#i used the pattern on the body but had to make it up as i went along for the face

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Wouldn't you like to see something strange?

HI I know the new Halloween character isn't out yet but I needed an outlet for my excitement (Yes, I am unfortunately a Nightmare Before Christmas girlie) 💀 so please be advised that he may not be in character here, I'm just writing based on vibes! This is technically a twisted!Jack Skellington x Reader fic, but the Reader is basically playing a role similar as Sally from the film.

P.S. I want everyone to know that I busted out my drawing tablet to make this special border for him the same day he was first announced... Yeah...

Boo.

On the nights with full moons, he liked to steal away to the Spiral Hill on the outskirts of town.

The outcrop of land overlooked a vast graveyard and field laden with pumpkins, perfuming the air with the crisp sweetness characteristic of autumn. Beyond it, uncharted territory. When he squinted into the darkness, he could make out the vague shapes of naked trees, their gnarled branches like fingers beckoning him to approach, whispering his name.

He draped his long, lithe legs over the hill, letting them hang in the frigid air. Spindly as he was, the wind easily blew them, knocking his legs around like the straw-stuffed limbs of a scarecrow. He kicked with the breeze, carefree as a child on a playground swing.

The moon stitched his pinstriped suit and tattered cravat with silver thread, touched his pointed crown at its highest points. Even the white ribbons ribbing his jacket and the pattern of bones tugged over his gloves seemed to glow under the celestial light. He liked the view, and the view seemed to like him, too.

Held in his skeletal hand was a single flower. He stroked a silken petal, then slipped another finger under it, plucking the petal free. The wind claimed it, setting it sailing off into the unknown.

He continued. A second, a third. So on and so forth, until the flower was left stripped down and barren, even robbed of its leaves.

He dropped the stem off the hill. The pumpkins below consumed it, and the once lovely flower’s body became one with the patch.

"I figured this is where you were."

He lowered his dark circular lenses. His bright eyes slid to the figure that had approached from behind, on feet so swift they hardly made a sound. They came in with the sweetness of deadly nightshade, the trace of a poisoning committed at midnight. "Not a lethal dose, just enough to knock the doctor out for a few hours," as they always said. "How else would I sneak out to see you?"

Dry, ghostly lips dashed with hatch marks pried into an open smile, both teeth and the gaps between them. Charming, in a crooked sort of way. "My dear. You've come."

You bent down. “If you don't mind, I'd like to join.”

“The spot beside me is always reserved for you.” He patted it, inviting you to take a seat.

"Such a gentleman." You sunk down, folding your hands in your lap. "And so handsome when you're brooding. You're terribly good at that."

He was, he was, especially silhouetted by the moon. The man was practically monochrome, but bathed in silver like this, his pale skin was less sickly and more ethereal. He almost appeared like a cruel angel in the light, descending to expunge evil.

"I'm not brooding," he pouted, "I'm dreaming."

“Dreaming." You reached out and tucked a strand of alabaster hair behind his ear. "Father says it’s a ridiculous, wild thing.”

"Ah, but that's what makes it so much thrilling. Life’s no fun without a good scare.”

His mouth quirked to one side, and his smile became off-kilter--as his ideas often were. "He'll bring us to ruin with his crazy, new-fangled thinking and flights of fancy," your father would complain. But you adored that about the boy. How spontaneous he was, how his curiosity was never-ending. He'd race about like a child, picking items up and sticking his face where it probably shouldn't go.

Full of life in this otherwise lifeless town.

"What's this? What's this?" he'd say. "I must know!"

"He's gone daffy," your father would declare.

"Mmm." You nodded absentmindedly, tracing your fingers along the shell of his ear and down to his arm. "What were you dreaming about today?"

He lifted his head, looking beyond the hill and to the woods. Not a word was exchanged. None had to be.

"The Hinterlands?" you whispered. "But we don't know what's out there. No ghoul or monster has ever ventured out that far."

"Then sounds like I'll be the first! They’ll put me down in the history books as a pioneer." His laughter brightened up the gloomy night. When he quieted, his gaze was solemn—more solemn than you'd ever witnessed him. "... Don't you wonder about what's out there? Stuff that's cold and fluffy and falls from the sky. Things that come in colors we haven't seen."

"Sometimes," you admitted quietly, "but those are just dreams. I don't chase them."

"Maybe you should. We should," he mused, fingers tucked under his chin. "I bet there's all sorts of things we've never even dreamed of, too. And wouldn’t you like to see something strange?”

"I would. I really, really would," you told him in a soothing tone. Trying to reassure him as much as you were yourself. "Let's not doing anything dangerous though. I sense something in the wind—tragedy at hand. I can't shake that feeling that something bad is around the bend if you tread that path."

You gingerly laid your hand over his. Behind tinted lenses, his eyes widened.

"Stay here with me," you begged. "We can be together. Gaze at the stars. Be safe in one another's arms."

“… Sweetness, I would love for nothing more than to have you and to hold you ‘til death do us part.” His voice fluttered like the brush of a falling leaf upon your cheek. He regarded you tenderly, locking his fingers with yours and squeezing. “But you know that’s not the kind of man I am.”

“Yes, you’re every flavor of foolish imaginable,” you replied, pressing your forehead against his, “and I love you for that.”

“As do I.” He brought his icy lips to the back of your hand. A chill spider-walked up your arm, and you shivered.

“Then…”

“That’s why I must depart one day.” He pushed his glasses up. You caught the tragic reflection of your face in his lenses. “Out there… something more awaits us. I’m sure of that. I intend to find it and revive our town, this season that’s gone stale.”

“I won’t stop you if you decide to go,” you murmured. “And I will count the days until you return to me.”

“I knew you’d understand.” His smile—now it was touched with sadness, the knowledge of soon parting ways. “Thank you, dearest.”

He stood slowly, drawing you up with him. Your feet followed, as if pulled along by a puppeteer. How in sync the two of you were, how nicely molded your bodies were to one another’s. Your joy melded under the watchful eye of the moon.

“Shall we share a dance? One for the road,” he crooned. An errant breeze tousled his pallid hair, his tattered coattails—but to you, he was fairest of them all. “Our last dance for a while.”

“Alright, let’s make this one count,” you chuckled, “so I can send you off on your travels with a smile.”

“Excellent 🎵” He slid a hand around your waist, guiding you to lean into him. “Let the merrymaking commence!!”

“Yes…!!”

The midnight waltz began.

He led you, step by step, and you trailed after. Movements easy and effortless, like two intertwining maple leaves, spinning and spiraling. Their partner, the center of their universe.

They danced as if possessed or an enchantment was cast upon their footwear. The moment too sweet, too succulent, to relinquish so soon. They wanted to savor it, indulge in it—and each other.

For never was there a more perfect pair than the Pumpkin King and his consort.

[kitkat13001]

⋆｡𖦹°⭒ 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞

>> osamu dazai x reader (ft. a lil bit of past chuuya x reader)

>> comfort, slight angst, brief mentions of blood and wounds (vague, non-graphic), reader is part of the armed detective agency, reader and dazai are best friends, reader has a history w chuuya

it’s been a long time since the two of you left the port mafia, but sometimes it still haunts you…

full disclaimer: i’ve never actually watched more than a few episodes of bsd. so this might not be entirely lore accurate 😭 i wrote this a while back when i was super tired and in my dazai era and had this lil idea about a reader who left port mafia w dazai but broke chuuya’s (and their own) heart in the process :(

it’s late, dazai knows that much. he should be asleep, but the grip of insomnia is tight tonight. 

the sharp knock on the window snaps him out of his chamomile daze, skin prickling as he stands alert. 

the tension immediately leaves his shoulders as he recognizes the pattern in the knocking, turning the stove off and setting his tea down. 

he’s greeted to the sight of you, sprawled on his fire escape, covered in scratches and bruises, and currently bleeding from a leg wound. 

you peer up at him when he opens the window, breaking into a grin. 

you takes a breath, blowing your hair out of your face. “i’d say sorry for bothering you, but i knew you’d still be up. and you can see how i can’t exactly go to the hospital, and my apartment is another mile away, and…and…”

you trail off, breathing coming heavier. but when your eyes meet, you don’t really need any other words. 

dazai heaves you inside, careful not to jostle your wounded leg. 

the momentum is too much for your exhausted body, however, and you tumble out of his arms and onto the living room floor with a yelp. 

fortunately, you manage to maneuver so you don’t land on your injured leg, but you lay motionless on the floor, panting and staring up at the ceiling. 

you start laughing abruptly before dazai can ask you if you’re okay or rush to your aid. he just stares at you, utterly bewildered. 

here you are, bleeding from the leg, battered and bruised laying on his living room floor, and you’re laughing. 

“and just what is so funny?” he asks incredulously. 

“me coming to you, a suicidal maniac, for refuge. and help.”

the maniacal giggles fade into a soft little smile as you stare up at him. 

“well, this suicidal maniac is also your best friend,” dazai huffs, narrowing his eyes at you as he helps you to your feet. “in case the blood loss is making you delirious.”

