#but this is a mess of a post i just wanted to put it down somewehre

[muqingslover]

Ok, so... this might be a bit of a +18 think piece, but... what do you think the lads men would have as their top 3 kinks? I started thinking about it after I read the Xavier somno one, lol. Maybe I'm crazy but I think Caleb would have blindfolds/rope play in his top 3 (on mc not on him, since he wants to see all of you but is very resultant to show all of himself back due to fear of rejection+ if mc is tied up she can't leave)

[ choosing only three was a lot harder than I thought whew. Also, I'm testing out different layouts rn so don't mind me (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ]

Xavier

Predator/Prey Play: This guy is the literal definition of wolf in sheep's clothing. What gets him going is the thrill of the hunt and the turntables (his specialty), which is why he will often let you think you're in control and have your fun teasing him only to then pounce when you least expect. If you run from him then you better pray he won't catch you or not.

Exhibitionism: This might be a hot take but walk with me. Xavier is a very jealous man so he won't ever allow anyone to actually see you, buuuut he is very into letting others know you belong to him. You gotta leave for a mission with someone else? Not to worry, all he needs is 10 minutes in the bathroom stall. The bread guy is back at it again? It can't be helped, he'll just have to fuck against the door while he's knocking to show you're busy. He'd love to see you struggling (and failing) to keep your voice down and looks like a smug cat when others notice the marks he left on you.

Cunnilingus: This man eats pussy like a goddamn champ. He absolutely adores having your thighs wrapped around his head, to the point he finds it comforting, and the feeling of his tongue stretching open your dripping pussy for his cock later. Your taste is something he could have every day, which he will if you let him, and he takes pride when you're left a writhing, whimpering mess that begs for him to fuck you.

-----------------------------♡♡♡------------------------------

Zayne

Bondage: The joke about him tying MC up with surgical knots was definitely not a joke. In my opinion, rather than the power rush over the control he has over you, what really gets him off is the trust you put in his hands. Bondage is all about having faith in your partner to never truly hurt you and knowing you see him that way makes him feel beyond special. Given the chance he'd love to have you wrapped in dark blue, silky ribbons and the aftercare is top tier with this guy.

Lingerie: For some reason I feel like Zayne is REALLY into seeing you wearing lingerie. Ladies, feel free to tease him by telling him you're wearing one, but not letting him see until he's home much later. He'll spend the entire day imagining what type of lace you have under your clothes and he pretty please asks you to strip for him as a reward for waiting.

Phone Sex: Another one I just have a feeling it's his thing. I mean, he is a busy man and sometimes it can't be helped, people have needs yk. He'd like the feeling of knowing you think of him as much as he does of you when the other is not around. The photos you send and the sounds of your needy whines right next to his ear goes straight to his cock and he is mortified when the post-nut clarity hits him and he realizes what he did in his own office.

-----------------------------♡♡♡------------------------------

Caleb

Overstimulation: I'm an overly sensitive Caleb truther. The overstimulation has his head spinning so good that he can barely form a coherent thought that isn't your name while he slams into your pussy for the nth time like a desperate man. He doesn't want to simply break you he wants to break together, to the point neither of you can think about anything else besides how good it feels.

Roleplaying: I've lost count of the amount of times we've seen him and MC roleplaying and this man will unironically take it to the bedroom. It starts as a joke where he's only doing it to make you laugh, but then he won't allow you to break character and will edge you until you say your "lines" correctly. Forceful and cold soldier? Check. Teasing and pervy Gege? of course. A loving and gentle husband? Sign him up. Strict teacher? No need to ask twice.

Brat Taming: Now defying Caleb is the equivalent of waving a red flag in front of a bull and you better run because when he catches you you're done for. He needs you to need him as much as he needs you and if he has to break you for you to admit it then he will. The rush of being the one in charge and "taking care" of you in a way no one else will is enough to have his cock throbbing.

-----------------------------♡♡♡------------------------------

Sylus

Breeding AND Biting: These two go hand in hand every time you have sex with him. He craves to have a family with you but, more than anything, he wants you to be as full of him as his heart is of you. He wants you to be so filled with his cum that he has to keep his cock inside otherwise it'll leak out of you. He absolutely enjoys the slippery mess your warm insides become when he rocks his hips into you, slowly but deep, pushing his cum even further into your womb and hoping you'll get pregnant.

Body Worship: I've said it once and I'll say it again: Sylus is a lover boy! ! ! Each kiss on your skin is an offering, a promise and a worship. He wants to know the parts of your body not even you do and give you the love you deserve. The praises he whispers against your body are similar to a prayer and he could spend years exploring every inch of you without ever getting tired. You're the very reason for his existence and any less is just unacceptable.

Size: This guy is not only big but he's also very large. He is a softie who likes to tease you about how small you are compared to him while he holds your hand and pretends he doesn't hear your complaints about him suffocating you after the draped his heavy body over yours. That feeling of satisfaction extends when he has to gently coo you and kiss your tears away while he's spreading your little hole open. He can't help the fangy grin on his lips when he feels his cock bulge on your tummy and he holds your hand over the spot so you feel how deep he is inside of you as well.

-----------------------------♡♡♡------------------------------

Rafayel

Rough Sex: Another controversial take but I feel like he's a secret sadist just not the extreme type. Man can flip his demeanor from "harmless babyboy" to intimidating sea god in a split second who knows what else he's hiding under that purple wig. He'll keep an almost cold demeanor while he coaxes whimpers out of you in the best way and a wicked smirk spreads across his face at the sight of your tears, spurring him on until he's completely broken you.

Food Play: That's definitely one way to make sure he actually eats. Having you be his meal will make him hungry like never before and oh he absolutely will feast (this may or may not be a reference to this). He makes a point of not using his hands while licking along your skin, tasting the sweet chocolate before he left a purple mark on your thighs. Oh, this goes both ways so please pour wine on him and lick him clean ;)

Body Painting: I forgot if there's an actual English term for this but Rafayel would love to draw on your skin and watch you squirm each time the soft, wet brush went over your perked up nipples. He'd scold you when you move because you're making him smudge the lines and holds you in place with his free hand, warning you to stop or he'll take "extreme measures" to make you keep still. You are the only one he'd ever dare to call a masterpiece.

[larkingame]

so, it's 2025...long time no see.

I'll skip they hi, how are yous and get down to the real meat and potatoes of what I'm here to say. TLDR: Larkin is still being worked on (screenshots + such below) and it's always going to remain a free game, but it's under heavy construction atm. thanks for checking in 🫡

for the two people who want to hear the long sob story that usually comes with these type of posts from online creators: I fucked up my back majorly and was out of work for a long time. I went back to work pre-maturely and! I've fucked it up again. the stress of this, lack of income and the fact that i've been taking a lot of meds to help the injuries (but mess with my ability to stay coherent) has made it really difficult to consistently focus on larkin, writing, social media in general, but it is still getting worked on in bits and pieces.

that said, some back story: I started working on larkin in 2019/2020 and it was really really fun! loved it. had a great time. but then i started posting about it and showed it to other people (and to my surprise they??????? liked it????) which made me put a very large amount of pressure on myself that made it not so fun any more. over time i would go through cycles of it's fun! to it's not fun! and so on and so forth. throughout this time I also had pressure from a lot of people around me (irl) to somehow like. strictly monetize larkin somehow, and as someone who was like VERY INSECURE and obsessed with people like mishka making like insane funds off of her game of the same type?/genre? i gave in to that pressure (if you could not tell by all my occasional dirty deletes of shade towards twc. truly pathetic and if any of yall saw. apologies and thanks for ignoring it.) addressing that: i liked twc when it came out, it was fun for what it was and larkin would not exist without it. so thanks for that miss jenkins and i will probably still passively engage with it on my own time.

but, back to larkin. anyways, the looming pressure of this need to monetize made me hate everything that i was doing and constantly feel like i needed to re-evolve and rework and just, overall not have a fun time with it. throughout the months of november, december and january when i was really missing the days of larkin's existence as an idea when me and my sister would just like walk around our neighborhood and i would just infodump to her about my cowboy vampire ocs. so i found my old larkin notebook and the stickies i made planning plot stuff and avoiding tumblr i just. had fun working on my little cowboy vampire game. like not really thinking about other stuff. and that's essentially it.

so I came to a conclusion: larkin is something i love, and i want to continue loving it. so essentially, i won't be monetizing the game itself. episodes/chapters whatever they end up being in the end will always be free. yay. if you want extra content/want to support me in some way monetarily, feel free to join the patreon, however, I won't really be active on it until i have something substantial to show you game wise. that being said, you can still subscribe for access to the backlog of short stories and art etc. I'm turning off charges each month until i have like a real game for you to play that doesn't make me sick to my stomach to look at or think about. another note: pc players are going to be priority until it's finished. I will have a mobile version but i can't promise you she will be all that pretty.

another note, because larkin is free i can't promise quick turnarounds on anything but what i'll be offering on patreon when i start charging again and additionally: i'm back to making larkin a game for me. i really lost a lot of enjoyment for doing this stuff when i thought about that pressure i put on myself like i mentioned above but also, when i started writing it for other people in mind. first and foremost i am making larkin because i like cowboys, i like vampires, i like horror and religious trauma themes. i'm writing this for me: kc, so i can go on my computer and teehee at all the kissing scenes and make a cool cowboy character with fights. i'm going to make it gay and self-indulgent and basically just have fun with it because it's my game and i am making it and i said so.

all that said here are some of the major things i've done with larkin over this past little while:

updated the website so that it is now useable :)

done a lot of work on the ui:

and i have been rewriting a lot of stuff because I FEEL like it was not good and was not fun for me. THE DEMO FROM LAST JUNE ESPECIALLY. it hurts my stomach to look at.

visually, dan (@tapeworrmart ) has been on his fucking a-game with the art even through my crisis. here's the male ace portrait he put together for me last fall and the art for the main menu:

we also have some more art in the works that i am very excited for because they are in pursuit of new fun features :D

all that said. thanks for the continued support if you're still reading this, appreciate any interest you have in my game.

