#but the latter is self-explanatory

[lackeyhenchman]

Last.fm Playback just came in for 2024! Mine is marginally less embarrassing than last year. Oh boy. It's just medieval murder metal all the way down.

Look how cute some of these stat widgets are, though...

[skruttet]

TWO MORE EPISODE TITLES REVEALED! "Seamaiden" and "Inspector Stinky"

[laugtherhyena]

Character inspo things, i thought about making these a lil while ago when the trend was going around but i could never think of enough characters to fill it all the way (i still can't, but eh fuck it)

[constellarcreator]

I haven't seen the new silly spider movie yet but my moots posting about it gave me the urge to redesign the spidersona concept I made in 2018 (they/he)

[midnightsslut]

as much as I like some of the vault songs, I think she made the right choice with the original tracklist (which isn’t necessarily how I felt with red)

[dollfacefantasy]

Since your request are open :) and I’m literally a slut for Wolverine can you feed us some sfw and some nsfw alphabet head canon for our dilf??? I’m literally screaming ( without an s) for himmmmmm😩

eeeeee yes!!! of course i can, thanks for the ask bb <3 i'm gonna split these into two so the post won't be too long i wrote these with X2 in mind cause he's my favorite, but imagine whichever version calls to you. mdni (18+) !!

logan howlett x fem!reader nsfw alphabet ♡

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

Logan is good with aftercare. Like the man fucks you into oblivion but then he'll clean you up and grab you some water afterwards. He talks to you too. Tells you how good you did and how pretty you looked for him. He's touchy, not overly clingy, but he likes how you curl up to his side and rest your head on him. He'll hold you too and rub your back.

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

Your pussy. Like he's obsessed. Stares at it before he eats you out, just running his thumb up and down your slit. Loves to toy with your clit and hear you whine. Always tells you how "she's" crying for him. "She" loves him so much, squeezes him so tight.

On himself, I think it'd be his abs. He knows he's hot shit. He can see how you look at them, and it strokes his ego so much. He has his shirt off a lot when it's just the two of you, and he acts so innocent about it. Loves to tease you when he catches you staring.

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

He loves cumming inside you. He can't explain why, but it's just this deep, innate satisfaction he gets when he fills you up. Also, on a separate note, he licks his fingers clean when he makes you cum all over them. Does not let a single drop go to waste.

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

He'll whine if you pull his hair. It'll be the most pathetic, needy sound you've ever heard in your entire life. It'll be utterly humiliating for him, but that just makes him fuck you harder so it's worth it.

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

Ok ok. Hear me out. Logan wants everyone to think he's a slut, but in reality, I don't think he is. I think he's had a decent amount of experience, but it's more so his dedication to the person he's with that makes him a good lover. He does what pleases you not just what he's found to work on others.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Basic, but his favorite is missionary. He wants to be able to have a clear view of your face while he's making you fall apart. He likes marking up your neck too which he can easily do in this position. That's not to say he won't mix it up and do other positions, but his favorite is always gonna be the classic.

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

Overall, he's serious. He loves to tease, but in the heat of the moment, it's only to make you whine or beg. Laughter is not the sound he's aiming for when he's balls deep in you.

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

He's got BUSH. A huge bush. Listen. This man has all that hair on his head. Hairy forearms, hairy chest, hairy abs. He has a massive bush down there too. And that's beautiful.

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

Depends. He can be pretty gentle and romantic if he chooses. He can also be cocky and just run on pure lust in the moment. Most of the time, it's the latter. He fucks with the intention of pleasure. But if you've had a hard day or he's feeling vulnerable himself, the sex is much more soft. Lots of kisses, his face buried in your neck, whispering how much he needs you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He limits his jerking off to the shower. He doesn't wanna deal with the mess, and if he's that horny, he'll just come find you. Though when he does jerk off, he can get into it. Grunting, groaning, mumbling your name. Cause of course, he's thinking of you while he does it. Thinking of how cute you looked when you bent over to pick up something you dropped. Recalling the soft purr in your voice when you said his name yesterday. Imagining how good it would feel if your cunt was wrapped around him instead of his fist.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He doesn't know it yet, but this man is into pet play. He's not gonna dive right in with the ears and tail. It starts small. He calls you 'pup' sometimes without thinking too much about it. He nearly cums in his pants watching you hump his thigh like you're in heat. He's super possessive so seeing you in a collar for him would drive him up the wall.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bedroom cause he doesn't want anyone else walking in and interrupting. Even though he jerks off in the shower, he doesn't like to fuck in there. One time the two of you were getting down in there and he slipped and it sounded like a group of metal pipes falling. It was truly tragic. Totally humiliating. Never again. You're not even allowed to speak of the incident. From then on, he keeps your escapades solely between the walls of your bedroom, but it's not always on the bed. He'll bounce you on his lap while sitting in the chair you guys have in the corner, bend you over the dresser, or maybe press you against the window.

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

Logan's a natural tease, so if you try teasing him back, that really revs his engine. It's just so cute that you think you can outdo him. He'll just have to show you otherwise and fuck you till the only words you can speak are his name and "please more."

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

Won't do anything with the claws. He has enough anxiety about waking up from a nightmare and impaling you by accident. Anything reminding him of that possibility has his dick soft in seconds.

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

Logan is a lover boy through and through, so that man would have no problem eating you out. He enjoys making you feel so good, and he loves having to hold you in place by your thighs cause you're squirming around so much. He also loves having his hair pulled, so do that and he'll grind himself against the mattress a few times.

As for receiving, Logan thinks it's so cute when you offer to blow him. He's never gonna say no. He loves watching you go to work on him, bobbing your head with such dedication and making yourself gag when you try to take too much.

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

90% of the time he's fast, but that doesn't always mean rough; though he can do that too. You just feel so so good, it's hard for him to take his time. He can if he's in the mood or is tired and just wants something lazy. But usually he's bucking into without holding back.

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

He has no problem with quickies. If you're living at the mansion, you gotta seize the opportunity when it presents itself. As established, he's fast anyways. He will get you and himself there in a matter of minutes. Plus, it presents the bonus of knowing his cum is leaking out of you for the rest of the day.

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

If you came to Logan with something you wanted to try in bed, he'd most likely be down. There isn't much that's going to be a hard no for him. Even if he's not super into it personally, he'd still be willing to play with it if it was something that got you going. Plus the fact that you asked at all shows you trust him which means a lot to him.

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

In his prime, he can last for a while and go multiple rounds. He's got that uncharted regenerative capability. He can get hard again pretty fast, and he will put that ability to use if you're feeling needy. He'll tease you about being insatiable even though he wants it just as much.

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

Does not own any toys. He doesn't feel the need. If you wanted to try using toys in the bedroom, he would, but he's never going to suggest that on his own. He prefers just pleasuring you without aid.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Logan is nothing if not a tease. Since the day you met him, he can't seem to go too long without trying to get a reaction out of you. And that extends to the bedroom. He loves edging you and then teasing you for how you whine. Gets you near tears by overstimulating you and then coos at you "What's wrong, sweetheart? Doesn't it feel good?"

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

He's not loud, but he's vocal. He growls and grunts right next to your ear, letting you hear every little sound he makes. He talks you through it too. "Ohhh, look at that face, that's my baby. Feels so good, doesn't it? That's my girl."

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

One of the hottest things Logan's seen is when he caught you having a dream about him. The way your moans were all soft and hazy with sleep and your thighs were pressing against each other as you squirmed. It got him all riled up knowing he was on your mind even when you were unconscious.

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

He's got a big cock. It's a good length, and it's pretty thick. There's a pretty vein that goes up the shaft. His balls are heavy too. Nice and big to go with his dick.

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

Yearner is Logan's middle name. He pined for you, and now that he has you, he's not gonna waste that. He's got a high sex drive and you guys are doing it most days of the week at least once.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He takes a while to fall asleep afterwards. He just likes to make sure you've settled. He'll watch you sleep for a little bit and be alone with his thoughts before finally conking out.

[nopanamaman]

How does the stalker business work?

Loredump. October 2023

A web of alliances, insiders, clients, and territorial disputes - this is what forms the stalker business, a domain that’s as illegal as it is profitable.

Today, we’ll delve into the basic origins and inner workings of this peculiar profession. Let’s find out how these glorified marauders operate!

How did the stalker business develop?

The stalker business emerged almost as soon as the Zone itself was born. But, much like every structure based around the Zone itself, it became more refined - and more corrupt - as years went on.

What started as individuals travelling the Zone completely on their own accord grew into a network of organised groups with their own informants, clientele and designated territories. Yet when it looked like major alliances had become fully solidified with a couple of large groups operating across vast stretches of the Zone, the development of the internet put a dent in the system.

Yura: Do I really need to know the territorial policies of 70s factions Sergei: YES Olya: No.

As many information-gathering and order-related operations moved online, doing business in smaller groups became a more viable option. Nowadays, the majority choose to operate in gangs of up to 30 people.

Since the business has grown more decentralised and, in a way, accessible, the competition within it has increased dramatically. Territories are less clearly defined and run-ins with members of rivalling gangs are commonplace. When it comes to the human factor, it’s more dangerous than it ever was.

How are the little groups organised?

Modern stalker groups are typically formed around somebody who has direct connections to potential clients or those able to nicely aggregate information about the Zone’s current state. So any group needs at least one product reseller and one strategic leader, which can sometimes be the same person.

The latter is true for Sergei's group, for instance.

He is responsible for processing orders, evaluating the delivered artefacts, reselling them, gathering up to date information about the Zone’s landscape and traffic, and helping the available stalkers plan their trips accordingly. It’s a heavy workload, so having just one person performing all of those tasks wouldn’t be manageable on a larger scale.

Obviously enough, smaller groups are more reliant on the quality of their individual members, even more so when they have a specific role to fill. If we use known members of Sergei’s group as examples, they fit pretty neatly into the following roles:

Radar (радар). Formerly fulfilled by Kolya – a stalker with an outstanding sense for anomalies. Irreplaceable for navigating the more treacherous parts of the Zone. Yura was going to inherit that role.

Doctor (доктор). Self-explanatory. While it’s recommended that all stalkers undergo some form of first aid training, it never hurts to have someone with a deeper knowledge of medicine on the team. This role was filled by Nikita.

Insider (свояк). As the name suggests, it’s a person that helps in various aspects of stalker work by providing client contacts, guard post information, info about other gangs’ operations, and so on depending on their position. Insiders don’t usually take part in actual trips or even work with specific stalker groups, but Olya is built different.

Ram (таран). The muscle of the group. You don’t need to be especially physically fit to navigate the Zone,but when things become dire, it absolutely helps. This was Sergei’s role when he still travelled the Zone.

These are arbitrary designations and many don’t fit into one particular role. That said, creating a balanced group of 3 is easier when there’s a fair understanding of each person’s strengths.

Yura: Oh, kinda like video game classes! Sanya: Yeah, I guess. Yura: So who would I be? Sanya: Support.

What does the typical work cycle look like?

An order is either placed on an online marketplace or is mailed directly to a trusted trader. The trader then passes the information to the strategist, who analyses the current Zone layout, as well as the latest available information about the placements of various artefacts and anomalies.

The strategist then determines the optimal routes to retrieving the ordered goods. Some use special software to aid in the process. The service price is then estimated based on the difficulty of retrieval and transportation. If the initial price suggested in the order is lower than this estimate, price negotiations will ensue.

