#applying patterns to new rolls

[rafecameronssl4t]

for rafe x thornton!reader: boat day with topper and sarah 😋

Boat day || Rafe Cameron x Thorton!reader

MASTERLIST (rafe x thornton!reader au masterlist)

You always looked forward to Sundays. The entire day spent out on either your boyfriends’ or brothers’ boat along with Sarah, drinking and eating—it honestly couldn’t get any better.

“Y/n, are you even listening?” Sarah’s light tap on your thigh broke your trance, drawing your gaze away from Rafe momentarily. “Huh?” You blinked innocently, meeting Sarah’s amused grin.

“I said it’s time to turn over,” she chuckled softly, adjusting herself on the plush day bed. “But you were too busy ogling at Rafe, simp!” Sarah teased, prompting you to playfully grab a nearby pillow and lightly swat her with it, eliciting a playful shriek from her. “Kidding! Just kidding!”

“I am not a simp, Sarah Cameron,” you retorted with a mock glare, rolling over onto your stomach. From this new angle, you could steal glances at Rafe deep in conversation with your brother. His recent buzzed haircut somehow made him even more irresistible, a fact you couldn’t help but notice.

Noticing your gaze, Rafe smirked to himself and called out to you, “You doing alright?” Your smile turned shy as you nodded, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. “Could you come put sunscreen on my back, please?” you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows.

Rafe reached for the sunscreen bottle beside him,“Thought you already applied some?” Sarah chimed in with a knowing smile, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Can never wear too much sunscreen,” you shrugged, sharing a conspiratorial smile with her.

You closed your eyes as Rafe knelt behind you, his hands warm and firm as he began to massage sunscreen into your skin. The sensation was both soothing and intimate, his touch sending tingles of pleasure through you.

His skilled hands ventured lower, tracing delicate patterns on your back with firm yet gentle strokes. A playful giggle escaped your lips as his touch dipped teasingly under the edge of your bikini bottom, his fingertips brushing the soft skin of your ass.

“You just wanted an excuse for me to touch you, didn’t you?” Rafe’s low whisper brushed against your ear, sending delightful shivers down your spine. You giggled softly, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin. “Maybe,” you teased back as he lightly smacks your ass.

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

Bruce Wayne, mentor to many- father to none.

I want the angst of B having to come to terms that he doesn't know ANY of his kids not anymore at least and maybe never and the fact his kids are just- used to it?

Visiting Dicks apartment, he finds a picture of him smiling while surrounded by a bunch of little kids in spandax uniforms. Turns out he'd been a gymnastics instructor for about four years now and his most recent team had everyone qualify for state. (Bruce didn't even know he still practiced)

Jason stopped accepting Wednesday night patrols, but when he looked into it he found out that was the night he went to DND nights with his roommates every week. The roommates he met last semester after he decided to go to college and get an english major. (Bruce didn't even know he had applied)

Checking the library he found a small pedastal plague put up by Alfred displaying just one book. It said Cass was the author. Apparently she had gotten super into writing and published a book talking about language deprivation and lack of accomidation for deaf/hoh children born to hearing families. She had a book signing last month, Alfred had gone and grabbed this copy now on display (Bruce didn't even know she liked to write)

Tim finished a case early and let it slip he needed to sign off early to "meet up with his boyfriends" and hung up before Bruce could process. It only took a small glance at his middle child's latest social media post to see him alongside Superboy (what was his name?) and a blonde boy he didn't recognize. Both were leaned in to kiss his cheek and the caption said "Happy 3rd anniversary!!" (Bruce didn't even know he was interested in boys)

Steph's birthday came around and Bruce got her a new account and shoved a couple thousand for her to buy whatever she wanted. But he quickly noticed a pattern of everyone getting her- cat supplies? Apparently She had adopted a cat about a month ago to celebrate her new apartment, Mister Mystery was his name, and she had asked everyone for supplies instead of other gifts. (Bruce didn't even know she had moved)

He decided on some impromptu father-son bonding and tries to track down his youngest. But Damian is nowhere to be found. He gets pretty close to calling an emergency meeting but the moment he messages Oracle she reminds him Damian is in Chicago. Damian had won an art competition at school and his piece qualified for a gallery spot. The entire family had gone days ago and he was due back the next day. (Bruce didn't even know he cared about art)

Then Duke- his youngest in terms of time spent. But one he had grown fond of just as fast as the others. Especially working the day shift the time they spent was limited. Bruce got them both lunch, but it wasn't until halfway through eating that Duke had turned to him with panicked eyes and asked if the stew had shellfish. Duke had a severe allergy, thankfully Jason had been just up the street and had an epi-pen ready before they took him to Leslies. (Bruce didnt even know he had any allergies, let alone one so severe)

The worst part? There was no blow up. His kids didn't take his idiocracy as a personal insult or even raise a fight. They just rolled their eyes and moved on. As everyone crowded in the room, surrounding Dukes bedside he could hear Barbras voice. "Its not your fault, Batman may be omnipotent, but Bruce doesn't know anything really"

He wasnt meant to overhear or maybe he was, Oracle had always been petty But he couldn't refute it.

"But you have us"

Well- thats just it wasnt it? Even when Bruce was absent- his kids had each other. But was that ever meant to be enough?

[temiizpalace]

☆┆TEND TO MY WOUNDS !

SUMMARY: red alert! he’s injured! it’s alright, for the prefect of ramshackle is here to save the day.

CHARACTERS: leona, jade, jamil, rook, idia

(i spun a wheel to try and write other characters.. jamil and leona just love me teehee)

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: the boys get injured, but nothing is life threatening. — cursing — MENTIONS OF BLEEDING (not fatal)

ROMANTIC, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

🦁┆LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

“shit! ow—“

leona groans, feeling the stinging pain of alcohol rubbed onto his forehead. spelldrive didn’t go as it usually did.

everything was normal. practice was going well, and everybody was doing the proper training regiments. it was all fun watching leona and everybody practice by a nearby tree. except leona wasn’t practicing this afternoon.

today, he felt like napping right beside you. he laid his head in your lap, sound asleep. this all goes south when some freshmen decide to mess around, sending the disc flying in your direction.

typically leona would’ve been able to divert it with magic, but feeling a little hazy from barely awakening, it hit him straight on the forehead.

now here you both are, present in the infirmary, leona sitting on the cot, and you being his own personal doctor. “i can’t believe the great leona kingscholar got hit by a spelldrive disc. it is truly an honor to witness it first hand.” you joke, causing him to roll his eyes.

“tch.. whatever— FUCK.” it’s funny to see leona in such a state. one where his tough guy act isn’t all the way up. you thought he’d brush off the pain like a man, but surprise! we learn something new everyday.

“haha.. wait here. i need to find bandages.” you walk over to the cabinet, only to find all the boxes of bandages empty. except for one. a bandaid box. you snicker at the sight of them and take a couple out of the box. leona raises a brow as he heard your giggling in the back til you made your way back towards him.

you stood in front of him and placed the bandaids on his forehead. he liked the close proximity. he likes being by your side. you caring for him like this is actually one of his deepest desires. he won’t ever say it aloud of course, but he hopes you take the hints.

“you are now officially cured.” you grin, finally applying the last bandaid. he stood up, looking you in the eyes. he wanted to thank you. wanted to thank you for helping him. wanted to thank you for caring enough about him to do this. to help him.

but leona being leona cannot say thank you. “..I don’t wanna owe you any favors so,” he pulls out his wallet from his pocket and throws it to you. you catch it, nearly dropping all the thaumarks inside on the floor. “go buy somethin’ while you’re at it.”

he ruffles your hair, walking out of the infirmary. you flip through the wallet, it barely closing due to the amount of cards and thaumarks inside. rich boy privileges go crazy. ruggie wasn’t kidding when he said leona was stinkin rich. all you could do was stand there, shocked.

leona walks back out to the field, hearing the team laugh as he approaches. he looks at them with a puzzled look, the laughing becoming unbearable. “oi, what’s so funny? mind tellin’?”

“cute bandaids ya got there, boss. shishishishi..” ruggie chuckles, looking at leona’s super cute and silly unicorn bandaids on his forehead. at first, he’s confused. then he rips a bandaid off and looks at the patterns.

start running <3

🐬┆JADE LEECH

“jade, stop moving!”

you sigh, trying to place a bandaid on jade’s cut. you wanted to help him cook today since mostro lounge has been extremely busy lately. azul had been working him to the bone, so he used his time off as a way to spend time with you.

only to end up back in the kitchen, but whatever. since you’re there, it’s all good. while chopping a mysterious vegetable, (it’s a mushroom..) he accidentally cut his finger. he wasn’t paying attention to where he was cutting. cause he was looking at you.

normally somebody would wince in pain, but jade is jade. so. “oh my, this is unexpected.” he says, as his blood gets on his gloves and contaminates the mushrooms. “oh my what— OH MY GOSH, JADE.” you yell, as he’s abnormally calm about the fact blood was all over the mushrooms.

so now he’s sitting at one of the barstools in mostro lounge as you try to patch up his finger. anytime the bandaid gets remotely close to the cut, he squirms and jerks his hand away. you can’t tell if he’s messing with you or if he’s just sensitive to touch because he still has his dumb polite smile.

“jade. stop. moving.” you grunt, trying to grab his wrist to hold his hand still. “fufu..” his stupid chuckle is usually very nice but it’s just growing irritating.

for some reason he still has the impulse to tease you. even when injured. all you want to do is care for him, so why is he making this so difficult?! is he waiting for something?

oh. that’s an idea.

“jade, may i see your hand?” you ask, putting the bandaid on the counter. he raises a brow, but complies nonetheless. “of course. do be gentle though, im wounded.” well no shit.

you held his hand gently, raising a finger up to your lips. you place a gentle kiss on his finger. not on the wound exactly, but near it. his eyes slightly widened and his cheeks tinted slightly red. he loses his composure for just a moment, giving you time to apply the bandaid onto his cut.

you smile in victory, standing up from your seat. “there, all better!” you winked at him before making your way back to the kitchen. he sat there, dumbfounded. how curious.. if that’s a way to get free kisses..

“oh dear, it appears i had just cut my lower lip. what a shame. it appears i am in need of some assistance.” this wasn’t even five minutes later.

🐍┆JAMIL VIPER

“you scream like a girl.”

you laugh as jamil looks away from you. he couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes. a little earlier, the both of you were sitting in the lounge of ramshackle as comfortable silence filled the air.

he was flipping through pages of a book while you leaned onto his shoulder, playing a game of some sort on your phone.

“..AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

that silence was interrupted as you heard a high pitched scream next to you, turning your head to see jamil absolutely mortified and panicked.

“JAMIL?! WHAT IS—“ then you spotted it. the wretched cockroach crawling on the table. he shut his book and threw it at the table, missing. now he’s grabbing all nearby objects to kill the insect.

“JAMIL PLEASE CALM DOWN, PLEASE! FUCK, JAMIL—” he ended up using his magic, but used a lil too much. as you held him back, his leg bumped against the table, causing him to scurry back to the couch.

confirming that the roach had cleared the premises, you sat next to him and checked the bump on his leg. his breaths were heavy and a sweat was across his brow. you would’ve thought he looked insanely attractive if it weren’t for the incident just before.

now he’s embarrassed, his hood is pulled over, and he’s pouting as he looks away from you. “i think you got a small cut, but it should be fine. i’ll go get some bandaids!” you hum, getting up from the cushions to find the box of bandages.

he completely humiliated himself in front of you. he was weak in front of you. and he hates that. “im back and here to repair your boo-boo.” you came back with the box, sitting back down and opening it. you remove a bandaid and slowly apply it til you hear him mutter something.

“sorry.”

“hm? sorry, couldn’t hear ya. mind speaking up for me?” you heard him perfectly fine. he irks before speaking up, his tone hinted with annoyance. “sorry.”

“all is forgiven, my love.” you smile, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a hug. he sighs, reciprocating the hug and leaning onto you. “please forget you saw that..” he mumbles, his face practically burning.

you chuckle, playing with loose strands of his hair as the both of you now lied on the couch. “no promises..” he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, but placed a quick kiss on your cheek. he shuts his eyes, needing to recharge.

“mhm. love you too, jamil.” you whisper, allowing him to rest on your chest. he fell asleep in no time flat. let him rest. or even better yet, join him!

🏹┆ROOK HUNT

“how’d you fall?”

you ask, seeing as rook lied on the ground. i don’t know how to explain his pose, he’s just a theatre kid.

“never mind the details, ma chère. all that matters is that you had rushed to my rescue!” he smiles as you stood there. the most deadpan expression on your face. “i’ll just go get you bandages and not question it.” “merci!”

you rush to the infirmary, grabbing the bandages and rushing out. if nobody knew better, they’d all have assumed that rook was dead. he hasn’t moved an inch.

“where’d you injure yourself?” you ask, crouching down and inspecting his arms. “non, non. you must guess!” he laughs, sitting up right away. you groan as he initiated such an idea. “rook. im not going to guess—“

“if that is the case, ill be stuck in everlasting pain! it’d be unbearable.” he sighs dramatically, causing you to furrow your brow. “fine. did you injure your leg?” you grumble, checking each limb.

he shook his head, smiling like an absolute idiot. “here, allow me to give you a hint.” he grabs your hand guiding it to the place of the wound. of course he can’t do it without teasing you a little.

he places your hand on his shoulder, his hand, his neck, til eventually he stopped on his cheek. “my injury can be found around here.”

you look at his cheek, but there is no cut, scratch, or bruise to be seen. you raise a brow at him, but he has no shift in reaction. “rook, are you lying to me?” rook shook his head, looking you in the eyes. “I wouldn’t lie to you, mon amour. perhaps you need a closer look.”

before he could even explain what that meant, he pulled you towards him. causing you to fall onto him. “can you see it now?” he asks, staring at you lovingly.

you sigh, pulling a bandage out and placing it onto his lips. his eyes widened, but he wasn’t mad. not in the slightest! he wrapped his arms around you. taking this opportunity for a cuddle session.

despite your “annoyance,” you smiled and laughed slightly. “you’re impossible, rook.”

he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, humming happily as you spoke. his fingers intertwined with yours as the sun hit both of your figures. creating a scene resembling one of a fairytale.