[thatwishfulthinking]

in the name of it

hi so i am posting this and then absconding back to my arsenal of viktor x reader pieces that i can’t seem to stop writing

art: gea-rth on pinterest

wc: 4.0k

summary: viktor tries to play IN YOUR FACE until you set him straight. kind of. literally just smut with the feisty reader trope (sorry), simpy viktor, fluff, and some banter. f!reader

warnings: smut, choking, warfare (?)

^ not sure what else to put but eager to learn so let me know if I should include anything else!

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

“No, no, no, no no no..” you plunder frantically, releasing his tie and grabbing his wrists to stop him from unbuttoning his vest. “Not that. Too slow,” you groan.

Your hands fly to his belt in tragic desperation, yanking hard as the buckle doesn’t unclasp. You’ve lost all understanding of the most trivial, age-old technology, unable to get the small metal bar to unhook as you fumble with it hopelessly. Viktor’s hips buck with every pull and he lets out a sharp gasp, staring down at you, you, a neurotic and hysterical mess, you, biting at the inside of your lip and looking like you could almost cry, you, an insect that he had just trapped under a glass, panicked, fluttering wings sending you ricocheting off the rounded edges as you tried to reach the world outside of it; too worked up to recognize your incompetence, that there was a translucent barrier between you and what you wanted. Desperately trying, over and over, to no avail.

Oh this wasn’t you, though you were never all that poised, and often hasty, but this, this, was far beyond what he had ever seen from you. But god, was it nourishing to his ego, and nearly fascinating to observe. He watches you with a sympathetic expression on his face, bringing his hand to your neck and pinning you, harder than he intended, to the mattress under you.

You let your hands fall, the impact surprising you, surrendering to his touch. You lay limp and helpless, staring up at him. His gaze is so intense, so entertained, his eyes sparkling, gold muddled with sick amusement.

“Help” you squeak, writhing out of his touch and rotating your body to the side, pulling yourself into a fetal position and burying your face into the pillow, yelping as your neck strained unexpectedly at the rapid shift in positioning.

“Mmm,” he’s studying you now, all contorted and pitiful like this. “Come back here, my love.”

You try to roll over further, so you could lay face down on the bed and just die, but he grabs your thigh and holds it in place. Once you still, he gingerly rubs your hip, after a moment letting his hand round down and under your ass, toying his finger at your slit, compressed between your legs, through your pants.

“Don’t poke at me, Viktor,” you snap, pulling your face out of the cotton sheets and resting your temple against it, staring, antagonized, at the wall. “I’m a girl, not a sea creature in a touch tank.”

Oh, it’s too easy. “What’s this then? Why are you wet?”

You jerk and strain and turn yourself again under him, letting your arms fall straight out to the sides. A modern case of crucifixion, right here, in Viktor’s bedroom.

“Why are you wet?” He repeats, his accent feigning innocence this time.

“What do you want me to do?” You stare up at the ceiling in defeat, past his unkempt locks, stray hairs shooting off in every direction as electrical currents do. “What do I have to do?”

To no response, you grab the pillow from behind you and push it into your face, protruding feathers poking unpleasantly at your nostrils. “I’m ordering an air strike to this apartment” you mumble into the cushioning.

“Who knew such fervent arousal could turn sadistic so quickly,” his voice mused from the other side.

You pull the pillow away from your face, and in one swift movement, send it swinging right into his. “I don’t know the first thing about sadism. But since you’ve appointed yourself to give me a lesson, I seem to be catching on very quick.”

He chuckles gently, the intensity in his eyes draining. “Okay, love,” he murmurs, taking the pillow and gingerly holding the bottom of your skull, cradling your occipital upwards so that he can place it back under your head.

You give his cheek a patronizing pat, two short motions. You would like to swing your arm back further, and… “Thank you. Now leave.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Out.”

“Of my own residence?”

“I quite like it here, actually,” you hiss. “Just be sure to let me know where you go so I can provide missile coordinates.”

He shakes his head, what the hell, and won’t stop shaking his head, the smile tugging at his lips is enraging, but he looks so sweet, a rouge growing under his cheeks. He finally lowers himself to you, the pressure of his weight on top of you so tantalizingly familiar. Your muscles relinquish any tension, and suddenly the exhaustion of your desires’s antics against your own body are dragging you down so low that you could nearly sleep right there.

“Just, take a second to breathe, please.” He murmurs, nose nuzzling your cheekbone, coaching you through the matter of your torment, that, you’re not sure who, between the two of you, is more responsible for.

You let your eyes dart to the peripheral, watching the mole above his lip move as he speaks. Your wildness, finally tranquilized. You imagine a prehistoric Viktor, ragged facial hair, in an animal pelt getup, chasing you with a spear. You stare at the wall again, glum and dead and unamused in the pupils.

Viktor nearly seems a bit concerned. “Are you alright?” And he’s propping himself up again, his face hovering centimeters over yours, his breath, hot tendrils fresh off of charred coals, undulating up the bridge of your nose. He looks almost guilty. No, Viktor wasn’t one to be this cruel, and maybe he had taken it a bit too far.

“Fine.” You say shortly, still not meeting his eyes.

He plants a firm kiss between your brows. “I— Did I ruin it, love?”

He did not. You wanted him so badly nestled tightly in the ditch right under your jaw, moans and whimpers and grunts and gasps working their way easily up to your ear, positioned perfectly for your listening pleasure. The sounds of sex, specifically, the sounds of sex with Viktor, were just as important to you as the involvement of body parts and sensation. You drank them in and wished you could etch them into your skin, commemorating each place they occurred, here against your temple where he whined, there into your collarbone where he huffed.

You grab him, kissing him softer than you want to. You tell yourself that you’ll keep it that way, refusing to let yourself get back to a place where he can exert this newfound audacity again.

“I’m sorry,” he offers into your mouth, the words slick with syrupy sincerity, wedging between your teeth and forming immediate cavities.

His hands are at your waistband, pulling your pants down gracefully, shuffling his body down as to give you your apology. And, as if no time had passed, no plans of homicide yet uttered, you grab desperately for his shoulders, whining in dismay.

His neck tilts slowly up at you, like an owl. His eyes are so warm and beautiful that you’ve sworn more than once you were able to see them glowing through the night.

But the look on his face is abysmal. You were never one to refuse tastebuds against your clit, which worked out quite nicely, because it was Viktor’s idea of a pleasant afternoon to sample you, particularly needy and devoted, when it came to chasing your orgasm, for however many hours you liked.

“Oh, my girl,” he exhales, his face flickering in shock to your uncharacteristic ambitiousness skip what you enjoyed so much and just get started. To be plainly, brazenly, fucked. He grabs your hand, pinning it into the bed to the right of your head, fixing to murmur sweet nothings into your ears.

“I don’t want romance.” You say seedily, it coming out fast and sharp and dripping with unfortunate distress, still irritated, your other fingers twisting in the sheets.

He pulls away, his eyebrows lowering and tangling together in a calm and intense reverence. “You don’t have a choice. You’re getting romance.”

You don’t protest, rather, just press your lips into a thin line. Shut up. Shut up.

“Let me romance you,” he murmurs, biting at your earlobe softly. “I’ll fuck you right, my love, hard, but not in the absence of romance. In the name of it.”

You respond by dragging nails down the side of his arm, not aggressively, but enough to leave five little red lines, snapping your head and meeting his lips, kissing hard, desperately seeking everything you could possibly get. His moan into your mouth has you absolutely back up to 10, god. You didn’t appreciate the typical conventions, being the only one expected to be vocal. You liked hearing what it all did to him, a detailed song, as making love was, a duet, after all.

This kiss is becoming more frantic, on your end, but he’s breaking now too, serving it right back. You’re pathetically grateful that the frenetic, longing energy has finally became contagious. You whine and groan and try for his belt again, and he grabs your wrists, to your protest, too hasty and caught up in need that you can’t wait a moment to figure out that he’s helping you out, taking it off himself. But when it does click for you, or unclick, you yank his pants down, just below the butt, because you’re feeling lazy. No. Because you’re feeling productive.

He lets out a short, low gasp and the lust gets caught in his throat, you can see it knotted up in the dip of where his neck met his collar, which you slide your tongue along, letting him know that you knew that it was exactly there. His tip brushes between the frame of your folds and you can’t help but yelp and flinch and clench your legs together to prevent an exorbitant amount of lubrication from spilling out. But as he pushes himself inside of you, slow and lingering to start, a gentleman like always, it all comes crashing, causing you both to moan and grasp for each other.

The heartbeat of his dick is quite easily the most tantalizing thing you’ve ever felt. He straightens his face in concentration, starting to buck into you, nails resisting not to puncture the skin on your hips, the flesh of your ass, not forgetting to take a moment to grind against you at the the height of every thrust while buried inside. You take his thumb in your mouth, sucking for good measure, content with the rumbling noise he elicits. It’s not enough, none of it’s enough, the sharp digging feeling of nails in your skin makes you nearly vomit as if it is injecting more unfulfilled hunger into your body.

“I need to ride you,” you pant, pushing him over.

You’re moving, coming down on him as hard as you can, your eyes squeezed shut and making uncontrollable noises, mounted at the altar of your desire. You have to fall forward and stabilize yourself over him, until you realize he’s giving you that intense, slightly amused gaze, and you yelp and push yourself upwards again. Nothing you can do is nearly enough to satisfy yourself.

The look on his face is quite pleasantly dirty, his eyes following you as you bounce up and down, inhaling sharply, mouth ajar. He’s so in awe of you, to the point that one may consider his expression amateur, if there wasn’t the overt presence of the look of a wonderful man deeply in love right along with it.

“Romance,” He says.

He brings himself up into a sitting position, because he loves to hold you and stare up at you while you work, nipples, though clothed this time, to his face. His eyes get all big with wonder as he watches you, switching to grinding now, and yet they’re dark and shadowed. “I love you. I love watching you use me to make yourself feel good. You’re extraordinary. I love you.”

‘Use me’ is the most arousing and filthy thing he could have ever said. No matter how commanding Viktor could hope to make himself seem, he simply saw you as something of another world, ‘divine power,’ if he was being sentimental, and your stimulation would forever be his muse.

You extort his promise from before. “What do you love about me?”

“Your hugs,” he teases, so you fuck him harder, reaching behind and under your ass and gently fondling his balls.