Once the minimal price is agreed on, the actual planning starts. A group of three is gathered from the pool of available stalkers. They are all informed about the mission specifics and the route they need to travel - this is when the team can discuss and make adjustments to the plan.

Nikita: No, no, this route will be way too stressful for Olyechka. Perhaps, she should sit this one out? Olya: If we don't make this route shorter, Nikita won't come back, I'm afraid. Nikita: Well, aren't you a treat. Anyways, Serozha, my leg has been getting worse and I won't make this climb. Olya: Perhaps, you should sit this one out.

After the artefacts are delivered to the trader, their quality is evaluated. Stalkers tend to pick up whatever valuables they find on the way, which means extra cash for them and more work for the trader.

Once the evaluation is complete, stalkers are paid off and the products are resold at a significantly higher price. The artefacts that were specifically ordered are exchanged for the agreed upon amount of money and the extra stuff is peddled to other high-paying customers.

Since selling artefacts is a risky and complicated endeavour in itself, most stalkers are content with the paychecks they get from their trader.

Finally, when everything is done, stalkers may anonymously share information about their trip to the online community. But considering the competitive nature of the business, not everyone is willing to help out their fellow colleagues – or really, not everyone wants to talk about the things they’ve seen.

What is the online stalker community like?

As was already mentioned, the internet has majorly changed how stalkers went about receiving orders and information about the Zone. It has become an important channel for communication and securing deals.

Firstly, all of the relevant platforms are on the deep web. Secondly, all of them are invite-only.

The three major platforms are:

Doska (literally “the board” as in bulletin board)

A marketplace where orders are placed and taken up by anyone interested, as well as an auction platform for selling off artefacts. Widely used by groups and stalkers who have not yet gained established clients.

Krematorii (crematorium)

A closed forum. Discussions, rumours, shitposting.

10K Crematorium karma

14KKM (as in 14 thousand kilometers, the approximate area of the Zone)

A dynamically updated map of the Zone. User-managed, hence chaotic and unreliable.

Users can mark locations of witnessed anomalies and artefact positions, which others can confirm or downvote. A marking needs to be confirmed by at least 4 people before it is put down and is removed if at least 4 people downvote it. All markings can be commented on.

Most of the community tries to maintain it more or less accurately for the sake of their own future missions, but there are malefactors that will add false markers to it. Should be taken with a huge grain of salt.

Of course, it bears mentioning that there are plenty of fake online communities on the surface web. Those are rife with people roleplaying as stalkers, scammers, kids, and just shitposters. No actual stalker uses those for business.

Rules regarding the Zone

Though the information side of things has changed a lot, the core methodology of travelling the Zone itself remained the same. Sets of universal rules became solidified over the years, which can be described as a mixture of operational protocols and esoteric beliefs.

What are the basic operational protocols?

Basic operational protocols outline best practices for dealing with simple anomalies, traversing the Zone, bypassing guard posts, and handling difficult situations (mercy kills, painless death, encountering other stalkers).

Some common recommendations include:

use projectiles (usually bolts with pieces of cloth attached for visibility) to check for gravitational anomalies;

operate in groups of three - two do the job, the third one watches on;

do not consume any food or drinks you find;

avoid unnatural shadows;

do not stay at the Hollow for over 20 minutes (your body will start to decay);

do not approach the Town (your body will permanently distort);

do not handle fizzy clay without rubber gloves (will leave you debilitated or addicted to the substance);

always send the draisine back;

don't photograph ghosts;

etc.

They are objective results of many years of trial and error. Going against them is likely to end in death or injury regardless of your personal qualities. In other words, there is little dispute over the validity of these rules. The same cannot be set for the second ruleset.

What are stalker beliefs?

The Zone favours the miserable. The desperate, the broken, the lonely. The Zone favours ones that are willing to give up their whole being to her, to completely entrust themselves to her whims. She rewards dejection.

These are common truths to some and hogwash to others. There is no solid proof for any of these claims - how can there be? However, there is no happy stalker, and there is no living stalker without a scar. To many, that's evidence enough.

On top of that, there are some group-specific philosophies. They include:

the Zone is a holy place that needs to be revered;

the Zone is an ulcer of the world that needs to be cleansed;

the Zone is the new stage of Earth’s evolution;

the Zone is divine punishment;

the Zone is a point of contact with a parallel universe;

and many others.

These philosophies dictate how people go about their activities in the Zone in a more ritualistic sense. It’s hard to devise whether or not those little rituals have any effect that isn’t purely psychological.

There is a good number of people that hold a purely cynical view of the Zone. But whether they admit it or not, everyone gradually develops a sense of fear and reverence for it. How they compartmentalise it is a different question.

Conclusion

I could write more about the topic, but as of now, I think this general outline should suffice. The stalker business is a multifaceted enterprise to say the least, so hopefully this article has shed the light on its most essential aspects.

Perhaps, there will one day be a more in-depth follow-up! Who knows. As we continue to unveil the enigmatic layers of the Zone, only time will reveal the full extent of its mysteries... And the engimatic layers of shitty Stalker forums, I guess.

[corollaservant]

oh noooo kinks post is gone 😭😭

buddy, you lurkin? this was up for an hour 😳 jk jk—this was filthy, made me feel like i was too disgusting on the internet or shadowbanned. anyways yk what? here you go (cause it was fun to write) <3

(18+) MHA kinks (shiggy, overhaul, dabi)

cw: coercion/gaslighting, edging (lol?), s/m, asphyxiation(implied), kai's mysophobia (the correct term is microphobia but anyways)

Shigaraki: i think he’s into gaslighting and coercion and ik the latter doesn’t classify as a kink (more like an offense) but hear me out:

he brought you to that miserable bar the LoV hangs out in and can’t stop touching you, while you’re forced to sit on his lap. you love public, right? well, no and he knows. whether the LoV watches or not doesn't matter, he wants to see your attitude change, once you can't hide the fact he's fucking you over fabric anymore. his cock twitches, when he stops and you silently beg with your eyes. he'll tell you that he thought you didn't like this while you’ll apologize for even thinking that.

when alone, he’ll have you sprawled on the bed, parting your legs and asking you which you prefer, his fingers or tongue. you’ll brokenly breathe out a “fingers, please” as he’ll sneer and..oblige. he’s clearly skilled, his fingertips tease your cunt as if he’s strumming close chords on a guitar and fuck—you look pretty as shit watching him push them inside. ‘’so you’re saying that you don't like my tongue, yeah?’’ he’ll feign sorrow, you never said that but he makes you reflect on it. ‘’you know what i think? i think you’ll like my tongue just fine’’ he’ll tell you and start sucking on the swelled nub as you tremble. ‘’actually.. you’ll like it more’’

once you shamelessly cum on his tongue exhausted, he’ll continue. ‘’ready for the main event?’’ he’ll ask as you beg him to at least wait a second, you ache down there but he obviously doesn’t care. ‘’there’s no time to wait..come on baby, you know it feels better the second time around.’’ he’ll tell you as his tip splits your folds. you ultimately consider that he might be right after all. actually, he’s never wrong.

Overhaul: this man has an edging kink.. before you say anything, it’s not what you think.

he’ll have you on that examination table (not too heavy on his medical kink tho), mask and gloves on, of course what did you think? that he’d make an exception? the fact he’s even touching you is enough boundaries crossed for him. his gloved hand will spread your juices across your pussy, as he winces behind the bird mask. he hates dirt, bodily fluids, liquids, any bodily emission/discharge, call it whatever you want. the moment he senses your pulse and legs jerking, he’ll remove his hand in fear you might cum on his gloves. you’ll whimper upset but he doesn’t really care, you should thank him for allowing you this proximity in the first place.

same with sex. condoms with him is like the concept of gravity — self fucking explanatory. sometimes he’ll even use two. don’t get him wrong, it’s not like you are the problem, it’s more like your body, he feels like he purifies you each time he thrusts calculated in your cunt (he's delusional). he likes you being vocal as long as you don’t accidentally spit on him, which will earn you a slap.

to prove that the issue is not you, the man will not allow himself to cum inside you, even with the (2) condoms on. he just prefers transmitting the ‘filth’ directly onto you, which means he’ll have you pump his cock and receive all his load (wherever it lands, he makes sure it's angled towards you). 

he's a weirdo of course, but he makes up for it in aftercare. he sterilizes you like there’s no tomorrow. if you’re lucky and you make him cum quick and clean, he might offer a cup of tea and your favorite snack. 

Dabi: sadomasochism. i’ve seen both variations separately done for him before — i just think he’s both.

obviously he’s more into the first (sadism). will treat you like a potato sack, lifting you up without asking, throwing (literally throwing) you to the bed, not caring about where you’ll land and ripping/burning the fabric that clings onto you. assaults your cunt—spits on it and slaps the clit with his hands (sometimes too hard, it makes you cry).

facefucks you the minute you get a hold of his cock, he doesn’t even give you a second, he will grab your head and move it to an unforgiving pace. definitely a cheek slapper — needs to feel his dick in your gums from outside. he might pinch your nose shut and leave you with no airway to..survive. but it’s ok, you make it out alive.

has ropes and recently bought a leash and a collar. it’s red with a black handle and he uses it each time you talk too much. might get bored just holding the handle as he needs to touch (bruise) you, so he’ll hang it to the bed’s end and just pull at the steel. shoots his cum inside only when you're loud enough to make his ears ring. (rip neighbors, they're already considering moving out after they called the cops on him and he almost fried them)

until..

the thing is.. Dabi lives in the past, he doesn’t share his life with anyone so how is he supposed to not dwell on it by himself? has a lot of inflicted pain he can’t share but subconsciously craves. the first time you take liberty in causing him pain ever so little is accidental. you are on top, he’s setting the pace, sure, but your weight falls on his face as your arms enclose his neck. you’re not trying, hell, you don’t even know how to choke someone properly (why would you?) but you need to hold on to something and you think you’re imagining it when you hear a very soft moan. no, you’re definitely imagining it. it will cross your mind later on.

after that, you try to experiment in the territory, you’re in missionary and he thrusts inside you while you bring his neck close and squeeze again. this time you deliberately apply pressure as he hisses a fuck so.. you slap him. it’s a light, small smack on his cheek, again, you don’t want to piss him off but he groans, this time louder and you grin. you might end up slapping him harder the more the sex progresses, the staples hurt your knuckles but he’s making desperate (sexy) sounds.

he’s not gonna be descriptive since he is waay too embarrassed (you will never hear a ‘’shit, i love it when you cause me pain, babe’’) but you don’t care, his expressions tell you everything you need to know.

the next time you’re on top and test the waters, you grab the leash and collar from the nightstand and raise a brow. that’s how most of the communication flows, with mute understanding. he’ll huff in annoyance while his hips involuntarily buck up and he’ll mutter: ‘’shit, whatever.. get this over with.’’ (i hc he calls you bro when embarrassed lol) breath already hitched as you adjust the buckle to his neck. safe to say you’re more than proud to see him fall apart, even if tears never spill from his eyes. 

