#idk what it would taste like but it would be very soothing

[jaydaydaima]

Raku as tea ✨💜

Tagged by @monochrome-night and @fruityjunction (thank u sm!!) Tagging anyone who wants to do this with their dragon ball oc! :)

Link to the picrew💕

[giamee]

𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓 '𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐑𝐎𝐓!

╭─────────────────────── ( 🍭 )

he just can't get enough of your pussy !

› 〉 📂 .ೃ | 🚨🚨🚨SMUT !! (f!reader receiving oral & fingering), uhhh pussydrunk hsr men who are MUNCHES <3, i think this is the first time writing smut on this blog so hereee we gooo, uhh clit slapping (only once thanks blade), overstim, nothin toooo crazy, ever so slight dom!reader for sampo (that man needs to get topped so bad) + you call him a pervert idk, squirting (shoutout luocha 😙)

╰─➤ 💌 ₍₁₎ I HAVENT WRITTEN SMUT IN AGESSSS SO PLS BE NICE AND TO MY MUTUALS SORRY THT THIS SHOWS UP ON YOUR DASHBOARD LETS STILL BE FRIENDS PLS 😭

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 JING YUAN.

this is a dangerous game when he's involved

as a general, jing yuan is very accustomed to being in charge, of taking charge and ensuring that things happen

and as a man who cares more about the hours outside of his work than during, who can blame him for wanting to commemorate each time that he comes home to you?

he's always been very giving as a lover, that much is true. and as a man with a tendency to be more on the... spontaneous side, you were no stranger to a quickie in a slightly less than convenient location. he just couldn't bear to leave you uncared for, after all.

so really, you should have expected that he would quite literally stoop to this level. one minute he was walking through the front door, you calling out a greeting to him from the sink as you washed some dishes.

and the next minute, he was on his knees behind you, your skirt flipped up over your hips and panties tugged to the side as he began to eat you out with some type of renewed fervour.

it had you slapping one hand over your mouth, the other white-knuckled as you hold on for dear life to the kitchen counter. your legs were very quickly turning to jelly due to his ministrations, the feeling of his tongue fucking into you rendering you unable to form sentences.

and even worse than the sensation was the sound of it- every lick and slurp reverbating through the empty room, every squelch of your pussy making you go a shade darker as jing yuan moaned, the bastard, and delved even further into your pussy. your hips pushed against him, his hands snaking their way around your thighs to keep you pinned in place while he ate you out like his life depended on it.

you bit back a squeal as you felt his tongue flick against your clit before running back through your folds, circling the hole before fucking back into you.

"fuck, i love this pussy so much," he moaned out, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh as he came up for air momentarily. "love comin' home to you every day- you taste so good, so good f'me-"

any attempts at muffling your noises were extinguished as you let out a sob, tears welling up from the pleasure, making you fold over so that your torso rested against the counter. your legs were spread wide by now, giving jing yuan all the access that he needed.

he relinquished one of your thighs in favour of using his fingers to pump into you, curling them just right against that spongy spot that had you shaking like a leaf, feeling the pressure build inside you much quicker than you anticipated.

"fuck- fuck- i can't, 's so good-" you were babbling now, trying in vain to break free or push his head away, the pleasure bordering on too much. it was comically easy how ineffective your attempts to hinder him were,

"you can." his voice was some soothing reprieve, and the warmth of his hands squeezing against your hips helped to ground you as he otherwise brought you to the edge.

your thighs were trembling, barely supporting your weight and you could feel your release fast approaching, though something was holding you back.

"cum f'me." jing yuan's rasped voice is what finally coaxed you to let go, to let that string snap with a final cry as you collapsed fully against the countertop.

always diligent, jing yuan continued to eat you out, making sure not to miss a drop as you spasmed against him, hips finally stilling after you ride out your high.

"bastard." your voice is muffled, head resting on your forearms as your regain your strength. jing yuan merely chuckles, placing a kiss with his wet lips to your inner thigh again, one last jolt of pleasure running through you before he stands, fixing your clothes for you.

