#fuzzy anon

[novacqnes]

✩ nights like this // sevika

⋆ summary: no coherent thoughts…just stressed councilmember!sevika coming home to you after a rough day.

⋆ warnings: a shit ton of sappiness & fluff, reader loving on sevika

⋆ pairing: sevika x fem reader

⋆ word count: 1.3k

embers of scarlet and coral smacked against the screen of the fireplace, silently stirring sevika from a trance. her head pounded against her skull, locking the rest of her body into place. now this sofa, cheaply made of leather and nylon, was her only comfort. fragments of light reflected off the glass windows, briefly illuminating the door right across from her. in its midst she could single out a you-shaped figure leaning against the doorway. small crescents adorned your eyes as you rubbed away the fatigue in them.

“come to bed,” you whispered, trudging towards her. you hit the sofa with a soft thud, pressing a light kiss to sevika’s soft lips.

she let out a low groan, snaking an arm around your waist, “not yet, go on without me.”

you nibbled on your lower lip, tilting your head to the side as you inspected sevika’s face. her features were tense, eyebrows drawn together with sharp, pensive lines decorating the space between them. her legs were fixed into the ground, boots still on, which was completely uncharacteristic of sevika. for a brief moment, her hazy grey eyes struck yours, they were gentle and radiant. it always amazed you just how hypnotic they could be. they revealed everything about this woman, but this time they weren’t brimming with intense sexual desire but a fervent need for comfort. 

“that bad?”

she shrugged, “something like that.” you waited for her to say more, but nothing else came. rather, you were greeted by an uncomfortable silence and the impossible task of trying to read her mind. her eyes flickered between the fire and your eyes, calling, screaming, pleading out to you so that there was no need for words. sevika’s body was rigid against yours; she looked as if she’d crawl from her own skin and right into the sofa. she detested this feeling. you couldn’t know. you couldn’t see. she needed to protect you. that’s what she told herself as images of the council and their disapproving glares riddled her mind. deeper and deeper, she became trapped within her own mind, leaving you with no option but to intervene. 

she felt your hands on her thighs first, slowly traveling down to her calves before reaching her boots. 

“let’s take these off,” you cooed. 

you started at the dark laces, pulling each one through the silver loops that decorated the sides. once this was done, you tugged them off sevika’s legs, exposing her fluffy rainbow socks. your lips perked up into a smile as your girlfriend quickly looked away, fighting to keep a straight face. it was progress, although you could see that she wasn’t fully comfortable, so you kept at it moving behind her.

you reached for her cloak, peering down at her for approval. “this okay?”

“mhmm….” sevika nodded, sinking further into the couch. she closed her eyes, humming lowly as the hairs on the back of her neck suddenly began to rise. sevika’s skin burned with each slight touch of your hands against her body. warm and hot with determination, you ran them across her smooth skin, moving to undress her in one quick beat. with the cloak tossed to the side, you peeled off her vest, shirt, and bra, leaving her exposed before you. you ran your palms over her sculpted chest, feeling the muscles tense underneath you.

“you’re with me, relax baby.”

she sighed, “i’m trying….i just hate bringing this shit home to you.”

you brought your hands to her face, rubbing your thumb along the scarred skin of her cheek. her eyes were reluctant at first, but you continued with a soft tone emanating from your voice, “look at me sevika, i’m okay. just let me take care of you.”

you moved the dark strands of hair from her face, eager to meet her eye. they were gorgeous. half-lidded and heavy, they were trained on your face, unwavering in spite of the fatigue that pulled on them. it was like a silent battle, a fight that you only saw slight glimpses of before, but sevika’s mask was cracking. in piltover she was utterly alone, and the mere thought of her shouldering that burden chewed at your soul. thus you moved your hands to sevika’s shoulders, desperate to be the support that she needed. once more you looked at her face for a response. silently she nodded, pressing a quick kiss to your jaw before leaning back. 

time slipped by as you undressed her, softly massaging her skin, freeing her from the strain that tore through her body. slowly her features grew more relaxed, shooting you small grins every once in a while as you worked. from the corner of your eyes, a bright halo and its golden rays peeked into your home through the window. half of the living room was illuminated with a faint yellow glow, making visible the antique table in the center of the room and the rest of sevika’s body.