[lostalioth]

𝘯𝘴𝘧𝘸 𝘢𝘣𝘤’𝘴 ; 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦

→ warnings: this is all written with a female reader in mind, smut [18+], all the dirty things that come with nsfw abcs :)

→ a/n: using old reliable nsfw abcs as a way of helping me warm back up to writing :) i havent written in SO LONG again but ive still been reading and my fixation on stevie is coming back strong so figure id use the pretty boy for nsfw abcs

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

I think Steve was a bit lame at aftercare in the beginning with past partners, he would clean them off when needed and offer water but that was about it.

Eventually the older he got the better he got with it, and the more he understood the importance of it. A part of him even found it to be his favorite thing to help you calm down and come down from your high slowly. Cooing at you and praising how well you did for him as his hands brush down your arms, your sore and shaking thighs that are still wrapped around his waist to soothe you. He’d clean the both of you up and get you fresh clothes and water. Steve lulling you to sleep in his arms with small kisses to your face and shoulders and whispers of even more praise.

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

His favorite on himself although it isn't exactly a body part, is his hair of course. He has always prided himself on his hair looking good, always making sure each strand was in place, it started as a vanity thing. However after he notices just how much you loved playing with his hair, running your fingers through it, tugging it, even styling when he gave in after a week of you begging him. His love and pride in it grew tenfold once it became something you loved about him.

His favorite on you would be in all honesty your tits. He's a simple man, no matter their size his hands are gonna gravite to them, rest his hand there when you're cuddling, grope and knead them under your shirt, lay his head on them rambling on and on about how soft they are.

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

Steve cums a lot and by a lot, I do mean A LOOTT. He honestly doesn't understand it but it's always been that way and because of it if he doesn't use a condom or have you swallow it, it's quite a lot and hard to clean up. Sometimes he loves making you an absolute mess, covered in his cum, sweat and saliva from his mouth exploring, kissing and licking every inch of your body. Steve being well aware of just how much he cums was amazed and admittedly a bit impressed the first time he cums down your throat. He had assumed it would be too much for you so the first time you had him in your mouth and he felt himself get close he tried to pull out so he could cum on your tits.

”Fuck babe im gonna- god im gonna cum” he nearly whines out as your head bobbed, taking his whole length down your throat. He attempts to pull his hips back to pull out of your mouth. You hum around his dick and look up at him with a begging look as you grab hold of his hips, digging your nails in pulling him back closer. The assertiveness of your move stuns Steve for a moment as red hot pleasure consumes him and before he can stop it, he is cumming down your throat. He watches in near shock as while his cock is still sitting heavy on your tongue you swallow all his cum down. He knows his pupils are blown wide as he stares at you, slipping your mouth off him and looking up at him. A cocky and proud smile starts to worm its way on your face. "Good girl—That's a good fucking girl. Fuck baby" he groans as he dives down to capture your lips in a heated kiss, the latter of his sentance mumbled against your lips.

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

He loves the idea of you dominating him. He has always been the dominant one in his past relationships, he feels that that's how it's supposed to be. However he can't deny that he likes the moments in bed when you boss him around telling him exactly what to do to please you and he obeys. He can't deny how much he likes when you praise him and call him a good boy when he does something you ask even if it's in a joking matter when he goes and grabs your phone you left in his room when you ask. To him it's his dirty secret, what Steve doesn't know is that you picked up on this little fantasy of his. It was one night after he had a long shift at work and he had practically begged you to let him eat you out cause all he wanted was to please you.

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

I’d say Steve has pretty average experience. He’s had girlfriends, he's had hookups and one night stands. The only thing he wasn't all that experienced with was kinks. He has nothing to worry about though because you're there to help him out and teach him about all your kinks as well as aid him with discovering and testing his own out.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Steve loves any position where he gets to watch your face. The way it contorts in pleasure, your eyes screwing shut and your jaw falling open in either a sharp gasp or a wonton moan when you cum. He also loves holding you therefore his absolute favorite position would have to be when you're straddling him, your chest pressed to his as he is laid back on the bed. His knees bent so his hips can set a punishing and hard pace jackhammering up into you. His large hands cupping the sides of your face forcing you to look at him as he thrusts deep inside you.

“Fuck look at me, there we go sweet girl” Steve coos as he holds your face forcing you to hold eye contact. “There's my pretty girl.. Hii baby” a smirk blooms on his face as his hips speed up, his tip abusing that one spot deep inside you. The pleasure makes it harder to keep your eyes open and look at him. You whimper and mumble something that comes out as gibberish, too lost in the bliss and basking in his attention to form real words.

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

He’d be goofy at the start, smiling big and teasing you softly. Play fighting with you and tickling your sides would eventually morph into your hands pinned above your head and his mouth attacking your tits. Legs around his waist trying to shift your hips to grind your ass against the growing bulge in his jeans. The teasing wouldn't stop however he'd be a bit more serious the more into the moment the two of you became.

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

it would entirely depend on how you preferred him, he never used to bother with grooming himself down there as he had no complaints but if you preferred him to be more groomed he’d do it without hesitation. If you didn't care about it, he'd leave it. All he wants is to please you, he has no preference when it comes down to it so he defers to you for it.

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

Steve gets very into the moment. He loves kissing all over your body as his hips thrust into you. Praise spilling out of his lips as you ride him, his arms wrapped around your torso holding you close to him. The man adores you, even when he's being desperate and rough and fast he makes sure to still hold you close and tell you he loves you as his hips bounce off yours hard enough you know there will be bruises in the morning.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He does it probably more than he'd ever admit to you. He just gets so needy for you and knowing you're busy at work he’ll usually resort to fisting his cock. A pair of your panties you let him keep shoved against his nose, needing your scent to get him off. His head full of memories of your body under his, on top of his, your mouth on him, his tongue buried in your pussy, even images of new things he wants to try with you aid him and push him closer and closer to the edge. Jerking off however very rarely satiates him enough to where he wont be on you the second you walk through the door. Nothing does it good enough for him except his girl.

”Fuck sweetheart i missed you, i needed you so bad baby” he whines as he grinds his hips up against you, he had you pinned to the couch not even 10 seconds after greeting you at the door. “Had to rub one out so i didnt bug you at work” his voice came out full of desperation. “Stevie..” you whine out as he begins kissing down your neck. “Nothing is as good as this prefect fucking pussy though” he lets out a low groan as he starts working at getting you out of your work uniform.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Steve wasn't all that knowledgeable of kinks until you and boy did you help him learn. He loves praising you, watching your eyes sparkle and lit up when he tells you how good you're doing. He secretly loves when you praise him back, it makes an unusual feeling settle in his chest as it wasnt something he was used to hearing. He has a slight size kink, he likes when his body looms over yours and how delicate his large hands make your body look. On the very rare occasion as well he can be quite sadistic sometimes. He loves choking you as well, not like hardcore but lightly and he wouldn't be opposed to it being returned.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The bedroom is Steve's favorite place. He knows that's boring but it gives him the most time and space as well as comfort to do as he pleases with you. Not that you guys haven't done it in other places, when you're feeling risky and both of you are extra needy you've done it in a bedroom at a house party, the bathroom at work, the back of Steve's car was the easiest place in your youth for the two of you to have alone time. Those places are just never as good as when Steve has you spread out on his bed where you don't have to worry about being quick or being caught.

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

Just about anything you do. This man is so deeply obsessed and in love with you that something as simple as him looking at you, taking a sip of water and watching your thorat bob as you swallow would have him straining against his boxers. Watching you sit and do your makeup, a look of focus on your face as you concentrate would have him sneaking up behind you to kiss along the side of your neck up to your ear trying his hardest to break said focus. One look from you with a flutter of your eyelashes and a smile would have him on his knees begging you to leave a party earlier so you two can head home. A brush of your lips against his and he has to refrain from blowing his load in his pants like an inexperienced teenager.

“Baby i think i'm addicted to you” steve lets out a groan as he watches you glide around the house cleaning up after a large party. He sat up on the kitchen counter not being much of a help. Your hips swaying to the music playing softly in the background for ambiance nearly had the man drooling.

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

Anything you don't like or aren't comfortable with. Hed do or try just about anything you ask, if it pleases you and you like it thats enough to turn him on.

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

Steve LOVVEESSS being between your thighs, his tongue lapping at your cunt like a starved man. He doesn't eat pussy for his pleasure he does it for yours, all he cares about is your pleasure. He loves feeling you slowly lose yourself on his mouth, threading your fingers through his hair and holding him there as you cum with a loud drawn out moan of his name leaving your mouth. His preference is giving because when he's receiving?

He has a bit of a hard time holding it in, your mouth is like kryptonite or something cause the second the warmth of your pretty mouth envelopes his cock he's a goner. He turns into a whimpering, stuttering mess mumbling about how pretty you are, how good you are at sucking him off, how much he loves you.

“Sweet girl– shit go easy on me please baby or im gonna cum before we even get started” he whines as his hips buck up into your mouth.

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

Depends entirely on the mood, if the two of you have time steve is slow and sensual. Kissing down your body, working you open for his cock with his fingers or mouth. Slow making out as he slides inside you. Still a bit rough as Steve loves to watch as bruises and marks appear on both your bodies, marking you as his and him equally as yours.

But if you’re both needy and desperate for each other it's usually faster and just as rough, rushed foreplay, sloppy kisses, teeth clashing and hands everywhere nearly ripping each other's clothes off. Steve pleading and begging for you to cum for him.

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

They aren't a rare or a frequent occurrence. They're more of a situational thing, when the two of you start something only to realize one of you is gonna be late to work if you don't hurry up or you have friends coming over in 10 minutes.

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

Steve loves trying new things, anything and everything as long as you're comfortable with it. If you veto it then the two of you don't try it, the same goes for if he vetoes it but there is quite literally nothing he wouldn't let you do to him. He trusts you and would never say no to you.

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

He has fairly standard if not a bit high stamina, going at least 3-4 rounds before he feels like his balls have been drained but give him a few hours and a slow makeout session and he’ll be ready to go again. He is fast to recover.

There are certain instances where steve is too weak for you though that he doesn't last as long.

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

Steve would own a vibrator that the two of you use on occasion but usually the two of you are so lost in the pleasure of each other's touch and bodies on their own that you both long forget about using it most of the time. Steve mostly uses it when he wants to overstimulate you by making you come over and over.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Ohh he loves teasing you all the time, and you love teasing him. It's like a game of tit for tat with the two of you. Steve will tease you while you're at work and even more when you come home before giving in. Though he's a little shit about it and if it starts to be too much he wont stop. "Aw, it hurts? Too bad. you're gonna keep taking it until i’m satisfied sweet girl” he chuckles softly and grips your hip harder as his thrusts speed up.

The next day as payback you'd prance around the house in only panties and one of his t-shirts and tease him all day right back. Then he’d return the teasing again and so the cycle continues.

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

When Steve's needy he's offly vocal, begging, whining and whimpering how much he wants you, needs you. And when you give in somehow he gets louder.

“Shit! Fuck! Princess mmm you feel so good god, i love ya’ baby”

Verus when you're the needy one and he's in a dominant mood, you're the very vocal one and he's fairly quiet, so he can hear all the pretty noises you make. He is often too focused as well on you to talk much besides the occasional filth leaving his mouth when he cant hold it back and he cums.

"You look so pretty like this sweetheart"

"That's it. That's my girl fuck”

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

He likes buying you pretty lingerie and pjs. He just likes buying you cute and pretty clothes. It makes his girl happy and she just looks so pretty in everything he buys and gives him a little fashion show. One that may or may not normally end with you in his lap, his hand around your neck and his cock buried inside you. Praise and compliments mumbled against your lips. It's a win-win situation really.