💀┆IDIA SHROUD

“you can’t lock yourself into your room because of this.”

you slightly chuckle as you patch up idia’s knee. moments before, his PE class had to do the sprints. looks like he went to class on the wrong day.

while he was running, he tripped on a conveniently placed rock and fell on his knee. ortho quickly went to find you and bring you to idia so that you can comfort him.

he had tears coming from his eyes, which caused ortho to panic. you both carried him to the infirmary since he had an inability to walk. you situated him onto the cot and grabbed some bandages from the cabinets. “don’t worry niisan! the prefect will take good care of you!”

ortho chimed, trying his best to comfort his brother. idia felt his stress lessen, but that doesn’t change the immense pain he was in. “thank you, ortho. but i don’t im ever gonna to go outside again.”

he mumbles, causing ortho to pout. you come back with the bandages, smiling as you sat to the side of the cot. “im gonna have to go explain to coach vargas why you’re not here! hang tight, niisan!”

you waved to ortho, leaving just you and idia in the infirmary. “idia, you’re not going to die because of this.” you smile, placing the bandage onto his knee. idia groans, picking at his fingers. “i looked so cringe just now. definitely not my moment.”

“you didn’t look cringe, idia. you got hurt.” you grabbed his hand and held it in yours. he smiles slightly as you tried to reassure him. it was endearing to him. “thanks.. but i want to lock myself in my room for like ever after this..” he quickly mutters, hoping you wouldn’t hear that. surprise! you heard him.

“no idia, you can’t lock yourself in your room forever after this.” you sigh, realizing this was the man you fell in love with. “what? you can come too. you’d be free from all the normies surrounding you.” he stated bluntly.

“..no.” you hesitantly said, squeezing his hand slightly. you both sat in the infirmary for a few more moments before you sat up and let go of his hand. “can you stand?”

“no.” he quickly replies, not even bothering to try. you stare at him before exhaling deeply. “i’ll bring your switch then. wait here.” he smiled as he watched you exit the room. he appreciated how understanding you were. how you knew what he wanted before he even had to ask. ..well, most of the time anyway.

when you came back, you sat next to him on the cot. you both played smash bros together, playing until the console runs out of batteries. lucky for him, his console lasts for almost an entire week before it runs out of power.

let me just say, he beat your ass in smash bros.

A/N: this sat in my drafts for a very long time. i had to brainstorm A LOT to see how idia could get injured.

date published: 1/27/24

© temiizpalce — don’t steal or copy my work!

[sinstear]

ㅤ ㅤ❝ 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞 ❞ 

there were so many things abby loved. loved the way you silently sat at your dresser, applying your skincare early in the mornings, when no one else was awake, birds quietly humming and singing a tune you’ve both probably heard so many times that you could sing it in your sleep, and grumbling each time you messed up. she loved, adored, watching you walk in and out the closet, new pieces of clothing in your hands each time, asking her what she thought about every individual piece, and if she loved a shirt more than a pair of jeans, you would simply roll your eyes playfully and threw them at her before once again making your way back into the closet, huffing each time she would laugh at your indecisiveness. abby even loves it when you’re dressed in something a little warmer for the cold weather after spending several minutes looking at each outfit, that you slump yourself beside her on the bed, when she’s still not even up yet, and curl up into her side, threading your fingers through her hair, tucking strands behind her ear that have escaped the small elastic keeping it together, or at least trying to keep it together.

whispering soft i love you’s against her cheek when she tried to bury her face in the crook of your neck constantly, running your fingers up and down her back, drawing random patterns in your wake. waking up, getting ready, and picking an outfit was your normal routine, but instantly lying beside abby the second you were done, waiting for her to wake up, playing with her hair, and kissing her face, was something you always did. it was something you both did together. no matter the mood or time. but abbys all-time favorite thing you do? something that melts her heart into a puddle, even if she’s just woken up? it will always be the way your fingers graze her jaw, brushing your knuckles over her cheek, kissing the apple of her cheeks and gently lifting her face, cupping it carefully between your hands, like precious cargo and littering a kiss on every inch of her skin. giggling against her forehead when she lets out a disgruntled whine when she picks up on you missing her mouth completely and not giving in to her that quickly. “you’re so cute,” you grinned, pulling away from her forehead, copying her pout and roll your eyes playfully. “you’re so needy in the mornings, what do you want?” 

“a kiss. my kiss” abby grumbled, making no effort to pull her face away.

“you forgot some words in there” you trailed off, kissing the tip of her nose.

“give me my kiss now?” blue eyes quick to meet yours the second the question left her mouth. “please?” she added seconds later when seeing your scowl.

her eyes fluttered closed when you brushed your thumb across her cheek, pulled her face closer to your own, and pressed the softest kiss against her lips. a kiss that she melted more into as one of her hands found your waist, and the other found the back of your head. soft huffed breaths and hums fell from the blonde when your teeth nipped and nibbled at her bottom lip carefully. “you’re lucky i love you so much” you muttered into her lips, smiling at the action of her pushing flyaway hairs out your face. “and that you’re so adorable”

“m’not adorable” abby huffed, slumping her forehead against yours. “i love you”

“yes you are, my adorable handsome girlfriend” you nodded, planting a final kiss on her lips. one that she would have loved to continue if you didn’t slap her knee gently, pulling out her trance. “now as much as i love you, m’not waiting another 4 hours for you to get out of bed, come on, you promised me breakfast!”

“patience woman” she grumbled under her breath, pushing a pillow into your face.

“what was that?”

“i love you, love of my life!” abby yelled, already jumping off the bed and rushing off into the bathroom. 

“crazy girl” you couldn’t help but laugh. “i’ll make us something to drink before we leave!”

“m’kay, just make sure you don’t steal the chocolate! that was for our movie marathon tonight” the blonde called out behind the bathroom door. the words had you snapping your head around quickly. 

“what?!”

“do not steal it!”

“you evil woman”

“you love me”

“i really do”

[inkmonster21]

Short n’ Sweet💋

Hugh Jackman x Fem!Sister!Reynolds!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (handcuffs, daddy kink)

Part 09

Series Masterlist

I Wanna Try Out My Fuzzy Pink Handcuffs

💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋

Hugh shuts off the alarm, and he gently rolls closer to you, wrapping his strong arms around your body. The morning light filters in through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. He pulls you close, the touch of his bare skin against yours sending a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t wanna go,” you speak softly. Hugh chuckles at your grumble, feeling your reluctance to leave. He tightens his hold on you, his fingers tracing soft patterns on your skin. "I know, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice gravelly with sleep. "But sadly, we've gotta get up and face the world."

As you zip your jacket you frown, “I wish I could reshoot that freezer scene. I was standing weird.” Hugh looks at you, seeing the disappointment on your face. He steps closer, his arms going around your waist. "You worry too much," he reassures you, his hands gently massaging your shoulders. "Who knows, you might get to reshoot the entire thing."

As you express your frustrations about the freezer scene, Hugh bites his tongue, holding back a secret that's been burning inside of him. He wants to tell you the recasting news so badly, but he's promised to keep it under wraps until the official announcement. He watches you, his expression a mix of excitement and restraint.

As you set foot on the set, the familiar routine ensues. The hair and makeup crew quickly pounce on you, fussing over your look and ensuring you're camera-ready. They brush your hair, apply makeup to your face, and make minor adjustments, transforming you into your on-screen persona.

As you’re pulled away, Hugh follows Ryan’s directions to the back of the set where the costume department is waiting. He’s ushered into a room, where the crew begins prepping him for his scene. They help him into his costume, make the final touches to his hair and makeup, and explain the blocking for the upcoming scene.

Ryan comes up behind you, hands on your shoulders. “Hey Kiddo. Bad news. We’ve got to reshoot the restaurant scene after the jail shoot. Okay?”

You turn around, surprised by Ryan's sudden appearance behind you. You reply, your tone slightly resigned. "That’s fine. I thought I was standing weird. So I’m up for it." Ryan nods, understanding your disappointment. "Yeah, we just need a few more shots to get the scene right," he explains, his hands still on your shoulders. "It shouldn't take too long, but we'll have to do it after the jail scene this afternoon."

You're led onto the set, where the crew has already set up the intimate restaurant scene. The lighting, camera angles, and props are all carefully arranged to create the perfect atmosphere for the scene. You’re dressed in a beautiful, seductive dress that accentuates your curves, and a pair of high heels that make you feel both elegant and a little bit vulnerable.

The fake jail set is an accurate replication of a prison cell, down to the cold, hard concrete floor and the metal bars that confine you. You sit on a bench, two other actresses taking their place on the other bench. The atmosphere is tense, the other women looking just as miserable as you. You wait for Ryan's voice to call "action" and cue the scene.

“Action!” Ryan’s voice echoes through the set, signaling the beginning of the scene. As you sit in the small cell, looking dejected and defeated, you suddenly hear a voice call out your last name. You raise your head in confusion, looking up at the guard who just spoke. “Someone bailed your ass out,” he continues. Your eyes widen with realization, a small smile forming on your lips. You stand up, the bars to the cell opening, and step out slowly. “To your right,” a guard says.

You approach a guard through a thick glass partition. The guard holds up a small bag containing your personal belongings – a pair of shades and lipstick. He glances at you through the glass, his expression indifferent as he asks, “Are these your personal belongings, miss?”

You nod with a smile.

The guard continues to speak, detailing the process of your release, but you barely pay attention. Your focus is on the bag in your hands, specifically the lipstick and shades. You flick open the compact, using the glass partition as a makeshift mirror to apply the lipstick. The guard speaks up again, irritated, “Miss, this is not a beauty salon. Please listen carefully.”

As the guard continues to explain the procedure, your focus is interrupted by the sound of heavy metal doors opening. Your eyes shift from the guard to what’s behind him, and in that moment, you see HIM. A smile spreads across your face as your heart skips a beat.

Hugh is roughly guided down the hallway by the officers, his eyes quickly finding yours as he glances in your direction. Despite the harsh treatment, he manages to keep his calm demeanor, his gaze never leaving your face. The officers shove him into a room, and the door closes behind him, concealing him from view. You watch him disappear into the room, your heart racing in your chest. You bite your lip, holding back an intense sea of emotions.

Ryan’s voice echoes through the set, signaling the end of the scene. “Cut!” The crew immediately springs into action, adjusting lights, repositioning cameras, and preparing for the next shot.

Hugh emerges from the room, a small smile forming on his lips as he walks towards you.

Your eyes widen, and a smile paints your lips.

Hugh reaches you, and you instantly cling to him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you laugh. "What in the world," you exclaim with amazement, "when did you become the lead?" Your laughter fills the air, the joy and relief evident in your voice. This moment feels like a dream come true, everything you've secretly hoped for.

Ryan approaches the two of you, a wide smile on his face. "Well, I thought, who else better than Hugh Jackman, right?" he says, his tone brimming with excitement. Hugh smirks and winks at you, enjoying the moment as you both revel in the surprise revelation.

You laugh at Ryan, a smile forming on his face, as you say, “So, you’re fine with this? With us?” Ryan lets out a small chuckle at your question, the smile on his face growing larger. “With this?” he responds, gesturing between you and Hugh. “With you two?” He nods a look of contentment in his eyes. He’s happy to see you happy. “As long as you two don’t do anything stupid.” Ryan turns to Hugh, a protective brotherly demeanor in his tone. He points a finger at him, his eyes meeting Hugh's with a hint of warning. "Like breaking her heart."

You can't help but let out a laugh at Ryan's overprotective gesture. With a playful smile, you push his hand away, your confidence in Hugh clear in your voice. "I highly doubt he'll do that," you reassure Ryan, your eyes flicking between him and Hugh lovingly.

Ryan lets out an exaggerated eye-roll at your words, pretending to be annoyed but secretly amused by your banter. "Yeah, yeah. On with the schedule," he replies, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. "We don't have all day, you two. Let's get rolling."

The reshoot of the restaurant freezer fight goes smoothly, and you can't help but feel that it was meant to be for you and Hugh to film this together. The chemistry between you is undeniable, and as you go through the fight sequence, it’s clear that the camera loves you both.

After the intense fight sequence, you find yourself tenderly cradling Hugh's head in your chest. His eye is bruised, and the evidence of the brutal fight is displayed on his face. But despite the physical impact, there’s a certain vulnerability and tenderness in Hugh’s expression as he leans into your embrace.

Hugh pats your thigh, signaling for you to get off the trunk. As you step away, he opens the trunk and tosses his bag inside, revealing Barry, tied up and duck-taped, lying inside the trunk. Your eyes widen in shock, and a glare instantly forms on your face as you take in the sight before you, "Don't embarrass me, you motherfucker.”

"Cut!" Ryan laughs, clearly enjoying the scene. Hugh pops open the trunk again, carefully freeing Barry from his duct tape restraints. Both Hugh and Barry join in the laughter, clearly amused by the intensity of your performance.

"That was such a good take," Ryan chimes in, a smile still on his face. "I think we've got a real winner there."

Your lips curve into a knowing smile, and you can't help but agree. "Especially with the next scene," you affirm, the anticipation and excitement building in your chest.

You turn to Ryan with a hopeful look, "Because I think it’s only fair I have creative control over at least one scene." Ryan hums for a moment then nods, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Yes, yes. You've earned the creative control for one scene," he reassures you, his smile widening.

Hugh catches your glance, sensing the hint of something more in your words. He raises an eyebrow in curiosity, a small smile playing on his lips.

You turn to Ryan, a hint of determination in your eyes, and address him. "Then you might want to leave set," you say. Ryan looks between you and Hugh, understanding what's about to transpire. He sighs with a smirk, realizing the significance of the moment. "Oh, shit."

Hugh dutifully sits in the chair, his expression focused and serious as the camera rolls for the last verse of the song. The set is quiet, with all attention on this pivotal scene.