“thank you.” the words are sincere as you continue to smile up at him with that dreamy little look.

dazai just clicks his tongue, leaning your weight against him to lead you to the bathroom. you wince every time you put any weight on your bad leg, until dazai just scoops you up into his arms. 

you look up at him with wide, curious eyes. 

“i’m stronger than i look, you know,” he replies coolly, carefully shouldering the bathroom door open and setting you down on the sink counter. 

dazai hands you a towel to stop the bleeding while he rummages around the medicine cabinet for his emergency first aid kit (that you had given him, and hadn’t once been put to use). 

neither of you speak while dazai unwraps your wound, examining it silently. it’s a flesh wound, the bullet only have grazed the side of your thigh rather than becoming lodged inside. it’s wide but not deep, no stitches necessary. unfortunately, it would need an alcohol cleaning to prevent infection. 

you flinch when he touches the alcohol soaked cotton pad to your wound, clenching your teeth and fists. 

dazai is quick and careful, trying to minimize the time he puts you in pain. 

he may be careless with his own life, but his hands were never steadier than when he was taking care of you. 

the tension slowly leaves your body as dazai finishes the cleaning, instead moving to secure and bandage the wound. 

when he finally speaks, his voice is quiet and serious, so unlike his usual tone. 

“who did this?” 

your response is little more than a whisper. “port mafia.”

“so it was…?”

you nod, resting your head against the tiled wall to avoid dazai’s eyes. “it was him.”

“he shot you?”

“he shot at me,” you reply quietly. “i don’t think he was expecting to have hit me. he wouldn’t have, if i hadn’t been so shocked.”

anger boils inside dazai at the thought. he lets out a long exhale, fingers gentle as he finishes wrapping your wound. he taps your thigh gently to signal that he’s done as he straightens up, joints popping in his back from being hunched over. 

“good as new,” he jokes, but there’s still tension in his voice and in his eyes. 

“yeah,” you breathe. “thanks.”

you move to stand up, but the cramped bathroom doesn’t allow much space to do so. in your haste, you accidentally put your weight on your bad leg, flinching and falling forward. 

unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), given your proximity, you stumble into dazai’s chest. immediately, his arms wrap around you and you’re left staring at each other, hardly an inch apart. 

you can feel his breath across your face, dazai can hear your heart beating rapidly. 

in the dim light, both of your eyes flutter shut and your lips meet like magnets. 

it’s not the first time you’ve ever kissed. not even the second, or the third. drunk kisses, kisses on a dare, kisses for comfort or simply because you were bored or even just to see what it felt like. there was never any point in defining your relationship, not with your occupation and emotional state and dazai’s knowledge of your feelings for chuuya. 

but there’s some forbidden comfort in the softness of your lips, in the warmth of your arms around his neck and your fingers in his hair. in the fleeting touches of his hands along your waist and the synchronized shallow intakes of breath and the rapid thudding of his heart. 

this is the kind of comfort he cannot find anywhere else. nobody understands him like you do, nobody knows what he’s been through the way that you do. you were there, suffering with him. suffering in unison, your hearts constantly breaking in tandem, over and over and over. 

it feels like both an eternity and only a few fleeting seconds before you break apart. 

dazai opens his eyes first, looking down at you slumped against his chest. your grip on his biceps is tight, his arms the only thing keeping you standing. he smiles softly, some sadness behind it, as he readjusts his grip to hold you more comfortably. 

“you’re tired,” he murmurs, cheek squished against the top of your head. “you should rest.” 

“mm.”

“come on now,” dazai hums, lifting your body into his arms. “you can take the bed.”

he sets you down gently, lifting the covers as you settle in, burying your face into the pillow. 

your eyes open momentarily, glancing up at him. “what about you? where will you sleep?”

“as it happens, i’m not very tired. but if i end up needing to rest, i’ll take the couch.”

you frown. “don’t.”

“relax, my dear, it’s nothing i haven’t done before.”

with that and a final adjustment of the blankets over your body, dazai turns to leave. 

he’s stopped in his tracks by your hand around his wrist. he turns, looking down at you. you're staring back with soft eyes, clouded by exhaustion but still shining with some sort of affection. 

“stay.”

your voice is soft, almost pleading. your doe eyes are entrancing, drawing him in. dazai has never been able to say no to you, and tonight is no exception. 

so he sighs a little, donning a defeated smile, and he takes a seat beside you, leaning back against the headboard. 

your hand has drifted from his wrist to his palm, tracing patterns on his skin in slow, hypnotic motions. 

you nuzzle back into the pillow, hand now still but warm in his own. 

minutes go by and dazai is sure you’re asleep until your soft voice reaches his ears. 

“i dream of him sometimes.” 

dazai looks over, but with you facing away, he can’t see your expression in the dim light. 

“chuuya,” you clarify quietly. like dazai didn’t know who you was talking about. 

the sheets rustle as you turn over, hand still clutching his like a lifeline. your soft eyes are shiny with unspilled tears when you look at him. 

“do you ever…” you trails off, sighing quietly. “sometimes, i feel like i left a part of my heart with him. it hasn’t felt full since we left.”

dazai feels his heart shatter with every word. he’s familiar to the feeling you’re describing, maybe a little more than he’d care to admit. but everyone makes choices, and this was yours. 

“i miss him,” you murmur, holding his arm to your chest like a child with a teddy bear. 

“i know,” is all he can manage in reply. 

i wish i could be enough is what he’s thinking. that his presence would let you sleep easy, even knowing chuuya was out there somewhere, holding a piece of your fragile heart. 

he brushes away the tear that slips down your cheek with a gentle fingertip. your skin is soft as ever, warm beneath his touch. 

dazai hums softly, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “go to sleep, love. i’ll be right here when you wake up.”

fighting the immense exhaustion, just for a second, you manage to open one eye. 

“promise?”

you stretch your pinky out, eyes fluttering, and dazai takes it in his own. 

“i promise.”

with that solemn oath, your eyes flutter shut and only seconds go by before dazai hears your soft snoring and slow breathing. 

“sweet dreams,” he murmurs, stroking your hair and knowing you can’t hear him.

dream of me, he pleads in his mind, dream of me tonight and not of him. 

[ann-atar]

We're seeing Celebrimbor and Sauron as themselves, the best and worst of who they are, and I'm really in awe of both of them for different reasons. And the actors holy crap.

I'm in awe of Sauron for showing his real self to Celebrimbor. He's a mess because of Melkor in ways he is not quite aware of, but this time with Celebrimbor will give him insights into himself that would not have been possible without our favorite elven smith. I bet the fallout from this time in Eregion will sneak up on Sauron in unexpected ways later.

I'm in awe of Celebrimbor's brilliance and his bravery. He fought his way out of that nearly flawless illusion by force of will alone, and no one else has been able to do that (maybe Adar, but we don't know that Sauron constructed a whole fantasy world for him or not, and with Galadriel it was Sauron who played along in her fantasy).

I have no doubt after their scenes in this episode that Sauron loves Celebrimbor; as much as a being like Sauron is capable of love after forsaking emotional love all those eons ago, he loves this genius artist.

The tears in Sauron's eyes during "it's a pity" gave me chills.

And Celebrimbor admitted that a part of him knew that something was not right but he wanted what Sauron had to offer anyway. One of the things Sauron offered was collaboration and creation with someone on his level. They have a deep understanding of each other despite the enmity and Sauron will mourn in his own twisted way when it is finally over.

Yes, Celebrimbor went back to stall Sauron so Galadriel would escape safely with the rings, but I think he went back because even if the "light" he spoke about is elsewhere, the color and the connection are still by Sauron's side and he has chosen that place for his end. He and Galadriel could have escaped together easily enough, there was no compelling strategic reason for Celebrimbor to go back, but he went anyway. To do what he could, and because he's the only one who can "play the game" on Sauron's level.

But Celebrimbor knows it's almost over; for an artist to destroy one of his hands, well.

I'll probably have more to say about this after I really unpack it, but it's as if Celebrimbor knows that Sauron is as obsessed with him as he is with the rings, and their game-playing has reached more than a fever pitch, so Celebrimbor understands that Sauron will not be able to resist the chance to best him and prove whose will is stronger.

But this version of Sauron ... will be changed after this time in Eregion. He has cast off the facade of Halbrand completely and will be unrecognizable to Galadriel (I hope that's what helps her defeat him or get away) but he has crossed another threshold and will never be able to go back to the point when he arrived for the second time in Eregion and made a choice to follow old paths of destruction, and the even older pattern of abuser and abused.

Will we see Celebrimbor displayed as Sauron's "banner" in the next episode? I'm not sure, but it makes sense because if Celebrimbor dies Sauron will not be able to let him go right away, not even his body, not even in death.

(I'm tagging this silvergifting because that ship predates everything, and this episode was as close to an interpretation of book canon as I could imagine, and I'm still in awe of the performances from these actors and what I feel is the show's way of nodding to us old school fans.)