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

He's pretty above average. Standing around 8 inches hard and his girth is enough to give you that addictive stinging stretch when he first slips inside everytime. He was popular with the ladies for a reason, though most found him a bit too much to take. You however take it like a champ and Steve almost loses it every time he bottoms out with how tight your pussy squeezes him.

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

Above average that's for sure and Steve will swear it used to be normal before you, but he just can't help it. He's obsessed with you and as stated before everything you do turns him on. His sex drive and desire for you are often what lead him to overstimulating you as he always wants you to cum more than once.

"You can give me another one, can't you baby? for me, come on please?" Steve begs as he looks at you through lust blown pupils, a small pleading smile on his face. Sweat dripping down his forehead as his hips snap against yours, your pussy red and puffy after you've already came twice. “Steve i dont think I can baby…” you whine and try pushing at his chest. “Come on princess, one last time and ill be done” he smirks and speeds up his hips and rubs his thumb in circles on your abused and throbbing nub.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Steve will wait for you to fall asleep first, not that he isn't tired but he often stays awake until you succumb to sleep in case you need him to get you anything. Your body is usually a bit weak and your legs wobbly after sex so he offers to get you whatever you need. Once you are sound asleep against his chest though he will kiss your head and snuggle closer to your warm body before drifting off himself.

→ a/n: send me some requests lovilies i need to get back to writing before kinktober!! also sorry for any mistakes im a tad rusty.

[nightismyhaven]

I mean this is in the most polite way possible but what the actual fuck is up with Mondstadt? Like first off, most of the Knights are gone especially the good ones together with Varka and the head priest of the church on some expedition for who knows how long and yet somehow despite missing most of its security Mond is still the safest nation.

Second both the abyss and imaginarium theater are there the former is self explanatory on why it's weird and the latter is because of the Hexenzirkel, third so many lore relevant characters are there or from therelike Albedo created by Gold and then there's Kaeya, Mona disciple of one of the witches, Klee daughter of Alice, Varka someone who is said to be very strong like Capitano, Rosalyn aka Signora, mother of Caribert is from Mond, Vanessa the one that we know that ascended to Celestia like tf is up with that cast?

Then there's the fact that it was Venti's statue that was stolen, the first field tiller is on Mond despite Celestia being way closer to Fontain, Chenyu Vale and Sumeru. That big ass statue of Venti that says gateway to Celestia.

After all that there's still the biggest offender. Mondstadt's archon himself Venti. He said he is the weakest archon but mf lied as disproved by Nahida, he is mentioned, loved and known by the aranara, he claims to know the songs of the past, present and future, he is one of the thousand winds and is connected to Istaroth, he is the reason for the creation of the golden apple, he is besties with the Hexenzirkel.

If this ain't proof that Mond is hiding something big then I don't know what is.

[skulldetergent]

ghost scar headcanons (CW for his backstory)

no tattoo/no text version & explanation under the cut

CW⚠️ discussion of child abuse, torture, self harm & sa

since i headcanon ghost to have quite a few scars, i decided to make a "character sheet" or "scar map" to keep my art more consistent.

in the drawing, the scars are already labeled and i think pretty self-explanatory, but i will go into some more detail and elaborate on my headcanons. again, please read the content warning. i did my best at trying to discuss the following in a sensitive way, but it may be upsetting to read nonetheless.

let's begin with the ones that say "mission". i imagined they are just random scars he sustained during his service over the years, like gunshot scars or knife slashes from close combat.

but others like "roba's hook", the autopsy scar, tally marks, the whip scars and his glasgow smile are from during the time where he was captured and tortured. i headcanon reboot ghost to have pretty much the same backstory as OG ghost, with some slight differences and additions of my own.

things like the glasgow smile or tally marks are made up by me, and others like the being hanged from his ribs actually happened (comics). ghost was also canonically sexually assaulted multiple times, which gave me the idea of said tally marks to emphasise how cruel his captors were.

correct me if i'm wrong, but in the comics ghost doesn't have any scars after being tortured, any cuts shown on his body just cease to exist a few panels later. but considering what he was put through, i do think that there would be permanent scarring.

now, it's also canon that ghost was abused by his father in ways like him bringing large animals such as snakes in his room to scare him, or having him watch a woman die from OD, which made me consider what the full extent of his terrible father's "parenting" must've looked like.

ghost has a small, almost faded scar under his eye, he was too young to remember how he got it, only finding out when his mother told him. his father was being neglectful when he was supposed to watch him, and simon injured himself while wandering around.

now, it is unclear in the comics if mr. riley's abuse was purely psychological, or if it extended to physical as well (again, correct me if i'm wrong). but i didn't find it unrealistic to have the latter be the case, which is why simon has cigarette burn scars on his neck and legs. his father found it amusing under the guise of "making him a man" and seeing how long little simon could take it before he would start crying. nowadays the burns are barely visible.

and lastly, the self harm scars covered up by the tattoo sleeve on his left arm. considering what simon had to go through at an early age, it is not unlikely that he might have resorted to SH as a teenager. and later, he got the tattoo as a reminder to himself that those days are his past and not his present.

i really read the comics and said:

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Baby Face - A John Shelby/Reader One Short Story.

Words - 2,742

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

You and your girlfriends, you have names for each of them. Names the don’t know about. Tommy is razor cheeks, because of course. Those cheekbones. Arthur is angry fella, again, self-explanatory, and John is... 

“Look, girls,” you chime, sipping upon your gin while discreetly nodding in the direction of the Garrison’s entrance. “Baby face just walked in.”  

“He’s so adorable,” your friend Marjie sighs, turning to you with a look of pure adoration upon her face. “I don’t know what I’d like to do more, mother him or get on him!” 

“Oh,” you snort, shaking your head, “it’s the latter for me. I would ride that man all the way to town and back!”  

Your girls all cackle, huddling close, Joan the next to speak. “Would you, though? I mean, he’s a bit too sweet looking for me! Dunno if he’d have it in him, to be as much man as I’d need!” 

You turn to view him again, catching his eye. He gives you an appreciative sweep with his eyes, winking. Turning back to your friends, you beam widely. “He’s got it in him. I know we call him baby face, but there’s a demon lurking beneath. I know there is.” 

“A shilling says you’re wrong.” Reaching into her purse, Winnie pulls out the very coin itself, slapping it down on the table. Joan and Marjie follow suit. “Are you prepared to put your money where your mouth is?” 

Rifling in your bag, you remove your dainty little purse, taking out the coin and placing it with theirs. “I’ll put my money there. My mouth has other plans.” 

“Oooh, you dirty cat!” Winnie shrieks, her brother, the man you needed to accompany you to the pub in order to be served in the first place turning, tutting and shaking his head.  

“All alley cats, the lot of ya!” 

“Oh, pipe down, our Wilf,” she orders lightly, giving him a nudge where he’s turned in his seat at the next table over with his lad friends. “We’re only having a bit of fun!” 

A bit of fun. You can guess with almost certainty you’d receive exactly that from John Shelby. Turning again, you see he’s still at the bar, drinking with a couple of the lesser famed Blinders, once again catching your eye. He lifts his chin, holding your gaze fast while sipping his whiskey, placing his glass down and making a motion with his fingers for you to go over. Smiling, you remain in your seat. 

He can work a little harder than that.  

The excited squeaks of your friends – who of course witnessed it – tinkle through the air, Joan holding out a cigarette, lighting it for you, her eyes suddenly widening.  

“Baby face on his way over! This is not a bloody drill!” 

Your heart somersaults, but you remain calm, feeling him arrive at your side. “Evening, ladies. Having a good time, are ya?” 

Looking up at him, you’re near intoxicated out of your mind by his scent, his eyes so much more beautiful close up. God, he’s simply divine. “I could be having a better one.” 

“Oh, ar?” he chimes, raising an eyebrow as he idly chews upon his toothpick. “Anything I can help with?”  

Your girlfriends snort with giggles, John giving them a fleeting look of curiosity before his eyes fall back upon you. He doesn’t wait for you to reply. “How about I get another gin in that glass for ya, and we go from there?” 

You stand, licking your lips, watching his eyes flit down, his pupils inking a little. You have to stop yourself from diving on him right there and then. “Lead the way.” He offers his arm, and you take it to a little “ooooh!” chorus from your friends, turning to give them a scolding look. After being escorted from the bar and furnished with another drink, one drink leads to two, two to three, the evening flying by as you get to know the third Shelby brother a little better.  

You find him to be sweet and charming beneath the veil of hardened gangster, and, well, cheeky as hell.  

“I gotta hand it to ya, bab. Those are some cracking legs you’ve got,” he compliments with a wink, looking down and back up again, his cocky smile broadening.  

You lean in close to him, gliding a fingernail over his defined jaw. “Why thank you.” 

His intense gaze doesn’t leave you for a second, turning to press a little kiss to your fingertip. “Yeah, your legs look amazing, but they’d look even better wrapped around me.”  

The signals you’ve been giving to one another have all led to this point, your smile broadening in an instant. “I have lodgings above the shoe shop on Bennett Street. Want to come and see for yourself how good they’ll look around you?” 

You’ve never seen a man see off a fresh whiskey quite so fast before. “Lead the way, love.” You know the Shelby abode is closer than your little room above Mr. Smedley’s Shoes and Leather goods, but you’d prefer to be in your own space with a man you truly don’t know well at all. Outside, you fall into step at his side, taking his arm again, thinking how gentlemanly he is, right up until he suddenly pushes you into an alleyway.  

You feel a little anxious at first, but the way he looks at you. Oh, look. There’s the demon you knew was lurking beneath the surface, spitting out his toothpick before his mouth lands upon yours. His kisses are whiskey tinged and lust dripping, all sweet heat and need as he pushes himself against you. It’s imposing, but not intimidating, his want for you melding with yours as the sparks begin to crackle further into illumination.  

“Come on, mister. You’re not shagging me in an alleyway.” Grabbing his hand, you lead him back out to the street again, John releasing it to wrap an arm around your shoulders instead, your own extending around his waist. The balmy summer evening still warms the pale, inky violet of night, the air pleasant, the birds still twittering as they sit on the viaducts above, turning three corners before you end up on Bennett Street.  

John Shelby has never been so pleased to see a shoe shop in all of his life, and the spring in his step confirms it. If not, the way he begins to lay hot kisses upon your neck as you jiggle the key in the side door lock tells you plenty. The entrance to the two lodging rooms above the is separate from the shop itself, a narrow staircase taking you up a flight, turning right into an equally narrow passageway.  

“Bathroom is at the end there.” you point, unlocking the door to the left and opening it to reveal your modest dwelling.  

“It’s your bed I wanna know the way to more right now,” he breathes, shrugging his jacket off, his hands impatiently moving to you, smoothing over your body, mouth still furiously heated at your neck. God, the raw passion in him. It’s almost enough to make your knees buckle, feeling your dress come loose in his hands as you step out of your shoes, turning to kiss him.  

He backs you against the door, hands pawing at you urgently, kisses full-bodied and blistering with heat. Your hands begin the desperate devouring of clothes, having his shirt unfastened in haste to feel his skin against yours, your body smoothed and squeezed in a touch that leaves you breathless. Your fingers rain trails of exploration over his chest, and the noise he makes as his tongue swirls with yours is pure sin, his touch slipping to your undergarments.  