He groans and his thumb burrows into the seal created between your stomachs to rub your clit, causing you to whine happily. “Can’t you say something nice back?” He frowns and chides at the same instant.

“That wasn’t— fine. I love that you’d let me keep this apartment after you bewilderingly get struck by a rogue missile.” But you can’t even keep the act up, laughing softly, pausing and kissing him tenderly, running your fingertips up and down his spine.

“You are so undeniably mine,” he grins, but his eyes are genuine.

“I am so helplessly yours. Poor, unfortunate soul.” You tut, smiling.

“Unfortunate?” He’s teasing you with a suggestive undertone, but kissing you so caringly, slender fingers leaving your core to trace down your jaw. “Need I remind you just how fortunate you are?”

“Hmm?” You push, curious.

It’s almost like he’s pleading retroactively, lamenting the loss of time spent fruitfully, face between your legs. “This is what happens when you don’t let me lick you… You forget. C’mere.” He coaxes you off of him, sliding to the edge of the bed, propping pillows up against the headboard and leaning against them.

You can’t help but glance at the state of his dick, and it’s bashfully adorned with you. It makes you shiver gently. He looks so pretty there, so dashing, his arms stretched out for you, his expression tender. He takes off his shirt, for good measure. “Please?”

You crawl over, and his fingers rotates your hips, turning you around and pulling your back to his chest, in between his bent legs. You instinctively grab a spare pillow and slip it in between the knee-armpit of his bad leg for support.

“Thank you,” he hums warmly, meltingly appreciative of your attention to make sure he’s comfortable amidst such… demanding activities. He lifts your hips on top of him, sliding down against the headboard ever so slightly more, adjusting himself.

He wraps his arms around your waist, fingers splaying flat on your stomach, prepared, like a small militia standing at the head of a clearing, ready to thunder towards opposing forces. He nuzzles behind your ear, humming and moaning softly as he kisses down the tendon in your neck. “I adore you, you know. Help me out and put it in for me, love?”

You inhale sharply at the words, the simultaneous honeyed and dirtiness of the request, shaken out of basking in his affection. So you do, and it pops in, and you both sigh and settle against one another. He rocks his hips upwards slowly, and you reach over your shoulder and caress his cheek, hearing little flighty breaths of concentration, as you watch him sliding in and out, transfixed. You turn his chin towards you, leaning back, kissing and moaning in rhythm with his thrusts, growing increasingly aware of his fingers moving, beginning their pursuit of victory down your skin, and it’s nearly monumentous. He runs a fingertip over your clit in little circles, the other hand moving to caress one of your breasts under your shirt.

You whine, and he shoots you a knowing smile. You stare at him, letting him see you, see all of you, eyes locked on his as he looks down your body and then back at you. He gives your lips little kisses, ever the caretaker, ever the reassurer when you needed it, when you weren’t foraging for war.

“I’m very lucky,” and you don’t say it like you’re conceding or letting him win, you’re unabashedly surrendering. “I love you more than anything.” You’re cut off by your own sharp gasp and moan as his fingers find the perfect pace between your legs. “And I think I’m going to finish soon,” you add.

His hand leaves your breast, pinching the hem of your shirt folding it upon itself, back towards your face. You bite onto it, holding it in your mouth, exposing your breasts and abdomen, groaning through fabric and gritted teeth.

“How are you real,” he deliberates earnestly, breathlessly, his hand returning to your breast, unable to stifle his own groans and whimpers as he begins to fuck you with more rigor.

You protestingly move his hand from your nipple to your trachea, giving him something else to squeeze. You feel him staring down at what the two of your bodies are doing together, and you follow suit, moans and the smell of sex filling the air. The heat is rushing to your face, and now you’re completely held in place, as if natural disaster was on the horizon and you were rendered completely motionless to watch it all.

“Come for me, my love. Do it, if you’re going to, let me feel it.”

Those words are so atrociously sexy wearing his accent. You knot your eyebrows together, your nose involuntarily wrinkling, as your head falls back, trying to keep your eyes open, figuring he wants to look into them— You like looking into his when he comes for you. And it seems like it’ll be a full sweep of success for the two of you, because his “feel it” came out much more strained than the rest.

It’s too intense: the contact, the position, his hands, the one on your neck which has now returned to your stomach, adding slight pressure there, as his other fingers— and dick, works you feverishly a mere few inches south.

He pressed his forehead to yours, face scrunching, suddenly frantic and needy for your orgasm, as he always becomes. His breathes are hitching and his noises are becoming higher and more erratic as he nears his own edge, and that’s enough to send you tumbling off of your own.

“Viktor,” you despair, your lips inches away from his, to which he responds with a desperate whimper of your name, nodding his head rapidly against yours.

“I know, love. Just.. use me, please,” he repeats, nearly anguished, and you’ve finally broken his proud act for good, regressing back to the devotedly impoverished man that he always becomes when you undress for him.

The moment it happens, your eyes shoot open, drowning in the amber in front of you, you yelp and verbally tremble, your body suddenly straining away, but he holds you in place. The resistance of his dick, blocking the full range of motion of your pulsations, makes you gasp louder, and it takes approximately two pumps of him feeling this to go spiraling as well, gasping and groaning while your bodies exchanging kisses from the inside, so profound that it is devout.

Your fingertips rest against his neck, feeling his slowing pulse as you stare past your stilling thighs to the edge of the bed, completely dumbfounded and strewn out.

After a moment of regaining breaths, he wraps his arms around you with a loving tenderness, nuzzling your cheek. Your hand treks upwards, past the backside of his ear to offer his scalp reassuring scratches while pulling him closer, until you tilt your face and give him a million little pecks where ever you could reach, finally settling against his mouth, salty with sweat. He licks the beads of liquid settling in your cupid’s bow playfully, before leaving a trail of kisses down your nose.

“My world,” he murmurs, cupping your cheek.

“I’m yours, eternally,” you whisper back.

The redness of your little faces is adorable, and you’re just appreciating how it compliments his pale cheekbones as he lets out a wry chuckle.

“‘Natural disaster?’”

“What?” You’re wrenched out of the your flagrant daze of adoration.

“Your words, not mine. A bit of a peculiar selection, but I appreciate the broadcast warning,” he teases, and you grow increasingly aware of two things: Viktor has achieved the ability to fuck the balance of your internal and external dialogue into a permeable mess, and the mattress below the two of you is, well, soaked.

You writhe under his touch and spin around, facing him, as he falls out of you with a little satisfied gasp. He’s all splayed out before you, flushed and worn out and so beautiful that you wonder if he’s merely something your mind had just thought up. You, on the other hand, currently look like a disheveled feline, about to hiss and claw.

“It’s funny,” he coos with distinct entertainment.

You grow sheepish, wrestling with your overt defensiveness. “That was an inside thought. Or— it was supposed to be.”

He shakes his head, blinking slowly, all of the adoration swelling in his eyes. “You’re quite cute. And odd.”

You sigh, giving in, letting him pull you against him once more, kissing his neck loyally. Slender fingers rub your back, a sharp chin resting on the crown of your head, interrupted periodically to leave a kiss in your matted hair, and you feel yourself melt further into his chest, fingertips softly counting the little constellations of moles on his skin.

“We can’t sleep on this,” you say after awhile, referencing the incriminatingly expansive wet spot.

He grumbles in protest. “I’m wrecked, my love. I can’t be bothered to deal with wrestling a fitted sheet right now.”

No, he was absolutely correct, the task of a new fitted sheet was unimaginable in your current state.

You crane your neck up at him. “Couch?” You offer weakly.

“Couch.”

He reaches for his cane and swings himself off the bed, one limb at a time. You grab a lone towel draped over the back of an armchair, happy to be put to use after its abandonment as lovingly wipe down any perspiration off of him, and then yourself. It’s a sad, unbecoming attempt to clean yourselves up, but the exhaustion tugging at your eyelids seems to justify it. You scrub at his hair playfully, until his hands bat yours away with a chuckle, the terry cloth withdrawing and exposing a freshly perplexed mess of chocolate brown chaos.

You hold him close for a second, flush against his skin, staring up at him. He returns your gaze, intoxicatingly enamored with one another. The moment is objective perfection, other than—

“We’re gross right now,” you observe.

He twists his face. “You couldn’t ever dream to be gross.”

As he trudges out of the bedroom, supported by his cane, you stifle a empathetic giggle, swearing that his limp was slightly worse in the aftermath. You, yourself, were definitely walking wonky. You grab some pillows from the bed and find him in front of the green couch, unfolding a blanket for you, his movements drunkenly slow in the moonlight. You lean past him and prop the pillows up for optimal comfort. You stand side by side and admire your makeshift sleeping arrangement.

“Who’s taking the bottom?” He asks, looking enticed by the comfy set up.

“You can,” you smile softly.

So he lays down before you, handing you his cane to place on the coffee table for easy access. He half pretends to pull the blanket over him and seal himself away from you mockingly, greedily settling into the couch for himself, but is too weary to truly commit to the joke, abandoning it quickly, easily defeated by the energy it took to maintain such humor. He reaches out an arm for you, amber eyes entrancingly inviting, fingers wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer.

“Ridiculous,” you muse, lowering yourself onto his chest again, his arms pulling you tight against his skin once more, legs tangling together and feet caressing one another leisurely.

He ‘hmmphs’ contentedly in response.

“‘Natural disaster’ was precisely correct, you know,” you mumble pointedly through the pull of looming unconsciousness. “And by definition, we’ve been displaced.”

He pulls you closer, caressing careful, tentative fingers around the tangles in your hair. You can hear the surrendering smile in his voice, lilting drowsily through the dark.

“Better a flood than a projectile.”

[dsireland86]

Anonymous asked:

Can you do a little something about Bad omens, they are playing truth or dare and maybe Noah has to take a body shot off reader that leads to more? If you feel comfortable writing about it ofc! 🤍

So, stupid tumblr app decided to be dumb again and posted this story before it was finished, so I had to pull it and redo it. Also, it strayed from the original concept and plot, because this is what came to mind when I started writing. I'm sorry!!!!! Hope yall like the fixed version. It's a lot better and a little dirty. Sorry... my mind went too far with Noah body shots 🤯

Truth or Dare

Tag list:

@philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lacy1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @dizzylmwahh @kenjipepsi1 @blackveilomens @chey-h @disappearintothegrey @jilliemiw86 @pathion @fear-its-beauty @an0mallly @potterheadquinn @flowery-mess   @bloody-spades

The music was too loud for Noah. He had a pounding headache and was exhausted from the six week run in the U.K they’d just got back from. Day's after returning home, the band's management team insisted on throwing a welcome home party to celebrate the biggest headliner the band had done to date and a number one single. So, he was playing nice and pretending he was enjoying the party. Noah hated it and he was miserable.

