, and knew his way around the female anatomy like he was a master in the art. he loved women, went crazy for them. but there was just something about you, that made him ache. you were so, so, so pretty, and carried such an abnormally beautiful soul with you everywhere you went. you were passionate in what you did, you were kind, and god damn, you were too fucking funny. you’re so much. too much. warren was a confident man, a charmer, never afraid to speak his mind. then there's you, making him feel like a little girl crushing on paul anka. 

cheesy as fuck. 

“i mean—you’re crazy, girl. literally a fucking fox, it's ridiculous,” warren mumbled to himself, more ranting than anything. he gaped for a few seconds, trying to gather the words on his tongue. you folded your lips into your mouth as you watched him begin his big confession. he glared at the flowery posters on your walls with wide eyes. “listen, i’ve met women, right? many, many women, men even! a lotta people!” you had to hide a laugh behind your hand at his words, “but you, ah–,” he snapped his fingers and shook his head at you. 

“i am a confident man,” warren declared, pointing a hand at you. 

“yes you are,” 

after your small reply, he went quiet, still trying to figure out what it is he wants to say. he wasn't about to say he loved you, no matter how much he wanted to, he was sober enough to know that that was a bit too much. warren felt a lot towards you, you made him feel vulnerable, seen. you made him feel like a literal horde of butterflies were swarming his entire torso. you sometimes made him feel like he was dying, with the way you made his heart skip beats, or made it beat rapidly fast. how does one convey that feeling without sounding clinically insane? i mean, sure, he’d been able to charm his way with the ladies before, using cheesy pickup lines was his favourite thing. ever. they were his favourite. but (not to sound like a total dick) those ladies were different. and you were something. something really important. it didn't help that he was still high as fuck, so, he was relatively stumped on what to say—he did know that he wasn't up for humiliating himself in front of you tonight. 

you bit your lip as you watched him struggle, you considered simply just saying ‘i know, i know, me too,’ to make this whole thing easier for him. but you wanted to give him the time to find it. the man showed no signs of giving up, and therefore you kept quiet. you played with the rings decorating your fingers as he stayed groaning and shaking his head at the ceiling every so often. clearly, he was having a crisis. 

and just as you were about to say something, it came to him. slowly, oddly—not the way he wanted it to, but he couldn't exactly be picky, and he considered leaving this entire thing for later and instead writing you a letter, or maybe even a song! but, you didn't seem like the type of chick to dig that. and you were gazing at him expectantly, concernedly, he could feel it burning into the side of his face. he never wanted to leave a crowd waiting. 

“okay,” he turned to you with wide brown eyes, suddenly feeling a burst of energy. the relaxing effect of mary jane said its farewells, and warren, ever unaware in his state of mind, wondered if he had done cocaine instead. “you, pretty lady, ” he huffed, “make me lose my mind, it’s unfair,” 

you raise your eyebrows at that, and let out a small laugh, but quiet down with a small smile once realizing he wasn't done. “you—and, as i stated before, a fucking fox, i mean come on,” he shrugged before reaching over and grabbing the joint from the ashtray again, warren figured he needed his heart rate to go down, relax a bit. he took a puff, grey smoke flowing out of his mouth in a long exhale, before continuing; “i like you a lot, darlin’. so much too, it kinda hurts a bit,” he placed the joint, now a stub, in the ashy part of its respectful tray.

you nearly melted, the smile on your face became a mere slightly gaped mouth and you thought your eyes were hearts, big red ones like from tom and jerry. “just something about you,” he let out a loud ‘whew’, waving an arm and sending you an exasperated look to which you couldn’t help but laugh prettily. and to warren, that sound was his fuel through this. this awkward confession that had been weighing him down the whole time he’d first seen you play on that stage, this confession that he was convinced would make his chest burst eventually. you made it so easy for him, he didn’t care if he got rejected straight after or got laughed at, he still made you laugh. sleep, food, water, even fucking air was unnecessary, for the man believed he could live off of your joy and happiness forever. 