He fights against the lace, a hand slipping within, pulling a gasp from you when his fingers brush against the petals of your sex. You whine at the tease, and he smiles against your lips, pulling from the kiss to look at you through a heavy-lidded gaze, watching the need dance in your eyes. He relents his tease, his fingertips gently stroking the slick of your anticipation, your head thudding back against the door.  

The wood feels cool and steadying against your body, skin heating up rapidly, a summer tempest beginning to swell as the stroking of your bundle has you purring softly, John’s lips returning to yours. His body melds into your curves, his cock hard at your hip, his touch rousing the little bolts that spark up your spine. He draws all manner of sweet noises from you, and he swallows back every one of them in each kiss, his free arm locking around your waist.  

Lifting you, he carries your barely dressed form to the bed, throwing you down, removing the rest of his clothes as you impatiently pull yourself out of your undies, your stockings shimmied down, receiving his pale skinned, freckle flecked, gorgeous body between your legs. His kisses trail your eager flesh, shifting, hands wandering along the path his lips map, settling at your apex and delving within your folds with a keen, firm drag.  

The wet of each lick has little pin pricks skittering over your nerves, the warmth of it catching quickly, your edges caught in the heat of his flame. The roll of his tongue over your clit is slow and full of heat, hands kneading in soft clench upon your thighs, the outline of him through the dimness of your room gilded in the last of the summer light still reasonably visible.  

He is a feast for your eyes, his wide back and well-bounded bum so peachy, it invites you to sink your teeth into it, if you weren’t so lost in the delirium of his mouth pressed so keenly against your sex. The heat he evokes burns you to your marrow, the scald of your arousal growing as every flicker of his tongue sends flames skittering through you. The addition of his fingers pushing into your cunt has a sweltering flush of pleasure twining through you, your hands reaching to rest either side of his head. 

Neatly shorn stubble prickles at your fingertips, your back arching as he works you with hunger, your dew sparkling upon his fingers. He twists them in a way that has your mouth dropping open, a sound you scarcely believe came from you filling the air, John’s lips wrapping your clit in a suck that is a gentle crush of pillowy heat to begin with, the pull intensifying, little glimmers rushing through you until... 

“Oh!” It tears through you, sudden and overbearing, leaving you trembling, your release still rolling through you as his tongue slows, your fluttering walls pulsing around his fingers, withdrawing them as he sits up, inspecting his sodden hand. 

“Fuckin’ ‘ell!” he rumbles, shaking the trails of slick from them, chuckling to himself. “Proper enjoyed that, didn’t ya?” He brings those fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean before grasping your thighs and yanking you closer to where he kneels, a predatory look glinting the blue of his eyes. “Think you’re ready to get fucked now, ain’t ya?” 

“You bloody better,” you mewl, hands trawling his arms as he lowers to you, placing kisses at your sternum. You can feel the head of his cock pressing for entrance, the tip breeching you, but all he gives is a mere inch before pulling back. His mouth closes over your nipple in a warm suck, pushing again, opening you around him, slipping back once more. Oh... you certainly were right. He’s a demon.  

“John, please,” you complain, and he has the gall to give you his most innocent, unassuming look. Damn that baby face.  

“Please what, bab?” 

You chuckle, but it’s pained, hissing a breath when his teeth close upon your nipple. “Please fuck me.”  

“I will, love,” he murmurs, mouth moving to your neck, tongue pressing against where your pulse flickers madly. “Eventually.” His teeth lock in another bite, cock breeching you again, a couple of inches parting your needy, soaking walls this time, twitching before abandoning you again. “Gonna make you desperate for it before I do, though.” 

“And to think, my friend thought you were so adorable,” you quip, body juddering beneath him, John laughing as his tongue swipes over the crescent of each breast, hands smoothing down your back.  

“Your friend don’t fucking know shit.” Indeed, she doesn’t. Your bet? Won already... and he’s barely been inside you.  

His merciless tease continues, and every second of it is agonising to your overstimulated body, your cunt streaming needily, yearning for him to simply fill you. When he finally does, you have to hope that Mr. Taggart, the other lodger there above the shoe shop is out for the night from the cadence of your wail, spread wide around the girth of the gangster who offers kisses steeped in sugared embers, fingers trawling through your hair.  

No matter how dangerous he is, you desire nothing more than to slap him when he retreats once more, chuckling at your pain. “Alright, fine,” he begins, turning you onto your side, moving to lie behind you. “I suppose I’d better play fair, save spitting me teeth.”  

He hauls your leg up so it rests in the cradle of his elbow, hand reaching to grasp his cock. He purposefully rubs himself along your slit, the gloss of your cunt smearing over his thick, veiny shaft, your whimpers reaching crescendo. You need him so badly, you are not above begging, but finally, he plunges into you fully, sating you beautifully. And oh, he feels sublime.  

His other hand reaches beneath your neck, turning your head to meet your lips in kisses that scald you, like a summer heatwave cutting through an arctic chill, moaning against your tongue as he arrows you so deeply, you see stars. The rhythm of his fuck is contained to begin with, each daggering into your soft, dripping warmth allowing you to feel every ridge of his cock, falling then into a tempo that has you gasping against his lips. 

The snap of his hips has your tits heaving, kissing back every little cry, telling you how good you feel around him, how beautiful you look while you’re getting fucked, moaning into your mouth as his hand slides down to begin stroking your clit in time with every deep thrust. You’re adrift from yourself, cast out onto the vast sea that begins to whirl, the storm that is John leaving you feeling unmoored entirely as he splits you deep and fucks you hard.  

“Come on, darlin’. Don’t be shy,” he encourages you, mouth moving to suck a purple welt upon your neck with a deep groan full of smoke and salt. “Let me hear you scream for me.”  

You feel the shiver in your muscles spread as he rails you relentlessly, his sweat slicked chest rubbing against your back as your voice breaks on the scream he fucks out of you, your waves flooding his shore as you come hard for him, every fibre of your being alight, twitching and beaming. He slows, giving you time to recover, sliding from you and turning you over, pulling your hips up before re-entering your molten core from behind.  

Your pleasure is still warming your bones as he begins to fuck you in all out, brutal carnal fury, groaning deep as he splits you around him, hands clasped at your hips, eyes fixed upon the sight of his cock rapidly assailing your soaking little hole. He pants hard, each twitch of his cock tightened upon by the clutch of your walls as he rapidly has you ascending again, coming with him as he paints your insides white, growling cusses as his release blinds him completely.  

You don’t even care about the three shillings you just won; all the prize you need is being turned and pulled into a set of strong arms, sharing kisses with your baby-faced demon as every drop of pleasure he so expertly bestowed upon you ebbs away.  

“Fancy letting me do that to you again sometime?” he asks, and you smirk immediately, turning him onto his back and seating yourself astride him. 

“You aren’t leaving here until you do it to me at least another three times,” you demand, leaning to kiss the centre of his chest, the vibrations from his chuckle tickling your lips.  

“Oh ar, bab. You can count on that.”  

[ohwormwood]

breaking down over in stars and time's use of tarot cards

[woe, spoilers be upon ye!]

[no seriously, this contains spoilers for the entire game. proceed with caution]

BECAUSE IF I HAVE TO BE TORMENTED BY THIS KNOWLEDGE, THEN SO DO YOU.

Act 2

Six of Swords

Transition, change, rite of passage, releasing baggage

Siffrin is, in the start of Act 2, beginning a new journey. This card is pretty self explanatory, but also is a form of major foreshadowing. Six of Swords has a heavy implication towards evolving and bettering yourself as a person, going on a journey that is absolutely essential to growth. Whether or not this journey is at all pleasant is entirely left up in the air, but given the rest of the game, it’s more of an indication of hard-won lessons.

Siffrin asks “How does the boat not sink?”, which is kind of hilarious, given that they end up almost sinking into complete despair by the end of the game, only saved by getting help and changing, completing their journey and starting a new one.

The Star (Reversed)

Lack of faith, despair, self-trust, disconnection

Stars play a huge part in this game (it’s literally in the name), so this card felt kind of inevitable. The most important part of this card is that it serves as a sort of omen for what is to come. In Act 2, Siffrin is blissfully unaware of the overall impact this will have on his psyche, of the turmoil it will bring him. But the most important part of this card for me is the idea of loss of faith. The very first line in the reference site’s description is this; “The Star Reversed can mean that you’ve lost faith and hope in the Universe”. This is likely indicative of the gradual crumbling of Siffrin’s hope over the course of the game. The site also notes that “You may be desperately calling out to the Universe to give you some reprieve but struggling to see how the Divine is on your side”. Siffrin pretty much does this in the latter half of Act 3, as things become more and more hopeless. This is, for lack of a better term, a test of faith. Given how the Change God mocks Siffrin for the Universe never talking to them directly, this is nailed home pretty hard. But, in Act 2, a lot of the concept of The Universe and Wishcraft isn’t introduced, so this serves more as a premonition than anything else.

Another note: Loop. Loop is a star. Or ate a star. Either way, they have a deep connection with stars (and The Universe as a result). I bring this up because of the general meaning behind the UPRIGHT version of this card, which is a sign of hope, faith, and guidance. Loop serves this purpose throughout the game as Siffrin’s “helpful companion~”, so the connection here there is nice. But the entry states this; “When confronted with a challenging situation, you can either crumble like The Tower or stand firm in your conviction that the Divine is everywhere”. Because of the 2 Hats situation, we know that where Siffrin eventually overcame the challenges of The Star/The Universe, Loop did not. Instead, they made one last plea to the Universe for help, and The Universe listened. But we know the obvious twist of fate here is that Loop is literally helping themself by helping Siffrin. They gave in, crumbled, and lost their faith in the end, only to be the thing that helped Siffrin keep theirs and eventually free themselves. 

Ace of Wands 

Inspiration, new opportunities, growth, potential

Most of Act 2 Siffrin is spent with this idea in mind. At this point, Siffrin is pretty lax about the true meaning of the loops, believing them to be an opportunity to beat the king, each loop full of potential to achieve their goal. But the twist here is that for the Ace of Wands, there is always potential but never a guarantee of success. Siffrin experiences this first hand at the end of Act 2. 

Eight of Pentacles

Apprenticeship, repetitive tasks, mastery, skill development

Another nod to Siffrin’s frame of mind in Act 2. The slow mastery gained through the overall leveling system in the game actually accomplishes this card’s meaning pretty well- you repeat everything, over and over, and it is only when you master it that you are able to defeat the king. Siffrin notes a lot that in a couple of loops, he will likely be able to remember interactions by heart, and some he actually does recall completely, like when the very first interaction with Mirabelle in Dormont at the start of each loop. He’s essentially memorized the script, mastered the actions, the choreography, and now is faced with the fact that he has to do it over and over again. It will turn into monotony by proxy of being so familiar and easy. 

Siffrin also notes that “they seem happy to be working”, which is another nod to how he sees the loops towards the start of the game, less of a curse and more of a boon that requires effort to properly utilize.