"Can you at least look like you're having a good time," Matt complained walking over to meet him. "He can't help it that he has a resting bitch face, Matt. Go easy on him." Noah scowled at Jolly, who just simply smiled. "I want to go home," Noah whined, falling down onto a nearby couch. "I feel you," Folio agreed, sitting down next to him. "Why did you agree to this, shit, Matt?" Noah pouted. "Hey my hands were tied, dude. I wasn't really given an option here. Believe me, I'd rather be somewhere else," "Yeah, like held up in his house watching Grey's Anatomy," Jolly chuckled, pulling his long hair back into a bun. "Don't be hating on my show," Matt muttered, checking his phone. "Great. I've got to go meet upper management. Fuck this shit," turning around and walking away as the others just stayed back, laughing.

Folio sat his beer down on the table and removed his hat to scratch his head. "Poor Matt. He suffers so much for us." "Yeah! He'd better. We make him a lot of money," Noah stated, crossing his arms.

Nicholas came walking over the couches, munching on a banana. The other three just stared at him.

"What the hell, Ruffilo?"

Nick looked over at Jolly. "What?" he shrugged.

"Where at a high class party with caviar and shit and all you can find to put in your mouth is a banana?" Jolly criticized.

"Yeah.Caviar is gross and nothing else looks good," staring at a group of giggling girls that walked by him. Nick just shook his head.

Noah laid his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose, when another group of girls came over to them, dressed as if they were looking to get some. Jolly's eyes widened and Folio just pulled his hat down a little lower.

"Excuse me, we need some help," one of the girls asked, her words partially slurring.

Noah raised his head, slowly, instantly regretting he did.

"Sure. What do you need," he replied, reluctantly.

The girls looked at one another, whispering in the other's ear and giggling.

"It's our friend's birthday, and we're trying to get her to do body shots by playing Truth or Dare, but she's refusing. So, we thought that if we could find some really hot guys, she'd change her mind."

Noah looked over at Jolly, begging him with his eyes to come help. Jolly just hid his grin and shook his head, no.

"I, uh, I don't think I'm qualified," "Do you have chest hair or anything around your belly button area?" one of the girls asked. "What! That’s random." "Lift your shirt up. Let me see," one of the girls ordered.

"No!" "Noah, stop being a pansy and just show the girl your chest. It won't kill you," Jolly blurted out, earning him a heated scowl from Noah. "Will you leave me alone if I do?" Noah fumed at the girl who was about to cause him to snap. "I don't know yet. Show me and I'll tell you."

Noah sighed heavily, lifting his shirt.

"I can't see. You have to lift it higher."

Noah growled, glaring over at Jolly who was fighting his laughter. 

"You're dead, Karlsson," Noah threatened.

Noah lifted a little higher, hating that he was degrading himself this way.

"You're perfect! Come with me," she ordered, grabbing Noah's hand and yanking him off the couch. She and her friend drug Noah behind them as he tried to fight the grip they had on him.

"Hey you two have let me go, like right now!" Noah demanded.

They led him to another part of the venue and into a room filled with more people and louder music that was about half the size as the one they'd just come from

When his eyes landed on her, Noah almost couldn't breathe. She was so damn pretty and had a smile that could soften even the hardest heart. She was wearing a cowboy hat and a sash that read "Birthday Girl," and the moment she turned and looked at him was the moment his life changed forever.

"We found one," the two girls that drug him over told her.

The girl looked from her friends around the table to Noah, obviously very confused.

"What are you talking about? Found one what?"

She shyly looked over at Noah and smiled.

"A fucking hot guy with tattoos that you can take your first body shot off of the next time you spin a dare."

The girl groaned and threw her hands over her face.

"No! Oh god, please tell me you didn't just go out there and hunt down some random guy to bring over here to play a stupid high school game!"

The two girls were about to protest, but Noah beat them to it.

"No! Actually, I wanted to come. They said it was your birthday, so I thought I'd come over and hang for a little bit."

The girls grew quiet, laughing amongst themselves.

"I'm Noah," he introduced himself, leaning in a lot closer than he meant to. He could smell her skin, the scent of rainwater bamboo engulfing his senses.

"Y/N," she replied. Noah smiled, and all Y/N could think was, "Oh shit."

Noah was hot. His lean frame, covered by a white hoodie, towered over her. She would’ve given anything to touch his body, to dig her nails into his flesh and grip the arms that would hold her down, and run her fingers through his short, anime style haircut. Looking down at his hands, Y/N noticed how big they were and the tattoos that were drawn over his skin. Telling from the ones on his neck, she assumed he had them in many other places too.

"Are you okay?"

Noah's deep voice pulled Y/N from her thoughts. She smiled, nodding her head.

"I'm fine, sorry."

Noah gave a gentle laugh.

"So, Truth or Dare and body shots, huh?"

Y/N groaned. "Shit. Please ignore my stupid friends, okay. I don't know what possessed them,"

"I think your friends are just trying to help you have a good birthday," Noah interrupted, trying to sound positive in hopes of getting what he was secretly yearning for.

Y/N raised an eyebrow

"Someone's being optimistic." "You don't think so?" "No," Y/N shook her head, looking over at the girls who had just taken shots of something. "They always have hidden motives."

Noah reached over and brushed her fingers with the tips of his, hoping to pull that beautiful smile out of her again. This behavior was totally out of character for him. Noah never allowed his feelings for someone he'd just met to affect him the way he was allowing them to right now, and it was only a matter of time before the girl in front of him said or did the wrong or right thing that would make him snap.

Y/N shivered the moment she turned and faced Noah. The heat that spilled from his gaze was enough for her to feel internally, forcing her to clench the muscles of her sex as her arousal soaked her panties.

"Hidden motives are a dangerous game to play," Noah pointed out, unable to look away from the heated look in Y/N's eyes that was causing his dick to harden the longer he continued staring. "It's better to just be truthfully honest and up front, if you don’t, don't you think?"

Y/N swallowed hard, a small smile twitching her lips.

"I do."

The tension between them was thick and sweet, like honey. They way she peered up at Noah through her lashes shot through him like a bullet headed straight for his semi-hard length.

"Hey! Are you playing?"

Noah and Y/N looked over at the table where a group of her friends were crowded, the one yelling at them holding an empty beer bottle. Y/N hesitated before looking at Noah.

"You really don't have to do this. I know this isn't the ideal situation for you, and you have no idea who any of these people are."

"I'll do it." "Really?" Y/N asked, surprised.

"Yeah. It's your birthday, and anything here has to be better than what I was having to suffer through over there,” flicking his head in the direction where he came from. 

Y/N gave Noah a small smile. "Okay, well, if you're sure." "I'm sure," Noah replied, giving Y/N a tight-lipped smile.

This group of friends was nothing like Noah's group of friends. He gave up drinking and the party life years ago, trading it in for video games, movies and anime nights with his friends. This wasn't his scene, and he was starting to believe it wasn't hers either. They watched the bottle spin over and over, going through four people before it was finally Y/N's turn. Praying hard for a miracle that it wouldn't land on a dare, she was severely disappointed when it did. But with only one look at Noah, her perspective changed quickly. Noah wasn't surprised when her friends dared her to take body shots off of him. It was the reason for the grin on his face. The first one that happened was awkward for him to do with everyone watching, but he kept his eyes on Y/N, doing his best to block everyone else out. Standing in front of her, wondering if their night together was really over that quickly, Noah acted on impulse and closed the slight gap between the two of them. Lifting Y/N's chin, his eyes darted between hers and he saw the very thing he was looking for flash across them.

"I can't believe you're letting me do this again," Y/N grinned, watching Noah remove his hoodie this time. "It's your birthday, Pretty Girl. Birthday girls always get what they want,” Noah stated, lying back on the two tables that had been pulled together.

With a bottle of tequila in one hand and a dish of limes in the other, Y/N sat them down on the table next to the salt. Noah kept his eyes locked on her, watching every expression her face made. Taking a risk, he reached over, underneath her mini skirt, and slid his hand between her things hearing the small, slight gasp that quickly turned into a whimper. Noah raised an eyebrow, clenching his jaw as his huge hand grasped the inside of her thigh tighter before moving a little further up. Y/N didn't stop him, but instead, moved closer to keep their moment more discreet.

"Your thighs are so fucking soft and warm," Noah praised. His big soft hand with their long fingers slowly ran up and down her skin, making her shiver. “I wonder what would happen if I did this,” brushing fingertips over her throbbing hearted sex.

The slight buck of her hips gave Noah the response he wanted. His infectious smile returned to his lips, making Y/N hungry to taste them.

"You're playing dangerously, Noah," Y/N warned.

"I asked you if you wanted to," he replied, lifting his shirt high enough for her to take her first shot. “So, are you?”

Y/N opened the tequila and slowly poured it into Noah's belly button, being as careful as she could be. Noah's stomach muscles flinched causing his skin to prickle and she wondered if it would have the same response if she were to go down on him right then. She wanted to find out, especially when she noticed how hard he was. It took a lot of restraint to not touch him

"See something you like?"

"I see a lot that I like," she grinned, taking a lime slice from the bowl and bringing it to Noah's lips.

His hand remained between her thighs, as he continued caressing her skin, slowly, giving Y/N a pleasured feeling that set her nerves on fire. She parted her legs a little more, giving Noah more access to her sweet spot.

"Open," she ordered and Noah obeyed, biting down gently on the green rind. Pushing his head to the side, Y/N poured the salt onto his painted skin and ran her tongue over it, over the faded green leaves that rested just below his jaw. It pulled a deep throated growl from Noah and clenched the inside of her thigh. Y/N moaned from the feeling, knowing fully well there would be a bruise there by morning. Quickly, with the salt still on her tongue, she moved to Noah's lower half, sucking the liquor straight from his navel until every bit of it was gone before moving to his mouth and taking the lime. Noah watched with lust filled eyes as she sucked the juice from the rind, tossing the table when she was finished.