You rise from the couch, your footsteps deliberate and purposeful as you approach Hugh. A pair of handcuffs swings in your hand, a symbol of dominance and control. As you reach him, you meet his gaze and deliver the line, "If you wanna go and be stupid, don't do it in front of me." Your voice is firm, and the conviction in your words is undeniable.

You move behind Hugh, closing the distance between you. With a swift movement, you handcuff his wrists together behind the chair, effectively restraining him. The sound of the handcuffs clicking into place fills the air, symbolizing Hugh's helplessness in your grip, “If you don't wanna cry to my music, don’t make me hate you prolifically.”

You straddled Hugh's lap, your thighs on either side of him. A piece of duck tape is in your hand, and you press it to his lips. Instead of applying it directly, you kiss his lips through the tape, leaving an impression of your luscious lipstick on the tape. The kiss was a mix of dominance and affection, your actions conveying your control.

You saunter away from Hugh, a satisfied smirk on your lips. He watches you intently from the chair, his eyes filled with a mix of lust and confusion. Bound and restrained, he struggles against the handcuffs, calling out your name through the duct tape covering his mouth.

With a victorious yell, you call out "Cut!" The shoot was finally over, and a sense of relief washed over you. You quickly rush over to Hugh, the excitement and triumph clear in your eyes. Laughing, you expertly release him from the handcuffs and duck tape, freeing him from his confines.

He leans in, placing a lingering kiss on your ear, his voice a low whisper as he speaks. "Can we take those home?" he asks, making a gesture towards the handcuffs you'd just released him from. You couldn’t help but smirk at his request, a mischievous idea forming in your mind.

Ryan pops out from behind the makeup tent, his voice breaking the intimate bubble between you and Hugh. He raises an eyebrow, clearly aware of the tension in the air.

"Can I come out now?" he teases, a knowing grin on his face. "Is everything back to PG?" You roll your eyes playfully at Ryan's cheeky comment, a smile still gracing your lips. "All clear, Ryan!" you confirm, your tone a mix of mock annoyance and love for your brother.

You watch the reshoot playback, alongside Hugh and Ryan. The video looks flawless, with every shot and angle perfect. Hugh looks incredibly attractive in the all-black pants and button-up shirt, his hair slicked back and just the slightest hint of facial hair giving him an irresistibly sexy look. Your eyes can't help but linger on him, admiring his captivating presence on the screen.

Ryan lets out a laugh, clearly amused by the scene playing out before him. He turns to you with a sly grin and quips, "Whoa. You really wanna give the whole world a sneak preview of that private show?" You can't help but roll your eyes and swat playfully at his arm. "Shut up, Ryan," you respond, feigning annoyance but secretly amused.

Ryan laughs and nods, clearly entertained by the exchange. "Alright, alright," he replies. "I'll send it off to editing then. Looks like we've got a winner." You smile, satisfied with the outcome. "I have no problems," you declare with confidence, your eyes flickering from the screen to Hugh, who stands beside you.

Your body was buzzing with anticipation, the excitement of what was to come electrifying your senses. You practically leap into the car, the words "To my apartment" tumbling out of your mouth in a breathless whisper. The driver nods, acknowledging your instructions, and sets off towards your apartment.

As the car began moving, you couldn't resist the overwhelming desire that washed over you. Acting on impulse, you reach up and flick the privacy partition, creating a bubble of solitude between you and the driver. Your lips immediately begin to trail up Hugh's neck, the need for him becoming impossible to ignore.

Hugh gently grasps your jaw, his thumb tracing a path along your bottom lip. His voice, a low and seductive rumble, sends a shiver through you. "You just wait until I get you home," he warns, his words full of promise and anticipation.

As you both enter your apartment, Hugh quickly captures your mouth with a demanding kiss, his lips pressing against yours with a mix of passion and dominance. He guides you down the hallway, his body pressed against yours as he walks you towards the bedroom.

With a confident smirk, you turn and push Hugh onto the bed, causing him to land with a thump. "Wait there," you command, your tone sultry and authoritative. You take a moment to appreciate the sight of him lying there, eager and waiting, before turning away to retrieve what you need.

You re-enter the room, your gaze instantly locking onto Hugh. His eyes widen as he takes in your sexy black lace negligee, the lace hugging your curves in all the right places. You saunter towards him, each step slow and deliberate, fully aware of the effect you're having on him.

A sultry smile crosses your lips as you approach Hugh, your eyes fixed on the handcuffs in your hand. You crawl onto the bed, straddling him with a possessive aura. "I think it's time we had some fun with these," you say, dangling the handcuffs in front of him, the metal links catching the light and glinting mischievously.

A devilish smile plays on his lips as you approach the bed, his strong, muscular body moving with grace as he reaches for you. He's still dressed in a sleek, well-tailored suit, but you know that won't stay on for long. "I thought we'd start with a little role-play," he says, his eyes burning with desire. "How does that sound?"

"Perfect," you reply, your heart racing as you wonder what scenarios he has in mind. Hugh reaches into his pocket and pulls out the shiny silver handcuffs. "I think it's time for the naughty girl to be restrained, don't you?"

You bite your lip, feeling a rush of excitement as you nod slowly. "Yes, Daddy. Please, I want to be your good girl."

He chuckles a deep, sexy sound that makes your core clench. "Oh, you will be. But first, I want you on your knees." Obediently, you slide off the bed and kneel on the soft rug, your long hair falling around your face.

"That's my girl," he says, his voice full of approval. Without further hesitation, he snaps one cuff around your slender wrist, the cold metal sending a delicious shiver up your arm. You gasp softly, already feeling the power dynamic shift.

"Now, where should I put your other hand, hmm?" He trails the free cuff along your arm, teasing you, making you squirm. "Please, Daddy, just do it," you beg, your voice already hoarse with need.

He chuckles again, enjoying your impatience. Then, with a quick snap, he secures your other wrist, leaving you kneeling, vulnerable, and completely at his mercy.

"There we go," he says, running his hand through your hair. "You look so damn sexy like this, you naughty girl." You blush, feeling a mix of embarrassment and arousal as he stands before you, his eyes raking over your restrained form. "Now, Daddy's going to play with his girl, and you're going to take it, understand?"

"Yes, Daddy," you whisper, your eyes fixed on his crotch, your mouth already watering at the thought of tasting him. He reaches down and slowly unbuttons his shirt, peeling it off to reveal a broad, muscular chest. "You like what you see?" he teases, knowing full well the effect he has on you.

"Mmm, so much, Daddy," you murmur, your eyes widening as he unbuckles his belt, pops the button on his trousers, and lowers the zipper, releasing his thick, hardening cock.

"Suck it," he orders, his voice firm.

You don't need to be told twice. You lean forward, your lips wrapping around the head of his cock, your tongue swirling around the sensitive tip. "Fuck, yes, just like that," he growls, his hands tangling in your hair as you take him deeper, moaning softly around his length.

You love the power you have over him in this moment, the way he loses control as you suck and lick, your hands restrained, unable to touch. "That's my good girl," he says, his hips beginning to move slowly, fucking your mouth gently.

You moan, the vibrations teasing him, making him grow harder in your mouth. He tastes so good, and you wish your hands were free to explore. Suddenly, he pulls away, leaving you wanting more. "On your back, legs spread."

You do as you're told, your heart pounding with anticipation. He secures one end of the handcuffs to the headboard, leaving your arms raised above your head, your body splayed out like a sacrifice.

"That's it, baby," he says, his eyes drinking in the sight of you spread before him. "So fucking gorgeous."

Then, he's at your feet, his hot breath tickling your sensitive skin as he places soft kisses along your arches, slowly working his way up your body.

You squirm, feeling his stubble tickle your skin as he works his way up your calves, along the sensitive skin of the back of your knees, and then to the soft, tender flesh of your inner thighs. "Please, Daddy, touch me," you beg, your need for him all-consuming.

"Soon, baby, soon," he teases, placing soft kisses on your outer pussy lips, his breath hot against your swollen clit.

"Oh, God!" you cry out as he teases you with soft licks and kisses, his tongue flicking against your bud, sending shocks of pleasure through your body.

Then, he dives in, his tongue pushing inside your wetness as his fingers work their magic on your clit, circling, teasing, and driving you wild.

"Cum for me, baby," he growls, his voice thick with desire.

And you do, your whole body shaking as you climax, your juices flowing freely as your restrained arms pull at the cuffs, adding a delicious sting to the overwhelming pleasure.

Hugh laps at your sweetness, growling in satisfaction as he devours your cries and moans.

"Such a good girl," he breathes, his voice barely audible as he pulls away from your cunt. "But Daddy's not done with you yet."

He leans up unlocking the cuffs from the headboard. He softly pulls you up, turning you around so that your ass is pressed up against him. He gently takes each of your wrists safely cuffing them behind your back. You can feel his hardness against your entrance, the heat of his body searing through you.

"Get flat for me," he orders, his tone leaving no room for disobedience. You obey, your legs trembling as you lean your chest down flat on the mattress. He lines his cock up with your entrance, the head pressing against your tight hole. You bite your lip, trying to hold back a moan as he starts to push inside.

"Relax for Daddy," he murmurs, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Let me in, baby."

You take a deep breath, willing your muscles to loosen as he slides deeper, inch by inch until he's fully buried inside you. Your walls stretch around him, clinging to his thickness as he holds still, savoring the feeling of being inside you.

"Perfect," he groans, his voice rough with satisfaction. "Such a tight little cunt."

He begins to move, slow and steady, pulling almost out before thrusting back in. The rhythm is maddening, each stroke hitting your sweet spot, driving you wild with need. You can feel yourself building towards another orgasm, your body straining against the cuffs as you try to move with him.

"Beg for it," he demands, his thrusts growing more forceful. "Beg Daddy for more."

"Please," you gasp, your voice hoarse with desperation. "Please, Daddy, more... I need more."

"Good girl," he praises, his thrusts speeding up, pounding into you with relentless intensity. "Daddy's gonna make you cum again."

Your body tightens around him, your orgasm barreling toward you like a freight train. He reaches around, his fingers finding your clit once more, rubbing it with bruising force as he fucks you harder.

"Come on, baby," he snarls, his voice breaking with lust. "Cum for Daddy." The words send you spinning over the edge, your body shuddering as wave after wave of ecstasy washes over you. He follows you over, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he spills inside you, his cock pulsing with each spurt of release.

As you both come down from the high, he pulls out, his softening cock slipping free with a wet pop. He turns you back around, kissing you roughly, his tongue invading your mouth as he takes possession of you once more. Hugh owned you, and you could fucking care less.

[bloodlinesgirly]

wip- roman reigns

“i’m not dealing with this right now” you roll your eyes, the scoff you let out just fueling him even more.

“yeah keep that shit up.” he steps were heavy as he paced the room. “ion know if you think you’re slick, but you’re not.” the pacing stopped and he scratched at his beard like he always did when he was mad.

“you won’t even tell me what i did roman.”

“you know damn well what you did. posted up like that on socials thinkin’ i wouldn’t see it” you groan as you think back on what he’s talking about. A picture he took of you on your trip last month. the floral pattern of the dress hugged your curves and dragged in the sand at your feet. the slit up to your hip was displayed as you posed. “that’s really what you’re all fucked up about? a picture?”

“did you really think it wouldn’t bother me?” his laugh was bitter. he took a few steps closer to you, frustration radiating off of him.

“considering you prance around half naked on live tv every week, no i didn’t think a dress would bother you.” roman wasn’t the type to be insecure, he knew you were his and how you dressed/what you posted wasn’t his concern. it’s seeing the way people talked that had him pent up.

“it ain’t the dress.” he ran his hand over his face. “you knew what them comments would look like before you even posted it.”

It took almost an hour to get it out of him, for him to tell you he saw a comment he didn’t like and instead of saying something he just let it make him angry.

“m’sorry baby, i should’ve just said something.” roman’s tongue lapped at your neck, trailing down your chest. His hands squeezed at your waist, ass, thighs, and pretty much everywhere else he could get them. he lives for how perfectly you fit against him, like you were made for him to touch.

“was that so hard?” you sigh, your fingers twirl in his hair as you savor his touch. Roman didn’t like to apologize, he never has. a quiet moan leaves your lips when he reaches your breast. quickly he pulls the cup of your bra down, swirling his tongue around your nipple.

“yeah, but it ain’t your fault you're pretty.” he placed a kiss on your cheek before moving to your lips. the kiss was messy, one hand making its way to your throat and applying a little pressure. his tongue invaded your mouth, clashing with your own. there was something pornagraphic about the way his saliva dripped down your chin and the string of it that connected your lips when he pulled away. his eyes burnt into your skin, lighting a fire in the path of his gaze. “go lay down for me, let me apologize the right way.” his eyes flickered towards the couch. without another word, you did what you were told. your thighs clenched together, looking for relief from the dull throb between them. Roman’s shirt was discarded as he stepped towards you. his abs flexed with each movement, you could feel the heat pooling in your belly from just the sight of him. He leaned down to place another sloppy kiss to your lips before dropping to his knees in front of you.

his fingers delicately find their place in the waist of your pants sending shivers through you. you lift your hips to help him get them down to your ankles. “spread those legs for me baby.” roman’s head dipped down to your waist, placing open mouth kisses to your lower belly. The wet spot on your panties was on full display as he ran his thumb over your clit. he wrapped his hand around your ankle, lifting it off the floor, leaving you spread open in front of him. “roman please” your hips stutter against his thumb, causing the pressure to increase. “please what mama?” he smirked against your inner thigh.