Act 3

Two of Swords

Difficult decisions, weighing up options, an impasse, avoidance

There are a lot of hard choices to be made in Act 3, so this likely isn’t referring to any one instance. This is where the Eight of Pentacles card comes back into play, in a sense- there is still more to learn here, more to master, but a lot of that requires decisions that have greater weight than those in Act 2. People’s lives are at stake. However, it is only by doing this and making hard choices that Siffrin eventually learns more about Wishcraft and the way things work in the loops. 

Interestingly, when Siffrin describes this card, they describe someone holding scissors. An intersection of 2 blades, but the thing here is that no matter which side you’re on, they can still cut you. Alternatively, this could just be a representation that Siffrin, who is the main Scissors Craft user of the party, is the one stuck with these decisions. 

Six of Pentacles (Reversed)

Self-care, unpaid debts, one-sided charity

Siffrin is the king of never giving themself proper self care. They are also the king of tearing themselves apart to give everything they have to the party. They are willing to sacrifice everything they have for a “perfect ending” where everyone is happy… everyone but themselves, that is, because they do not receive the same fulfillment in return. They give and they give and they give, but the party does not give in return, not in the way they need. Not soon enough to prevent them from falling apart at the seams over it. 

The note here mentions that it shows “someone walking on the sky and offering flowers to sky people”, but then when flipped shows “the man is touching the ground, and giving flowers to normal people”. This kind of struck me as strange, as no matter what orientation the card takes, they will always have their feet on the ground. This also isn’t the last mention of sky people, but I haven’t really delved deep enough into theories about that to understand what that really means in the context of this card.

The Hermit

Soul-searching, introspection, being alone, inner guidance

Hilariously, this is something Siffrin completely lacks for most of the game. They avoid thinking about themselves and their own sense of self for a vast majority of their character arc, and it isolates them. While this card means well in its message of introspection, it’s also key to note that this withdrawal from the outside also can lead to being alone with your own thoughts, something that Siffrin experiences more as the game continues. And their refusal to acknowledge what they want almost breaks them. 

The loneliness aspect of this card is further hammered home by the fact that Siffrin says “they look sad and alone”.

Five of Wands

Conflict, disagreements, competition, tension, diversity

Misunderstandings and miscommunication is at the heart of this card. And oh boy, does Siffrin deal with a LOT of that in the loops. My brain immediately goes to the whole “touch therapy” arc and Siffrin’s refusal to clarify that they don’t dislike touch, which eventually leads to Memory of Touch. It’s also a bit of foreshadowing of what is to come, especially in Act 5 and the breakdown of the party’s trust in Siffrin because of their break in communication and understanding with each other. 

Siffrin asks “Why are they fighting?” when this card is drawn. The answer is that they don’t really understand themselves. This is conflict driven by a lack of communication and understanding of the other parties at hand. As the description for this card says, “No one is listening.”.

Act 4

Eight of Swords

Negative thoughts, self-imposed restriction, imprisonment, victim mentality

Act 4 starts with Siffrin experiencing quite possibly one of the worst endings to the loops he can imagine, so it’s safe to say that at this point, their deterioration is rapidly worsening. They begin to spiral, and the idea that there is no way out begins to appear. However, the main crux of this card’s significance is that there is a way out, but it lies in freeing oneself. There is a gap in the swords, and if one was to take off the blindfold they could get out. The description of this card calls this “imprisonment”, which ties in pretty nicely to one of the screens you can get when you loop back; “You are in a prison of your own making”. The description for the card also reads “You surrendered your power to an external entity, allowing yourself to become trapped and limited in some way. You may feel that it isn’t your fault – you have been placed here against your will”. This is heavy foreshadowing for the idea that Siffrin’s own wish to The Universe that got them trapped in the loops, not the wishes of The House or The King. 

Siffrin asks “Why is he alone?” when drawing this card, which kind of projects onto themselves. They feel alone, they feel trapped, and they believe that there is no one who can help them, but that isn’t true. They have the ability to change things, but they are afraid. 

Ten of Swords (Reversed)

Recovery, regeneration, resisting an inevitable end

There are good aspects to this card, but the main focus in this case is likely the idea of resisting the inevitable. This is pretty much what the whole deal with the Head Housemaiden is, the repeated attempts to find some way to change something that, by the nature of the wish, cannot be changed. And yet, Siffrin is unable to let go of this. It’s also noted that this card represents past trauma that is still being carried around and still hurts the bearer. Siffrin spends this Act searching into their past, tearing up painful memories (or lack thereof) in the process. They carry the burden of being without a true geographical/cultural home to go back to. They cannot let go of this, nor do they want to. But the card’s description notes that “these old pains need to be dealt with once and for all. It may be difficult to delve back in, but it's the only way to release yourself of this pain and allow it to pass from your life”. In a lot of ways, this nods to the avoidance of pain that Siffrin displays when they are unable to cope with their trauma from the past and the loops. It is only through promising to tell the party their wish and deal with the pain and fear of their trauma that they can move on and begin to heal. This card pretty much represents the whole crux of the story’s meaning. 

Five of Pentacles

Financial loss, poverty, lack mindset, isolation, worry

Loss is a major theme of Act 5. The loss of memories, the loss of a home, the loss of faith, and, perhaps most importantly, the loss of hope. The card’s description says “You no longer feel safe because it has all been stripped away from you in one blow”, and this is pretty much what happens. Siffrin is in a crisis. They are exhausted, they are alone, and they are profoundly terrified of what that means. At this point, they are searching for help desperately, but are unable to ask for it. This card explicitly deals with fear of rejection and reaching out for help- the situation is dire, but, as seen with the card’s depiction of lit church windows, there is help nearby. The issue is that one must be willing to accept it. There is fear that you may lose something important- in Siffrin’s case, his found family- but there is no telling if that will actually come to pass. 

To further nail the loneliness aspect of this card home, Siffrin says that the figures on the card “probably don't have any friends”, something he starts to believe in the latter loops as the group loses their identities to the script. The in-game card also is different from the real card, and is said to show empty glasses, a pretty on-the-nose reference to Siffrin’s “glass half empty” mentality as they lose hope later in the game.

The Hanged Man

Pause, surrender, letting go, new perspectives

The Hanged Man gets a pretty bad reputation if you don’t really understand what it means. It’s a card about acceptance, pausing, and entering a new phase in life. But this change is heavily implied to come via unfavorable circumstances, situations outside of one’s control. The description says that when a person is unable to pause when they need to, unable to stop their actions, “The Universe will probably put things on hold for you, in the form of continued obstacles, ill-health, and breakdowns”. And this is pretty much what happens in Act 5. Siffrin is ground to a screeching halt by their own body, exhausted, starving, and mentally/physically fatigued to the point of actual sickness. On the topic of “surrender” and “giving in”, things get more pointed. Siffrin gives in to Mal Du Pays (very ‘L'appel du Vide” style), almost dying as a result, but then conversely gives in to the party’s urges to tell them what they wished for, to let go of their fear and stop looping. 

Siffrin notes that the Hanged Man “Look(s) like they're about to die, but they're smiling”. This is more of a connection to the end decision of Siffrin to let go of the loops and tell the party about their fears. They are facing down something that they are terrified of, something seemingly insurmountable, but rather than continue to fight and avoid letting go like Loop did, he instead chooses to surrender and tell the party.

Act 5/6

The Fool 

Beginnings, innocence, spontaneity, a free spirit

There are two versions of The Fool, technically. In Act 5, if you take the card and inspect it immediately, Siffrin will give a manic laugh and tear it to pieces. In a lot of initial interpretations of the card, some people will assume The Fool to be what the card says they are- a fool, someone stupid and tricked and hopeless, about to send themselves to their doom. But the reality is that this card is not really about that- it’s about new beginnings and the start of a new journey, but specifically through a leap of faith- a leap of faith that Siffrin has to take at the end of Act 5. While he is going through The House during this act, however, he is unwilling to accept this advice, either because it is misinterpreted or consciously, and instead tears it apart.

When the card is examined after the game, rather than during the final loop, Siffrin seems to recognize the card for what it actually means. He says “It's a traveler. He seems to be starting a new journey”. Siffrin’s title in the Profiles is literally “The Traveler” (alongside having the Traveler’s Hat), so this is a direct statement of new beginnings for the party and Siffrin’s life, a new journey they are taking with their family rather than alone. 

-

annnnd that does it for me, i've spent no less than two hours writing and researching for this post so ima go take a nap now, gnight

[brown-sugar-89]

WOAG all your art is really neat!! I love your take on sugary spire!! If you're still taking requests, could we see one of Pizzelles attempts to "Enlighten" Pizzano?

FLASHING COLORS WARNING!

I'm SO glad you asked! <x.] I've actually been making a short animatic related to this! Hope this works lol

I know it's rather cinematic than explanatory, so here's an extra info<3: Pizzelle/Noise gives off odd behavior and various hints (like questioning some of italian man's life aspects latter wasn't supposed to think too much about) perhaps trying to reach out for Pizzano's 'true self', rather than approaching him straightforwardly. Because, y'know, Pizzy might've be considered insane in this case. THOUGH I must admit the uneasy feeling of pretty much everything going off tracks DOES make Pizzano feel wrong and genuinely worried about Pizzelle!! and.. himself? 👀

[diamond-champagne]

1. I Miss You

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Summary: The one where Paige loves Azzi first; and Azzi loves Paige more.

Warnings: Angst and slightly suggestive!

Feedback is always welcome :)

November 2023

It takes two words and one text message.

“Come over.”

It took one text message, two words, from Azzi, her best friend, to send her flying. 

It comes at 1am when Paige is taking some time for herself. She’s alone in the gym. The only sound coming from the slight bounce of the basketball that she dropped. Paige stills at the notification on her home screen. She hovers a finger over her screen while her mind races for a response. 

It shouldn’t be a big deal. Paige’s heart shouldn’t be racing because her best friend asked her to come over. Except that she hasn’t spoken to Azzi for more than a few minutes in three weeks. She’s barely seen Azzi let alone talked to her. The curly haired girl’s time had been occupied between basketball, classes, and Riley. 

She’s a volleyball player with a curvy figure. Her skin is perfectly bronzed and tan with a smile so radiant, it hurts. Riley and Azzi met in one of their classes. Paige vaguely remembers her best friend mentioning something about her telling a funny joke about their professor. She wasn’t really listening to be honest. 

To be fair, Paige didn’t think that the girl served as competition when it came to Azzi’s time. Whenever the latter was not busy with school or basketball, she was with Paige. You’d never get the idea that she was even thinking of the volleyball player. Not the way she looked at Paige. Not the way she kissed Paige. Not the way she touched Paige.

Yet, 3 months into the semester, Azzi and  Riley are dating while Paige and Azzi are not. In fact, it’s the sheer thought of the girl that shakes Paige back to reality. She types out her response.

“Getting extra practice in.” Paige types out.

“So?” It comes not even a full minute later.

The response confuses Paige. Her mind is spinning and she’s so deep in thought that the second text message startles her. 

“Come over.”

Paige knows she shouldn’t. She’s dating someone. 

“Is that a good idea?” She barely manages to type out. Her hands are shaky and slightly sweaty.

“I miss you.” 

It took two words to throw her off balance. It took three words for her will to completely crumble. 

It took 15 minutes for her back to be pressed against the door and melt in Azzi’s hands. 

Paige can’t even say she’s surprised because really, when she thinks about the way her and Azzi touch each other, kiss each other, and love treat each other, the text at 1am is completely self explanatory. 