[multidimensionalguidance]

The Astrology Behind: The 27 Club

We already know the dreadful and looming stories behind this phenomenon that occurs the most within the music and entertainment industry. A great number of deaths and tragic events that seemed to follow gifted individuals as a fated promise.

Although we know that a great majority passed away due to drugs and unhealthy lifestyle choices, there's also some that had unexpected accidents. Now, for those who study astrology and understand that every age activates certain houses/themes this will seem like a very clear pattern.

In terms of house profections, during the age of 27 our 4th house lights up like a lightbulb ready to come through with the lessons and experiences that match the natal planets, lord, sign, ruling nakshatra, and transit planets as well.

When we think of scary and dark periods we tend to associate them with the profections years that match the 8th and 12th house ( 19, 23, 31, 35, and so on) under the assumption that the 4th house is just a cozy corner, yet the overwhelming number of individuals who lose their life around the ages that fall into this house is rather shocking.

The 4th house rules our home, heritage, mother, ancestry, childhood, parents, sense of security, inner life, emotions, happiness, nourishment, etc. These are the topics that come to life during those years, and often times, the ones that leave the strongest mark in our lives.

For most individuals reaching the ages of 15 or 27 arrives with harsh realizations and lessons associated to the lack of emotional and physical security that we might have or feel within ourselves or at home. At 15 we freshly enter the teenage experience of feeling like an outsider at home, as if we don't fit or belong with our family anymore, and as if the innocence of childhood feels long gone. This is where we turn to being a "rebel" and start seeking nourishment outside of what we've been taught within the confinements of home.

By the time we circle back into this house at 27, getting closer to the taste of 30 which is ruled by the 7th house (long term relationships, commitment, others, etc), we start to re-live yet again what "home" and "nourishment" truly feels like for us as adults who are more experienced at life than a 15 year old.

We realize that the perceived freedom of our early 20's was an illusion, and that what has shaped us into who we are by that point was everything we experienced within the privacy of our inner or private world. All the traumas created at home or by our parents. All the overwhelming expectations of what a family of our own might feel like, what long term commitment means to us, and how close or far we are from breaking generational wounds.

All of this can feel maddening and make us isolate from the world into our shells, as if turning into the crustaceans that represent the sign of Cancer. Since the turmoil is associated with our deepest parts, being unable to find a peaceful resolution within our stormy oceans can lead us to drowning within our waters. It makes us forget that right after the storm is when the sun comes out to bring joy, happiness, fun, pleasure, and good fortune (5th house profection). It's a turning point for all of us within our journey.

It comes with no surprise that for a lot of celebrities whose private lives and inner world are exposed for everyone to see to be driven towards unhealthy coping mechanisms. A path to self destruction. Now, not all cases are alike and in some scenarios its accidents in their homeland or related to water.

At any case, they are difficult situations which threaten our inner safety and sense of security. It shakes our emotional foundations and forces us to build from scratch a real sense of "I'm safe in my body, mind, and the environment that I cohabit with others". It's all about learning how to regulate ourselves and not allowing our traumas to keep us from the good things life has to offer.

I'll use Amy Winehouse as an example:

Her 4th house was ruled by Leo with her Sun and Mercury in Uttara Phalguni sitting there. She had to relive and experience themes related to her fame, father, talent, children, creative, romance, self expression, and how it all tied to the way she handled her 4th house themes.

Uttara Phalguni in particular usually stands out or feels deeply interested in music, dancing and yoga. Aryaman, the deity of Uttara Phalguni nakshatra, is the god of patronage, union and is considered as the chief amongst the ancestors. They are deeply affected and involved in relationships.

One of the symbols that rules this nakshatra is the back legs of the bed or a platform. I'll focus on the latter simply because most of the time its only people who wield some sort of power or gift who get to stand on a platform of any kind. Additionally, they also tend to deal a lot with the karma of the father, and not always on the positive end of it.

She had battled with addictions to alcohol and other substances her entire life, but it only got progressively worse after she met the man who would eventually become her future husband. It was said that shortly after meeting him her personality changed and she started to indulge in other vices, such as cocaine and crack (which he knowingly admitted to introducing to her).

On top of it, her own father who had a heavy influence on her (as it usually is for 99% of Leo's) wasn't supportive towards her health when she needed it the most. It was the behavior of her parents and their tumultuous marriage that shaped the way she perceived home, safety, and nourishment. This is even more noticeable with the ruler of her 4th house falling sitting in its own house.

It was the lack of support from home and damaging patterns that made her to repeat the same generational curses which inevitably lead her to drowning in her own inner world. She clearly used substances as a coping mechanism (like most do). A way to escape reality and attempt to find safety, even if it only led to more pain and disregulation.

By the end, her difficulties on dealing with these themes became even more noticeable after she divorced her husband and went on a downward spiral that didn't even allow her to perform.

Her story, specifically around the last moments, shows us how impactful and difficult 4th house profections can truly be. Alike to other artist or famous individuals, by the end of their lives (27) a lot of those themes appear over and over again until they can no longer bare with them or find a peaceful and healthy resolution.

So, if you're currently going through or about to enter this house profection, just remember to take it slow and practice as much emotional regulation as possible. Go near water bodies to relax. Seek help from individuals who can heal your mind, body, and spirit, be it professionally or not. And finally, remember that you are not your childhood traumas or wounds.

Thanks for reading <3

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[ihopesocomic]

That anon is baffling to me bc out of all the xenofiction I've seen, IHS is one of the best with how you use different face shapes and body silhouettes to distinguish characters that are the same species. Whereas a lot of anthro animal art just relies on fur/eye color or maybe a few "quirks" slapped onto otherwise identical models (cough cough, My Pride, and a lot of Warrior Cats official art, etc.) I think you're especially skilled at showing characters are related tp each other without making them look identical, which can be a hard thing to balance with animals that are hard to tell apart IRL. You're the best I've seen at that, genuinely.

Thank you! I haven't read enough xenofiction web comics to say what the best is, maybe Golden Shrike but I'm biased LOL

There's also just. A ton of details on a lions' face that I would've loved to include to make it more diverse, like unique whisker patterns. But its not necessary. No one's confusing anyone for anyone in our comic, at most they get names mixed up. If I were to one day up and decide to make the comic all greyscale, and take away everyone's mane, I'm confident enough in my abilities that readers would still be able to tell who is who. Even the ones who are related. (Plus we try to personalize their dialogue as well, so even if the characters aren't on-screen, you should still be able to tell who's speaking to who.)

That was one of our biggest criticisms of MP's character designs, no one looked related to each other, least of all any siblings. Which is a weird problem to have since COTW didn't have this problem? And its not like having characters with the same or similar eye color would've fixed or hindered the designs in any way. And yet the "solution" they had to making sure the males didn't look the same was giving them varying degrees of ridiculous hairstyles. One shouldn't have to rely on hair shape and accessories to make sure two characters aren't confused for each other lol

MP didn't even have the foresight to have a character Bible so you could know how big characters are compared to each other. Sometimes Hover is twice Nothing's size and other times she's the same size. But as I've said before, this wouldn't even be a problem if they built character models in Toon Boom lol you know, like what that program was made for. - Cat

[milykins]

This is my first time writing one of these things, so be gentle. I had the idea of how each of the guys would give the reader a hot drink after a hard day. Everyone is aged up in their 30s.

TMNT Headcanon- Hot Drinks - TMNT X female reader

You've had a rough week. Work has been beyond frustrating. You're under-staffed and you've been denied a raise for the second time since you've worked there. To make matters worse, it starts to rain on the way home.

🧡🐢🧡

Mikey jumps up immediately upon seeing the state you're in. He immediately moves to grab you a towel and tells you to go change into some dry clothes. When you emerge, towel-drying your hair, you'll see he's put a very elaborate pillow fort together and has two hot drinks on a tray.

Mikey is a hot chocolate guy, and his recipe is carefully guarded secret. One sip will make it clear that it is the richest, most decadent hot chocolate you've ever tasted. He's also included a can of whipped cream and little bowls with several toppings which include mini marshmallows and sprinkles.

He hands you a cup and asks him to tell you about your day.

💜🐢💜

Donnie starts fussing over you as soon as you walk through the door. He quickly ushers you to the bathroom so you can take a shower and bring up your core body temperature. You do as he says while he brings you a new set of dry clothes.

Once you're out, he pushes a cup of coffee into your hands, made just the way you like it. Donnie is the master of coffee. He's put together a coffee machine that pretty much does it all. It will make lattes, cafe mochas, and even hot chocolate, which Mikey deems a travesty because his is obviously better. Regardless, the coffee he gives you is freshly brewed and you sip it while he rambles on about how important it is to dress properly for the elements and how drinking something hot is the best way to warm up.

You both end up cuddling on the couch while he listens to you rant about your workweek.

💙🐢💙

Leo is the one who quietly wraps a blanket around your shoulders and walks you to the bedroom so you can change. He tells you to meet him in his meditation room once you're finished.