"but you love it."

you give him a halfhearted kick in the shin.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 SAMPO.

he's the type of man who's best in small doses

the amount of times you get annoyed while he's on another tangent or trying to scam you sell you a product is..... a bit more than infrequent

but there's ways around that

"sampo, do you ever shut up?"

ironically enough, you asking him that made him do just that, pausing for a second to lick his lips as his smile widened, cheshire-like, as you watched the cogs turn in his head.

"no, but for a small standalone price-"

if youuu put a buck in my cup i will shut the fuck up (sorry)

"sampo."

the man cackles, slinging an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in to his side.

"sorry, doll, but a man has to make a living somehow."

you turn to glare at him now. you really weren't in the mood.

"either shut up or i'll make you."

you watch as his smile drops for just a second, his pupils dilating ever so slightly at the underlying hint of what's to come. and bless his heart, the man decided to push his luck.

approximately five minutes later, you were grinding on his face. the only noises that he really made now were occasional grunts and moans as you rocked back and forth, and you decided that you liked him much better when he wasn't talking.

the man with a silver tongue had his uses, after all.

he was so eager to please, too- from what you could tell with the way he was eating you out. if it weren't for the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling, you would be convinced that he was enjoying it more than you. his moans reverberated around your clit as his tongue flicked over and sucked it, leaving you keeling over and your thighs quaking against the sides of his head.

every moan you let out had him eating you out with a renewed fervour, almost desperate for you to reach your high. you let your hand snake into his hair, getting a full handful before yanking on it, hard. sampo whines from the sensation, and you almost miss the muffled plea for you to do it "again".

his fingertips are digging into your thighs almost painfully, keeping you seated firmly against him (not that you were going to move, anyway).

your eyes land on the tent in his boxers, and an idea pops into your head as you snake your hand past his abdomen to pull his waistband down, letting his cock spring free. it looked painfully hard, the tip already leaking pearls of precum, and you spat in your hand before starting to jerk him off, ever so slowly.

he whined again at the pressure, his hips thrusting up to meet your hand, desperate for any sort of friction.

"you're getting off to this, you pervert?" you laughed as he shook his head desperately, still plunging his tongue deep inside you even as his hips bucked wildly. he was already so close, it almost made you laugh.

you yourself were beginning to feel the coil deep within you start to tighten, a telltale sign that your own orgasm was approaching.

"so if i were to just... stop, you wouldn't mind?" to emphasise your point, you loosened your grip on him, grinning to yourself as he whined pathetically.

"hm... that's what i thought."

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 BLADE.

blade's mean when he eats you out

he's one of those who eats it for his own pleasure, and whether it's until you orgasm once or multiple times, he's not stopping until he's satisfied, overstimulation be damned

"you still alive there?" the man between your thighs snickers at your fucked-out state, not even able to form a sentence to answer him.

how many times had he made you cum by now? six? seven? you'd lost count long ago, and you don't think it mattered much to blade. sometime after the second one, it began to dawn on you that his goal wasn't to simply make you cum then call it a day.

"c'mon, eyes on me." you squeal at the sensation of his hand slapping down against your clit, the raw flesh stinging for a few moments before his hand smooths it over, soothing the skin.

"you can handle one more, right?" you lift your head weakly to meet his ravenous eyes, somehow even hungrier than when he had first started peeling your clothes off. the look in his eyes made a shiver run down your skin, and you gave him a sheepish nod.

"attagirl."

blade's one to keep you on your toes, never knowing just what to expect from him. he ducks his head down, leveling it with your still pulsing hole, and you gasp as you hear, then feel him spit on it.

there's a blunt intrusion as he sinks two of his fingers into you, knuckles deep, crooking them just right to hit that spot inside you. your leg twitches as an automatic response, making the man snicker again.

"you're so sensitive," he coos, and you hide your embarrassed face with your arm. "i bet if i just..." your body seizes up as you cum, again, more sudden than you ever expected as blade presses harder against you. a strangled moan flies out of your mouth, writhing at the pressure.

he's nice enough to let you ride out your high, pathetically grinding your clit against his palm, whimpering at the tenfold sensitivity and the little aftershocks wracking your body.

and when you're finally breathing normally again, you hear his voice break you out of your stupor.

"one more?"