“how’s this?” you hummed, massaging out the kinks in her neck.

she slurred, “perfect…i swear if i have to hear the word contingency agai—“ 

“you’re doing the best you can.”

sevika shook her head as you removed your hands from her shoulders. “it’s not enough. y/n you should see the look on some of their faces; it’s like they don’t even see me.” hurt, frustration, and anger, it spilled from her in one stifled breath. you moved swiftly to her side, cupping her hand in yours. the two of you sat in silence, caught in the sun’s warmth. 

“sev,” you began, “you’re one person, you can’t put that on yourself.”

“i have too,” she whispered, her voice small. sevika’s eyes stung, they begged her to close them and stumble into your bed, but her mind argued the opposite. doubt crept to the forefront of her brain, pervading her perceptions of herself. was she strong enough to do this? could she be enough for you? in the midst of the murky clouds there was no definite answer, and that tormented sevika beyond belief. she’d stayed up for hours, the allure of sleep looming over her as she clawed for an answer, desperately seeking it in the form of solitude.

“i’ll go with you to piltover.” 

her eyes widened, a sheepish grin taking hold of her face as sevika brought a hand to her mouth, “oh, you wouldn’t last a second.”

“what?” you sputtered, playfully smacking her hand away. “i’ll go everyday if i have too…i hate sleeping by myself.” 

she let out a low chuckle, snapping her neck towards the sunrise, taking in the bright, soft pink and yellow hues that fully lit up the room. sevika looked back towards you, her heart beaming with an intense longing and love for the person before her. she adored the way the colors merged with your skin, basking you in a warm glow of sunlight. it captured your beauty like no other, making your girlfriend fall even deeper for you. bare and exhausted, sevika yearned to pull you close. she wanted to feel your skin hot against hers as you floated into a deep slumber, fleeing the world and its worries for just a moment. this was her answer. 

“i love you so fucking much.”

“do you?” you teased, leaning in to place delicate kisses to the underside of her chin.

she nodded, “yeah baby, i do.”

you moved to her ear, allowing your breath to lightly tickle the sensitive skin, “then you know that you don’t owe anyone anything. not those council members. not even us zaunites. you can walk away, and i will love you all the same. i just want you happy.”

“this makes me happy,” sevika smiled, rising from the couch before quickly scooping you up in her arms. 

“good, let’s go to bed.”

[scribblechicken]

Sacrifice to the Sorting Algorithm

Reupload from 2021.

[pianokantzart]

I’ve heard some Mario Movie criticizers call Mario and Luigi’s brotherly chemistry “forced” and “unrealistic,” usually when comparing it to the 1993 movie. Thoughts?

I don't see it. Mario and Luigi's relationship on screen looked to me like just a slightly more affectionate version of me and my sisters' relationship. Didn't feel forced at all.

It's especially weird to compare it to the 1993 movie. That Mario and Luigi might have been technically brothers, but the dynamic was more father-son in nature. It's comparing apples and oranges.