[seongsgirl]

AUTHORS NOTE ; this is a repost from my old tumblr account (chrisbahng-old). please let me know what you think and i will hopefully be making new content soon!

warnings; smut [unprotected sex, breeding, impregnation, reader is called pup,] fluff

[2:51am]

The air was chilly as it wound its way into the room from the open window above the bed, not that you or chris minded, you were too busy wrapped up in the sheets to even pay it much mind.

your head is resting on chris’s chest, a hand tracing patterns into his skin. chris has an arm wrapped around your frame, holding you as close as he can. his other hand is holding your thigh as it wraps around his legs, trapping him in.

you both are bare of clothes, having just gotten out from the bath and not really feeling like putting much of anything on as the tiredness settled in. the white sheets are covering both your bodies, should anyone come and interrupt such a peaceful moment between the two of you. no one speaks for a while, just a little sigh here and there and hums of approval when you lightly trace over the right spot on chris’s chest.

it’s chris who speaks first. “baby,” he begins, and you look up at him through your eyelashes.

“hmm…” you hum.

“i love you.” he whispers, burying his head into your hair. you had been dating chris for several months now, but neither of you had spoken those three words yet.

you let out a sigh in content, knowing what you felt towards him was reciprocated. “i love you, too.” you replied with no hesitation.

Chris leaned down and pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss. you brought your hand that was on his chest up to his jaw and ran your thumb across his cheek. Chris sighed at the touch, melting into your hand. You press a kiss to his plump lips again, applying just the tiniest bit more pressure. Chris sensed this almost immediately and kissed you back with even more intensity.

His hand that rested on your thigh found its way higher and higher up your leg, stopping at your hips, and then back down your thigh. You whined at the touch, pulling away from chris to watch his veiny hand travel up your body. “Shh…” he pressed his lips to yours again. “Gonna make you feel good tonight, yeah? Tonight is all about you, princess.” chris cooed.

You nodded in approval as you switched places with chris, so he was on top of you, sitting on your thighs, and your bare back lay on the silky sheets. You watched as chris eyed you up and down, biting the inside of his cheek. “You’re so beautiful.” he said softly, bringing his hands down to grab your breasts. You blush at the compliment and his touch. Chris could compliment you a million and one times and you would blush at every single one of them. “So beautiful.”

“Chris, stop,” you whined, arching into his touch and chris laughed.

“You tell me to stop, yet your body is telling me otherwise.” he gives a gentle squeeze to your breasts before leaning down to connect his lips to yours again. You felt the tip of his cock prod at your cunt, making you ache for him.

You whimper into the kiss, letting chris know what you want. You break away slightly, your lips ghosting over his. “Please,” you breathlessly say. “Please make love to me.”

Chris sighs against your lips, giving your breasts another squeeze, before he takes your nipples in hand and rolls them between his fingers, “Anything for you, my love.”

Chris lets go of your nipples and sits back up on your thighs. You watch as he stares at your body again, his cock growing to full hardness. He reaches over to the bedside table, and opens the drawer, pulling out a foil packet. “No,” you whine. “Want you to cum in me.”

Chris raises an eyebrow at your comment, “are you sure?” and you nod rather aggressively. Chris smiles fondly down at you, storing the condom away for another time. He brings his attention back to you, every single ounce of it. “Is my little pup ready for me?” he asks before bringing his hand down to your aching pussy. He traces two fingers up your slit, collecting your juices, and brings his hand up to his mouth. He licks at his fingers before using his spit to pump himself. “My puppy, you’re leaking,” he whispers as if someone could hear the two of you, though it’s damn near impossible as you share an apartment together, just the two of you.

You whine at his words and reach up for chris, wanting to feel his body on yours. He smiles softly and brings himself down on you softly, knowing what you want. He always had that power, to know what you want when your words fail you.

“It’s all for you, chris.” you whimper and kiss his shoulder. “Every drop of it.”

Chris hums in approval before taking a hand and guiding it up and down your leaking cunt and pushes the tip of his cock into you.

you gasp at the feeling. No matter how many times you two have sex, it’ll always catch you by surprise when he finally enters you. He’s so big, much bigger than you always anticipate. “fuck, pup,” he groans as he fills you up fully. “You’re so tight. So tight for me, yeah?”

You nod in response, scared of what might come out if you dare speak. You unintentionally clench around him and chris lets out a grunt. “You’re gonna make it hard not to fuck you. I wanna grant you your wish. I want to make love to you, but shit, puppy, you make it so hard.”

You giggle at his words, knowing that he’s telling the truth. “I’m not doing anything,” you reply, taking your hands and grab his shoulders, gripping into his soft skin rather violently as he thrusts himself in and out of you. You know there will be little crescent moons in his skin in just moments, but you don’t really care at the moment, and neither does chris.

Chris tsks at you, stuffing you full again. You close your eyes in bliss at the feeling and grab harder at his shoulders. Chris buries his head in the crook of your neck, slowly pulling himself out to the tip. “You feel so good. I can’t believe you’re all mine.”

You feel your face grow warm at his words and you wish you could cover your face with your hands, but they're too preoccupied gripping onto your boyfriend’s shoulders. So you opt to bury your face in his chest.

You’re a tangled mess of limbs and soft whines and whimpers. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, along with the sound of a train passing by in the distance.

You feel a knot growing tighter and tighter in your stomach and you know you’re close. “Chris, baby, i’m close.” you murmur into his skin and chris gently pushes his cock back into you for the nth time that night.

“Let go, princess, i got you.” chris coos, bringing his head up from your neck to watch as you come undone beneath him.

Your body listens immediately to his command and the knot in your stomach snaps. Your orgasm rushes through your entire body and you’re seeing stars.

Chris knows he’s not far behind you, and just a simple look at your bodies connecting brings him to the edge. “Fuck, princess, im gonna cum. Where do you want me?” he knows what you’re going to say, and you know it too. You know he just wants to hear you say it.

“In me, please.” you whisper, still riding out your orgasm.

“Want me to make you a mommy? Hmm? Want me to fill you full of my pups? Is that what you want?” he groans.

You nod frivolously, wanting nothing more than to be filled with chris.

All it takes is one or two more thrusts and chris is coming undone inside you, you feel the warmth of his cum painting the inside of your walls white. “I love you.” chris whispers, bringing his lips down to yours. He falls stagnant inside you, making sure not a single drop is wasted.

Chris pulls away from your lips and sighs. “You look so beautiful like this. All full of my pups, drunk on my cock.”

You smile softly and close your eyes, relishing in the feeling of chris warm seed inside you.

“I love you, too.” you reply, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him in for another kiss, knowing it would be far from the last of the night.

[vergiltopia]

Some of my Vergil NSFW headcanons

things i think he would like doing woohoo and other +18 stuff.

⋆ ･˳ . ⋆  ⭒ ✿ ⭒ ⋆･. ˳ . ⋆

★ Vergil isn't so experienced as it seems, if you think about it, he only had sex once or maybe twice, but he haves a sort of natural talent to learn things fast.

★ Loves to cover you with kisses while his hands squeeze and explore all the soft spots in you.

★ Vergil is a man that knows what he wants, going for it with determination to take his partner, he's got game, strong hands grabbing you firmly, tracing patterns along your skin to mark you as his together with deep slow kisses that takes your breath away, lefting no room for objection.

★ Teases a lot by rubbing the head of his cock right on your entrance, penetrating just the tip here and there to pull it off again and see you squirm underneath him. Vergil is patient, and to see his partner begging and rolling the eyes with so little drives him crazy. "You want it so badly, hmm, little one?”

Ps: of course he won't force you to do something if you really don't want to, he's respectful above all.

★ Often his dirty talk is whispered and you probably won't see his face while talking since it'll be buried on your neck or between the legs.

★ Isn't too loud (unless when close to finish that his voice gets more loud and urgent), but moans and grunts a lot, husky and gutural mixed with heavy pants and gasps.

(bro did you ever see this man in battle and how much he growls? you really think he won't have any clear reactions?)

★ Sex is an important connection you share with your partner, it's not just about the lust, Vergil loves positions where he can exchange glances, doesn't like positions that you're too far from him, he needs to look and touch his mate.

★ Challenges to take him deeper into your mouth with a confidant taunt, chuckling amused till you almost engulfs him entirely, what causes the blue one to tremble and gasp. “Do you think you can swallow me whole, darling?” 

★ As much as he likes to dominate, he likes to be dominated, loves it when someone tries to tame him because of the thrill of a challenge, Vergil will be pleased to be at your mercy while ordering him around (finds it amusing, yet arousing) but doesn't like things such as humiliation and degradation, this also applies when the roles run with him dominating the partner, Vergil doesn't want to go too extreme and maybe end up bringing back some painful memories, love is new for him but not suffering.

★ All the process of lovemaking is important, he'll take his time to the begging of the foreplay till the aftercare, having sex with him is something that takes hours (and doesn't happen so often).

★ Speaking of aftercare, his favorites are a warm bath in the tub together and cuddling under the duvets with your bodies still naked and pressed against each other, Vergil discovered this is precious to him after he got older, probably didn't care about this when was younger.

★ He eats you out by holding your thighs to your chest, burying his face between the legs and savouring it with hungry long licks and sucks, nuzzling his face into it and growling pleased to feel you coating him from nose to chin, intoxicating all of his senses, the taste of your body, the soft delicate flesh on his hands, your natural scent, the sight of his lover completely helpless while melting on his mouth while whimpering his name fills Vergil with satisfaction.

★ Loves to receive sensual lap dances as a foreplay, the room should be almost dark with music playing in the background, placing his arms over the back of the couch while watching you sway over the tight bulge inside his leather pants, but eventually will grab your hips with need and join in the grinding. “You needy little thing, hmmmph...”

★ Haves a "horny cycle" from time to time, Vergil never really tells you when it's happening, but you learned to identify it by his increasing body temperature, unwanted erections, and the sticky  behavior because needs attention and doesn't want to ask for it (feels ashamed to follow you around like a lost kitten, it's kind of cute and you know it's not his fault). When finally gives in to his needs, he'll use the devil trigger to breed you since it's a demon thing, also, the chances of pregnancy always increase with the DT.

★ Likes to do some cock warming while reading late at night, the feeling of being wrapped and close to each other just to relax a bit goes well with a good book. “I'm sorry darling, it wasn't my intention to move.”

★ Loves to knead on your breasts or any other soft spots while spooning, mostly, Vergil doesn't do this with sexual intentions, but because he enjoys to be this intimate when comfy enough, it also helps to relieve the stress.

★ Pins your hands on top of your head when doing the missionary position.

(i like to imagine this together with my other headcanon about how Vergil is a good listener and enjoys to hear the others talking about something they like or about their day.)

★ Bratty behavior can turn him on very easily, Vergil likes it when his mate tries to defiance him.

[haggishlyhagging]

The more women are paid, the less eager they are to marry. A 1982 study of three thousand singles found that women earning high incomes are almost twice as likely to want to remain unwed as women earning low incomes. "What is going to happen to marriage and childbearing in a society where women really have equality?" Princeton demographer Charles Westoff wondered in the Wall Street Journal in 1986. "The more economically independent women are, the less attractive marriage becomes."

Men in the '80s, on the other hand, were a little more anxious to marry than the press accounts let on. Single men far outnumbered women in dating services, matchmaking clubs, and the personals columns, all of which enjoyed explosive growth in the decade. In the mid-80s, video dating services were complaining of a three-to-one male-to-female sex ratio in their membership rolls. In fact, it had become common practice for dating services to admit single women at heavily reduced rates, even free memberships, in hopes of remedying the imbalance.

Personal ads were similarly lopsided. In an analysis of 1,200 ads in 1988, sociologist Theresa Montini found that most were placed by thirty-five-year-old heterosexual men and the vast majority "wanted a long-term relationship." Dating service directors reported that the majority of men they counseled were seeking spouses, not dates. When Great Expectations, the nation's largest dating service, surveyed its members in 1988, it found that 93 percent of the men wanted, within one year, to have either "a commitment with one person" or marriage. Only 7 percent of the men said they were seeking "lots of dates with different people." Asked to describe "what concerns you the day after you had sex with a new partner," only 9 percent of the men checked "Was I good?" while 42 percent said they were wondering whether it could lead to a "committed relationship."

These men had good cause to pursue nuptials; if there's one pattern that psychological studies have established, it's that the institution of marriage has an overwhelmingly salutary effect on men's mental health. "Being married," the prominent government demographer Paul Glick once estimated, "is about twice as advantageous to men as to women in terms of continued survival." Or, as family sociologist Jessie Bernard wrote in 1972:

“There are few findings more consistent, less equivocal, [and] more convincing, than the sometimes spectacular and always impressive superiority on almost every index—demographic, psychological, or social—of married over never-married men. Despite all the jokes about marriage in which men indulge, all the complaints they lodge against it, it is one of the greatest boons of their sex.”

Bernard's observation still applies. As Ronald C. Kessler, who tracks changes in men's mental health at the University of Michigan's Institute for Social Research, says: "All this business about how hard it is to be a single woman doesn't make much sense when you look at what's really going on. It's single men who have the worst of it. When men marry, their mental health massively increases."

The mental health data, chronicled in dozens of studies that have looked at marital differences in the last forty years, are consistent and overwhelming: The suicide rate of single men is twice as high as that of married men. Single men suffer from nearly twice as many severe neurotic symptoms and are far more susceptible to nervous breakdowns, depression, even nightmares. And despite the all-American image of the carefree single cowboy, in reality bachelors are far more likely to be morose, passive, and phobic than married men.

When contrasted with single women, unwed men fared no better in mental health studies. Single men suffer from twice as many mental health impairments as single women; they are more depressed, more passive, more likely to experience nervous breakdowns and all the designated symptoms of psychological distress—from fainting to insomnia. In one study, one third of the single men scored high for severe neurotic symptoms; only 4 percent of the single women did.

-Susan Faludi, Backlash: the Undeclared War Against American Women

[klausysworld]

Klaus being in a rut which bothers him what if he gets too harsh with Y/N but she is all ready for him and convinces him to use her as he pleases

Thank you😊

I Trust You

Klaus had been spending half his time avoiding me and the other half clinging to me. Since unlocking his werewolf side he’d been struggling from time to time, we’d discovered that he has pattern of falling into a rut, kind of like going into heat. It makes him more aggressive, possessive and drives his desire.

Each time he’s been in this state he has refused to let me help him, wont let me touch him, wont touch me and avoids basically the entire female population because he fears that his mind would cloud over and he’d cheat on me. He’s a very dramatic person.