So here she is, back against the door with hands in hair. Azzi’s lips against hers as they made out like teenagers. Azzi’s hands move from Paige’s hair and their way to other parts of her. Waist, arms, ass and it's only when Paige wraps her arms around Azzi’s neck, that her hands settle on her waist. She pulls Paige a little closer as moves her kisses down the blonde girl’s neck. The action elicits a small moan from the blue eyed girl as she moves her head slightly to provide Azzi with more access. It’s all too much for Paige. Azzi, kissing her neck while her leg is perfectly positioned between Paige’s to create some pressure. She revels in it. So much so that she doesn’t realize she’s created a rhythm within her hips until Azzi pulls back from her completely. Her eyes are dark and intense. 

Before she knows it, Paige is laying on the couch. Her legs, wrapped around Azzi’s waist while her hands are pinned above her head by Azzi’s. She knows this is wrong. She knows she’ll get hurt but Paige misses Azzi. She missed her attention. So, instead of pushing her away, Paige opts to help Azzi out of her hoodie. And instead of pulling back, she allows Azzi to pull at the waistband of her sweatpants. 

-

Azzi is gentle but not. Fast but slow. Paige knows she’ll remember the night, along with all the others. 

Except when she wakes in the morning, her heart will be torn in two. 

It’ll start all the same. Paige wakes up alone, sore but content. She stretches before retreating into the bathroom to freshen up. It’s there that she sees her reflection. Her hair tangled from Azzi’s fingers and her neck littered with small bruises that served as a reminder of the previous night. She gets dressed in Azzi’s clothes. Gray sweatpants and a navy blue t-shirt before going to search for Azzi in the living room. That’s when she hears it.

“Paige and I are just friends.”

It’s a simple enough sentence and not necessarily untrue. But, it’s enough for Paige’s heart to sink. It’s confirmation that regardless of what happens, Azzi will never choose her. The realization brings tears to Paige’s eyes, not for the first time. She walks into the living room to say goodbye when she sees it. 

Azzi stands in the kitchen with Riley whose arms are around Azzi’s waist with her chin hooked over her shoulder. The two seem in their own world as they giggle and whisper amongst themselves. The sight shatters Paige’s heart in ways she isn’t ready to admit though she probably should. She shakes her head of that though, choosing to instead interrupt the couple to announce her departure.

“Sorry to interrupt. Az, I’m gonna head out.” Paige tries to sound normal but it comes out shaky to her own ears.

Azzi detachers herself from Riley to make her way over to Paige.

“P, you don’t have to leave. We can hang out, right?” Azzi looks over her shoulder at  Riley for confirmation. The volleyball player shakes her head with a kind smile. Paige almost feels bad for being jealous of the girl. But then she looks back at Azzi and sees the way she smiles at  Riley and then decides that it is totally justified. 

“I don’t want to intrude and I have homework. We can hangout later. Promise.” 

It’s a terrible idea to hang out. Paige is fully aware that it would only result in her right back in this position. Her heart, broken in ways she can physically feel and a small voice tell her that she will never be good enough for Azzi. She can’t help it though, because just like last night, the girl craves Azzi’s attention and she’ll take it anyway she can get it. Even if it kills her.

“Fine but we have to hang out later. I feel like I haven’t seen you” Maybe because you haven’t Paige thinks bitterly. The words dance on her tongue, dying to come out. Instead she swallows and agrees.”It does feel like a long time.”

“I miss you.” 

Paige knows she needs to leave fast. It’s too much for her. Azzi told her those same words before they spent the night together and now she’s saying them again as she stands in the same room with the girl she’s seeing. It’s all a little too much for Paige so she mutters out final goodbyes with promise of pazzi time and hightails it back to her place. 

-

It’s impressive that she makes it back to her apartment before she breaks down. She makes it into the elevator before her eyes fill with tears, into the apartment before they start to fall, and into her room before she starts to sob. She’s plagued with the sight of Azzi and Riley along with the accompanying denial of their night together. Following are the voices of her insecurities telling her that she’ll never be good enough. So she cries and cries until she’s sleeping. 

When Paige wakes, she’s met with more pain. Beyond the emotional damage, her head and throat hurts from crying and her stomach hurts from not eating. It forces her to get up and scour the apartment for food and Advil. Paige is in the middle of placing her chipotle order when the doorbell rings. She puts her phone down with the vowel to return to place her order, to go check the peephole. On the other side of the door is Nika. Paige doesn’t know if she’s relieved or disappointed.

“Hey, twin” The croatia basketball player says. The nickname brings a slight smile to her face. She notices that the brown haired girl is not empty handed as she has takeout and a small tote bag in her hands.

“Hey, twin” Paige tries to hide how bad she really feels but it’s a weak attempt. One that Nika can see right through. Her eyes soften a little and her face fills with concern immediately. 

“What’s wrong?”

And then Paige is rambling. Venting. She explains everything and before she knows it, she’s crying again. This time, Nika is there to offer her shoulder and soothe her. It saddens Nika to see her friend so upset. She knows it’ll get worse if she continues to rot in her apartment, alone with her thoughts.

“You know what you need? You need a night out.” She puts her hand up when Paige tries to speak. “You’re not going to get any better just moping around your apartment. You need to get out. Plus, you haven’t been out with the team in forever. Come out with us tonight.” Nika all but pleads.

“The team? Azzi is a part of said team.” Paige reminds her. 

“We’ll create a buffer between you and her. Please, Twin” Nika begs. Paige sighs a response and then shakes her head yes. She supposes going out wouldn’t be a bad thing. Nika lets out an excited shriek and begins to brainstorm outfit options while pulling out the food from their takeout containers. 

The friends make their plates and enjoy meaningless conversation before they start getting ready for the night. For the first time that day, Paige feels at ease.

-

The night out is going great. Alcohol is flowing freely amongst the teams and the air is light. Paige is at the bar listening to some story KK is telling about Ice and Jana leaving her in the mall. She turns to ask for another drink when she hears KK’s voice trail off. She immediately thinks KK got the impression she wasn’t listening so turns back around to explain. “I was listening. I was just getting a drink. What were you saying about the cold cookies?” Paige asked. Except KK’s attention was on something behind Paige. Or rather, someone. 

Paige didn’t get a chance to turn around before her senses were invaded by Azzi. Her floral perfume surrounded her as Azzi hugged her from behind. Her front pressed to Paige’s back and her arms wrapped loosely around her neck. Paige melts into the embrace as Azzi orders her drink. Once Azzi is settled at the bar with a drink in one hand and her other arm still slung over Paige’s shoulder protectively, she greets everyone and strikes up a conversation with Paige.

“Hey, babe,” Azzi whispers in her ear. The close proximity is enough to make Paige shiver. Azzi must recognize the effect that she has on the blue eyed girl because she smirks. Paige hates that she finds it so attractive. 

“H-Hi love” Paige stutters out. She doesn’t look at her teammate, finding her Shirley Temple more interesting. The terms of endearment cause a flutter within her stomach. She wants to hear Azzi call her “babe” for the rest of their lives. 

“I missed you.” Azzi murmurs as she moves to stand in between Paige’s legs. She’s still sitting and leaning against the bar so it’s easy for Azzi to lean into her. 

“You keep telling me that.” Paige quips.

“It’s true. I miss you all the time.” That heals Paige’s heart and breaks it again. She doesn’t even get a chance to respond. Because just as fast as the brown eyed girl was in her space, she was making her way across the bar to jump into Riley’s. She can only watch as the two greet each other with big smiles and tight hugs. Paige wishes that was her. Then, the couple kiss and Paige would kill to be the volleyball player that gets to hold and kiss Azzi the way she does. 

Her teammates spare her pitiful looks as the couple come back to join them.  Riley greets the group before turning to Paige. “Hey, Paige! Long time no see! Paige knows she’s making an effort so she puts a smile on her face. “Hey, Riles! It’s been so long” It’s enough to put the girl at ease, so when she slips into a conversation with KK about tik tok, Paige makes her way to the bar to order herself another drink. Or three. 

She orders a tequila shot from the bartender. And then another. She’s about to order a third when she hears a voice. 

“Vodka and Cranberry, please. Also, another tequila shot for the blonde.” Paige looks to find the owner of the voice before she settles on a girl with slightly tanned skin and dark brown hair. The mystery girl offers her a wink and a smirk as she sits down next to Paige.

“Hi, I’m Blair.”

“Blair, I’m Paige”

The pair shake hands as the bartender slides their drinks across the counter. 

“Do you usually buy drinks for people you don’t know? Paige asks after throwing back the shot.

“Only when they look like they really need it.” Blair teases.

Paige nods her head in acknowledgment. “And I look like I really need a drink?” 

“You do.” Blair confirms. “What I don’t know is why a girl like you is drowning your sorrows in tequila.”

“Girl problems.” Paige answers. She nods her head in the direction of the group. “I’m sort of in love with one of my teammates.” Blair turns slightly to look at the group. She makes eye contact with Azzi from across the bar. They stare at each other for a beat before Azzi turns her attention back to Riley.

“She’s pretty and jealous.” Blair states as she takes a sip of her drink.

 “She’s not jealous. The girl next to her is her girlfriend.” She spits out. Paige shakes her head in disbelief. Azzi can’t be jealous. Not when Riley and her have been attached at the hip since the beginning of the semester. 

“Her girlfriend here hasn’t stopped her from staring at you the entire time we’ve been talking.” Blair points out. Paige turns in her seat and sure enough, Azzi is staring at her. Paige doesn’t allow herself to read too much into it. Not when she lied about their night together. Instead, Paige turns to face Blair. “What about you? What is a girl like you doing to her?”. Changing the subject allows Paige to ignore the feeling of Azzi’s eyes on her. 

Blair sighs. “I’m in a long distance relationship right now. My boyfriend, Carter, goes to school in Arizona so we don’t get to see each other often. This semester though, he’s studying abroad in Europe, so I get to see him even less.” The brown-haired girl sounds defeated. Paige waves down the bartender to order another drink before the girl starts speaking again and then they’re talking. Blair and Paige talk for so long they lose track of time. They laugh and bond over their love lives. They have a shot and toast to “love being fucking awful”. It isn’t until Blair’s phone lights up with a text message that she realizes she has to go. 

“Oh fuck! I need to go.” Blair stands up from the stool, gathering her things. 

“Leaving me already?” Paige jokes. The two exchange phone numbers with the promise to spend more time together soon.

“Don’t be so sad, Bueckers, I’ll see you soon.” Blair smirks.

“Can’t wait” Paige flirts playfully. 

The two say their final goodbyes and Paige contemplates calling it a night. She isn’t interested in watching Azzi and Riley be together all night. She’s in the middle of ordering her uber when she feels arms wrap around her waist and a chin hook over her shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Azzie slurs. Paige can smell the alcohol that the younger girl consumed. “Ordering an Uber to go home.” 

“I barely got a chance to talk to you. You were too busy talking to that girl.” There’s something in Azzi’s voice that Paige can’t make out. 

“You were too busy talking to Riley.” Paige sneers. She knows it's petty and a bit unfair but she can’t help it. Then, she realizes that the aforementioned girl is nowhere to be found. “Where is she, anyway?” Paige doesn’t really want to know. Azzi only offers “She left.” before following Paige to the Uber back to her apartment.