[ohnoitsz1m]

shepvance plsplsplsplsplspls 🙏🙏

It is done :]

I just realized gheyre matchies with their ear+face markings

Sketch i didnt like

[starry-eyesanddaydreams]

Helloo! I love your ABC's series of Alan Rickman's characters and so happen to see that you posted a prompt idea list a few days ago! Could you do a "wearing the other person's clothes" and "head scratches" for Lionel Shahbandar please? (Either of the two is fine if it's too much 😅) Thanks! <3

Ohhhhhhhh I love this one. We're gonna go with both here. <3

Sleepy morning snuggles

Lionel Shabandar x Reader

Lions are softies at heart, sometimes they just want snuggles and scritches

It was an early Wednesday morning in London. The sky was grey, and rain was falling steadily against your apartment windows as you moved around your kitchen to make breakfast. Movement from the corner of your eye caught your attention and you turned your head to see your lover emerging from your bedroom, still looking sleep mussed. You tried to stifle a giggle as you saw what he was wearing. "What's so funny?" He asks, with a mock indigent glare. His deep voice even more gravely than usual. "Nothing." you reply, innocently, shifting you attention back to the toaster in front of you, "Pink's a good colour on you." He shook his head, a smile tugging on his lips as he closed the distance between you. "Well, it was the only dressing gown you had, and someone made off with my shirt." He ran his hands down your sides to your hips, his palms gliding across the soft, white button up shirt you were wearing. It looked like a mini dress on you. Gripping your hips gently, he turned you to face him. "Not that I mind. I quite enjoy seeing you wearing my clothes." Leaning in and pulling you closer, he pressed a trail of soft, lazy kisses from your lips, along your jawline and down your neck. You brought your arms up to wrap around his shoulders and he responded by nuzzling his face against the curve of your neck. Your body relaxed fully against his. He was still warm from your bed and his arms made you feel safe and secure. You slipped on hand up from his shoulder to the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his greying hair. You flexed your fingers, lightly scratching his scalp with your nails the way you knew he liked. The soft moan of pleasure he let out sounded almost like a purr. Lions were just big cats after all.

[lavendermin]

saw your vampire jy post and i immediately started thinking about him sadly drinking on a bottle of your blood at work because he cant just call you to feed you’ve got your own things to do during the day and he doesn’t want to bother you but the blood just doesn’t taste right to him he needs to suck it directly from you 😞give this man his walking bloodbag back

Your brain is so so huge anon.

Of course you can’t readily be available each time he needs to feed. You two developed some backups for unforeseen circumstances and the like.

This was one of such instances where he’s left without your presence to enrich his day. The Seat of Divine Foresight is always cold and bleak when your visit isn’t expected.

So Jing Yuan is left at his desk, eyes scanning document after document with eyes occasionally darting to the main entrance. Like a fool, part of him hopes your schedule changes. No such luck today.

cw | blood, alcohol

An intricate cup sits near him, dark red wine fragrant as he swirls it before taking a sip. His brows scrunch momentarily, savoring the flavor. The placebo isn’t enough. And without company he can hardly convince himself to enjoy a glass.

He reaches into his desk, hand wandering to the very back where a compartment in the wood above sits cool to the touch. A light press and it opens for him to dig out a small vial of crimson liquid.

The fragrance of the wine changes immediately upon adding it. He knows he should be using only a few drops but Jing Yuan is also aware you will be back in three days whereas the entire vial of blood will tide him over for at least five.

The liquid swirls in his cup—aged and with an iron-like scent. It’s not the same on his tongue. Cold and devoid of the meaning he craves. Lacking pulse and pleasure.

It’s never the same as the lovely scent of the blood that runs hot through your veins. The liquid burns like a fine rum down his throat when he feeds from you directly—drunk on your taste.

He can’t help but recall each time he’s sunk his teeth into you as he swirls the remnants of the wine, head resting against his fist while the documents remain ignored on his desk. Yearning will do him more harm than good, but Jing Yuan is only rarely selfish. You’d scold him if you saw him sulking like this.

He knocks back the remainder of the wine, not particularly proud of the lack of elegance it probably displays. There’s hardly anyone at the main room of Seat of Divine Foresight at this time of night anyway. His teeth ache where they anticipate your skin with the taste of your crimson liquid on his tongue.

It’s a bittersweet feeling. One that will have to do until you’re back.