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 GEPARD.

what he lacks in experience is made up for doubly in enthusiasm

because let's be real, this man is too busy with the silvermane guards to have enough time to be dating and fucking around

but for you? he'd make the time. and he'd learn how to get you off while he's at it, too

"so if you just, slide your fingers in, slowly." gepard follows your instructions dutifully, and even then you still winced at the feeling of his large fingers stretching you out, the slightest of burns already kicking in.

"like this?" he looks up at you, all puppy dog eyes, so eager to learn. his face was too innocent for what he was doing.

"mhmm." you smile down at him, his face rested against one of your thighs as his gaze returns to your cunt, glued to the way it stretches around his digits. he feels you pulse against him and he shudders, trying to hold back for your sake. he was here to learn what you liked, after all.

"and then you kind of... curl them a bit? and move them too." his ministrations are soft to begin with, and even there's still an unmistakeable squelch each time he pumps his fingers into you, the lewdness of it all making him turn pink.

"does that feel good?"

"y-yeah, so good, baby."

he's so close to your pussy, you can feel each time he breathes, his little pants hitting your clit, making you even wetter. the anticipation of it all had you practically squirming where you lay propped up on your elbows, watching him.

his eyes are still transfixed on you, mouth hanging open at the way your hips rolled ever so slightly, meeting each of his shallow thrusts.

"you see that bit above? if you lick it, it'll feel really good f'me." gepard nods, all too eagerly leaning forward, licking a thick stripe from your hole to the clit with his tongue, before starting to flick his tongue against it gingerly.

"yeah, fuck, you're good at this." he hums against you, starting to move his tongue with a little more fervour, his hand still pumping into you. he always had been a fast learner.

he settles into a rhythm, one that has you steadily building the pressure in your core, soft moans escaping your lips.

"just like that, fuuuck," you pant out, letting your head roll back and your eyes closed as you focused on the feeling. it's then when gepard decides to wrap his lips around your clit, sucking ever so deliciously to make your toes curl.

you let out a particularly loud moan at the sensation, one that your ever so perceptive boyfriend latches onto, increasing the pressure in a way that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"geppie m'gonna cum- don't stop-" he obeys your every word, slurping at your cunt with a hunger that sends you over the edge. you convulse, hips raising off of the mattress to buck against his face, his fingers curling around your quaking thighs.

"use my face, darling," he murmurs into you, so eager to please. the way the ridge of his nose bumps against your clit helps you ride out your high, grinding against his mouth a few more times before you finally flop back down against, the bed, limbs turning to jelly.

"no fucking way that was your first time eating someone out." gepard merely grins, wiping some of your juices off of his face before crawling up the bed to meet you.

"'m sure it was, now give me a kiss."

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 LUOCHA.

your life will be CHANGED after this man eats u out for the first time i just know it

like.. he's got skills. he's a certified munch i know this in my SOULLLLL

"just relax, honey, let me take care of you." his velveteen voice is what has you finally lying back, letting the tension in your body leave you as his nimble fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, sliding them off of your legs ever so tantalisingly.

he groans at the string of slick that stays connected to them- no surprises there as you had been sat on his lap kissing him for the past half an hour- and you covered your face in embarrassment.

"don't go shy on me now, hm?" you peek between your fingers, catching the glint of his emerald eyes, the way his smile widens when he makes eye contact with you from his place between your legs.

"hi, pretty."

"hi."

"we can go as slow as you want, okay? tell me what you're comfortable with." luocha's thumbs rub gentle circles into your thighs, coaxing you to open them and let him settle more comfortably.

"do you want me to touch you?" you nod, watching as luocha's smirks almost imperceptibly.

"use your words, darling." you whine, kicking at him lightly.

"quit teasing me."

"do you want my fingers or my tongue?"

"luocha!" he chuckles, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee.

"i'm sorry, love, you're just so cute when you're flustered." he presses another kiss to your thigh now, lips inching upwards ever so slowly, holding himself back as he waits for your go-ahead.

"could you... eat me out?" your face feels so warm just from asking the question, but the nerves are quelled as luocha smiles brightly, shifting his weight on his hips to lower himself down closer to you.