You softly pad your way there once you're dressed. Leo has his teapot ready. It is a beautifully patterned Japanese teapot with a blue swirling design. Leo had found the teapot broken in several pieces while scavenging and had repaired it using the gold kintsugi method. The repair process he tells you is a reminder to embrace your flaws rather than hide them for you are beautiful regardless.

Leo has an entire cupboard dedicated to his many blends of loose-leaf tea. His favourites are jasmine and gunpowder green. He's chosen a gentle blend for you, not too caffeinated, and has included a small bottle of honey so you can sweeten it as you like.

He pours it into a matching teacup and asks how your day went.

❤️🐢❤️

Upon seeing you, Raph knows you need something stronger than some weak-ass tea. He tells you to go change and goes to fix something up for you.

Raph, by no means, is an expert in the kitchen, but he knows how to use Donnie's fancy coffee machine. He doesn't actually drink a lot of coffee. He prefers his protein shakes in the morning. He knows you like lattes, though, and asks the machine to make one of those. He sweetens it with some caramel syrup and adds a shot of Bailey's. He sips it and gets a smile of satisfaction, deeming it perfect.

Instead of you finding him, he finds you in a state of undress. He smirks slightly and admires you a moment while he waits for you to finish dressing. He hands you the cup warning you that it might be hot and to blow on it slightly.

The shot of Bailey's warms you up instantly, and it's delicious with a fine layer of froth on top. You joke that he should try doing some latte art next time. He laughs and says fat chance of that. You both move to the bed and cuddle while he asks how you're doing.

End

Edit* this is how I picture Leo's teapot

[yippee-optimistically]

im so sorry for the awful photos BUT i finished my lightbulb plush :3 !!!!!!!!!!! i patterned and sewed her in about 3 days bc ill be busy starting tmrw and wanted her done by saturday. BUT SHES REAL !!!! about 15.5 inches tall and made entirely of fleece. so silly.

little face closeups and bracelets !!!!! i think itd be cute if the final 4 were a silly little friend group so shes matching w all of them. id imagine they all have lightbulb themed bracelets :)

[astralprisms]

Was wondering why this particular gith face always feels like it suits baldness best and then I realized it IS in fact Orpheus' face model, Orph just has different unique ears.

Anyway welcome back, dreadwolf.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Misc. photos from the past year or so ~

[g8d]

need to cling to someones arm for a feeling of safety

[thecassafrasstree]

Had a few folks interested in how I made the patches I posted for Solarpunk Aesthetic Week, so I thought I'd give y'all my step-by-step process for making hand-embroidered patches!

First, choose your fabric and draw on your design. You can use basically any fabric for this - for this project I'm using some felt I've had lying around in my stash for ages.

Next, choose your embroidery floss. For my patches I split my embroidery floss into two threads with 3 strands each, as pictured. You can use as many strands in your thread as you prefer, but for the main body of my patches I prefer 3 strands.

Next you're going to start filling your design using a back stitch.

First, put in a single stitch where you want your row to start.

Poke your needle up through the fabric 1 stitch-length away from your first stitch.

Poke your needle back down the same hole your last stitch went into so they line up end-to-end.

Repeat until you have a row of your desired length (usually the length of that colour section from one end to the other). Once you have your first row, you're going to do your next row slightly offset from your first row so that your stitches lay together in a brick pattern like this:

Make sure your rows of stitches are tight together, or you'll get gaps where the fabric shows through.

Rinse and repeat with rows of back stitch to fill in your patch design.

When you're almost to the end of your thread, poke your needle through to the back of the fabric and pull the thread under the back part of the stitching to tuck in the end. Don't worry if it looks messy - no one's gonna see the back anyway.

This next step is fully optional, but I think it makes the patch design really pop. Once your patch is filled in, you can use black embroidery floss to outline your design (or whatever colour you want to outline with - it's your patch, do what you want). I use the full thread (6 strands, not split) of embroidery floss to make a thicker outline.

I use the same back stitch I used to fill the piece to make an outline that adds some separation and detail. You could use most any 'outlining' stitch for this, but I just use back stitch because it's just easier for me to do.

Once you're finished embroidering your patch, it's time to cut it out!

Make sure to leave a little border around the edge to use for sewing your patch on your jacket/bag/blanket/whatever, and be careful not to accidentally cut through the stitches on the back of the patch.

If you have a sturdy enough fabric that isn't going to fray, you can just leave it like this. If not, I recommend using a whip stitch/satin stitch to seal in the exposed edges (I find that splitting your embroidery floss into 3-strand threads works best for this).

And then you're done! At this point you can put on iron-on backing if you want, or just sew it on whatever you wanna put it on. Making patches this way does take a long time, but I feel that the results are worth it.

Thanks for reading this tutorial! I hope it was helpful. If anyone makes patches using this method, I'd love to see them! 😁

[anantaru]

GENSHIN + HE TALKS YOU THROUGH IT

— ꒰ including ꒱ — diluc, wriothesley, childe, ayato

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — dirty talk, oral (fem! receiving) rough syx & dom genshin men, petnames used: baby, love, darling, good girl, pussy drunk men, fem! reader ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ

— ꒰ DILUC ꒱

you wince, before feeling diluc's hands caress your frame softly as he urges you towards the bed slightly, "lay down, c’mon hurry for me, i will get on my knees for you," your face burned at his words, your blood boiling extremely hot— regardless, you do not go against your boyfriends instructions and obediently drop on your back, head bouncing against the soft pillows and legs propped up your heels.

diluc follows you right away, settling his hands against your lower stomach, "let me slip these off you," and his voice was pummeling into your blood, sounding raspier than usual, presenting himself teasingly, taunting

how can someone be so sexy, yet also gentleman alike at the very same time?

you always wonder and never find an answer.

his fingers are skillful, yet they are also dangerous, feverishly slipping into the waistband of your wet panties to slide them off you— your pussy bare and exposed now, clenching around nothing as it earns you a disgustingly sinful groan from him.

"there you go, you're so pretty," he breathes and spits on your clit before rubbing the saliva over your puffy folds with his digits, "my pretty girl."

diluc leans into your thighs and places a subtle kiss on your knee, holding a crooked smile— such kiss was certainly concealing something beneath the surface, mingled with aroused ideas of how the next couple of hours will look like.

"you know what to do, right?" he motions, getting on his knees as his dick presses painfully against his tight pants. of course, you know what he's talking about and situate your legs against his shoulders, earning yourself an appreciate hum from the red haired man.

without a word, warm air wafts over your slicked folds and trembling skin as diluc's fingers hold against you gently, the tip of his wet muscle experimentally nudging at the hood of your sensitive clit.

he doesn't falter in his rhythm and gives your cunt a good, fat lap of tongue and saliva before trailing down to your hole.

he noses his way to your clit and presses his mouth against it firmly, your cunt throbbing at the connect of his tongue licking you in shifting patterns, the vehement sounds of saliva and arousal slapping and slapping and splattering all over his tongue had your toes curled, lips parted.

"ooh you taste so good darling, you taste so fucking good, fuck—" he moans, and he sounded so desperate, like he's going to skip the foreplay once and for all and fuck you into the bee until you couldn't walk nor move for weeks.

your legs entwine and shiver on his shoulders, your control over your body lost and slipping from the palms of your hands as murmurs of encouragement hit your sensitive pussy— your fingers splayed possessively into his scarlet hair as you ride his face and cry his name.

"let me make you feel good, it's gonna feel good, promise," diluc mumbles into your cunt as his nose continuously nudges into your puffy clit, his slender fingers probing at your hole when his tongue laps around you.

in between your quivering thighs— everything felt wet, disgustingly sloppy and so hot and you wonder if diluc didn't secretly use his vision on you to get this particular effect from you.

alas, his slacked mouth was meeting your hips, your core stuttering up into his face as you craved, no, needed more friction, needed more of his voice crumbling at the taste of you as your eyes drift over the fluffy clouds of pleasure in your head.

— ꒰ WRIOTHESLEY ꒱

wriothesley looks down on your twisted expression and a sheen line of sweat pillowing on your forehead, "look at me," his face was tilted at the side as you felt his complete weight cover, crush and fold your body in half.

the press and burn of his cock was breaching in and out of you fast, in fact, yes, wriothesley was aware of your strong liking towards his dominating aura in the bedroom, especially when he's looking at you through glazed eyes and his sweat laced chest rising and falling when you clench around him.

he knows it all, and he's been wanting to pleasure you over and over all this time.

"look at me in my eyes," he commands again, forcing you to look at him, yet all you could muster was to part your eyes slightly, an overcast mist of salaciousness prevailing over you.

he shatters, widens and parts your sloppy hole effortlessly, turning you addicted off the strong, thick compress in your pussy that you almost didn't even realize he's managed to coax literal tears from your eyes, pull them out one by one, small crystals sinfully glimmering on your sticky lashes and shouting more more more.