[blindmagdalena]

I had a really fluffy homie thought; basically cuddling on the couch under a fluffy throw blanket and watching cartoons like Rick and Morty or Bob’s Burgers. It’s probably totally ooc for HL but the holidays are always a little rough for me and this made me feel all fluffy and warm 😂

Homelander really doesn't care what goes on the TV. That's not why he pushes you down onto the couch or why he's nuzzling into the crook of your neck, snaking his arms around your waist.

The TV being on is more incidental than anything else; maybe it's for you, something to keep you distracted and still while he indulges in being more vulnerable than he usually cares to show.

Either way, he never pays much attention to it.

He's far more focused on the slightly alien feel of his bare fingers brushing the nape of your neck. He normally keeps himself so removed from the world, sensation muffled by the soft leather of his gloves.

He doesn't need the suit here. He doesn't need the world to be deafened or muted. With you, he can be raw. Exposed. Content.

This way, he can clearly feel the beat of your heart against his chest without thick padding dampening it. He wonders if you can feel the steady, strong thump of his. He listens to your lungs fill and empty, the breath from your lips ghosting over his temple and rolling goosebumps down his spine.

He can feel your mortality in every bit of you. Your whole existence can be broken down into such simple, primitive mechanisms, and yet the sum of you is something magic.

There is no frailty in the way you hold him, no uncertainty. You don't hesitate. You love him. More than that, you make it seem so easy. He can't understand why so many have failed to give what you have in spades.

He's not cold, but it's sweet that you pull the throw blanket off the back of the couch and drape it over your entangled bodies. Your fingertips brush his jaw as you tuck it in around his neck. He smiles against the skin just below your ear and kisses it appreciatively.

You card your fingers through his hair, gently separating any gelled pieces that might tug. You don't have to, but it's sweet that you do.

It's sweet that you touch him like you could break him.

It's a difficult pill to swallow that in reality, you could. You could break him apart with the wrong words, the wrong look, the wrong rush of adrenaline. He would fall apart and tear the world down with him if you ever turned on him.

His grip tightens just enough to hitch the flow of your breaths.

"You okay?" You ask, hand pausing to cup the back of his head.

There it is. Your frailty. It would take so little to break your spine, and yet the echoes of that crack would haunt him for the rest of his life. The circle of your arms is a glass house, a precarious invitation for tragedy.

Sickening that the thought of tragedy still frightens him when it's all he's ever known. That fear sits inside him like an ugly, festering wound. The rot of it spills into all aspects of him—paranoia, anger, possessiveness, he feels it all with such burning fervor.

It's easier to simply call it love.

"Yeah," he says eventually, lifting his head to meet your gaze. You look concerned, so he kisses you. "M'great," he insists, shaping the words against your lips. "You make everything... great." He feels you smile at that.

"If you're sure," you say, pushing both hands through his hair. He can only imagine the shape of it after all the toying you've done with it. "You're squeezing awfully tight."

"Sorry," he says, not sounding very sorry. He won't tell you that he was testing the give of your body, sensing with his arms exactly what it would take for you to break apart within them. Not when he's so devastatingly content.

You brush his cheek with your knuckles. "It's okay. I don't mind."

"I might squeeze too tight," he says, leaning into your touch.

"You won't," you assure him.

"I have before," he counters.

You pause a moment. "You know better now."

"Sometimes." He says it like a confession. A dirty little secret for your ears alone that sometimes—only sometimes—he's not entirely sure he's doing the right thing.

The two of you sit in a poignant silence, the television paused on one of those Are you still watching? prompts.

"I'll tell you when it's too tight," you say, tipping his head back to meet your gaze. "And you'll listen to me."

He stares at you for awhile, gaze flitting slightly as he takes in the somber look of you. You've never been afraid of speaking up. Not even against him. He believes you.

And you'll listen to me.

An assertion he would balk at from anyone else. Instead, in your voice, from your soft lips, the thought soothes him.

"Yeah," he says, flexing his grip slightly. "Okay."