"What?" Y/N asked, noticing the look on his face as she returned to her normal height. "Shit," Noah breathed, half-smiling. "I think that had to be one of the hottest things I've ever seen."

Y/N giggled.

"Well, it sounds like you haven't seen a lot." "Oh, I've seen plenty."

Noah moved his hand higher up her thigh, waiting for her to stop him, and when she didn't, he ran his fingers over her pussy.

"Your panties are moist, pretty girl. Do I make you wet?"

Y/N whimpered, biting her lower lip.

"What if I did this?" swiping over her clit. "Noah," she gasped, gripping the table.

Noah laughed, soft and low.

He sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the table, and pushed her panties to the side, pressing the pad of his finger lightly between her folds. He made a sound that was almost inhuman, swallowed up by the newfound warmth he'd discovered. His fingers rubbed gently at first, pulling tiny gasps from her lips as his tongue and teeth marked faint lines across her skin as he made his way towards the bottom of her throat.

"Damn, you're so fucking wet; so tight. God, baby. You're sweet little pussy feels so good," Noah muttered.

Y/N could hear the excitement and the tiny crack that followed in his voice. She sighed, closing her eyes and absorbing the feeling of Noah's sensual assaults inside her. She didn't care if this was wrong. She didn't care if people could see. All she cared about was if Noah was capable of making her cum.

Moaning the moment Noah slid two fingers up inside her, Y/N raised her head, looking up at him. Noah was gone, lost in the moment just as much as she was. He hummed, satisfied with the feeling of her tight pussy already clenching around his fingers that thrusted deeper and deeper each time feeding the array of quiet moans that escaped her lips the harder she worked herself against his hand.

"I want you to take another shot off me," Noah ordered.

"Mmm, I can't, not while your fucking me like this," Y/N protested, keeping her eyes locked on him.

"Yes you can. Just try it. You'll like it, I promise," Noah grinned.

Y/N's stomach fluttered as her heart beat faster. Doing what she was told, she salted his neck and instead of putting the tequila in his navel, she poured it into the small spot between the two bones at the bottom of his throat, right below his adam's apple. Noah slowed his movements as Y/N rose to the tips of her toes, licked the salt and lapped up the liquor, grabbing the lime from Noah's teeth.

"Fuck that's hot," he confessed, kissing her forehead. He could feel her legs trembling, her body starting to shake and even though she was making being a gentleman about the whole thing difficult, he refused to be apathetic.

"Come here," he whispered gently, returning to the soft thrusting of his fingers against her inner walls, taking his time to completely undo every tensed muscle in her body.

Y/N scooted closer, lifting on her toes to give more access and placing her hands on Noah's thighs for balance.He pulled her in and pushed her head down, allowing her to rest her forehead against his shoulder.

"Stay with me, baby. Keep your hands on me. I've got you," Noah encouraged her, wrapping his free arm around her and holding her as close as he could. Y/N gasped and moaned, clawing at the fabric beneath her hands as Noah took them to another dimension. They were no longer where they had been. They were somewhere else; just the two of them.

"Oh, god!" "God isn't here, pretty girl, I am. And it damn well better my name on those lips when you cum," Noah growled

He held Y/N to him with one arm while using his free hand to thrust up into her. Her back arched, and she allowed her head to fall back as Noah latched on to her throat. He bit down, sucking the saltiness of her skin off .

"Noah, this is dangerous. What if someone sees," Y/N panicked, making a poor attempt at getting out of Noah's grasps. "I don't fucking care if they do. I just want you, I need you to cum for me, baby. Give me the satisfaction of pushing you over the edge."

Y/N couldn't deny the hungry desire for her she saw in Noah's eyes. It was feral, and all she wanted to do was feed it. Pushing her hips forward, she gripped Noah's shoulders and worked her pussy against his hand, right before he slipped in a third finger. A low curse left her lips as she bit the lower one to cover a moan.

"You're going to cum for me, aren't you, pretty girl?"

Her pussy clenched around his fingers and soft whimpers replaced any words she wanted to say.

"God damn, yeah, that's, baby, ride my hand," Noah coaxed her, paying close attention to Y/N's body and the signs it was giving him. "You like that, don't you? You like me fucking your wet, needy cunt with my fingers like this, twisting them inside you. Tell me you do," he breathed, trying to ease the urgent need to cum himself "I do! Fuck, Noah, I shouldn't, but I do really like it."

Her abdomen was on fire, her head spinning from the overwhelming coiled tension building in her lower back. Her breathing was shallow as her quiet moans started to draw closer together, and her head fell back, closing her eyes. Noah wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, lifting her head.

"Eyes on my pretty girl. Watch me when you cum. I need to see the look in your eyes when you cum all over my hand," he ordered, breathing heavily.Y/N nodded "I can feel you squeezing my fingers," he whispered, ghosting his lips over hers. Y/N tilted her head in hopes of capturing them, but failed. "Noah, I'm about to cum!" she gasped once Noah found that spot."Right there?" "Mmm-hmm, don't stop, please don't stop!" "I won't as long as you keep your eyes on me," he promised. And she did.

Pressure built in Y/N's lower half, the ache strengthening with every thrust of Noah's fingers or the swipe of his thumb over her clit and in a matter of seconds her walls fluttered around his fingers, her climax reached its peak, and her orgasm crescendo throughout her entire body.

"Oh god, Noah," she cried into her hand before she collapsed onto his chest.

"There it is, that's a good girl. I can feel your cum dripping down my wrist, baby. Fuck!"

"What's wrong?"

Noah took a deep breath through his nose, trying to keep it together.

"I'm about to fucking cum!" he growled through gritted teeth.

Y/N wasted no time. Grabbing the front of Noah's pants and briefs, she pulled as Noah lifted his bottom and released enough of his thick, swollen cock right as the milky white liquid shot all down the front of her skirt. Noah groaned, resting his forehead against hers.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! "I'm so fucking sorry, Y/N," he swore over and over, chest rising and falling rapidly as he covered himself up, but Y/N was only laughing quietly.

"Don't be,' she replied breathlessly, looking into Noah's eyes. She pulled back and brushed the hair out of his eyes before kissing his forehead."We both got what we wanted."

Noah grinned. Reaching over, he grabbed the tequila, salt, and limes.

"What are you doing?" "It's my turn. Lay your head back," he commanded, and Y/N obeyed, feeling as if her heart was about to beat out of her chest.

Noah repeated the same steps as she did when taking the shot off of his neck and swallowed quickly, trailing his lips with a little bit of tongue up her neck, kissing as he went over her jawline and took the lime from her mouth. Y/N could only give small exasperated moans as her eyes met Noah's. They were dark, full of an eagerness for more.

"Yum," he smirked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Happy Birthday, pretty girl." Y/N just shook her head, smiling.

They found a bathroom where Noah was able to clean his happy accident off the front of Y/N's mini skirt. Neither one spoke, both of them either too embarrassed, ashamed, or sad from everything that had happened or was about to. Maybe it was all three. Walking around the corner of the bathrooms, Noah's phone vibrated. It was a text in the band's group chat asking where he was. He texted back that he was coming, then pocketed his phone.

"So, uh, thanks for the really awesome birthday gifts," Y/N teased.

Noah felt his ears and cheeks instantly heat up, forcing him to rub the back of his neck like he normally did when he got embarrassed.

"Yeah," he laughed, dropping his gaze to the floor.

"Seriously," reaching out and touching Noah’s arm, assuring him she was.

Noah locked eyes with Y/N, desperately aching to kiss her. She was so pretty, with a sweet smile and the kind of laugh he could get used to hearing a lot of. But deep down, he knew that wasn't going to happen

"I gotta go. Gotta get back to my friends..."

"Yeah," Y/N laughed nervously, "of course."

"Do, uh, is there any chance I could have your number?"

There was an awkward silence.

"Um, Noah, I,”

"Oh god, I'm sorry, you're don't, er, you're not, shit, never mind," Noah stuttered, apologizing quickly.

"No, no, it's not like that, it's not that I don't want to, it's just that, well, I just shouldn't," Y/N stated, peering up at him.

That's Noah realized, that was Y/N's way of letting him down gently. His pocket vibrated, saving his heart from realizing what his head had just figured out. Matt was freaking out. He really had to go, now.

"Right," he slowly nodded, suddenly feeling like the biggest fool around. "I'm gonna go. My band's about to receive some kind of an award, so I've got to hurry."

"Your band? Wait… what?"

"Yeah, anyway, it was really nice to meet you and I hope the rest of your birthday is great," he yelled, turning around and running in the opposite direction as Y/N called his name from behind him.

"Dude, where the fuck have you been?" Matt scolded.

"It's a long story. I'll tell you later."

"Hey," Jolly called, tapping Noah on the shoulder. "How did it go? Was the friend nice?"

Noah remained silent for a moment, wondering how to put into words all that had happened. There weren't enough and there never would be.

"Yeah," was all he could say with a smile. "She was pretty nice. It was fun, for the moment," shrugging his shoulders.

Jolly chuckled, patting his friend on the back as they followed Nick and Folio out to where their managers were standing. The guests cheered and whistled, cameras flashed, and hands were shaken as the guys were awarded and congratulated with a number one single award from one of the biggest music companies in the country. Noah looked out into the faces of all those cheering for him and his best friends, eyes stopping when they came in contact with a pair he recognized instantly.

Y/N's mouth was wide open as she stood in the crowd looking at the man whom she had just shared a very intimate moment with and nobody but the two of them knew. She was with somebody, making Noah's heart instantly fall into the pit of his stomach. He'd just fingerfucked some other guy's girl, making him feel low and dirty. The guy turned around, and Noah recognized him instantly. He was a friend in the business who worked for the record label. The guy looked from him to Y/N, and Noah watched as he gently shook her to get her attention. Reluctantly, Y/N tore her eyes away from Noah and exchanged a few words with the guy glancing at him one more time, before walking off with her face in her hands. His friend shrugged, waving to Noah, before turning to follow after Y/N. Noah smiled softly to himself, knowing it wasn't going to be the last he’d ever see her again. 