He started showing signs of his rut at the end of last week, scenting me, keeping us both inside, then i found him getting himself off and i knew he was falling into it. He’s been pushing me away the last couple days, urging me to leave him be, i woke up and he was on the couch while panting in his sleep

So today i decided i’d trap him. I dressed up in a new lingerie set, all white with a black silk robe loosely wrapped around me. I had the lights dimmed, candles lit around the room, blankets piled around the bed almost nest like and positioned myself in the centre, on my knees with my thighs spread so he could see my lace panties. My hair was in a low bun with a few strands out at the front and a white ribbon in my hair.

I quietly put my hands in my underwear to get myself off before he would arrive, if he could smell me he’d be more persuaded to let me help. I applied a little more pressure to my clit softly grunting and grinding against myself. I heard a door close from downstairs and quickly pulled my hand out, i wiped my fingers and made sure everything was how i wanted it to be.

I could feel my heart pattering away, oh god what if he ran away? Silently praying that he would take this well i rolled my shoulders back and opened the robe letting it fall to my elbows

The door handle turned and Klaus walked in, his gaze immediately on mine, eyes wide, nostrils flaring and lips parted. Be took very hesitant steps forward and then backwards again

“my love… we can’t be doing this today” he uttered, his eyes travelling down my body with a growing hunger within them

“please Nik, i want you to, i need you to fuck me, i need you to use me for your rut” his chest rose and fell faster as he slowly closed the door behind him

“i could hurt you” he muttered while reluctantly climbing onto the bed so he was sat on his knees infront of mine.

“i wouldn’t mind” i whispered while taking his hand and putting it on my breast which he squeezed instantly with a groan

“i won’t be able to stop myself if you change your mind” his voice was low, eyes impossibly dark

“i trust you” i told him while guiding his hand to slide down to between my legs, he pressed against my clit through my panties and sucked in a breath

“i had to touch myself because you wouldn’t do it for me, please i need you to do something to me, please fuck me Klaus, breed me, use me, whatever you want to do, i’ll take whatever you give me and i’ll give back whatever you want” his head lulled forward and dropped to the space between my shoulder and neck, his heavy breaths hot against my skin. I reach up and ran a hand through his hair urging him to do what he desired. He grunted as i ran my other hand down his chest between us. When i brushed down his abs until i harshly gripped his crotch through his jeans making his gasp into my neck

“bite me Klaus, i know you want to, i want you to, please do it” i all but moaned while palming him firmly. His open mouth pressed against me, two sharp teeth slowly sinking into me, we both moaned out as he fed from me. I quickly i undid his pants urging him to kick them off his legs and pulling him on top of me as laid back.

“touch me” i whispered and this time he didn’t struggle, his hands immediately gripping my breasts tightly, almost painfully. I arched into him further as he pulled away from my neck with a gasp, his eyes shining a bright golden, purple veins beneath his eyes as he hummed a growl. I looked up at him with doe eyes while he dragged his colossal hands up and down my body. He split my bra in two and tossed it away, i tugged at his top making him throw it off and quickly rip the remaining underwear from my body, i went to push the robe off but his grip on my wrists stopped me

“no no we keep this on” he muttered pulling it up over my shoulders

“okay” i whispered while he brought my hands up over my head. His other hand continued to stroke my skin from my inner thighs up to my neck and then back down over and over, his eyes flickering between gold and blue

“Nik…just let go” i nodded to him and he frowned a little digging his nails into my wrist as he inwardly battled with his own subconscious

“Klaus, let go, just let it happen” i encourage wrapping my legs around his waist to pull his hips to mine, his covered cock pressing against my bare pussy. He growled softly as his eyes now remained a solid gold. The sound of fabric tearing was heard before he then tossed his boxers, i arched my back as his dick now sat at my entrance. His hand applied pressure to my wrists once again before letting go.

I made sure my legs were as wide open as they could be as he pushed his tip inside of me. It only took one harsh thrust for him to fill me completely, my arms flew forward to grab his shoulders while i moaned loudly, his pace was immediately brutal, fast and harsh forcing my walls to tense and clamp around him. Klaus was always rather gentle in bed, he was always afraid to harm me, this was an entirely different experience.

My eyes were screwed shut as i tried to contain the endless amount of moans i was creating, Klaus grabbed a wrist in each hand and held them by my head, pressing me down into the mattress. All i could hear was down right pornographic sounds of our bodies moving together, his guttural groans and my own pleasure filled sounds.

I could feel every vein in his thick cock pressed into my velvety walls while i squeezed tightly around him

“oh- mygod!” i chocked, i could feel him at my cervix and i could hear the bed frame smacking into the wall behind us. I forced my eyes open to see an almost feral looking Klaus, his hair was already damp, a thin layer of sweat causing him to look as though he were glowing. His animalistic eyes found mine as he panted heavily, a softness overcame his eyes for a moment, his pace faltering before he began fucking harder, rougher. My wrists were beginning to bruise, i could feel it and i knew how upset he would be later if he hurt me

“K-Klaus let go” i muttered through my sharp intakes of breath, he did so almost instantly and instead gripping the blankets beside me, i brought my hands up to his face, stroking the apples of his cheeks lightly, watching the veins dance across them while he groaned loudly. Despite his animalistic behaviour i couldn’t help but feel more in love with him, seeing all sides of him made me feel closer to him emotionally.

Within my lower abdomen that familiar tension began to build. My eyes shut again and my hands pulled at his hair as i cried out a moan, i could feel him spilling his release inside me with a deep drawn out moan. I don’t think Klaus has ever cum before i have until today, his movements didn’t slow like they usually did after he finished, he just continued to fuck as quick and as hard as his body would physically allow. I could feel my first orgasm quickly approaching as the entire bed shook with force and he groaned loudly. I chanted his name in a raspy whisper while my walls closed around him, his tip was hitting against my spot so fast it was as though he was rubbing it, i moaned out for him while i let go of the tension and clamped around him tightly

“you’re doing really well” he uttered so quietly i felt as though i imagined it as i fluttered my eyes open to see him still panting heavily as his hips bucked repeatedly. I squeezed his waist with my legs making him grunt. He soon grabbed my left knee lifting it up and over his shoulder

“hold onto my arms” he muttered as i felt my body jolting along with his thrusts. I nodded as i quickly moved to grab his biceps. I dug my nails into his skin slightly so that i could attempt to stabilise myself, i gripped tightly as he kept up his bruising pace. My brows furrowed together and i whimpered quietly as his tip kept going for that spot within me. I heard him make a snarl like sound as his teeth grazed my throat, the opposite side to last time. He wasn’t as gentle as they sunk in this time, he drank with much more need, and the overwhelming combination of both his teeth and cock inside me had me letting go around him again. He was quick to release after me as he pulled his head away from my neck and groaning, he came so much i felt it coming down my thigh. I glanced to his upper arms where i noticed my nails had drawn blood making me pull away from him while he slowed down.

His eyes were still flickering between colours as he licked the blood from his lips and pulled out from my convulsing hole. He moved back putting my leg back down, he left a trail of kisses down from my knee to my ankle. I watched him quietly as his face neared my core. His tongue greedily lapped at my thighs, my throat felt dry from the continued flow of noise i had given. When his lips enveloped my clit all i could do was gasp, my body lurched forward making me whine at the ache from where he was now missing.

My body collapsed back to lay flat as he now let his wolf out to play once again. His tongue inside me, mouth moving harshly, clit toyed with, g-spot curled into. Despite not pounding into me he was still able to bring me to my peak impossibly fast. I felt his hands on my thighs, two finger tapped above my clit before sliding done and into my entrance, they slipped in and out repeatedly while his eager mouth still worshipped at my button. He panted through his actions, his hot breath only adding to the sensations. I didn’t bother trying to prolong the orgasm, choosing to just let it wash over me with a throaty moan. He seemed to be stuffing any remains of our pleasure back inside me as his fingers moved from my inner thighs to my cunt.

“gonna have you full of my babies love, all mine, gonna have you all night” he muttered over and over in various ways. He made his way back up my body with kisses peppered up my body

“Nik?” i questioned cautiously watching as the animal was put away for a moment, my soft loving Nik back in control

“do you need me to stop?” he asked with a light kiss to my lips

“a drink, i just need to drink” i rasped and he nodded. Thankfully i had predicted this and already had water bottles waiting on the bedside table. He hurriedly brought the water to my lips and helped my sit to pour it down mu throat, i gently pushed him away when i was finished and he checked me over

“okay, i’m ready, i can do it” i nodded kissing his lips in encouragement

“are you certain?” he asked quietly

“i want you to do this, and look..you stopped, you gave me a minute, you can do it, i trust you so much” he nodded slowly and kissed my cheek

“i love you and i will never hurt you” he whispered while positioning himself over me again

“i love you too”

and with that, the night continued.

[iliketangerines]

make-up sex

a/n: this was a lot fluffier than i expected, but yk what, i'm not complaining. consider this a part 2 to angry sex @neteyamsoare @inlovewithpandora

pairing: tsu'tey x afab!omatikaya!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), porn with FEELINGS, cowgirl, mentions of almost dying

you were right, of course you were right, the tawtutes were dangerous and deadly, crushing everything in their path with no mercy or remorse

and it had only taken you being shot with one of their guns too close to your heart to make Tsu’tey realize that as he holds your hand in the tsahik’s tent

you had gone into the forest to gather herbs, staying well within the lines of the Omatikaya territory, and still, those tawtutes had trespassed and shot you because they had thought you were a threat

Tsu’tey takes in a breath to calm himself, and he holds onto your hand, praying to Eywa that you survive and that he swears that he would make it up to you

your eyes blink open, a sort of haze still hovering over your vision, and you weakly call out his name, your hand lightly squeezing his

he brings your hand up to his face and kisses the palm, thanking Eywa for keeping you alive, and he tries to keep the tears at bay as you smile up at him

bringing a bowl of herbs for you to drink to ease the pain, you grimace at the taste and smell, ears pinning back, but you drink it dutifully and wait for the medicine to start working

you smile up at him and say that you can take a hit and that you’re fine, but Tsu’tey shakes his head and brings the back of your hand to his lips, kissing each of your fingers

he can’t help it as tears slip by his cheeks, thinking he had lost you when Neytiri had carried you into Hometree, blood everywhere and dripping onto the floors and staining your skin so deeply that he thought it would never wash off

it’s a sight he can never erase from his mind, and he whispers to you that he swears that he will never defy your orders again

there’s a weak smile on your face as you tell him if you think that’s best, and you let exhaustion take you back into sleep’s arms

the next few few weeks, he tends to your wounds every day, making sure to not skip a single step: changing the dressing, wiping off the medicine, applying a fresh salve, repeat

Tsu’tey can’t help but worry and worry and worry everytime you even wince or have a bit of trouble breathing or even bend over in pain

but you heal, slowly and surely, hobbling around Hometree and teaching the children about the different herbs and plants in the surrounding forest that they can use in case of an emergency

and since that day, he hasn’t touched you more than he has to, afraid you might break or that he might make your injury worse or that he might accidentally hurt you

even when you have fully healed, and you flirt and purr and cuddle in close, he only pets your hair and kisses your forehead and resumes his task or goes to sleep

he knows it isn’t fair to you, that you’re fully healed, but still, a nagging fear echoes in his head everytime he goes hunting and he hears the tawtutes in the distance destroying

right now, Tsu’tey sits in his kelku, fashioning new arrows for his bow, carving the intricate patterns into the bow and wrapping the arrows carefully in the vines when he hears your soft footsteps pad into the living space

you wrap your arms around his neck, and he stops what he’s doing and turns his head to the side to kiss your cheek, making you let out a small giggle

putting down the supplies, he turns around to kiss you properly, melting slightly into your touch as your hands gently cup his face

but soon enough, you grow restless, hands trailing lower and lower to fiddle with his tewng, and he regretfully parts, saying that he must go and sleep for an early hunt tomorrow

you roll your eyes and bring your hands up to hold onto his shoulders, telling him to stop treating you like you are a fragile flower, you have healed, you have survived

his hands can’t help but come up and trace the scar the bullet had left, and he shakes his head at you, saying that he cannot risk hurting you

your hands come up to hold his, and you say that you are fully healed, that you trust him not to hurt you unless you wanted to, that you will not break in his hands, please

he presses his lips together, still unsure, and you sigh, saying to let you have the lead this time, to show him that you are truly okay

with a hesitant nod, you smile and guide his hands to rest on your waist, and you place your hands on his shoulders once more and kiss him

it’s gentle, slow, nothing rushed in your movements, and Tsu’tey hums into your mouth, gently squeezing at your sides and drawing small little breathy moans out of you

you pull your head away and lightly push at his shoulders for him to lay down, and he does so, waiting with bated breath to see what you do as you straddle his hips

your quick fingers untie both his tewng and yours, and you stand up on your knees to pull them off you and pat at his side for him to lift up his hips so you can pull down his tewng

he does so easily, hands holding onto the ground, and his eyes can’t help but trace your body on top of his as you sit back down on him, grinding yourself on his hardening cock

the room fills with your soft sighs and Tsu’tey’s strained groans as your clit grinds and catches against the head of his cock, and he can feel your slick start to drip and wet his cock

it’s an addicting feeling, and Tsu’tey gasps as you roll your hips just a little harder into him, his hands flying up to grab onto your waist to ground himself

you smile down at him and smile at him, continuing to grind down on him, adoration in your eyes for the na’vi below you

a great warrior, a better mate, and you bring your kuru out from behind you and hold it out towards him

he knows immediately what you want, and he brings his own kuru out with one shaky hand and sucks in a breath as he makes tsaheylu with you

your love, your admiration, everything about you floods his senses, and he groans, blinking up at you with blown pupils

great mother, he loves you so much, he sees you, and he will forever be grateful that you had noticed him and showed him how to be gentle

you let out a soft whimper, growing impatient and lifting your hips off of him, and you line yourself up with him, ready to sink down on him

there’s resistance, but you push through the slight pain, biting your lip as the stretch only heightens the pleasure, and press your hips flush to his

he grips onto your hips, breath quickening as you bite your lip at the feeling of being so full of him, and you moan as his hands involuntarily squeeze at your waist, nails digging into the sensitive skin

you grind slowly against him, pleasure growing inside of you like a flower blooming, slow and beautiful and intricate

no rush abides your movements as you gasp and moan and ride him, staring down at him and flooding your feelings with your love for him

Tsu’tey can feel it through the bond, and he can’t help as a few tears well up in his eyes at how overwhelming you love him

he loves you so much, he loves you so much that he can’t even express it in words, and he hopes you can feel how much he loves you through the bond

slowly, you lean down, continuously grinding down him and reaching your peak, and you press your lips to him gently, gasping and whining into his mouth

it’s nothing spectacular when you both cum, soft moans and sighs into each other’s mouth as it slowly rolls over the both of you, wrapping the both of you in a softness he could only ever muster for you

but he would trade everything for the softness of you, beautiful and gentle, and he murmurs into your mouth that he sees you, he sees you

you smile and say that you know, kissing him again underneath the starlit skies

[literaryvein-reblogs]

More Art-Related Vocabulary

Abstract Expressionist: An artistic movement of the mid-20th century emphasizing an artist’s freedom to express attitudes and emotions, usually through nonrealistic means.