"Good. You can squeeze a little tighter," you say, settling your head back down against the couch.

He does. He closes his grip ever so slightly and buries his face into the crook of your neck, taking in a deep breath. A little tighter, and you squeeze his shoulder in warning. He lets out a breath and relaxes his hold on you with it, practically melting against you.

The two of you stay like that for a while, each of you testing the feel of the other. The slow tap of warm fingertips and freely exploring hands mapping out a lifetime of potential in the others body. He's gentle out of necessity, and you're gentle out of understanding.

Homelander hits play on the remote before he settles back down. He still doesn't care for watching, but it's a means of telling you without telling you that he's not ready for this moment to end.

Blessedly, you slip your fingers back into his hair, accepting the gesture for what it is.

[mewnia]

Anyway, @the-east-art , @browniefox , and I found the camera angle in this scene to be interesting during our playthrough the other day. Couldn’t get it out of my head haha :P

Bonus:

[fraternum-momentum]

im actually crying these r all so cute it rlly made my week better,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, thamk u all so muhc

[heronoegg]

Hello again! This isn’t really a request, moreso a question or statement. I’m not exactly sure what their names are, but they’re both old students Aizawa used to teach. That one poodle looking girl and the one with puffy earrings and blue hair? Anyways, I just wanted to ask, have you ever drawn them before? I’m having kinda of a trip because I swear you have.

anyways, sorry to be a bother dude! Have a good day/night!

i've never drawn her before you may be thinking of someone else? idk why i haven't drawn them sooner honestly, i gotta work on her shape but i think she has some kind of snowflake quirk her eyes are very different nobody else has eyes like this

furry lady im down

I didn't know UA allowed this i draw Amajiki like this with a jacket under the school jacket it canonly can be done he looks like protoman from megaman

the rest i didn't wanna draw the bug that's to hard rn

[peekychu]

Wouldn’t it be funny if I randomly dropped the fun fact that I have a Angel Dust Hazbn Hotel headmate on my main blog, right before I took a nap? That’d be a dumb thing to do. Semd tweet.

[vellichorom]

women named peanut butter in some life & twice as sweet...

A FUN LITTLE HANDFUL OF SOFT FUZZY WOMEN FOR MY BELOVED @tomiechu ~

look familiar? FUN FACT! these are all based off of sailor moon shots!

[prythianpages]

LOLLLL bibble playing pranks on cassian, teaming up with azs shadows

Bibble with Cas:

Bibble with Az’s shadows:

Just imagine Az’s shadows twirling with Bibble here

[blushedfemmes]

hi miss clarke, do you have any more thoughts on forcebutching, but specifically... on making someone get a bigger packer/strap? i love packing but i keep worrying that it will be too obvious/too much/too embarrassing/etc (lucky enough to not be too worried about safety). also got a fresh fade a few days ago and it's growing out already and i miss it.... (-🦉)

well yes! i’m forcebutching you for my own pleasure, of course i’m gonna choose what size dick you wear. i know how horny you are, how desperate to please me. and i know what’s best for you. i don’t care if it’s visible through your pants, you’ve always been so hard for me anyway, a good butch knows how to show it. a big packer’s gonna remind you to spread your legs when you sit. i want you always aware of it, a physical symbol of how i’ve made you into my perfect butch. i’ll even make you wear a pack n play (most of them are pretty big, by design) so i can drag you into the bathroom whenever i wanna be filled.

i want it to be obvious, sweetheart, but it’s the opposite of embarrassing. you should be proud that i’m showing you off, pretty butch by my side with a pretty bulge to match, always hard and ready for me to play with, just like you should be

[habibisagi]

The first time you're opening up to Isagi about something in your past that hurt you he is kissing your chest bc it's the closest he can get to kiss your heart and says he is going to take care of it

[nshtn]

My stupid little sysadmin hacker twink who likes dangerous men far too much (and is, himself, a dangerous man)