[floweredsturn]

Make it to the morning

-Smut, kissing, swearing/Nicknames(whore, baby, ma), rough sex, panhandling, hair pulling kink

-Word count: 619

“Fuck chris!” She said as he threw her onto the bed, “What the hell” she said laughing as he claimed over her tracing his long fingers over her lower torso. “Need you s’bad” he said tracing small circles on her hip just above where she needed those fingers most.

“Please,” she whined as he practically ripped her shorts off in a swift motion. “Fuck you little whore, no panties” he said sliding his fingers through her sopping wet folds. “Ugh please chris no teasing,” she cried bucking her hips as his slender fingers found her throbbing clit.

“Listen you little slut, imma do what the fuck i want, now take it like the little bitch you are” he spat, his fingers plunging deep into her begging pussy.

“Oh my gosh, chris, fuck!” she moaned her head falling back into the pillow as she bit her lip to silence her cries of joy. “Let me hear ya baby!” he said tracing his fingers down her neck before grabbing it as she moaned.

“Shit” She moaned as he applied force making her vision fall blurry, his fingers were still continuing the passionate movement inside of her soaked heat.

“Fuck need to be inside you s’bad ma” he said pulling his fingers out and licking them clean. “taste so sweet baby” he said coming down to kiss her rosy lips. “Need you so bad chris” she whined as he unbuttoned his jeans, “i know baby i know”

he said soothingly as he lined his swollen red tip to her puffy entrance. “Fuck your so tight ma” he said as he slid in with ease. “Holy shit, s’big!” she moaned as his thrusted his hips with every thrust going faster and faster until eventually his pistoling pace sent her into the mattress, she was a cock drunk mess.

“Oh my god, so close!” she moaned her tits bouncing with every rough thrust he delivered into her overwhelmed pussy. “Yeah that’s right baby, come all over my fucking dick” he said burying his face into the side of her neck, his pace magically getting faster, her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

The orgasm tore through her, her legs shaking, her nails dug into the back of his arms as she used him for stability.

“Fuck chris t’much” she whined the overstimulated pleas doing nothing to stop his slamming hips, his orgasm far from close as she fell into a post orgasmic bliss, her mind going numb. the only registered thoughts being those of his hips snapping and the feeling of his thick cock hitting her cervix.

“Shit shit shit” she moaned, cumming directly onto his length the mess dripping down her thigh. “Fuck yeah baby, your perfect, fuck, so fuckin perfect ma” he said looking down at her ruined makeup her mascara running down her cheeks, her now matted hair, her lip gloss now non existent. She was so perfect, but yet so messy.

And something about that made chris want to fuck her even faster. He rammed himself into her making her scream, her nails pulling at the soft brown strands on his sweat slick forehead.

“Holy hell” he whined putting his head into her neck again. “Shit ma, keep doin that” He whined his orgasm approaching. His thrusts grew sloppy. Her moans only grew. The feeling of the third of many orgasms to come, blowing through her mind like a tumble weed.

“Fuck, oh my shit” He moaned his head falling in between the sweaty body’s that were now molded together, “You can go another baby?” He said petting her sweat slick forehead.

“C’mon let’s make it to the morning baby” He smirked thrusting his hips into her again.

©floweredsturn You do not have permission to copy ANY of my works !

• Comment under this to be on the taglist!!

Taglist: @chrissweetheart

[blade-dressed-in-red]

night time routine

pairing: noah sebastian x f!reader

content warnings: none! just fluff

A/N: i had this idea at 3am last night so here it is lmao. i have some other stuff brewing so that'll hopefully be out relatively soon, but in the meantime enjoy this :)

You and Noah have spent countless nights together, usually resulting in you doing a half-assed night routine, not wanting to spend any extra time away from him when he was around.

As things got more serious between you two, you realized you needed to start prioritizing your night routine like you did when you weren’t with him. 

One night Noah asked you to come over for dinner and spend the night, which you happily accepted.

You had enough putting less effort into yourself, deciding to bring over all elements of your night time routine. 

For your skincare, you brought your cleanser, face mask, toner, serums, moisturizer, retinol, and sunscreen for the following day. You decided to bring all your necessary post-shower products such as your body lotion and leave-in conditioner, already having some bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash at his place. You opted to bring your microfiber hair towel and silk bonnet as well, noticing how his cotton sheets were starting to mess with your hair every morning.

Once you made your way over and the night was dwindling down, you decided this was the best time to start getting ready for bed while he was sat at his desk playing a game before bed. You brought your toiletry bags into his bathroom, turned on the shower, and began the process.

While doing your skincare routine, hair in the towel, Noah came in wondering what was taking so long since he was quite used to you taking about ten minutes max out of the shower. 

“I’m doing my night routine, wanna join?” you asked absentmindedly, thinking he’d disagree and go back to whatever he was doing, but he accepted the offer

You two did face masks together and applied a couple products to Noah’s skin, opting to avoid any of the harsher products since his skin was sensitive. 

He asked various questions like a curious child in the process, “what does this one do?” “is this an exfoliator?” “is this the one that makes you so pretty?” he asked the last one jokingly, knowing your beauty didn’t come from a random bottle of what he learned to be hyaluronic acid.

He happily walked out of the bathroom, his skin feeling the best it’s ever been and settled into bed, waiting for you to finish up.

Being content with how dried your hair was, you braided it and put the bonnet over your head, walking back into the bedroom to Noah smiling like an idiot at your appearance.

“Aw, you look like a little chef” he claimed as you tucked yourself into the covers, lightly swatting his chest while giggling, earning a light chuckle from him.

Once you explained the benefits of a bonnet, he asked if he should get one since he was debating on growing his hair out again.

By the next time you spent the night, you two went to bed wearing matching bonnets. 

divider

tag list: @xmads-omensx @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lil-garbitch @fadingangelwisp @dontwantthemoney @heyyoplayer @death-ofpeace-ofmind @thatchickwiththecamera @shayeanna-ashlie @supersquirrel1996

[hishumanbelle]

You recently posted asking for Alastor-centered story request. I had a dumb one.

But I would love for Alastor and Lucifer to get fight because Lucifer carelessly put Alastor’s good knives and cast iron into the dishwasher. (A crime!)

It doesn’t matter if they are enemies or lovers. I just wanna see Al freak out because someone ruined the seasoning on his skillets.

I tried to make it sarcastic and sour. 😂

It didn't come out too well, haha!

Alastor had been in a good mood. Had been.

He had been whistling, for Hell’s sake.

Then he walked into the kitchen and saw it.

His skillet.

His beautiful, seasoned to perfection, beloved cast iron… sitting in the dishwasher.

Alastor’s eye twitched. The room went silent, save for the rising static in the air. His hands clenched at his sides as if he were actively stopping himself from committing the first ever kitchen-based homicide in Hell.

Lucifer, lounging at the counter with a wine glass and the smug air of someone who had never worked for a single thing in his long, immortal life, barely glanced up.

“Oh, you’re back,” he said lazily. “I took the liberty of cleaning up your mess.”

Alastor did not immediately respond. He was too busy grieving. He reached out, trembling, and plucked the skillet from the dishwasher. It was—horrors of horrors—gray. Lifeless. It looked like it had never seen a single properly seared steak in its miserable, water-logged existence.

His fingers twitched violently. “Lucifer.”

“Hm?”

“Did you… wash my cast iron skillet?”

Lucifer smirked, swirling his wine.

“I cleaned it. You should be thanking me.”

Alastor let out a sharp, strangled laugh. The sound was wrong. It was the sound of a man unraveling at the seams.

“Cleaned it, you say,” he murmured. “Cleaned it.”

His gaze flickered downward—and oh no, oh no no no.

His knives. His good knives.

Sitting in the utensil rack of the dishwasher like common peasant cutlery.

Alastor’s breath hitched. He grabbed one, turning it over with trembling hands. The blade was ruined—dulled, scratched, abused in ways that not even the depths of Hell could justify.

Lucifer, oblivious or perhaps just cruel, yawned. “What? It’s just a pan.”

That did it.

Alastor let out an inhuman screech. A real, full-body, full-volume, someone-is-going-to-die-today screech.

“JUST A PAN? JUST A PAN?!”, his voice rattled the walls, cracked the tiles, and probably sent lesser demons into cardiac arrest across the building.

“DO YOU THINK THE MONA LISA IS JUST A PAINTING? DO YOU THINK OPERA IS JUST NOISE? DO YOU THINK—", he gasped theatrically, clutching his chest as if mortally wounded. “DO YOU THINK RADIO IS JUST STATIC?!”

Lucifer stared at him, unimpressed.

“I think you need a nap.”

Alastor seethed. The lightbulbs flickered ominously. He wanted to murder Lucifer. He needed to. But even he knew the politics of killing the literal King of Hell were… dicey.

So he did the next best thing.

With a snap of his fingers, Lucifer was gone.

Specifically, he was now outside the penthouse, standing in the middle of a Hellstorm, where fire rained down like particularly aggressive confetti.

Alastor dusted his hands off and muttered, “Crime and punishment,” before turning back to mourn his skillet.

From outside, muffled through the walls, Lucifer’s voice carried:

“I HOPE YOU CHOKE ON YOUR NEXT MEAL, YOU OVERGROWN GRAMOPHONE.”

Alastor sniffed. “Not likely,” he muttered. “I’ll be cooking it on your corpse.”

And with that, he set off to completely ruin Lucifer’s wine collection.

Hell hath no fury like a chef properly wronged.

[unfilteredflare]

So like. I had a lot of time to think today at work. Doing monotonous stuff for hours caused my mind to drift. And I ended up thinking about Princess Tutu just because

And now I think I have figured out something about the character Princess Tutu herself.

Let me explain: so we all know that Duck and Rue are the princesses in Swan Lake. The symbolizim so obviously makes us see Duck as the True Princess / the White Swan / Odette and we see Rue has the False Princess / the Black Swan / Odile.

And I admit, the first time I watched the series back in 2012 or so, I thought the message at the end was the Prince choosing Odile over Odette. Years of rewatching the series over and over and analyzing it and interacting with the fandom has led to a different outlook very quickly. Which is that Rue is actually Odette all along and Duck was Odile from the beginning.