“you got me wrapped around your pretty li’l finger,” warren murmured. he slumped and looked at you, starting to feel the insecurity kick in. so, he sighed and looked away, pulling a fresh joint from the small tin he kept in his pocket, and ignored your observing stare—despite the fact he desperately wanted to return the eye contact. 

you watched as he placed the joint between his lips, and you quickly crawled and snatched the zippo lighter you two shared off the bedside table, making it out of his reach. he still didn't look at you, merely huffing with a small smile beginning to form on his face, and you had to grin at the sight. you folded your lips into your mouth, and your eyes flickered around his face. you crawled over to him next, kneeling in front of his relaxed cross-legged form leaning against the headboard. 

letting out a huff at his stubbornness to look at you, you raised a single eyebrow. he only looked away further. it was an odd sight, a vulnerable one, to see the ever-confident warren rojas, show shyness and insecurity. he felt exposed, to let his charming, goofy facade fall. 

you knelt forward and softly grabbed the side of his face, making him have no choice but look at you. to him, it felt like one of those scary fucking laboratory hypnosis sessions. like his mind just stopped, and was consumed by you, you, you. you were overwhelming, like he couldn't take a deep breath for a second. shit, he thought he might pass out when your hazed eyes flickered between his own, and soon landed on his lips for a split second. 

and he thought he might’ve died and been sent to heaven when you gently lifted his face to bring the lighter up to his lips and lit the joint still set between them. it was silent, aside from the soft breaths coming from each of you, and the crisp sound of the paper on the joint burning whilst he took an absent-minded puff. you watched as the joint burned orange, and proceeded to flick the lighter closed, and set it on your pale, flowery sheets. 

truthfully, you seemed relaxed, and understanding, like you just knew. but you were so happy, nearly bursting on the inside. you weren't quite sure how you were holding yourself together, you felt fully ready to fall apart. just because of him. warren rojas, sure to be the death of you. 

you turned back to him, plucked the joint from his lips and brought it to your own. he watched with wide eyes as your soft lips wrapped around the white papers, and you took a hit. you weren’t looking at him anymore, rather simply looking down, and he was feeling a bit glad about it. not because your eyes were so intense and burned into him just naturally–but because he was sure to truly lose his shit if you did. 

grey smoke trailed out of your mouth and you turned back to him with a small smile, tilting your head. at the sight, warren let out a sigh, and lightly hit the back of his head against the headboard. “you’re so cute,” you quietly said, delightedly, and he groaned again and shook his head, bringing his hands up to cover his own smile. “god, don’t—” he sighed, running a hand through his curls, “damn you, woman,” 

you beamed, and shuffled to grab his hands away from his face. with them in your grasp, you folded your digits with his and his closed eyes opened. warren looked at you exasperatedly, huffing, “minx i tell you, a minx,” he mumbled to himself, feeling like a crazed man on a drug. you laughed, the sound ringing clear in his ears like the prettiest bell he ever heard. again, he could listen to it for ages, like it was a lifeline. 

you gave him a knowing smile, released his hands, and readjusted yourself so you were even closer to him. you watched as he took a deep breath, processing the close proximity. your heart skipped multiple beats as you brought both hands up to cup the sides of his neck, he sighed as you rubbed your manicured thumbs along his jawline. this beautiful man, you thought. you were sure you could never get enough of his curls, big brown eyes, or his absolute hilarity. you were disgustingly attracted to him, all of him. his entire fucking being. 

he was leaning forward towards you now as you hovered before him. to him, it felt like he was being drawn in, he looked back on his hypnosis thought. your eyes flickered all across the other’s face, and he moved so you were now instead sitting in between his legs. warren, cheekily with a grin, placed his hands on your waist and you huffed a soft laugh, resting your forehead against his for a moment. it wasn't lustful, it was the final buildup of all the unspoken attraction, love, and need between each other. it was sweet, sensual. 

he nudged his nose against yours, and he was so, so close. you two moved fluidly and teasingly, closely hovering over each other and chasing the other's lips. it was like a dance, a silent, ‘you have me, now come get me,’. 

oh, and the reward was legendary. you had your hopes and dreams, but this? it was difficult to describe just how much better it was in comparison. your lips finally slotted together like puzzle pieces, and this time, you really did melt. your shoulders slumped and with a broken exhale, you curved into him. he didn't care, only softly laughed into your mouth and wrapped his arms around your waist tighter, holding you together, whilst you curved your arms around his neck. 

he was perfect, so much so, it ached. your feelings toward him before this were like a game of tag, and endless chase, constantly seeking him out in everything you did; even subconsciously. the attraction kept you going, something to look for, to stay motivated for. but this? this was so much better, being able to have him right here. he was overwhelming all of your senses, you felt like you were drowning in him. you’d happily die this way. 

and warren? the man thought he was living a fantasy. he really didn't know what the fuck was happening, if he had something unknown put in his coffee this morning that made him extra desirable in the eyes of others, especially towards someone like you. yes, warren rojas—ladies' man, a rockstar, but you were a princess in his eyes. someone he did not deserve, could and should not have. but here you were, and you were perfect in every sense imaginable. an indescribable beauty was carried in all of you, and he adored all of it. 

warren, his mouth still on yours (just as overwhelming), ran his hands up your waist and flat on your back, only pushing you closer into him. god, you were so close, but he wanted more. yes, he was already losing himself in you, but just a little more, just a little closer. he happily sighed into your mouth as one of your hands tangled in his curls and the other lightly scratched at the nape of his neck, and this time you were the one smiling. 

you had to reluctantly pull away to take a breath, and warren blinked his brown eyes open with a grin. he rested his head against yours, and drew gentle circles on the curve of your back. 