Age of Exploration (also, Age of Discovery): From the early 15th century to the early 17th century, European ships traveled around the world in search of new trading routes, lands, and partners to supply an ever-growing European market.

Albumen silver print: A photograph made using a process that was prevalent until the 1890s. The paper is coated with albumen (egg whites), and the image is created using a solution of silver salts.

Brayer: A hand roller used for applying ink to relief printing blocks or occasionally for the direct application of paint or ink to a surface.

Caricature: A representation in either literature or visual art that includes a ridiculous distortion or exaggeration of body parts or physical characteristics to create a comic or gross imitation.

Ceramics: Vessels of clay made by using a variety of shaping techniques and then hardening or firing the clay with heat at a high temperature.

Chasing: A term encompassing two processes in metalworking: (a) modeling decorative patterns on a hand-shaped sheet-metal surface using punches applied to the front, and (b) finishing and refining a cast sculpture.

Classical: Describes a prime example of quality or “ideal” beauty. It often refers to the culture, art, literature, or ideals of the ancient Greek or Roman world, especially that of Greece in the 4th and 5th centuries B.C.

Collage: An art form and technique in which pre-existing materials or objects are arranged and attached as part of a two-dimensional surface.

Color palette: (a) A set of colors that makes up an image or animation, and (b) the group of colors available to be used to create an image.

Composition: The process of arranging artistic elements into specific relationships to create an art object.

Daguerreotype: An early method of photography produced on a silver plate or a silver-covered copper plate made sensitive to light.

Exoticism: Fascination with and exploration and representation of unfamiliar cultures and customs through the lens of a European way of thinking, especially in the 19th century.

Expressionism: A style of art inspired by an artist’s subjective feelings rather than objective or realistic depictions based on observation. Expressionism as a movement is mainly associated with early 20th century German artists interested in exploring the spiritual and emotional aspects of human existence.

Gelatin silver print: A photograph made through a chemical process in which a negative is printed on a surface coated with an emulsion of gelatin (an animal protein) containing light-sensitive silver salts.

Illuminated manuscript: Comes from the Latin words illuminare (to throw light upon, lighten, or brighten), manus (hand), and scriptus from the verb scribere (to write). A handwritten book, usually made from specially prepared animal skins, in which richly colored and sometimes gilded decorations, such as borders and illustrations, accompany the text.

Illuminator: A craftsman or artist who specializes in the art of painting and adorning manuscripts with decorations.

Impressionist: Referring to the style or theories of Impressionism, a theory or practice in painting in which objects are depicted by applying dabs or strokes of primary unmixed colors in order to evoke reflected light. Impressionism was developed by French painters in the late 19th century.

Inking plate: A flat surface used for rolling ink out in preparation for applying ink to a plate or block.

Inscription: A historical, religious, or other kind of record that is cut, impressed, painted, or written on stone, brick, metal, or other hard surface.

Source Art Vocabulary pt. 1

More: Word Lists

[poisonf0rest]

𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐬

art by 0101xzz

You can’t stop hearing their voices.

At first, you figured the sounds were coming from the beast-infected streets or that perhaps they were mere auditory hallucinations from your fatigue- but after several days of those whispers shifting behind your temples, you realized it must be something more. Like the memories of Lawrence and like the strange dreams of the queen in the frozen, forsaken castle, these new voices feel as though they echo straight from your mind. The voices were both yours and not. 

But perhaps the word voices gave them too much credit. 

Often there are words, yes. But far more frequently they simply feel like disjointed static, like you are underwater while someone is trying to whisper in your ear. And sometimes they’re not words at all, rather strange sounds and sensations that you can’t even begin to comprehend. Not with human language, at least. 

From a chorus of moans in a frequency so low they rattle your skull to the sound of teeth dragging against ribs, tick, tick, ticking down each bone, each sound haunts you long after your mind goes silent. 

You think you might be going insane. 

You think that perhaps you have been this entire time.

So, you choose to forgo sleep yet again— you prefer not to sleep now, sleep brings the dreams and the dreams last longer each time— obsessing over the cure that is just out of reach. You are sure of it. 

Tonight you have already smoked through two rolls of crushed dreamroot, a purple haze clouding your lab, the suppressant dulling your headache while giving you enough energy to press onwards, driven mad with deliriousness and ambition. A toxic mixture, to be sure, and yet one that is unavoidable to any great scientist. Alas, just as the Church and the pursuit of the truth do not make the best of bedfellows, nor do science and sanity.

You shuffle around hundreds of blood samples– one from every patient you’ve ever treated– delicately picking two slides up so as to not mess up their dried stains: one from Vicar Amelia, one from Diluc. 

Combining the recent patterns in your readings and the evidence before you, you’ve come to an understanding of what made the Vileblood lineage immune to the Beastly Scourge: their blood. 

Slotting a new slide of blood under a microscope, you overlap it with one containing the Beastly Scourge. The immortal nature of Vileblood cells means they are able to naturally create an antibody that, unlike the typical antibodies in our human immune system, is self-rejuvenating. Suppose the Vileblood cell’s natural resilience is accepted and adopted into a human host’s immune system. In that case, the host can produce Vileblood antibodies– antibodies that can finally withstand the cancerous nature of the Beastly Scourge. 

Twisting the knob of the microscope to 400x, you begin to count the individual cells in Diluc’s blood sample, healthy red blood cells surrounded with warping black spots, large and dark purple due to the stain you applied, almost parasitic in the way they squirm and warp even outside their host body. Viruses of the Beastly Scourge, no doubt. 

This means by first conditioning cultures of Vileblood antibodies to become resistant to the Beastly Scourge, you can inject the newly evolved hybrid antigen cells into human patients, allowing their bodies to naturally replicate Vileblood cells, granting them immunity from Beasthood so long as those immortal cells continued to proliferate. 

And considering all the research you’ve done on the self-rejuvenating nature of the Vileblood cells, they should never cease to duplicate and repair themselves, even with the Beastly Scourge eating away at them. 

That’s what went wrong with the Hunter in the clinic- you failed to assimilate the Vileblood antigens with the virus, causing them to rupture and fail to regenerate in the Hunter, only prolonging the state as his body fluctuated from cursed and not. 

You need the cells to stabilize first, then you can inject the cure. 

It will work, then. It must.

But what if the host rejected the altered Vileblood antigens upon injection again? What if the Vileblood cells overtook the human ones entirely and consumed their host? If the host’s immune system simply reverted the new antigens? Then your patient would likely die and you’d be thrust back to square zero all over again, hope dashed across your clinic stairs as it bleeds out before you.

Or worse, what if the Vileblood antigens acted as catalysts for a new strain of Beasthood? 

After all, was this not the exact process the Healing Church attempted so long ago? 

Slamming your hands onto the table, the rattle of vials shriek along to your scream, “Why, why does everything have to circle back around to that damned church!” 

Through the haze of the dreamroot you glare at the journal of Laurence, The First Vicar, hoping he can feel your wrath through the pages and down to whatever hell he’s burning in now. It sits, half-buried underneath your notes, calling you to touch it again, to look back into its past. To make the same mistakes as he did. 

You don’t dare step closer. 

The Healing Church discovered that the Beastly Scourge was a bloodborne disease, some sort of mutation in the red blood cells of humans that proliferated at an unearthly accelerated rate until it killed off any and all remaining healthy cells. And miraculously, they found the cure-all with blood transfusion.

But if the Healing Church already knew this, why didn’t they question the failure rate of the blood transfusions? The purpose of blood ministrations and vials was to provide healthy blood, but where did they find such a thing? Surely human blood could not cure ailments and seal wounds. And you were the first to discover the natural antigen of Vampyr blood as a potential cure. So then what blood has the Healing Church been giving the people of Yharnam?

That accused saying comes back to you again: 

Fear the Old Blood. 

Seek the Old Blood. 

Which is it? Was this Old Blood a cure, a method of halting and reversing the mutation? Or was it the cause? Saints, it feels as though you’ve been running in circles over your own corpse. 

Fear it? 

You refocus the microscope lens. Unlike Vicar Amelia’s cells, which divided and burst even in their decaying state, Diluc’s seemed to be stabilized. You recognized the distorted inky blood cells of the Scourge among his healthy ones, and yet they only trembled in place, as if physically restrained and unable to proliferate. 

Seek it?

Perhaps this revered Old Blood contained a more potent antigen than even the Vilebloods, one that not only processed the famed healing powers that travelers from far and wide sought but also an antigen that stops the Scourge? The healing properties of this Old Blood were the reason the Church has risen to such a position of power in the first place. 

In that case, your hypothesis would be wrong, and Diluc’s natural resistance would be attributed to the rations of Old Blood given by the church, not to his Vileblood heritage. 

No. 

The Church Hunters aren’t immune to the Beastly Scourge. It was only a matter of time until they too succumbed to the disease. You’ve seen it over and over again, like they were being poisoned. Like they were addicted. 

You think back to Amelia, how she was covered in blood before she transformed into that lupine monster. She was covered in blood… as though she had doused herself in it. As though she were addicted, drunk on it. 

The Blood that heals all illness, the Blood the world thinks is holy, the Blood that is more intoxicating than even the finest of wines.

So then this Old Blood— the blood administered by the Healing Church— must be the root of the Scourge. 

The Healing Church was addicting the entirety of Yharnam on a poisoned, corrupted blood. 

They too had naively believed that this all-powerful Old Blood was the solution to all human sickness and suffering, and in reward for their arrogance, they received the curse of the Beastly Scourge. 

Could you handle the weight of setting yet another curse upon mankind, twisting fate like some sort of corrupt deity?

Could you handle the weight of becoming a god?

Your head spins, a thousand thoughts and a hundred voices, and a dozen eyes staring, all at once. They are listening. Waiting.

"Who?"

You jolt, startled by the echo of your own voice. There is no one in the lab with you. 

A wave of exhaustion hits you, but don't think you could sleep even if you tried. Instead, you look back at the microscope.

Moonlight drifts through the window and with a shift in the clouds, it douses you and the microscope in a silver fog as the air thickens with an uncanny stillness. And then, between the light and shadow, something moves. 

There, in the center of the blood sample, something unseen shifts. Squirming, it coils with unnoticeable ripples, and at first you can only see it through omission- see its outline through how it writhes and eats away at the healthy cells in the sample. 

But the moonlight flickers, like a candle blown out, and as it disappears so does the safety of sight and sanity. Emerging from the blood is a creature beyond human perception, a being that defies the laws of nature and reason, seeping into the fabric of reality itself as a mass of tentacles and unblinking eyes, hungry as they devour the remaining healthy cells. It’s eating away at the antigens, leaving dark sprouts of eyes and teeth in its wake. Cannibalizing the host, multiplying itself.

The Scourge. 

Something else is watching.

Watching you from the inside out, their voices echo louder than your own as your skull rattles and hands quake, the sample nearly alive as it squirms and writhes in the glass. 

And then, you see them.

In every sample, every vial of blood you’ve ever collected, squirms and writhes a million beings beyond description, a horror of the gods themselves. As the moonlight shifts, so do the monsters, emerging from the blood as it latches into your arm with the sting of a thousand needles, each suction-cup cavity blinking up at you as it twists further and further up your arm.

It is not a monster, you realize, nor a god.

It is a parasite.

It is the source of the disease.

And it's already in your blood. Your blood, and every other person in Yharnam, a curse marked in blood and forever hungry, forever waiting until it feeds enough to make itself seen. How, why do you see them now? Was it your contact with the Old Blood? Greed? Knowledge? 

Or perhaps it was something inevitable, something given at birth and granted during the sweet release of death. 

The parasite- the Beastly Scourge, the curse, the scourge of mankind- now looms over you, making you tremble with the silent fear only a god could grant. A fear so true it could be worship.

A flood of haunting memories sweeps over your consciousness, ancient recollections that do not belong to you as you fall through the sky, landing atop a lake with no surface and no bottom. Something screams inside your mind, the roar of the ocean and the cry of a child, and as you stare into Its thousands of unblinking eyes the clinic falls apart before you until you stand in open nothingness with It. 

Not It- Her. And with the realization, something glitches in your perception. Beyond the horror, you could see her grace, the fleeting beauty of a bride without the promise of happiness. A wedding dress, crafted with gorgeous cascades of lace and silk, a purer white than the moon itself, rippling as though she walked on water. And yet her cries were deafening. Shackled, she watches the moon bleed as She prays with clasped hands, every step ringing with not the toll of wedding bells but the clang of chains, her eyes faded and red with unshed tears. 

The front of the wedding dress, from her abdomen down, was doused in black blood. 

And the moon drowns itself red.