"you're so good, you're so good, my good fucking girl," he drawls proudly and smirks down at you, his voice explosive with thirst and longing, "my good girl, mine, you hear me?" as he assures you and moves his hips with one quick roll of his dripping dick, beginning to fuck into you.

wriothesley knows you deserve it, deserve to be bounced back and forth the bed until you're full of his semen, yes, you do, and you know it.

"you feel me in you? feel me, fucking feel me baby,"

driven by curiosity, you focus your eyes at the man on top of you, swearing there was nothing more handsome than somebody like wriothesley, a highly respected duke, whispering those sweet and filthy profanities into your mouth while his cock thickens within your soft walls, "does that feel good, yeah? i can see it on your face"

"yesyesyes… it does," you whine and squeeze at his words, his cock dragging and pressing and dragging so strongly along your wet walls before he's stuttering in midst a long, languid thrust, his head thrown back and facing up the ceiling— not long after, loading you up of his creamy cum.

— ꒰ CHILDE ꒱

"come on, show me how good i make you feel," childe messily flicks his cock-head over the reactive hood of your clit, poking and tapping at your softness as you moan out his name— making him laugh at you sweetly, although breathless, his chest rising, pupils dilated wide with hunger, gaze luxuriant upon your naked body.

childe knows how to handle you— until your thighs were shaking and hole spread wide as you're soaking him, ruining him and turn the harbingers usual confidence-loaded expression into a shade of something else— something almost frightening.

"you want it? you want my cock, hm?" he fists himself in front of you, pushing in deep through the small tunnel in his palm as you whine out for him in desperation, "yes baby, please, i want to feel you,"

ajax laughs, humming in approval at the choice of words in your answer, "i know you do, baby, there you go then," as he towers proudly against your skin, his handsome face all twisted and menacing on top of you as he inserts the head slowly.

"feel my tip, right there," he continues and groans when your hole flawlessly forms around him, rasping harshly inside his throat, "you're so wet, fuck, ’m gonna slide in really easy, aren't i?"

this is good, this is so fucking good— archons, childe believes he must be in heaven right now.

you're just so warm, so soft and wet, how was he supposed to let alone breathe when you're taking him so well?

he grumbles lowly, starting to press his cock into you as he digs his fingers into your hips before testing the waters, rolling his hips a little faster, then alternating between fast and slow to find the best rhythm for the both of you. afresh— he pulls a long, shaky moan from past your swollen lips when he finds your sore spots, your skin pressing and slapping together in a delirious tempo and pitches of rapture.

"let me take care of you, i got this," you clutch on to him tenderly and nod your head, your spit filthily pooling at your throat as childe tenderly kisses your temple, "don't hurt your sweet, little head over this, leave it to me, yeah? fuck baby, okay...okay, i'm gonna— fuck you're so tight,"

his thrusts turn more impatient and uneven, although the heaviness was still unmatched as your walls were grabbing him, pulling him in deeper, your hips instinctively rutting up into his to feel more and more, just fucking more, "fuck, i'm gonna make you feel so good tonight,"

— ꒰ AYATO ꒱

ayato's cheeks, jaw and eyes were illuminated by the sight of your body pulled underneath his own— and his cock was oozing of clear pre, his hand rubbing over his solid erection until the sticky semen dribbles down the crook of your thigh.

in any remembered previous night, ayato had always been very much into foreplay, well, only if his frustration levels were on the lower side. in terms of now, he cannot be bothered to focus on his train of thoughts when all the blood was stored in his rock-hard cock thudding heavily and hurting him.

it's so painful— but watching your pussy being empty and not full of his cock was even more distressing.

he slaps his tip over your hole before sheathing himself up with you, his eyebrows lasciviously quirked at you, "all the way in, love, i'm going all the way in," he began to pull his bottom lip between his teeth in concentration, your eyes glazed over as he watches you writhe beneath him the moment he inserts himself.

you gasp audibly, your body tensing and nerves freezing at the solid press on your hole before your back instinctively arches into his defined chest.

"oh you feel too damn good, fuck, you're messing with me, aren't you?" his lips drag over your searing cheeks, drinking up your budding tears and the drool slipping from past your lips, lapping it all up with one single lick of tongue.

"you feel me there? right there," you felt his warm hand press against your stomach, an intoxicating combination of bliss and sensitivity rushing through your system as his body was near close to crushing you with his weight.

ayato was fucking ruthless, frustrated and as if it's his last time of being inside of you— no shame, no pauses, only pushing into you weightily, his balls smacking against your ass as you're feeling so satisfied when your pussy quivers around him, holding him close.

"open your legs a lil more for me, c'mon, i know you can do it" he groans and fucks into you with one sharp push and shove, "i wanna fit it all inside," before stretching and driving you towards insanity.

his tone was as focused as his expression and his stance, "you've always done it so good for me," as you squeeze the moment he says it out loud— the moment he reminds you of all the countless of times where he's left you utterly spent and full of his cum, your hole throbbing and letting it ooze out before he fucks it right back into you, turning you breathless.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[bi-writes]

i NEED to know how simon would react to his mail order bride getting all pretty one night.... like maybe the night of their wedding... and she's all nervous because she thinks he expects sex and she's so paranoid about offending him or making the wrong noises or just being a nuisance

mail-order bride

simon and mail order bride did not having a wedding; they are married before they meet. have a peek into their first evening together. (18+)

simon laid your suitcase down onto the floor of his bedroom. you look around anxiously, eyeing the bedroom that is supposed to be your own. there's a king-sized bed in the middle of the room, matching dark-wood nightstands on each side. there's one that's clearly being used, a phone charging there and a half-full glass of water.

there's a dresser on the far wall, littered with picture frames and small trinkets, seemingly from other countries. little russian dolls and different fabrics from different places, wooden elephants and small dishes of wonderful patterns. there's a few drawers open there, and when you make your way closer, you can see it's because they're empty. he must've emptied them out for you to use.

there's one picture frame that's face-down. you pick it up to peek at it, and you smile when you look at the picture there. it's simon and a few similarly-looking people. simon is in uniform, face clear of scars. there's an older woman on one side of him, and then on the other side is a little family of three, a sweet couple and a little toddler on the woman's hip. you put it back down facing up before turning back to your suitcase.

you were supposed to just put your pajamas on. simon had been cleaning up the kitchen, and you figure that meant it was time for bed. you rummage through your suitcase, going to reach for your pajamas when you see the little lingerie set you packed.

it still has the tags on it. it's a red pair of lace panties with a matching bra, complete with little crystal bows and lots of detail. you clutch the lace in your hands, looking towards the door. simon doesn't seem like the kind of man to ask you to do something you wouldn't want to do. but you don't know what his expectations might be. you don't know how he intends his wife to behave.

you stand and take the undergarments with you to the bathroom. you change into them, sliding the pieces on and adjusting them until they fit you nicely. you swallow hard as you look in the mirror, smoothing your hands over your body; your tummy, your thighs, over your breasts. you don't know if he'll even like what he sees. you don't know what he expected you to look like, if he got to choose, if he knows what you are underneath and wanted you because of it or in spite of it.

when you come out of the bathroom, simon is rummaging through one of his drawers. when he turns around to face you, he immediately turns back around.

"fuckin' christ--what the fuck are y'doin'?"

you flinch at the bite of his voice. you wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt to self-soothe, your eyes tearing immediately as you take in his reaction.

"i..." you stutter. "i...i-i thought--"

"you thought wot?" he snaps, and when he turns around to come closer, you panic, taking the straps in shaking hands and starting to pull them down your arms for him. "no, fuck, stop that--"

he puts his hands over yours before your breasts can spill out of the bra. he narrows his eyes at you, shaking his head, and you start to cry softly.

"s-simon, i'm sorry--i-i thought--"

"shhh," he shushes you. "just...quiet."

your bottom lip trembles as he takes the lace straps of your bra delicately and brings them back up, smoothing them back onto your shoulders. you close your eyes when he cups your cheeks, big thumbs wiping at your face as he soothes you silently.

when simon emerges in the bathroom, he tries to be subtle as he cups himself through his boxers, sighing deeply as he flicks the light on. he jumps a little as he steps back, the cat sitting on the edge of the sink and staring at him knowingly.

simon gives it the finger before shooing it back outside.

[wlwloverwrites]

Future Boyfriend

Pairing: 70s!Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: afab reader, reader is wearing a dress, sweat kink?, panty sniffing, squirting, brief handjob, cum play, nipple play, car sex (again) smut (18+) no minors

Summary: Logan, a man supposedly from the future, claims he is your boyfriend, so you ask him to prove it.

A/N: California’s heat wave in September is killing me. No one look at me. This fic just kept getting dirtier and dirtier.

Main Masterlist

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ON OTHER SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORMS

“So you’re from the future, huh?” You ask looking at the gruff man sitting in the driver’s seat.

“A little more complicated than that, Darlin, but you can say that,” the man reassures.

You hum sarcastically. Choosing to ignore the nickname he gives, which only makes him laugh under his breath. There’s a soft breeze that makes its way into the 1972 Buick Riviera and suddenly you’re hit with the smell of cigars. The smell, no doubt, coming from - “Wait, what’s your name again?”