The Uber ride is tense. The entire ride, Paige is buzzing and is acutely aware that Azzi is staring at her. The 15 minute ride feels like hours. The duo arrive eventually and file out of the car. The walk up to Paige’s apartment; neither one daring to speak. To Paige, the silence is suffocating. They barely make it to the front door before Paige breaks it.

“Are you go-” Paige is cut off by Azzi pushing her against the door. She almost laughs at the irony of it. She almost tells Azzi that they can’t do this again. Almost. 

-

In the end, it doesn’t matter what almost happened. Because Azzi’s in her bed all the same. She’s seeing someone all the same. And Paige wakes up alone, all the same. 

This time, there’s no one in the kitchen. There’s a note on the pillow. 

Good morning, P

Thanks for last night. I missed you!

-Azzi

It doesn’t matter what almost happened last night. Paige cries the next morning all the same. 

Her heart breaks all the same.

NEXT

[adore-laur]

MOTHER’S DAY

— a self-explanatory blurb from the dadrry universe 🌷

——

Toss. Turn. Sigh. Repeat.

Postpartum anxiety kept hitting you in explosive bursts like crash cymbals. Intrusive worries about whether your newborn was breathing or not ruthlessly stormed your brain. Surging heart palpitations that ebbed and flowed like the ocean tide weren't helping your internally erratic state. 

She hadn't wailed those gut-wrenching cries in over an hour. It was a brief slot of time to catch up on your precious slumber, yet your melatonin was overrun by an influx of cortisol. Due to your ruptured sleep schedule, there was also a stinging sensation behind your eyelids. It felt like chlorine or lemon juice had seeped into your sockets ever since day and night swapped places. 

The speckled sky of stars trickled through the linen drapes, painting moonbeams on the bedroom carpet and walls. By the looks of it, you'd undoubtedly be awake to behold the moment they metamorphosed into golden rays of dawn. 

Heart thumping, stomach churning, and chest constricting, you surrendered your chance of a reposeful night of rest and silently slid out of bed. Harry was gently snoring on his side, facing away from you and dead to the world. Lucky him.

You padded over to the bassinet across the room. The moon made it visible enough to see the tiny bundle that was half you and half your husband sleeping there. Your trembling hand reached down and lightly rested on your daughter's belly. It has been a habit lately. Your eyes couldn't help but snap open in the middle of the night, the insomnia-induced anxiety getting you on your feet to check if the human you were responsible for was still alive. 

When you felt her fast breaths, relief immediately flooded your bloodstream. You stayed by her until you were at ease with the steady rise and fall of her chest, then eventually tucked yourself back under the covers and leaned against the headboard. You were wide awake now, and it seemed like it would be another all-nighter. Jealousy festered inside you because of Harry and how he could effortlessly sleep through the night without panic. He'd been so gracious with heaving himself out of bed and calming the baby whenever it was his turn—a true natural when you needed it most. And during those instances, you pretended to be asleep so you didn't worry him. It was hard enough to soothe one agitated person, let alone two. 

The digital clock on the nightstand flicked from 2:36 to 2:37. You bit your fingernails to pass the time. The weight and warmth of Harry beside you pulled you back down to earth, reminding you that you weren't doing this on your own. He was cheering you on, on the same page, and loving you unconditionally. 

Almost as if he could hear your reeling thoughts about him, you heard his snores get cut short by a deep inhale before his hand subconsciously flopped against your thigh. Fatigued fingers felt around until his warm, heavy palm spread on your skin, giving it a tender squeeze. He then rolled onto his stomach with a raspy grunt and turned his head to face you. 

In the faint moonlight, puffy eyes and a drowsy smile said hello. They greeted you with a gentleness that washed away the burdensome stones on your chest. He made you feel calm. Just one glance at him was the only solace you needed. 

He was a tired, tired boy. Technically, he was a grown man, but moments like these revealed that he was just a boy adjusting to the harsh reality of parenthood.

"Sorry for waking you," you whispered, raking your fingers through his disheveled hair. It was still a little damp from his nightly shower. 

"Did I sleep through her cries?" Harry murmured hoarsely, his eyelids drooping until they shut again. 

"No. I just got up to check on her."

He hugged your leg like it was a pillow. "Why? What happened?" 

You could've lied. Or you could've given him what he always asked of you: the whole and honest truth. The latter was the wisest choice, considering he could read you like a family recipe. 

"I had to make sure she was breathing," you admitted. 

Harry was eerily quiet. You thought he might have fallen back asleep, but suddenly, the room was illuminated in a yellow glow from the bedside lamp being switched on. It strained your vision for a few seconds, and after blearily blinking through it, you looked at Harry to find him sitting up with the silk sheets bunched around his waist. He yawned loudly, then scooted over to draw you into his body. A trace of citrus aftershave still lingered on his skin. 

"Can't sleep?" he asked, his lips moving against your temple. 

Your cheek melted on his warm, bare shoulder. "Ever since we brought her home, my anxiety has been eating me alive at night. I'm constantly worried about her, even when she's not crying." 

Harry planted chaste kisses on your face. Through slow, sleepy affection, he said, "She's okay. Nothing bad is going to happen." 

"You don't know that." 

"I know she's safe and sound, all snug in the bassinet six feet away from us." When you didn't respond, he added, "If you want, we can move it next to your side of the bed." 

You clutched his hand, loving the smoothness of his palm and how large it was compared to yours. "Can we? Please? I want her close just in case." 

Nodding, Harry brought your joined hands up to his mouth and kissed your knuckles. "Let's do it tomorrow so we don't wake her, yeah? We all need sleep right now." 

"Okay. Can you scratch my back? And talk to me." 

"Of course, sweetheart. Turn around." 

You did, and it didn't take long for him to lift your shirt so his delicate fingers could stroke along the expanse of your back. Goosebumps spread everywhere as you sank deeper into the mattress. The way his touch could envelop you in a blanket of comfort was miraculous. 

"Your postpartum checkup is in a couple of weeks," Harry mentioned, his mellow voice quickly putting a sleep spell on you. "We'll talk to the doctor about everything that's been going on, okay?" He shifted on the bed. "Listen, I get scared too. All I want is to protect her. When she cries, I feel helpless. But we're learning, aren't we? We'll be professionals by the time we're four kids in." 

You couldn't squash the craziness of his last statement because distant dream waves finally carried you away and let you drift in calm waters for the first time in a long time. 

—— 

A serenade of songbirds awoke you the following morning. Then, there was a slight breeze coming from somewhere. You soon realized there was no familiar dip in the mattress next to you, no blazing hot skin glued to you, and no soft puffs of air against your neck. You firmly decided that you loathed the feeling of a cold and empty bed in the morning. 

Stretching until your joints cracked, you squinted from the blinding sunlight gloriously casting over the side of the bed you lay on. The clock displayed 9:04, which was the latest time you had slept in since your third trimester of pregnancy. On top of the clock was a piece of paper you didn't recall seeing yesterday—the type of paper you and Harry wrote grocery items on. The familiar handwriting of your husband, which was a tad illegible but endearing nonetheless, had you reaching out and plucking the note from its place. 

Happy Mother's Day. 

Meet me on the beach when you wake up. Baby has already been changed, fed, and everything in between. Sunday breakfast on the shore, made by yours truly, awaits you. 

I love you so much. Thank you for completing me. 

~ Harry 

It entirely slipped your mind that it was Mother's Day—your first one. You'd been too caught up in a whirlwind of emotions, trying to capture a peaceful moment. Needless to say, you didn't even know what day of the week it was sometimes. Apparently, today was worth celebrating. 

After freshening up and tying a robe around yourself, you trod down the staircase. The late spring weather engulfed your senses as the kitchen came into view. The shutters were swung open, letting in gleaming sunshine and a gentle wind that felt like a welcoming embrace. It lifted your spirits instantly and caused you to temporarily forget about last night's troubles. 

You ventured to the beach area, the sand under your uncovered feet enlivening your drained state. Once the ocean became visible, you quickly stumbled upon an unexpected surprise. Harry, the human epitome of sunshine, stood there holding a tray with a vase of blooming flowers, a cup of steaming tea, and breakfast foods such as peeled clementine, poached eggs, and a golden-brown waffle drizzled with maple syrup. He was in his pinstriped pajamas, with sunglasses covering his eyes. Behind him, your daughter lay in a portable baby dome that shielded her from the sunny sky. She was sleeping on her back, her limbs bent adorably. You didn't recall hearing her cry after you finally managed to doze off last night. 

Barefoot, with a radiant smile dimpling his sun-kissed face, Harry met you halfway, setting the tray down on a nearby blanket spread out. His arms opened in invitation. You would have jumped in them if you had the energy, merely because his spontaneous thoughtfulness made you want to tackle him and never let him go—lovingly, of course. 

"Make way for the goddess," he said, taking his sunglasses off and eyeing you up and down. 

Makeup-less, half asleep, and moving at the sluggish speed of a sloth, you felt—and probably looked—far from a goddess. But when your husband looked at you like he wanted to eat you for breakfast instead, the tiniest flicker of confidence sparked inside of you. 

"Good morning," you greeted, smiling softly. 

Harry's hands instinctively splayed on your waist, his fingers digging into the cotton fabric of your robe. He was sporting a dopey expression, and you wondered if he got as little sleep as you did. 

Enduring delirious mornings with him had slowly become your favorite domestic kryptonite. When he'd crack ridiculous jokes amidst a quick, lazy round of sex before the baby interrupted, or when he would shuffle around the kitchen making an insufficient meal while accidentally putting the milk jug in the pantry out of pure exhaustion. 

"Let me guess," he said with an exhale, "you forgot it was Mother's Day?" 

You squeezed him tight and breathed in the faint smell of lavender fabric softener on his pajamas. "Can you blame me? I'm practically a zombie most days." You kissed him slowly, tasting the sweet and sticky syrup residue on his lips. "Mm, but thank you for everything. You take such good care of me." 

"Someone's got to do it," he told you, earnestness lacing his words. 

"I'm trying; I really am. Motherhood is... very grueling." 

"I know, darling. Whatever you need, let me know, and I'll help as best I can." 

You touched his cheeks, absorbing the sun's heat that graced them. "I want to take care of you too. I notice how tired you are." 

He fell into deep thought, and after staring at you for a moment with his eyes dancing over your entire face, he said, "Let's bring back date nights. When was the last time we went out, just the two of us? We can get someone to babysit, then go out on the town like we used to." 

"Can part of our date night involve taking a nap?" you asked, propping your chin on his chest. 

Harry glanced down at you, his green irises clear and happy. "Absolutely." 

"Sounds like a plan." You laughed at its absurdity. How did we go from 'I can't wait to marry you' to 'I can't wait to nap with you'? What has parenting done to us?" 

He tilted his head with a lopsided grin. "It's made me fall in love with you all over again." 

"Even when there's spit-up on my clothes?" 

"Uh-huh," he said, locking you in his hold. "And when you're burping a cranky baby while eating your first meal of the day well past noon. And when you're breastfeeding while sending work emails, your hair unbrushed, and my shirt hanging off your body. There's nothing sexier." 

Truthfully, he wasn't joking around. And you knew that one day, you'd find simplistic beauty in those things as well. 

"I'm a real sight for sore eyes." 

Harry kissed your forehead, swaying you to the sound of the waves meeting the shore and then receding. "You have no idea." 

——