Which I know all of this has been discussed to death. But I just want to reiterate why we believe Rue is the real Odette because this has led me to another conclusion that I have never seen discussed. Specifically about Princess Tutu. But first we need to establish that Rue actually IS Odette and not Odile.

Siegfried is destined to love Odette, but he ends up tricked into confessing his love for Odile, who is transformed to look like Odette. Only love can break Odette's curse and turn her back into a human. But because Siegfried pledged his love to another, Odette dies.

And then we have Duck and Rue. In the finale of season 1, episode 12 Swan Lake, both Duck and Rue fight for Mytho's love. Mytho's heartshard that IS his actual feeling of Love, picks Rue. In this scene, Mytho loves Rue. But the mostly heartless and loveless Mytho, picks Duck. When this happens, Rue leaves, ashamed and defeated. In fact, that is how every battle involving Princes Kreahe in season 1 ends. Nobody ever defeats her in battle. She is defeated by the Prince picking Tutu or turning against her or even by being shocked by her "true self" the Black Swan.

This very much follows the pattern in Swan Lake. Mytho loves Rue but picks Duck in this scene. Or how, confessing his love for Odette is supposed to transform her into her true self. And Mytho confessing to Rue at the end causes her to transform into a white feathered dress that clearly symbolizes the White Swan. Or how their carriage is pulled by more White Swans.

Rue was always the White Swan, destined to love and be loved by the Prince. And Duck was always the Black Swan, destined to trick the Prince by pretending to be the White Swan. Of course, Its not like ours girls did any of this on purpose. Duck believed she was the White Swan until Mytho chose Rue. Duck, the real Odile, really did love the Prince. But had to give up on him because he never loved her back.

We are led to believe through all of season 1 that Duck = Princess Tutu = White Swan = Odette. But at the end of season 2, we discover that she was never actually Princess Tutu either. Her powers came from the heartshard of Hope. She is not using Princess Tutu's powers through the series but actually Mytho's. As evidenced in the finale as Mytho's flower powers, flying, dancing while fighting, transforming his clothes to his real outfit. She was never Princess Tutu but just an illusion of her.

Fakir mentions that Mytho was obsessed with the story of Princess Tutu in the original book. I believe Siegfried loved Princess Tutu based on this fact. because Mytho was always going through the motions of feelings without actually feeling anything. Like, how he would risk himself to save people and animals. Something Siegfried would do, and so Mytho does it because its habit. Siegfried's love of ballet that Mytho copies without feeling. So Mytho being obsessed with the Princess Tutu in the book means he actually had feelings for her as Siegfried. So his Love for Princess Tutu and his Hope of one day having his heart returned manifested as an illusion of Princess Tutu.

So Duck was never the real Princess Tutu. Which also means she was never the real White Swan or the real Odette. Just a little duck that tricked everyone into believing her lies. But that's ok. She never meant to deceive. She never meant any harm. She just wanted to be happy. And in the end, she was happy. By embracing her true self.

And all of that leads back to: Rue was the real Odette all along, like in the original story. Odette was kidnapped by the villian, Rothbart. In this series Rothbart seems to be the Raven. Rue was kidnapped by the Raven. Rothbart put a curse on Odette, transforming her from a human into an animal. The Raven "curses" Rue and turns her from a normal human into a "crow". Rothbart then transforms the Black Swan, Odile, to look like Odette and deceive the Princess. Now there are actually 2 villians in Princess Tutu. The first 1 we learn of is the Raven and the 2nd turns out to be Drosselmeyer. The villian, Drosselmeyer, transforms a normal duck into Princess Tutu that he knows Prince Siegfried loves. That was the brilliance of it. The White Swan and Black Swan swapped colors in the anime. Because it was the only way to mislead us, the audience. We already knew the story of Swan Lake and the Prince being tricked by Odile dressed up as Odette. The only way to mislead both the characters and the audience was to swap the colors and make Odette the Black Swan and Odile the White Swan. Otherwise, the trick would have never worked.

I know there is way more evidence proving the Oedette = Rue and Odile = Duck stuff. But that isn't really what I even wanted to talk about today.

I wanted to talk about Princess Tutu. The original from the book. Not the illusory one that Duck pretends to be.

Because, we still don't know where she is. What never made sense to me was how she never appeared in the anime. Like, the Knight gets reincarnated. And the original Prince and Raven are still here. But Princess Tutu never actually shows up. Why was she never reincarnated too?

And that is where my theory begins. Because I think I know what happened to her and where she ended up.

I believe that Rue actually IS Princess Tutu's reincarnation.

I have a lot of thoughts about this so buckle up.

My theory started with the Odette/Odile confusion. We believed Duck was Odette BECAUSE she was Princess Tutu. Of course she was fated to love and be loved by the Prince. She was THE Princess from the story. But she never really was. If she was never Princess Tutu, then she couldn't have been the White Swan or Odette.

So I believe that Because Rue was always Odette, she was also always Princess Tutu.

One thing that stood out to me from my original viewings of the anime was this: we have 4 main characters but only 3 have anything to do with the original story. Mytho is the Prince. Fakir is the Knight. Duck is Princess Tutu. So what about Rue? We are led to believe she is the Black Swan but the Black Swan was never a character in the original Prince and the Raven story. But if she was Princess Tutu the whole time, things make more sense. Duck enters the story as an outsider right from the beginning. She never really belonged. But Rue did. She found the Prince on her own. She fell in love with the Prince on her own. She belonged to the story way before Duck appeared. And yet, her supposed "character" wasn't in the original.

Siegfried loved Princess Tutu. Mytho Loves Princess Tutu. Mytho Loves Rue. All of these things make perfect sense when you view Rue as Tutu from the start. It even makes sense of WHY the Raven picked her. The Knight AND Princess Tutu had just been reincarnated within the same year so the story could start again. The Raven saw a perfect opportunity to use Siegfried's True Love against him. By Kidnapping the real Princess Tutu, aka Odette aka Rue, and corrupting her to his side. Disguising her and using her. He KNEW she was destined to fall in love with the Prince. He KNEW the Prince was destined to fall in love with her and used that against her. Dangling a partial truth in front of her to make her work for him.

Drosselmeyer saw the real Princess Tutu become cursed into the corrupted Princess Kreahe. He needed someone to get the story moving again. Which is why he chooses an Odile to fill in for Princess Tutu.

We don't know what the real Princess Tutu is supposed to look like. But we also don't know what Rue would have grown up to look like before she was cursed either. We only have an illusion to base our opinions off of. Also, I would like to point out, that most people just see a White Swan and not a human when looking at Duck transformed into Princess Tutu. So trying to argue that Princess Kreahe and Princess Tutu look nothing alike doesn't feel like a valid argument for me. Since we don't know what they are supposed too look like before all the switching.

So my theory started with because Rue = Odette and Odette = Princess Tutu, then Princess Tutu = Rue. And then the more I thought about it, the more evidence I found.

What do we know about the original Princess Tutu?

She loved the Prince. She was cursed to "turn into a speck of light and vanish" if she ever confessed her love to the Prince. She was a "pathetic existence who was discarded by the story". And, by my theory at least, Prince Siegfried loved her.

I feel like Rue fits all of these categories. Allow me to explain. I have already discussed the 1st and last points.

So next let me tackle how both Princess Tutu and Rue were "discarded by the story".

Princess Kreahe was the primary antagonist of season 1. She helped drive the plot by giving Duck someone to challenge her ideas. After losing the Prince's Love in the season 1 finale, Swan Lake, Rue stops mattering to the story. She doesn't do anything of any significance until right at the end when she saves Mytho. She doesn't push the plot anymore. She gets a couple scenes of her going thru her own character arc and regretting what she has done. But Mytho is the one going out and trying to release the Raven by stealing hearts. Not Rue. Duck and Fakir are trying to find a way to save Mytho. The only thing Rue does is attempt and then fail to steal Autor's heart. But even the protagonists don't even know she did that. They didn't come in to save the day there, because everything she was doing was inconsequential to the story. I am arguing that Rue, like Princess Tutu, was abandoned by the story in season 2 until she defied her fate and save Mytho at the end. Making her relevant again.

Finally, we have the curse. I know this is where my theory is weakest and has the biggest hole. But let me attempt to address it anyway.

Duck never confesses her love to Mytho, or anyone for that matter. So she never "turns into a speck of light and vanishes". I believe she never had that curse to begin with. Nobody can prove she really was cursed. She was told she was cursed by Drosselmeyer, and because she really believed she was the real Princess Tutu and the curse is mentioned in the book. But she was never the real Tutu. And Drosselmeyer has proven to be an unreliable narrator. He could have very easily have lied to her to convince her that she was real. Or, he even could have actually cursed her. He is the author. He can do literally anything he wants. But I don't think she was really cursed. Unfortunately, this can never be proven or unproven.

But what about Rue? I can hear you asking. If she was Princess Tutu, then she should have vanished at the end when she saved Mytho by confessing to him.

And yes, that is the biggest hole in my theory. But I don't think that necessarily means I'm wrong.

((Sorry everyone. I've been working on writing this essay for months as I was rewatching Princess Tutu again. And I don't remember what my original point was about the curse. I just don't remember where I was going with that particular point. God dammit it. But I want to post this now because otherwise, I will never finish this and it will never see the light of day.))

The last thing I want to address is the ending. Everyone is supposed to return to being their True Selves. Which is why Duck returns to being a duck. Fakir, through the course of the story, had realized his True Self was an author, not a Knight in service to the Prince. So he stays in the "real world" to be an author. Mytho is the Prince from the Story so he must return to it. But what about Rue? Wasn't her True Self a normal human that the Raven kidnapped? Why would she arbitrarily go into the Story with Mytho when she never came from it? I know them being together is an important plot point. But it doesn't fully make sense to me why she "returns" to the Story as her True Self if she never came from there in the first place. But of course, if she actually was Princess Tutu, then it would make sense.

Note to self: The reason this is never addressed is because ptt was abandoned by the story ((I also don't remember where I was going with this either.))

tl:dr

I believe that Rue was the reincarnated Princess Tutu all along. And both the Raven and Drosselmayer conspired to conceal this.