It’s silent for a second, the only thing that fills your ears is the car’s roar when he hurrily pulls over under a shady tree on the side of the road.

“My name’s Logan,” he huffs playfully as he puts the car in park.

“Logan,” you feel yourself mimicking with a smile on your face.

He looks up at you with a sly smile, his sunglasses are now sitting on the dashboard, which gives you more of him to study.

Your eyes take in his sharp nose, soft eyes, and grown out facial hair before they drop to the three undone buttons on his collared shirt. The hair on his chest makes your fingers itch to undo the last few buttons and tug off his brown leather jacket. You’d be doing him a favor too.

The summer heat is criminal.

As if he read your mind, Logan tugs off his leather jacket, throwing it over his shoulder and to the back seat. You expect him to stop, but his thick fingers work to undo the rest of his buttons as he pulls off his shirt. His shirt falls on top of his leather jacket, leaving him in his low rise jeans held by a thick brown belt and white undershirt.

“So I’m just supposed to believe that you,” you point at Logan, then yourself. “And me end up together?”

“Is it that hard to believe?” He asks raising his eyebrows.

The man is sex on legs. If anything you should be applauding your future-self for fucking and tying the man down.

“Kind of, yeah,” you lie.

“Liar.”

Before you could reply Logan readjusts himself in the driver’s seat. The sight of him widening his legs and throwing his arm over your shoulder has your mind thinking maybe the man isn’t crazy. Words are stuck in your throat when his lips dips to meet the sticky skin on your collarbone.

“Had you wrapped around my finger,” his breath is hot against the junction of your neck as he whispers against your skin.

His flirtatious tone makes you squirm on the leather seats and you find it’s getting harder to ignore the building heat between your thighs. The leather from the bench styles seats sticks to your skin. Your brightly patterned dress does little to separate you from the leather, instead it clings to you body where sweat forms on your skin.

“Prove it.”

Maybe Logan isn’t talking out of his ass or trying to use some lame pick up line. He could be telling the truth.

It’s only fair you give him a chance.

Connecting your lips, the kiss is messy which has you opening your legs and welcoming the left hand that’s gripping your thigh. The arm over your shoulder pushes you closer to him and your hands find his face. Pulling away, you cup his cheeks in your hands as you angle his head to the left. This time when you lips meet, you’re stifling a moan. The hand between your thigh expertly finds your clit over your cotton panties. He pays no mind at the sweat between your thighs, instead he rubs small circles that has you rolling your hips against his hand, begging for more.

“Just like that,” you praise.

His hand doesn’t even flinch.

“I know Darlin.”

He knows what you like.

“Cause you’re from the future?” You can barely spit out your words and whine when Logan pulls your panties to the side. Your brain only comprehends the way his fingers glide through your folds. He nods as he gathers your slick and uses it to rub your clit again.

“I know your body. Had years of practice.”

His words have you whimpering and hiding your face in his neck. The hands that were holding his face fall and greedily grab at his biceps. The muscles are firm in your hands and call for your teeth. Everything about the man makes your mouth water. The carnivorous ache in your teeth makes you feel silly, but you settle for moaning his name instead.

His fingers rub your clit and occasionally tease at your entrance where you’re dripping; however, despite your whines, Logan doesn’t give in. Squirming against his hand, unsure if you’re running to or from him, Logan keeps you in place causing your panties to scratch at your skin. Focusing on his fingers, you try your best to ignore the uncomfortable friction scratching your right inner thigh. Your eyes fall shut and suddenly your nose is hyperaware of the man’s scent. The smell of cheap cigars tickles your nose, but it’s the smell of his sweat that makes your head spin.

His scent makes you widen your legs. The shift allows for more friction on your sensitive skin, but you still choose to ignore it. Distracting yourself with his scent, you bury your nose in his neck and inhale; the way you breathe him in is animalistic. The loud sniff makes Logan laugh, making his fingers pick up their pace. You shift once one, this time a painful whine escapes your lips.

“W-What’s wrong?”

It isn’t his scared question that brings you back to reality, but the halt to his fingers. Your mouth falls shut and you open your eyes to see a very concerned Logan staring down at you.

Worried eyes jump all over your face and body, looking for your pain making your heart skip a beat. His free hand caresses the side of your face and tilts it to face him. He’s so concerned that your blood starts to feel hot.

Did his stare have to be this instense?

Shaking your head you reassure, “It’s nothing.”

Your attempt to comfort him is cut off by his lips. Expecting his teeth to clash with yours, your heads spins once more. Instead his kiss is soft and has you melting into the leather seat beneath you. Wet tongues taste each other, his tongue is romantic while yours is curious.

To him, your taste is comforting. His kiss is making up for lost time. Soft lips are desperate to commit every inch of your mouth to memory.

To you, his taste is addicting. You crave his entire being, his smell, touch, words, and lips. He reels you in with claws.

“Tell me, Darlin,” he begs as his lips travel down to your neck.

Shyly, your hands slip beneath the skirt of your dress and hook your underwear on your fingers and pull them off. Awkwardly you lift your hips to pull off the scratchy, grey material, but Logan is quick to take over.

“I was chafing,” you whisper, clearly embarrassed.

His body visibly relaxes before he shakes his head at the material in a disapproving manner. Meanwhile, his hand between your thighs searches for the irritated skin. Your sharp inhale tells him he’s found it before he gently kneads at your skin, a silent apology.

Careful not to irritate your skin more, Logan goes back to tug off your panties hugging at your thighs. His voice is taunting as he coos, “Don’t worry, I’ll take them off your hands.”

You nod at his words and expect him to toss your panties in the back seat the same way he did his shirt and jacket, but your jaw drops when he brings the cotton up to his nose. The sound of him breathing in the grey cotton fills the car and suddenly your bottom lip stings from the force of your teeth. You watch as his eyes roll back and you swear you see pink reach out and taste the wet cotton.

Pride builds in the bottom of your stomach as your body moves before you can stop it. You climb on his lap, thighs trapping the both of his, similar to the way your arms trap his neck. The steering wheel digs into the small of your back, but the bulge on Logan’s jeans brushing against your pussy does a great job in distracting you. Playfully, Logan jerks his hips upward, bouncing you on his lap, but you watch as his carefully stuffs the grey cotton into his back pocket.

“My future boyfriend is such a pervert,” you giggle.

“You like it,” he smirks as his hand finds its way between your thighs.

A gasp escapes your lips when two fingers shove themselves inside you, no longer playing the teasing game. Your pussy clenches, struggling to accommodate the thickness of his fingers. Logan wastes no time and ignores your pleads for a an extra second. His fingers, wet with your arousal, curl and hit the spongy spot inside you that has you cursing his name against his neck.

Your hips ride his hand, eager for more despite your whines. His fingers curl expertly and have you hiding your face in his neck. Sweat builds at your hairline, your spine, and the back of your neck, but you don’t care. The growing pleasure between your thighs captures your full attention and you pathetically cry Logan’s name, but he shushes you with his lips.

He whispers soft praises against your lips, letting you know it’s okay. The steering wheel digs into your back and the leather seats stick to your shines, holding you in place. With no where to escape, a loud gasp of Logan’s name is his only warning before your pussy gushes on his fingers and onto his jeans. Your heart races as the pressure in your lower tummy releases. Squeezing Logan’s fingers so tight it has him cursing as he watches your eyes roll back. He groans as a new, sweet scent, one only he can smell, fills his nostrils.

“Smell like my favorite candy.”

Your ears barely register Logan’s praises on how sweet you smell or the way he tucks the skirt of your dress so he can see the wet mess between your thighs and his jeans. Slipping his fingers out of your pussy, it’s not long after wet fingers find their way to your parted lips and push past your teeth.

“Come on. Taste it.”

His fingers press on your lips, egging you to lick them clean. His dark eyes meet yours and watch as your tongue peeks out and drools over his glistening fingers. Your subtle sweet taste lingers on your tongue and the way he’s looking at you is making you want to swallow down his fingers. Rather than feeding you his fingers, he smears your remaining juices on your lips. Your slick coats your lips like a cheap lip gloss, tricking your mind to rub your lips together.

“My turn,” Logan groans before his lips kiss yours.

The kiss is filthy.

His tongue licks your lips clean, almost like a dog. It should gross you out, the way he’s licking you, as if he’s eating you from the source, but it doesn’t. He groans at your familiar taste as your blind, impatient hands reach to tug off the thick, brown belt trapping his cock.

“Taste so good,” Logan moans, his hands reaching down to help you when a frustrated whine falls past your lips.

The metal clinks and the sound of his zipper makes your ears perk up. Taking over, your fingers hook on his belt loops and tug off his jeans. Your eyes widen when they are immediately rewarded with the sight of dark, wiry hairs leading up to his thick and veiny cock instead of underwear.