"gladly."

there's a few seconds of anticipation, of his breath hitting your core before another entirely new sensation- something wet and muscled sliding against you as luocha licks a flat stripe through your slit. his tongue sharpens, flicking against your clit as he pulls away after his experimental first taste.

you're already feeling something inside you coil in anticipation, and it tightens even more at the blissed out expression on luocha's face.

"you taste divine, my love."

and then he's delving in for more. your usually so composed boyfriend lying flat on his stomach, buried facefirst in your pussy and eating it like a man starved.

the slurping and squelching noises are obscene, echoing off of the walls and filling up the room along with your wails and moans. your head was in the clouds right now, too fucked out to even scream his name. and he hadn't even put his tongue in yet.

as if reading your mind, luocha finally shifts his attention to your hole, his tongue circling it, teasing it open, before he plunges in along with his fingers, the size of them and his fingertips grazing against your g spot bringing you to the verge of tears.

everything just felt so good, and he was going to make you cum hard and fast.

the regular pressure of an impeding orgasm kept building up, more than it regularly would, until it became an entirely new sensation altogether.

"w-wait, baby, i'm gonna pee or something-"

luocha pauses, pupils blown wide with lust as he meets your gaze.

"you're not, honey, just trust me, alright?"

and because it's him, because you'd do just about anything for him right now if it meant continuing to feel this good, you lie back down, feeling him bring you back to that point again.

his fingers are drilling into you at an almost inhuman pace, the sound enough to make you cum, let alone the sensation. his soft lips suction around your clit, warm tongue flicking against your bundle of nerves repeatedly, making you squeal and throw your head back.

"'m gonna-" luocha nods encouragingly, his nose bumping against your clit in a way that has your vision go white as you writhe in ecstasy. there's an odd feeling, of something shooting out of you, and you look down to see a spray of clear liquid. luocha's fingers rub against your pusy frantically, making you writhe again, prolonging your orgasm as he milks you for every last drop.

you finally come back down to earth, vaguely feeling a warm wet cloth wipe away at you, at the mess you had made.

and luocha's gazing at you with nothing but adoration, a pussydrunk smile on his lips.

"aren't you glad you trusted me, love?"

𝜗𝜚 honkai star rail masterlist

[struwberrii]

suna headcanons 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

here are my silly sunarin headcanons!! hope you guys likey

ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ (also is mostly relationship stuff but not all)

has the craziest sleep schedule like he stays up all night, falls asleep at 5am, wakes up at 8 am and just goes to school fine

buys you snacks from the vending machines daily

teases you a lot but is really flirty about it

probably most active at night and invites you out when it’s dark, he just likes how much emptier everywhere is

has the best music taste and always puts you onto his music

nonchalant dread head of japan

would probably sneak into your house through your window just to see you

says the funniest things with the most deadpan expression which makes it 10x

if you dont reply to his messages fast enough he hits you with the "why do you hate me"

he’s too honest sometimes and has a bad habit of saying things that are rude when he really didn’t have to

randomly tackles you and play fights

bros the type to pick you up and jump into the pool with you

does the bare minimum with all his school work

starts talking like you and using your slang when you guys hang out long enough

he’s the guy people talk shit around bc they think he’s quiet and a loner but he’s lowkey a shit starter and shares what he hears

slacks/lazy in most things but he carries you guys in fortnite

his bed is covered in stuffed animals from you, even all the cute sanrio ones

ur his profile pic online

i feel like he’d use discord and get paid as a mod on some server 😭😭

calls you stupid as a term of endearment

he can always tell when something’s wrong, like he can sense if something’s off with you

probably wears a lot of sweat pants

always smells really woody and fresh (yk like generic men’s cologne idk 😭)

very touchy, loves having an arm around you waist :3

allergic to drinking water, ik his piss is acid (honestly same here….)