“does that mean you’re into me too, cheeky girl?”

[sockmeat]

Hey, Can You do a Alastor x reader who has bulimia? Where Alastor and thé reader are in a relationship, and hé liké, finds out? Only If You feel comfortable tho ♥️

𝐆𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 --  𝑨𝒏 𝑺/𝑶 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒃𝒖𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒂… (𝑯𝒂𝒛𝒃𝒊𝒏 𝑯𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒍)

(𝐰𝐜): 391

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Alastor finds out you have bulimia and helps you cope with it.

(𝐀/𝐍): First time writing something like this, I tried reading up on how to treat it but idk IM NERVOUS

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): Bulimia, eating disorders, OOC Alastor, DO NOT read if you are not in the right headspace

                                                        𓆩♡𓆪

♡ Alastor suspected it, he had been watching your behavior after noticing how strange it was, but that didn’t make the confession any easier.

♡ Alastor’s love language is food–he absolutely loved making things you would enjoy, making things you haven’t tried yet, making you things when he felt like it, etc.

♡ However, he began to notice how you would eat everything he offered, then suddenly you would get very ill to the point of rarely being able to leave the bathroom, and wouldn’t eat anything he gave you.

♡ Safe to say, he was worried.

♡ He went through trial and error trying to figure out what was happening; he would pay extra attention to your plates and food, making sure there wasn’t any poison, anything raw, or anything you were allergic too, he would watch you and make sure you weren’t eating too much food at once and unintentionally making yourself sick, but nothing he tried worked.

♡ Eventually, he just settled on asking you directly. He could tell immediately it wasn’t something you wanted to talk about–you looked nervous and tried to use every excuse in the book, but Alastor wasn’t letting up.

♡ Finally, you just sighed and told him. You cried your heart out when you told him about your insecurities and why exactly you were getting so sick.

♡ For once, Alastor felt his chest squeeze.

♡ There weren’t any reliable therapists in Hell, so he went out and got as much information as he could on Bulimia. He hadn’t been in a situation like this before, so he had to build his knowledge from the ground up.

♡ He sat you down once again, where he explained that he would support and love you unconditionally no matter what and would do his best to help you in this rough time.

♡ He became a safe space for you to go to when you didn’t feel safe with yourself, he helped you build a better self esteem through encouraging words, helped you see through a different perspective, and would eat with you/share meals with you so you wouldn’t feel as guilty.

♡ Eventually, when you’re more stable and comfortable in your skin but still wanting to lose weight, Alastor will encourage you to use more healthy methods, such as exercise.

♡ Of course, you’ll have slip-ups occasionally, but Alastor will be there for you every time.

                                                        𓆩♡𓆪

[nokkayy]

had an idea for sozo in the goats reality

Sozo essentially swaps roles with helob and sells followers instead.

In this reality he is a velvet ant, which is infact not a ant but a wasp mimicking an ant!

Because he is not a true ant, he in comparison to sozo cannot lift nearly as much, hence the much smaller backpack.

Instead of a sleeping bag, he has a pair of dark glassy wings hidden beneath his bag which he uses to nest among the trees and fungi, avoiding stray cultists rummaging through the night.

In the bags stead he carries some sticks to create campfires to roast followers on the go!

He is generally very fluffy with red and black coloring and accents of purple referencing helobs colors.

His disposition flips between extremely nonchalant and almost sleazy to violently intense in mere seconds, prompted often by random bouts of hunger or sights of injury and blood, though this tends to happen less often when he is well fed.

To capture prey, he will hide amongst the shadows in the dense foliages high above the ground and stalk his prey until night begins to fall. Once he has determined his prey is settling and and letting their guard down, he will engage at their most vulnerable; injecting them with the venom from his stinger leaving them paralyzed but alive.

Through much trial and error he has learned to adjust the dosage just enough to incapacitate, but not kill. He prefers them alive, if not for preservation, then for taste.

He by nature is actually not venomous, but instead receives the venom from the mushroom atop his head. The mushroom receives nutrients and spreads its spores farther, and in return supplies him with the ability to use paralyzing venom.