“Fuck me,” the curse escapes you before you can even think. It’s quiet so Logan lets you think he didn’t catch it. His thighs flex, a silent beg for your touch and you’re quick to comply. Without wasting time, your hand wraps around his thick cock.

“You’re big,” you whisper. Not as a praise or compliment, but a fact.

Bigger than you expected.

“You can take it,” he nods like he’s talking from experience.

His cock is heavy in your hand and mind races with dirty thoughts. Before you can reply, his hand traps the hand wrapped around his cock. He squeezes your hand as he guides your hand up and down his cock. His thumb pushes yours to circle the tip of his cock. Despite him being the one that guided your hand, despite him expecting the pleasure, his hips shudder beneath you and your name falls past his lips. You watch, memorizing the way his eyes flutter shut.

This time you fist his cock without his help, slapping his hand away.

The head of his cock glisten with precome that makes your mouth water. Your face feels hot when your eyes watch Logan curse under his breath and leak onto your hand. Adjusting yourself on his lap, you decide to use both your hands. Your left hand grabs the base of his cock, while your right hand jerks the rest of his cock.

“You’re so leaky,” you giggle and then some more when his cock spits out onto your hand.

He scoffs at you, but moans your name when your thumb swipes over the tip of his cock. His come piles on your thumb and he groans when it presses against his lips. You smirk when you repeat his words, “Come on. Taste it.”

Shamelessly, Logan’s lips wrap around over your thumb. His tongue licks your thumb clean so when you pop your thumb out of his mouth, it glistens with his spit. His eyes lock with yours and the overwhelming feeling of needing to be full takes over.

Logan sees it in your eyes. There’s a cloudy and dazed look in your eyes when you grab the base of his cock and line him up to your entrance. His rough hands hold your hips as you sit on his cock, gasping at every inch. Logan’s stare where the both of you meet has you drooling on his cock. Despite your slick, he watches as you struggle to take his cock.

“Know you can do, Darlin, you used to do it all the time,” he praises.

Your hands reach out to his shoulders. You pout as you take another inch, “That’s future me though.”

Logan lets out a hearty laugh. His laugh makes your heart flutter. The flutter travels down to your pussy and suddenly the laugh is cut short when your walls squeeze around him. His nails dig into the meat of your hips as he tugs at your skin, encouraging you to ease the burn in your thighs and just sit on his lap.

Aching with need, you furrow your brows as you sink further on his cock. Crying out his name when he slides deeper into your cunt. The head of his cock brushing past the spongy spot inside you.

Drunken with pleasure, Logan’s fingers grip your hips and moans, “Knew I had to find you.”

The pressure in your lower stomach builds as your skin’s temperature begins to rise. Your walls squeeze around his cock, adjusting to the stretch. His cock wet with your slick makes it easier for you to take the last inch of his cock.

“I’m so full,” you whine, cloudy eyes stare up at Logan’s soft stare.

Taking a moment to adjust, your lips find his as your fingers bury themselves in his hair. Tugging at the dark roots and smiling against the beads of sweats that pile on the back of his neck.

The hands that were on your hips rise to the small of your back, pushing your body closer. Forcing you leaning onto his body, your clit rests on the wet, wiry hairs on his pelvis. The hairs tickling your clit every time he nudges your body closer.

His left hand cups the side of your face and groans into your mouth when you carefully lift your hips. Pulling away, a line of spit connect the both of you for a second before it falls onto your chin. With a shaky breath, you work your hips down and sit on his cock with a soft bounce.

“That’s it, Darlin,” he praises, his eyes falling to the plunging neckline of your dress.

His lips kiss down your neck, teeth tugging at the neckline of your dance. Your hands slip from his hair when he yanks your dress to expose your breasts. You gasp as his lips wrap around your nipple, while he rolls the other between his fingers.

“Fuck.”

Logan’s mouth is desperate as he mouths at your nipple, occasionally, groaning into your skin when you grind your hips against his. Holding his head to your chest you focus on bouncing yourself on his cock, setting an even pace while chasing your high.

Your slick drips down his length and he can feel it dripping down his balls. A creamy ring decorates the base of his cock that only gets creamier with each bounce.

“Missed you so much,” Logan groans out on your chest, his mouth pulling away, only to give the same treatment to your other nipple.

Your pussy spasms over his cock trying to commit every vein to memory. The ache in your hips and the pain building from the steering wheel digging into your back is ignored as you mumble Logan’s name like a mantra.

“I’m close.” You cry out, as a weak warning.

You smile when you feel him nod against your chest, his silent way of letting you know that he knows. The roll of your hips get messy and the way your leaking on his cock gives him more than enough to figure you’re close to coming on his cock. You just need that extra push and he’s more than willing to give you that.

“Come on, Darlin,” he hums, slipping a hand between the both of you. The toothy smile he gives you when his fingers find your puffy clit has you whining his name. His eyes drop to your chest again, watching as your tits bounce with every attempt of chasing your orgasm. His fingers are soaked with your sweet slick as he rubs even circles on your clit. Your jaw drops as your body tenses.

“That’s it, darlin. Let go.”

Your walls squeeze his cock as he fights the urge to come inside you. He smiles at your bunched up dress that does little to cover you. Your entire body glistens with sweat and the sweet smell of your pussy fills Logan’s nose. He’s memorized as he watches your head fall back, exposing your neck and feels your walls clench uncontrollably around his cock.

“Ah! Lo-”

Gasping for air, you try to warn him, you really do, but it’s too late. Trying to run away from his fingers and cock, your lift your hips, unintentionally causing his cock to hit that spongy spot inside you before it slaps against his stomach. The lingering feeling of his cock spreading you open has you squirting on his cock with a cry.

“Logan!”

Overstimulated, Logan’s fingers pet your clit softly, smiling when your tired body jerks on his lap. His abs underneath his tank top flex when he sees a wet mess between your thighs, no doubt adding to the puddle on the leather seats. Chasing his orgasm, Logan’s hand reaches down to fist his soaked cock.

“F-fuck,” he stutters as the lewd sounds of Logan fisting his cock fill your ears. His hips flex as moans slip out of his mouth.

Slowly, you become more aware of your surroundings and help Logan finish. Eager to both see and hear how Logan comes, your hand replaces his. Shaky fingers wrap around his cock as your work a tight grip up and down his cock.

“Gonna come for me?”

Your sweet tone makes him throw his head back. A smile creeping on his face when you give him a playful and loud kiss on his cheek.

“Come on, I’m your future girlfriend,” you tease as your flick your wrist and swipe your thumb over the tip of his leaky cock. “You know you want to.”

The giggly banter, the banter he missed so much, has him choking out your name and spilling onto your hand. Spurts of his come land on your dress, on his shirt, and onto your hand. You watch as Logan’s chest rises and falls with every deep breath. His flushed skin glistens with sweat, similar to yours.

The silence is comfortable for a couple minutes as the both of your fix on your clothes onto your sticky skin. Huffing out loud as the heat suddenly begins to hit you, you shift on Logan’s lap. Looking up at him only to find his eyes already looking at you. Suddenly shy, you lower your gaze and look out the car window.

“You’re the first person I looked for.”

His confession is quiet and has you pulling your attention from the swaying trees to the soft eyes staring at you.

“Why?” You ask just as soft. “Why didn’t you wait to meet me how you’re suppose to?”

A part of you wants to bring up the way his fingertips dug into your skin, holding you down as if he was scared you were going to disappear. Maybe bring up the way his kiss press onto your skin just a tad too harsh, desperate with love. You most definitely want to bring up the salty tears that slipped down his cheeks when his cried out your name as he came.

“Just wanted more time with you,” he admits, avoiding eye contact for the first time since he first convinced you to get in his car.

“What do you mean?” You ask with a nervous laugh.

In attempt to comfort you, or maybe it’s for his own comfort, Logan’s rough hands find yours, intertwining your fingers together. His throat feels like its closing, but he still manages to spit out his selfish words.

“I needed more time with you.”

No pressure tags: @eupheme @mrsimpurity @joelsgoldrush @djarins-riduur @superhoeva @d1stalker @moonlight-prose @ozarkthedog @sunsburns @inkedells i love yall !!! Each and every single one of you are so talented and have individually inspired me to write for Logan! So thank you :)

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[fakeoutbf]

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[munson-blurbs]

Summary: Your rockstar boyfriend comes home early and finds you very needy. But he already knows that, doesn't he?

WC: 1.9k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), pure breeding kink, unprotected p in v, masturbation (m & f), mention of ovulation and periods, voyeurism if you squint, rockstar!Eddie Munson, established relationship

A/N: a collaboration with the love of my life @corroded-hellfire, based on the song Juno by Sabrina Carpenter.

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Eddie Munson may have failed a few classes—there was a reason he had three senior years—but sex ed wasn’t one of them. He learned how to use a condom, that girls could get pregnant their first time, and the difference between a pad and a tampon (living with his Uncle Wayne kept that conversation at bay.)

But the lesson Eddie recalls now is that ovulation occurs about seven days after your last period. Which, according to the pocket calendar he keeps stashed away during touring, is today. 