She cries, and you cry along with Her, a grief so deep you could hardly stand. They took something from Her, they forced it upon her and ripped it from Her womb. A vow broken, a curse written. 

You kneel upon the lake’s shore, unmoving as She turns to you, sunken face frozen in a wail, eyes and lips nothing but shadowed pits reminiscent of the faceless statues littered underneath the Grand Cathedral. Something inhuman. Something stolen. Something cursed. 

Then, She was gone, as if a switch was flipped in your brain and you forgot how to be afraid. 

You heave, gasping, thrust underwater and back to your lab. By the time you try to breathe in again, the parasite escapes the vial in your palm, and injects itself inside you. Plunging down your throat, up your nose, into your ears and eyes as you scream until the world turns sticky and black with its rotten sludge. 

Be not afraid. 

Let not the fear of the unknown quell the fire of revelation.

Fear not, for you are the final heir to Our knowledge and the bearer of Our madness.

And then you’re falling. You remember this feeling- the same panic as when you touched Laurence’s monstrous skull- as your body is yanked backward by thousands of invisible arms, pulling you through the clinic floors, vision tunneling as the world shifts. 

Then, you’re in another body, and yet you do not recognize this one. 

It’s not Laurence, and it’s not the Queen from before, either. You glance down- you’re bowing, you think- and it’s a muscular body, comparable to your Hunter’s in sheer strength and size. The body’s memories come trickling back, and the veil of reality distorts.

Mindful of any listening ears, you shut the door, enclosing you and the man you’ve come to see within.

“It has spread,” he- you- report. You suppose it was supposed to sound impartial, apathetic, but the knot in your throat chokes against each word, and they come out sharp and hurried. You’re scared. Terrified. “More than any of us could have imagined. This excursion was meant to be no more than a patrol, and yet we found ourselves locked in siege.” 

The shadows surrounding the edges of the office lift, unveiling rows upon rows of books, a prayer alter, and the grand mahogany desk you still bow before. Standing, you finally see the man seated behind the desk, and your heart races. You can’t tell if the reaction is purely yours or your current body’s, for it is Laurence, the First Vicar himself, seated before you. 

Laurence hums, yet his expression does not shift, as unchanging as the marble statues that surround him. He knows. He has known. “How many?”

“Beasts? Dozens. Our Hunters lost? More.”

“You purged them all?”

It was said more as a statement than a question. You feel your molars grind, the pain clearing your thoughts as flashes of the Beast-infested streets warp through your bloody memory. “The situation is becoming increasingly dire, we set the alley row ablaze before retreating. I intend to take a second party on the morrow, to check for survivors.”

There was silence, then, and a clouding of that midnight stare. Laurence parted his lips, and he released a small sigh, thumb rubbing between his brows: a rare expression of perturbation, a sign of even the slightest bit of uncertainty that seemed oh-so-wrong on Laurence’s face. “Fire spreads, Ludwig.”

Ludwig. The Holy Blade. You curse, but your body- Ludwig’s body- does not react, simply shifting under the intensity of the Vicar’s stare. 

You’re aware of the risks. But the Church talks. People too. And it’s getting harder and harder to hide the Beasts. 

“As does this plague. We kept the fire contained— dug a trench. We made sure to cut back any surrounding brush that would serve as kindling.”

“One stray spark…” To say Laurnece’s tone held concern would be a generosity, but it held a gripping weight all the same. Ludwig knows the inescapable fate of the Yharnam, he sees it every night when the Hunt grows longer, but it was never his call to make, and he knows Laurence would never accept a forfeit. 

“One stray beast,” he- you- counters. “Flames are the only thing that kills this curse at the root. You already know what we must do to rid Yharnam of it. I only await your word.”

Laurence offers a brisk nod, but you’d know better than to think him convinced. “Is there anything else you require?”

There it is again. That painful indifference. 

Perhaps it’s sinful, but Ludwig almost prefers the hysterics of the other priests– the shedding of false tears or an emotive swell of speech at least made him feel as if he had been heard, at least it offered a twisted sense of closure. The First Vicar, however, spoke as if stripped of all artifice, or at least the obvious ones. Ludwig’s concern is met only with unhewn blankness, that honesty that could be easily mistaken for god-like apathy, yet he could not fathom why. 

The Holy Blade was himself at least partial to chivalry, especially when preaching to townsfolk, or when returning from a Hunt. But, to Laurnce’s credit, Ludwig had seen him act more empathetic to others before— to those, he supposed, the Vicar still felt the need to convince.

Regardless, it was not often The First Vicar offered his services first, so Ludwig would be a fool not to ask now. “With the sheer amount of bloodshed in recent Hunts, my Hunters need more blood vials. I understand tensions have been rising, however if you perhaps negotiate with Byrgenwerth to distribute less Old Blood to the populace, then the Hunters can have more for our—”

“The people need blood.” Laurnce’s voice booms across the office. The candles flicker. ”Our blood ministrations have finally caught the attention of those far beyond Yharnam. The Healing Church is becoming a beacon unlike any in our era. We are becoming the people’s hope, not the government, nor those self-proclaimed scholars.”

“And the Scourge?”

“What of it?” 

Ludwig knows better than to feign ignorance. After all, he’s already devoted himself to Laurnce, body and sword. He knows Laurence has tried to stop the scourge, after all, it was the dirtier half of Laurnce’s duty. 

Less than a month into the beasts appearing, the Church tightened regulation on the circulation of blood and regained control of the distribution channels in an effort to snuff out those early signs linking ministration to transmutation. Scourge symptoms were blamed on impure or contaminated strains obtained from illicit trade. And that’s where Ludwig came in, arresting any and all who seemed to breach these sacred laws: he ripped old, addicted men from street corners and screaming women from brothels, he hung or staked them and announced their false claims that their blood was that of Old Gods. Laurence has yet to kill someone guilty. He has yet to murder a sinner.  

“All that we do, all that we have done. Still, the scourge did not abate.”

Laurence freezes, and you feel your heart slow at the realization. 

Laurence knew. 

The Healing Church knew what their blood transfusions were doing to their people, they understood centuries ago. 

But Ludwig presses on. “If Bygenworth is concerned about their supply, send my Hunters and I to uncover another source. I’ve slain beasts, what difference is a god?”

“You forget yourself.” Laurence cuts Ludwig off, the Vicar raising his voice just enough for the words to ring across the empty office. 

The First Vicar leans back in his chair. Ludwig cannot read his expression, cannot hear his heart, and cannot see anything beyond the icy ring of his eyes. But he can see the way the man's jaw is set, the slight tilt of his head, the tightening of his fists.

It was an emotion he knew all too well.

The two stare at each other. Laurence speaks slowly.

"I understand your concern, Holy Blade. But your duty is to the city. I’ll take your concerns into account, but I’d suggest you leave manners of the blood to be debated between the Church and Bygenworth. As far as you and your Hunters are concerned, the dungeons have been sealed.”

"That’s all?" Ludwig growls. He takes a step forward, the candlelight reflecting off his claymore. “And when the Old Blood runs out, what then? Do we continue lying to our people?”

Laurence is calm. "What is the Church without its beliefs? And what are the people without their hope?"

"Hope? When I lead my Hunters to kill beasts they don’t realize were once human, that is hope? When they die by the claws of mutilated neighbors and lovers, that is our hope ?"

"The Old Blood provides the people hope. It is not up to us to question what it is.” Laurence’s expression is cold, unchanging. He has to be, to convince himself that all of this was worth it. “I can assure you that the people will choose it over any truth.”

Laurence does not stand, he does not move, and finally it’s the Vicar’s apathy that gives him his final answer. Ludwig knows the Vicar has the power to strip him of his title, of his command, to exile him from his very city, and yet he does not fear the man. He does not fear the fire, the beasts, or the blood. All Ludwig fears is the knowledge that they are the ones doing this to their own people. The people he took an oath to protect. 

"We are doing the right thing, aren't we? We are carrying out our God's will, are we not?" 

Laurence meets Ludwig's gaze, but there is not a flicker of emotion nor recognition in those empty blue eyes. Only godless determination.

"It matters not, does it?"

Your eyes snap open, and you gasp for breath, clawing at the floor with nails that certainly bleed like your own. The scar against your throat burns. 

Past memories overtake your current ones and you hear the cries of the damned, the senseless prophecies from the patients, the true ambitions of reaching the gods. And the price that came with such arrogance.

There is no way of stopping the Scourge. There never was. 

The Old Blood was never to treat Yharnam, it was never meant for mortal beings to begin with. No, that is why the Church does not seek a cure, because morality was what they were attempting to transcend in the first place. Their ambition was never to bring the gods down but to ascend as deities themselves. 

That is why the Choir began the orphanage. You were never given a cure, you had been given the parasitic gift of the gods, a vessel conduit to become one yourself. And so has the rest of Yharnam. 

The microscope clatters to the ground, shattering. Your knees buckle and you grip onto the table, heaving into your arms as the entire world trembles. Faces flash before you, Hunters and Priests and children and elderly and neighbors and lovers and strangers. Innocents. So many dead innocents. 

You scream. 

You scream until your throat tastes like blood and your lungs give out.

Only at the very end of consciousness do you remember Ludwig’s request and Laurence’s strict denial- “the dungeons have been sealed.”  

The Old Blood was extracted from the dungeons beneath Byrgenwerth. 

Byrgenwerth. You have to get back to Byrgenwerth. 

· · ─────── ·♰· ─────── · ·

“I refuse.”

You scoff. “What do you mean, you refuse? In case you have forgotten, Hunter, we have a deal you are bound to carry out.”

Diluc simply snorts, crossing his arms as he glares down at your huffing form. “Correct. However, I tend to draw the line at idiotic requests that will certainly get us both killed. Those dungeons are empty save for starving Beasts and worse.”

“I’m well aware, I saw it myself.”

He freezes. “You what? When?” Diluc grabs your arm, instinctually scanning your body as though looking for wounds, even as he manhandles you around.

“Not-” you wiggle against his grasp, “Not physically.” This stops him. “In a dream- vision?- it’s hard to explain exactly, but this is hardly what’s important here. Byrgenwerth may finally hold the key to understanding the scourge and finding our cure, if you’d just believe me.”

Diluc does not, in fact, believe you. But he releases your arm and you rub your bruising bicep, grumbling. He mutters something under his breath, shaking his head as his hair falls against his face in a way that would be considered handsome had his scowl not deepened.

He is not angry at you. Rather, Diluc can never seem to stay mad at you, however much he may want to. First him, then the Executioner, and now this. You seem to have a habit of enticing Death, a sort of waltz you almost revel in spinning too close to the edge with, a deep-rooted entanglement Diluc might have gotten jealous of if he were a lesser man.

"Byrgenwerth, huh." A place the Vilebloods cursed the very existence of, a place the Church considered holy. Something unknown that both beckons and scorns him. Whatever the two of you find in those dungeons will consume you, this Diluc is certain of.

But he is a man of his word. Worse yet, he is a man in love.

"Very well. I know a passage that can take us there, although it’ll be nearly a day’s journey on foot. But you are to listen to me no matter what, no questions asked. If I say run, we run. Understood?"

"I understand.” You smile, and his chest squeezes in a way he hates. 

You know very well how much your Hunter is already regretting his decision, and tug him closer in thanks. Leaning forward, you let your arms wrap around his neck, craning just to reach him as your fingertips lace against the ends of his curls, long ponytail spilling from under his Hunter’s cap and down his robe in flaming tendrils. "Your hair has grown long."

"It has." 

Far too long, Diluc thinks. He reaches a hand up to your face, cupping your cheek, and he feels your eyes flutter shut under his palm.

“Can I braid it? Tomorrow, or the day after that?”

“You may.” Anytime. Every day, and long after that too. 

You both stay like that for a moment, leaning slightly against each other, you balancing precariously into his chest, and Diluc stabilizing you as one hand finds its place against the small of your back, the other coming up to your cheek. He’s warm.  

You look up, forehead brushing the stubble shadowing his chin. "Vow it to me."

"What?"

“Vow it to me. I’ll braid your hair, weeks from now. And if, oh," you giggle, thumbing at the rough hair against his jaw, “If you ever grow out your beard, I’ll get to braid that too.” 

Diluc exhales a ghost of a laugh, "Very well. I swear it.”

He leans in, and you can't help but follow his movement. His forehead rests against your own, and you close your eyes and breathe him in. He smells like smoke- a mix of ash and kindling still raw and red and burning, a familiar scent that makes you draw him in closer. You can taste the iron on his breath, and his fingers are calloused, the roughness of his scars scraping against your skin.

He is beautiful, beautiful in the way all things cursed and deadly are, and you fear you are falling in love with him.

"I will never let them take you."

And you believe him.

· · ─────── ·♰· ─────── · ·

Diluc is almost finished packing, strapping the last case of blood vials into his belt with silence efficiency. Another buckle, and he’s about to stand up when a weight hurls atop him, knocking the Hunter forward ever so slightly as he turns to face the attacker currently curling themselves over his shoulder with a wail. Eileen’s stubby feet kick against his back and she pounds her fists into Diluc’s shoulder as she yells her grievances between tears.

“I don’t want you to go!” Another pout, but this time little sobs hiccup through, “No. No, I won’t let you!”

Diluc ruffles Eileen’s hair gently, scooping her off his shoulder and into his arms as he sets down his claymore to make room. “You never seemed to be this distraught over my leaving before, why the sudden worry?” She sniffles, shaking her head.

“You can’t go. Not this time.” But Eileen elaborates no further, only breaking into more tears when pressed.

You walk in on the two of them, watching Eileen sob into Diluc's shoulder. You frown. "I thought I told Edwin to keep an eye on her."

Diluc hums, nodding to the door behind you. "It’s no worry. Go and get your things ready, I'll watch her." 

Every instinct urges you to stay and comfort your sobbing child, but Diluc insists quietly with his gaze, and you shut the door with a click. Without looking, Diluc feels your absence and promptly turns back to Eileen, softening his voice, although the tone rough and unpracticed. 

"Little crow,” Diluc brushes back her black curls, and her tears along with it. “What's wrong?"