I wrote most of this months ago. I don't remember some of my original arguments and I could very well be wrong. But I had never seen that particular take being discussed before when the idea has some merit. Sorry for the length and rambling and how long it took to post.

Idk how to end this. So, if you read the whole thing, thank you for your time

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Me: this one will be a slow burn I think

Eddie Diaz: no actually i need to tell him i love him immediately

[dreamsicle262]

if the reading comprehension of some people who do make dead plate text posts is so bad (as i've had at least two people tell me in the tags) then maybe i SHOULD start analyzing every little detail in the game.

[fisheito]

You know who you remind me of? Helga Pataki.

Please tell me you (or somebody else) gets the reference 😂

anon u turned my world to static with that namedrop

on the list of things i did NOT expect to happen ,because hUH??: someone dragging [hey arnold] into my tiny nuca inbox

[gond-wanaland]

its cophine brainrot hours

heres my cophine playlist. i cant stop thinking about them. so ill list all the songs and a very brief reason why the song was chosen

lovefool -- it's them it's in the show

just like heaven -- evelyne's favorite song...and also vibes...promise that i'll run away w you

i wanna be yours -- classic "secrets i have held in my heart" situation

lovers rock -- and if she grabs for your hand and drags you along. cue the lovefool scene.

always forever -- this is how i feel about them actually. delphine and cosima always forever.

heaven knows im miserable now -- they're so on/off..this song is for when they are off....

pink in the night!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! -- i know i've kissed you before but i didn't do it right can i try again &again&again etc oh my goddddd insert montage of them kissing

there is a light that never goes out -- to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die obviously of course

nostalgia -- delphine when she is trying to work on the inside and cosima is icing her out...ocean between us...

but not kiss -- to be honest their relationship is quite fraught so this is again when they are /off but still holding the love

all out of love -- they miss each other :(

baby can i hold you -- sometimes they just needed to talk..

head over heels -- theyyyy both fell fast as fuck

here comes your man -- this one is for aldous leekie

my love mine all mine -- screaming actually because of the scene where cosima finds out that she is dyad property + "nothing in this world belongs to me but my love" :sob:

fade into you -- <3 soft...they love each other....

be my angel -- this is cosima's angst

sunday -- they mystify each other fr fr

halah -- this is the scene when delphine sees cosima in season 3 outside of felix's apartment...maybe i hold you to blame for all the reasons you left..baby won't you change your mind...she doesnt wanna goooo

heaven -- delphine canonically heaven in cosima's mind

un autre vie -- had to include one of evelyne's own. but man! in another life!!

i miss you im sorry -- "i miss fighting in your old apartment" i always picture their first fight s1

wicked game -- oh nooo they can't fall in love it's too dangerous...i didn't think i would fall for my monitor/monitee.....

francis forever -- screaming. SCREAMING! "i dont need the world to see/that ive been the best i can be/but i dont think i can stand to be/where you dont see me" delphine esp s3 working behind the scenes at dyad to try and save them SCREAM

andromeda -- IF YOU THINK YOU CAN SAVE ME I'D DARE YOU TO TRYYYY

linger............. -- they're obsesssseeedddd with each other

take care -- cut to the million care taking scenes

good looking -- good looking boy = delphine. i thought i'd uncovered your secrets but turns out theres more....

i bet on losing dogs -- delphine fighting a losing battle for cosima :sobbing hard:

first love/late spring -- "please dont say you love me" it's painful

ok thats it. thanks. i'd love an edit of them to every single one of these songs if possible.

[synthaphone]

so there's a Stop Making Sense cover album coming out in honor of the movie's 40th anniversary, and i listened to the preview tracks that are out, and the best thing about it so far, for me, is that its reminded me that Girlfriend is Better is a really fucking good song

[jamiethebeeart]

A different kind of post from me!

Asking for ✨help✨

So *long story short I created a cosplay design for Oboro/Kurogiri? And I kind of settled on a design I like, but something still feels.... not right. So on the off chance one of my followers has design know how and is willing to chime in.... uuh please feel free to weigh in.

*a con I'm going to announced Elements as their gala theme and my friend suggested an Oboro/Kurogiri mash up and I dove head first into the idea. whoopsies. I did solidify fabric choices but looking at the cost of all dress materials in addition to Ms. Joke's stuff I decided to leave this as a cosplan for the future (maybe a masquerade entry???? I think it'd be lit... literally lmao - I want the lightening to be lights under organza. but since it won't have to fit into an elements theme I might nix that part or change it?)

Version 1 relies on tulle to create a kind of shadow-y gradient up the torso. I didn't actually figure out what under the capelet would look like - it's the most unfinished design of all. Version 2 played around with the corset idea, but I still wasn't pleased with it - it cut off too much visually, but at least I thought through the shirt portion?

(you might be asking yourself what's up with the white. well... yea. I like body paint more than straight foundation and I think the starkness lends itself more to the established nomu-ification more than trying to make the top portion more like Oboro's canon design. Honestly liable to change. Idk how to incorporate Oboro's nose plaster/bandaid on the white face as it is visually one of the markers of the character. But also I love contrast. oooooh contrast my love)

Version 3 tried to make the top section/corset more like Oboro's hero costume, and then adding in elements of Kurogiri's vest with the "buttons" but it was clunky trying to fit in Kurogiri's uuuh.. neck... brace... thing.... and I didn't like the silhouette enough to figure it out. lmao. BUT I figured out how to do the skirt portion! (The black dress is just there as a visual reminder of what the arm section is trying to go for. I just got lucky finding a picture that fit well enough to what I'd already come up with.) SO the bottommost base will be a circle skirt of sorts to lay down a base over the hoop skirt. Then the next layer of fabric on top will be like the 3rd reference picture down - I liked the poofy/cloud like texture, but I still wanted the smokiness of Kurogiri to be present in the skirt so I was thinking adding layers like you see in the 4th picture on top of the poofy cloud structure. Which is.... a lot considering I've never attempted a formal dress before. And all of that will be textured diagonally down the skirt to give a sense of swirling movement hopefully reminiscent of Kurogiri's portals. Inbetween the cloud texture and smoky texture is where I was planning on applying the lights. (The smoky gradient texturing would be layered organza which should be shear enough even with layering to allow the light to shine through.)

Version 4!!! So many variants of version 4! I solidified what I wanted the torso to look like! Which is a cross of a stay and a corset. I've yet to find any examples of real garments that match my design but I want a front lacing corset that has that blue stomacher. The shirt borrows from version 2 except this version is like a wrap shirt so instead of applying the blue ribbon (satin? I'll figure it out later exactly what I want from it) over a completed shirt I make things more difficult for myself by making a wrap shirt whose edge is lined with the darker blue. How will I make this stay in place and be comfortable under a corset? idk.

(Also - the shirt is going to be so much gradient dying.... because I have to add in things I don't have a lot of experience in.... I love throwing myself into the deep end haha... The black will probably be an applique? Or if the fabric won't hold up to the weight I might just "paint" on black dye for the corruption effect.)

I played around with different hair covering to bring in the orange cloud logo Oboro has on his jacket. I'm not sold on the jacket design, so I wanted to figure out how to incorporate the cloud motif and jacket colors another way. (Also on purpose to primarily focus that on the most Oboro part of this design.) At the time of compiling this post I might try out an actual (short) cape? So as to keep the frontal view as is but still add some interest to the back view? Also I'm imagining twirling with a cape on stage.... It'd look so cool.

I also tried out a hair down style instead of the bun with a few curls/waves released. I was leaning towards hair down would have the different hats/bonnets/hair accessories. And then hair up would be balanced with the capelet.

Also I might just be overthinking the hair lmao. A cute cloud clip in the hair would also work perfectly fine. (Also as mentioned I love contrast and that includes blue/orange my complementary color love)

Idk why I have pictures here with capelet and hair coverings but I do.

Anywho! This last picture is the one I've settled on.

Additional notes about the design: The white body base with shadows creeping up is actually a shirt. Because body painting myself and creating a mess on my body and clothes sounds like an actual nightmare. So it'd be more like white long sleeved shirt, basically the equivalent of a blue shift for the hero shirt with ... idk what those sleeves would be called where they're like gathered with a sewn in string or elastic? The sleeves would end in.... organza? tulle? for the kind of shadowy effect over the hands. (It's hard to see but the bulk of it over the hand would blend with the black fingerless gloves and then the bottomost layer would be purple to give that halo-y effect that Kurogiri's hands have. (Where his body smokes out you see the purple color on the edges - ya know that whole thing?) It'd have removable fingerless gloves taken directly from Oboro's hero design, but also so that I can visually continue the sleeves and still remove them as needed. The orange floating clouds are actually like a veil? The clouds would be embroidered on blue tulle (?) so it's hard to see but still be able to be embroidered on and pinned into the wig. I didn't draw in my eyes because... I was lazy lmao but I don't wear contacts... I suppose for this I'd have to either take off my glasses or finally get some. But I do think coloring in my entire eyelid with yellow so that with my eyes closed it all looks uniform across is the way to go.... Or maybe have one eye be normal and the other smoky? Oh, and then I could have a corner of my face that isn't white. I'm not sold on the corset/stay design. I think in order to have it properly supporting things I have to increase the length of it down so it settles over my hips to displace the weight instead of ending right above them... From what I gather that should increase comfortability, but it also makes it tricker to visually get the angles on the sides to translate right. Honestly I don't even know how well a more form fitting corset and a stomach will interact for support? I might just have to make it more like a proper stay with a flatter profile for it to physically work. I've got no idea on shoes though. (Men's) Dress shoes would be a fun nod to Kurogiri's formal outfit but also sneakers are so much nicer to move in... Oh! The bit around the eyes is supposed to be like smoky/cloudy makeup. Tumblr will probably trash the quality so it'll be hard to tell.

I have considered making this in a style that properly pulls from one time period but I've yet to find a historical period of fashion that encapsulates what I'm trying to achieve. Until then it remains a mish mash of fashion ideas.

[thethingything]

catching up with missed journal entries from months ago using random shit we wrote down at the time plus stuff from our search history and tumblr posts and stuff, and we got to an entry for a day that was apparently so stressful we started shaking and getting a migraine before we'd even started writing it so that's something

[icterid-rubus]

😕