It isn’t like he asks about your cycle, but when he calls from the road, you’ll mention when you have cramps or you’ve just taken a Midol. At first, he tracked your periods so he could make sure the house had a plethora of chocolate during that awful week, but then he began noticing…other patterns. 

Two months ago, you’d initiated phone sex, whining about how badly you needed him inside you, needed his cum, needed his cum inside you. Last month, you’d cheekily informed him that you’d snapped some Polaroids earlier that day and had express-mailed them to his hotel room—photos that were for his eyes only. Both of those instances occurred two weeks after your period ended. 

This month, Eddie refused to be apart from you when your desire took over. 

That’s how he finds himself ditching the End of Tour party, coming home a day early to surprise you. It’s been months without you, months stuck in close proximity with Gareth, Jeff, and Grant. If Eddie doesn’t get his hands on you soon, he might implode. 

“Babe?”

No answer. 

Eddie frowns, taking the winding stairs two at a time. The light in your bedroom is on, the door slightly ajar. A soft humming comes from inside, the noise interrupted every so often with your unrestrained moans. 

He can’t help but listen for a moment. 

“Eddie…f-fuck…right there…”

If he hadn’t been away for so long, he might have let you enjoy your solo time. Maybe he’d secretly rub one out to your sweet sounds. A high keening sound robs Eddie of his thoughts as he slips his own hand into his pants. 

His mind is blank, no memory of the thoughts that were just floating through his consciousness. Now, there’s only the sound of your breathy moans and the way his fingers wrap around the base of his cock. 

“Eddie,” you whine pathetically, “need you to fill me up, baby. Please, please, please.”

As if his body is running on autopilot in response to what you just said, Eddie removes his hand from his pants and pushes the bedroom door fully open. Your head is thrown back and your eyes are closed in pleasure so you don’t see your boyfriend as he stalks closer to the bed.

“Need your cum, Eddie,” you whimper, body trembling with want. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Eddie coos softly, loud enough so you know he’s there, but not enough to scare you or ruin the mood. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

Your eyes fly open at the sound of that sultry voice. The mood in the room begs for you to keep going, to keep working your fingers in and out of your needy hole as Eddie rips his shirt off over his head. But your curiosity is too strong to keep at bay, even with the neediness surging through you.

“E-Eddie?” you ask through labored breath. “What’re you doing home?”

“Skipped out early so I could be with my girl.”

Eddie undoes the buckle on his belt, his eyes locked on yours the entire time. “And it’s a good thing I did. I can’t have my pretty princess all needy for me like this. Let me help you, baby.” Eddie gets the handcuffs off his belt and hangs them on his index finger as he approaches the door of the bed. A dark eyebrow quirks up as he gives you a smirk. “Now that I’m home with these, sweetheart, you don’t need to use those pink fuzzy ones you keep in the drawer.”

“Please,” you whimper.

That one little word is all Eddie needs to hear before he kicks his jeans off and quickly shuffles out of his boxers. He kicks them somewhere to be found at a later time and kneels on the foot of the bed. 

Your dark, lust filled eyes follow his every movement. 

“Eds, can you—”

Eddie grins, already pressing kisses along your inner thighs to your core. “Baby, you don’t gotta tell me what to do. I know this body better than I know my own.”

With that, his tongue finds your clit, licking and sucking with excruciating precision. His ringed fingers wrap around your thighs, pulling them over his shoulders and tugging you close. 

He breathes in, inhaling your scent like it’s a god-sent nectar. 

“Missed my pretty girl and her pretty pussy,” he mumbles into you. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

Your leg twitches as he laps at you, a mixture of his saliva and your arousal pooling beneath you. The noises you’re making are involuntary and straight up obscene. 

“Eddie…Eddie…oh my god, Eddie!” Throwing your head back, you feel your body tense in anticipation of that delicious release. Your orgasm is a tidal wave, crashing over you in a way you hadn’t experienced since Eddie had left for the tour. 

Eddie sits back now, rocking on his heels. “Still got it, huh?” His grin is proud and slick with your sheen. 

“Definitely.”

“Good.” He presses his palms to his thighs and stands up, giving you a better view of his own desire. 

Pre-cum leaks from his tip, his cock rock-hard just from eating you out. You have a strong suspicion that if you’d taken any longer to finish, he would’ve busted before you. 

You want to take him in your mouth, to glide your tongue over the prominent vein and knead his balls until you’re swallowing his load. 

Eddie, however, can only focus on one thing. 

“Heard my pretty girl wants me to fill her up,” he coos. “Is that true? Do you want me to fill you up until my cum drips out of you?”

To his surprise, you shake your head no. 

“Don’t want it to drip out of me. I want to keep all of it inside.”

The groan that emanates from Eddie’s throat fuels a fire in your belly. His cock twitches, the head tapping against his navel. 

“Sounds like you want me to claim you. Permanently.” Not just the hickeys that fade within a few days. No, you want him to—

Without hesitating, Eddie climbs onto the bed and positions himself on top of you. 

“Allow me the honors, sweetheart.” Eddie drags the tip of his cock through your wet center and pushes in with a groan. “Fuck, thassit. Feels even better than I remember.”

You gripped his biceps, relishing in the gentle stretch of him within you. Every tour felt like an eternity, but that first time together each time he came home was worth the wait. 

“Now,” Eddie growled into your ear as he found his pace, “tell me what you want. Tell me what you need from me.”

You scrounge up a reply with the sliver of your mental capacity that isn’t focused on him. “Your baby.”

Eddie smiles, kissing down your jawline. “You need my baby, huh? Need me to put a baby in this cute belly of yours?”

“Mhm. Need that s-so bad, Eddie. Please.” The words tumble from your lips in utter desperation. All you can think about is having his baby, his hands caressing your bump, knowing that he’s the reason you’re pregnant. 

“Goddamn,” Eddie hisses. He buries his head in your neck. “Beg for my baby some more.”

You arch your back, letting him wrap his arm around your waist. “Please give me your baby. Pleasepleaseplease—”

His fingers grip you harder, his movements becoming more erratic with each thrust. You can feel his fingernails digging crescents into your skin. 

“There we go, sweet girl. Fuck, ‘m close…”

You nod, too enraptured in him to even utter the words ‘me, too.’ All you can manage are a few strangled moans as your orgasm washes over you. Your body is light with pleasure, drifting away on a cloud of contentment. 

“Eddie.” The sound of his name on your lips tips him over the edge. It’s just the way you say it, all breathy and soft, that drives him wild. 

With a final groan, Eddie spills into you. “Oh, sh-shit…that’s it. Take it. Take my cum, baby.” There was a primal edge to every word. 

Both spent from all your exertion, Eddie flops down next to you and the only sounds are two ragged breaths as you both attempt to control your breathing. 

Once your bodies have calmed down a bit, Eddie turns on his side and splays one large hand across your lower abdomen. His warm palm is a comforting weight, one that has your eyes slipping closed and a smile coming to your face. 

“You’re home early,” you finally say.

Eddie chuckles and leans in to press a lingering kiss to your shoulder.

“Missed you. Didn’t wanna go to some dumb party if you weren’t going to be there.” He presses another kiss a little higher on your shoulder. “Especially not when you’re ovulating.”

Your heavy eyes open and you let your head fall to the side, coming face to face with your boyfriend.

“How’d you know I was ovulating?”

“I remember when you got your period,” he says. “Just some simple math. I may not have been able to pass geometry, but this kind of math I can do.”

A soft chuckle emanates from your chest and you fully turn on your side to face him. Eddie wastes no time pulling you flush up against his chest, his strong arms winding around you.

“Came here with a mission to knock me up, huh?” you tease, nuzzling your face against the side of his neck. 

“Seemed like an easy decision.” Eddie presses a kiss to the top of your head. “You want to be carrying my baby. I want to get you pregnant. Little Munson Junior wants to be born. Everyone wins.”

You laugh as you bury your face against his shoulder. 

“Would love to have a little you,” you say. 

“Nah, I hope they look like you,” Eddie says. “One of you is already unbearably cute, I can’t wait to have two.”

“Can’t wait to snuggle them,” you say, a lazy smile spreading on your face at the thought. “You, me, and a little baby.”

“Our little baby,” Eddie adds.

“Hopefully this one took,” you say.

“Either way I’m prepared. If you’re not, I’m more than willing to fuck you every waking moment until it sticks. If you are…well, I may have picked up a few pregnancy tests on the way home,” Eddie admits.

“You didn’t.” You look up at your boyfriend, a gleeful chuckle following your words.

“Hell yeah, I did. Corroded Coffin’s latest album and tour are over and done with. It’s time you and I had our own little collaboration.”

“I like the sound of that,” you hum. “We make pretty sweet music together.”

“Oh, we absolutely do.” 

Eddie waggles his eyebrows roguishly before resting his forehead against yours. “But tonight,” he murmurs mischievously, “I’m hoping to hear some screamo.” 

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