She sniffles, rubbing her eyes. "You can't leave me."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You are!"

"Why do you think that?"

Eileen is silent, terribly so. Then, she whispers, "I'm scared."

“Why would you need to be scared when I’m here?” Diluc's brows knit together, and yet he continues to comfort her letting her tears soak into his cloak. The Hunter knows she’s not biologically your child, that none of the orphans are, but as he brushes tears from Eileen’s reddened eyes, he swears they look exactly like your own. So when he speaks these next words, he vows not just to her but to the reflection of you he sees within. “I vowed to protect you, all of you. Neither the gods nor men can take you all from me.”

And the stars listen.

By the time you’ve fully packed, begrudgingly adding Laurnce’s journey to your satchel, the rest of the children have come down the clinic to say their farewells too. Closing the door behind you, you embrace Alison and Edwin one last time, letting them join the Hunter and Eileen on the floor. Timmy crawls alongside his twin on Diluc’s lap, and the remaining children join the pair on the floor as silent sniffles and cries are muffled into fabric and hair. Diluc flinches at first, stiff at the center of it all, but comforts the children nonetheless. 

You smile, kneeling with a scoff before wrapping your arms around them all. Farewells and sobs are muted from within the pile, and you feel your own eyes sting as you embrace them just a little tighter, and just a little longer. 

And for a moment, despite the cold from the rotting city, you are warm.

[vexwerewolf]

Hey, do you have suggestions on a stealthy, shoot'n'scoot build for the Pegasus? I'm really, really new, but I like the idea of this thing that can always hit you and fades away until the next attack.

-- HORUS Pegasus @ LL6 -- [ LICENSES ] HORUS Pegasus 3, SSC Metalmark 3 [ CORE BONUSES ] Overpower Caliber, The Lesson of the Open Door [ TALENTS ] Infiltrator 3, Skirmisher 3, Crack Shot 3 [ STATS ] HULL:2 AGI:2 SYS:0 ENGI:4 STRUCTURE:4 HP:17 ARMOR:0 STRESS:4 HEATCAP:10 REPAIR:4 TECH ATK:+1 LIMITED:+2 SPD:5 EVA:10 EDEF:10 SENSE:10 SAVE:15 [ WEAPONS ] FLEX MOUNT: Smartgun FLEX MOUNT: Smartgun HEAVY MOUNT: Anti-Materiel Rifle // Overpower Caliber [ SYSTEMS ] Personalizations, Active Camouflage, Pattern-A Smoke Charges x5

So this is a very simple build.

What we're doing here is creeping around the edges of the battlefield, looking for a good opening. We use our Active Camouflage to remain Hidden even when it isn't our turn, and we look for a good firing position.

Our ideal turn start has us Hidden and in hard cover. We activate Crack Shot protocol and Active Camouflage if our heat's looking okay, line up on our intended target and shoot them with the AMR, hopefully hitting and hopefully critting. We don't bother rolling dice for our AMR - we just use By The Way, I Know Everything to set our damage to 11, or 14 if we crit. Having hit an enemy with an attack from Hidden, we proc Ambush, plus Watch This if we crit. With Lesson of the Open Door buffing our Save Target, we're well-positioned to inflict a horrid array of status effects on our target.

That was our first quick action. We spend the next quick action to Hide again, rendering us untargetable.

Next turn, Immobilized from Crack Shot goes away and we only need to keep Active Camouflage up if we're in immediate danger. We have various options:

If we want supreme mobility (or if there's someone close to us) we can exploit the extra movement from Mastermind: using Boost breaks Hidden after it resolves, so we can Boost, use the slide from Mastermind and then move normally, allowing us to move up to 15 spaces, 5 of it reactionless. If we're feeling really spicy, we could even Boost adjacent to an enemy, use the flashbomb clause of Mastermind and then run 10 away from them.

We can Skirmish with a Smartgun and proc all the same effects as last turn. If we want to apply more damage and don't need to be Hidden next turn, we can even Barrage with both.

Occasionally we'll need to Stabilize to deal with the heat build up from Active Camouflage, but that's great because it also allows us to reload our AMR.

This mech only has 17 HP, so with 0 Armor and 10 Evasion its survivability is fairly low, but this is aided by the fact that it spends most of its time Invisible, and due to the absurd range of its AMR (and the fact that its Smartguns don't even need line of sight) it often won't even be in range for enemies to hit at all. Skirmisher III also means that the first reaction attack taken against us each round will miss automatically, and if we're smart, enemies won't get an opportunity to make a second one.

The largest dangers to this build:

Enemies that have AoE attacks and thus they can get around their inability to target you by targetting an area that they think contains you, although Invisible will still protect you from this by providing a 50% miss chance. In particular, Bombards can just dispense with trying to narrow down your location and shell your entire zipcode instead.

Enemies with abilities that deal damage but aren't attacks. This completely bypasses Invisibility, and since this sort of ability tends to be AoE, they can also ignore Hidden if they have a reasonable idea of where you are. A great example is the Assault's optional Micro-Missile Barrage trait.

Enemies that are themselves also Invisible. Because we have no Reliable damage and there wasn't room on this mech for Eye of Horus, we have no reliable way of penetrating Invisible. This means our ability to engage with such enemies are completely at the mercy of the dice.

SCOUTS. They ignore Hidden and Invisible entirely, and have multiple tools that strip Hidden and Invisible from us, completely negating the main survivability tools of our build. Worse, they have excellent Evasion, decent E-Defence and can become Invisible themselves. Prioritize their destruction, or better yet - get your allies to do it.

[the-s1lly-corner]

alright, so i completely understand if you don't wanna do this since you have been getting a lot of tadc requests, so feel free to leave this in your inbox for a while but its worth a shot i guess.

tadc x angel reader? but im not talking about the cute and adoring ones, moresore the bibical angel type. kind of like principalities angels if you know what that is. scary stuff.

thanks for all that you do btw, i love your writing and as a fanfiction writer myself im amazed at how quickly your able to pump out requests

thanks for reading

TADC cast x angel!reader !

took me a hot minute to find it but someone asked for the same/very similar request for zooble so!! that post is going to be linked in place of their segment! yahoo! uhuhuhuh!! admin must admit, he does not know much about actual angel lore so hes gonna be real loose with this </3 aaaand to the last part!! its the silliness... i cant contain it... sobs...

CAINE:

now i dont know what kind of personality the reader has, but imagine your wings stick out and fluff up when he decides hes bold enough to compliment, or even flirt with you... has probably led to him getting smacked by your wings and being sent flying... the price of being small, sadly... though he did kind of have it coming for standing where he was/j

sometimes, you guys fly together, since caine very rarely walks around on the ground and kind of just glides around... its nice having someone who can accompany him around... doesnt think your intimidating, if anything he thinks you look interesting... hes probably unphased by most of the forms circus members may take, though its rare you get someone who does look unsettling... shrugs

POMNI:

honestly probably a little intimidated, and perhaps even unnerved in the beginning. like not in the "im deeply uncomfortable" way but more like "oh. so thats a thing" if that makes sense? does try to be nice and kind to you, though, since she does understand that this isnt what you really look like and you cant really... control it... probably has sneezed from the feathers of your wings, if you have any.. in fact you might have accidentally smacked her with them, since shes so small.. you didnt mean to..! honest! caine and pomni just got cursed with the shortness... no thoughts, only angel reader protectively shielding someone with their wings, this can apply to any of the characters... probably one of my favorite tropes for characters with large wings tbh

RAGATHA:

if you can swap out your clothes or have clothes that are detachable (since clothes are canonically stuck to the bodies) shes definitely going to make you some clothing that you can easily slip over your wings, and still have them out! plus spending time with you making the measurements and trying out patterns and fabric is nice! thinks your wings are soft... probably a little put off by your appearance and vibe at first, but ragatha being ragatha shes not going to let it bother her for long, and she makes sure youre welcomed to the circus with open arms... i mean its not like you have a choice to leave... may as well be as inviting as possible..!

JAX:

drum roll please! its the admins favorite jax headcannon that always rears its head in whenever the admin writes a reader who has some extra body part or fluff or accessories or a combination! the fidget/fiddle headcannon! this man is likely going to stroke and mess with your wings, a lot. congrats, youre his new fidget toy/j. has probably accidentally, or perhaps no so accidentally, pulled a feather out. granted im not sure how much it would hurt, i think it would be akin to plucking hair with a tweezer, but the point still stands..! has probably asked you to fly him up somewhere... totally not so he can do some mischief... probably doesnt know much about angels (like the admin LMAO) and probably labels you as like. sterotypical cartoon angel personality (forgiving, kind, good, ect. basically everything that isnt jax/j) but whether or not thats true its up to you... though it would be a little funny for the person who looks like an angel being a trickster... shrugs

KINGER:

FEAR!!! okay... well i think thats a given when theres a new circus member around, since kinger is a little... eh... you know? probably takes some time to warm up to you, but given how he speaks to pomni in the pilot within the first few minutes of her being there, i dont think it would take long for him to approach you. definitely polite, probably even more so thanks to your angelic appearance. mmngh.. soft feathers... shares the jax fidget headcannon with the silly chess piece... bonus if you actually are really kind and protective, this man would be hovering around you since you kind of represent comfort to him... thinks...

ZOOBLE:

right here!

GANGLE:

while most of the others are a little intimidated i think gangle actually likes the aesthetics of angels. maybe thats just the artist in her; like every artist ive met either has a soft spot for angel or demon characters... sometimes both.. admins no exception, its like. mandatory artist trait/j

i had a winged reader request somewhere, where gangle puts the readers fallen feathers into art work and gifts it to them. kind of like how people used to put the hair of their loved ones in jewelry... i think that would also apply to an angel reader! similar to kinger, if youre protective shes going to gravitate towards you... given that shes made of ribbon and fragile... and because of SOOOOOMEONE (glares at jax)... very nice dynamic/relationship material here, me thinks

[cowboylor]

nails

matty loves your nails (especially on his ****).

warnings: (18+) smut, handjob, light choking, teasing, overstimulation, zero format just vibes

wc: >1k

"You never told me you like my nails."

He's painfully hard under your touch. Your fresh manicure rests on his lower stomach, fingertips softly embedding into his abdomen as you straddle him.

With you, Matty is attentive to the little things. If you cut layers in your hair or if you tried a new mascara that made your eyes stand out—he was sure to notice. To tell you how beautiful you looked and somehow slip in there how lucky he was. Fresh sets are usually not an exception.

Initial confusion crosses his face, before glancing down at your hand—that's so conveniently close—and noticing the glistening polish. Understanding, he nods, letting out a breathy groan as you traced your nails down his navel and to his crotch.

"They're... very pretty, love."

You pout, pulling your hand away just before reaching his cock, deciding instead to examine your painted tips. He whines at the loss of contact, reaching for your wrist in a pleading manner.

"Baby—"

Ignoring him, you pick at your cuticles. "Tell me how much you love them."

His head drops back into the pillow. "Fuck's sake."

Matty wasn't naive. He knows what games you get off on, and teasing him to the point of agony was a part of it. You flex your fingers, fanning out your nails to put them on display for him.

Your eyes twinkle, and he can practically hear you saying: 'Go on then. Beg.'

And fuck—He knows when to beg.

Taking your hand and pulling it to his lips, Matty presses a kiss to your knuckles.

"Your nails look beautiful," He says, watching intently as he pulls your hand to his chest.

You relish in the warmth from his body, tracing the outline of his tattoo as he guides your hand.

"I love that—" He screws his eyes shut, stifling a throaty groan as your nails dig into his skin. "I love that color on you, baby."

Humming in appreciation, you drag your fingertips down his stomach, repeating your earlier pattern at a much steadier rate. Matty's breaths go ragged.

"Makes you look so—" He stammers as you slowly palm him. "Fuck, so angelic."

You smile teasingly. "Angelic?"

He nods, his response turning into a splinter of a moan as your fingers wrap around the base of his cock. You just about pounce on him for that sound alone.

You stroke him the way you know he likes. With a mild pace up and down his shaft, only pausing briefly to smear the bead of precum over his head with the pad of your thumb.

"So fucking angelic," You tut with his cock in your fist.

Matty throws his head back, opting to grip your hips tightly and anchor you to his thighs. Flushing pink all over, his fingers dig into the flesh of your hip, chanting your name like a prayer as pump him.

"Just like that," He pleads, brow furrowing.

Shifting your movement, you roll your hips at the mere sight of him whimpering, and jerking into the mattress with every stroke you decide to give him. He nearly falls apart when you reach out to slide your other hand around his neck and gently apply pressure to the base of it.

You pause briefly, eyes shifting away from your actions to look into his blown-out pupils: "Is this okay—"

His lips are on yours before you can get the words out. His, moaning into your open mouth and yours, biting into his bottom lip as you jerk him off. His lips are harsh; releasing suffocating moans from each of you until your mouth feels red and raw.

He's close. You know his is by the way his hips move to meet your quickening pace and how he whines against you every time your thumb tightly circles his head.

"I forgot to say thank you," You whisper into him, meanly. His body stutters as he throbs between your building fingertips, "I'm glad you like them."

Your name falls off his lips; repeatedly until you're leaning away from him to tighten your grip on his neck and he's coming hard into your hand. Sweat trickles down his chest and his eyes screw shut as you continue to palm him through the sensitivity.

The ache between your legs only worsens as you watch him come down from his high. You have the uncontrollable urge to trail rough kisses down to his navel just to get him to make those whines again. To ride him roughly—just how he likes—so he can say your name like you're the only one for him.

But then he's pulling at your hips, breathing heavily into your skin as he's guiding you up to his mouth. Still red in the face yet slightly more in control of himself, he mutters a gruff: "Get up here."

"Still begging," You tsk, your grin widening as he glares.

It only takes a harsh slap to your ass for you to let him manhandle you to his liking—until your cunt is hovering over his mouth and the corners of his mouth turn at the sight. His grip tightens to the point where you wince and your whole body grows warm.

"Sit on my face and we'll see who's begging."