his sister loves you so much

lowkey the worst at soothing you/cheering you up so he just hugs you

let’s you do skincare on him, he thinks it’s relaxing

i feel like he’d own at least one of those stupid tiktok fidget toys that he swears works but everytime he uses it he can’t stop laughing thinking about how stupid he looks

has a bad diet only because he’s too lazy to actually cook

burps SO LOUD and SO OFTEN like hold it man

has a tiktok account that he rage baits people on and reads the comments to you pretending it wasn’t him who wrote them (smh)

tries to teach you volleyball so you guys can kinda play together

i feel like he’d know a lot about the stars and like the constellations

i also feel like he’d really like coke floats (ice cream + coke in a glass) a lot for some reason

acts like he doesn’t really care but he cares so much

he’s only vulnerable and emotional with you

randomly attacks you with kisses

i feel like he'd know some really good unknown dessert spots all around town

i feel like hes an adidas guy

says out of pocket stuff on purpose with no reaction just to see you panic (he thinks its funny)

[xbellaxcarolinax]

pls do virgin miguel o'hara w/ a huge cock and fucks both of u dumb 🥹

I hope this is what you meant, babe. Miguel might be ooc, idk, anyway, here ya go:

NSFW below the cut, minors DNI.

Nothing could have ever prepared you for this.

He's big—massive even. The head’s swollen, precome beading at the very tip. All that from a heavy makeout session.

You stared, almost fascinated, stunned into silence.

"...is it okay?" Miguel grunted, watching you carefully with nervous eyes. He was sitting rather uncomfortably at the edge of your bed, legs spread apart and briefs pooled around his ankles.

"Uhh…yeah," you sank to your knees in front of him, "just never seen one so...big." Miguel grew increasingly flustered at your words, even more so when you gripped him firmly in your hand, squeezing ever so slightly. His cock looked ridiculous in your small hands but that only fueled you to take up the challenge. You knew it'd hurt so good.

You bit your lip before devouring him, taking as much of him as you could. He choked, hand flying to grip your hair, and you were certain he’d take the lead and move you over his cock at the speed he desired, but he didn’t. His fingers were gentle, almost hesitant as he buried them within the strands.

It was your first time tasting him. You got lost in it, slobbering over the tip and down his shaft with the intention of taking him whole but he pushed you away, causing you to release him with a pop.

“Fuck, cariño,” Miguel panted, shaking his head, his dark hair damp with sweat, “I can’t—you can’t—it’s too much, I won’t last.”

You looked up at him with a teary gaze, wanting to make eye contact but he refused, content with turning his head to the side to look at the wall.

“Mig?” He ignored you, jaw clenched and nose flared as he fisted the sheets under him.

“Miguel,” you tried again, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you stood. He ignored you still and you grabbed his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes, “what’s wrong?” You smoothed his hair away from his brow, hoping the action would soothe him. His eyes were lidded but he looked at you, brows arched.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You cooed.

"I don't know what I'm doing." He muttered, shutting his eyes as soon as the words left his lips.

"What do you mean?" You questioned, pressing your lips to his forehead in a chaste kiss, "you’re supposed to sit and enjoy.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he sounded frustrated, his large hands falling to your hips, gripping you tightly, “I’ve…never done any of this before.” You paused, processing his words while stroking your thumbs over his high cheekbones. 

He’s never done this before? Had no one ever sucked his cock?

Did he mean…?

Oh. OH.

“You mean you’re a…?”

“Virgin. Yeah.” He finally said, dropping his into the plushness of your breasts. 

The last thing you assumed was that Miguel O’Hara was a virgin. The man was the very definition of confidence. You’ve seen how women acted around him. It never crossed your mind that he lacked any sexual encounters. But now it made sense. You’ve been dating Miguel for a few weeks and within those few weeks, you did nothing more than kiss like the world demanded it from you. That was fine; he was an excellent kisser.

Anytime it seemed like something more would come from the kissing, he’d stop, nipping it in the bud, saying he had work in the morning. He was a busy man and, well, that was that. You thought he never had much time for anything else.

But you understood now.

“Ahh Mig, nothing to be embarrassed about,” you said sweetly, brushing the tip of your nose with his, “we can stop if you want—”

“No!” He roared, bringing you down to his lap. You could feel his erection, hot and wet with your spit, pressing hard against your clothed core. You gasped, letting your hands fall to his shoulders as he buried his face into your neck, “Don’t wanna stop. Wanna feel you.”

“Yeah?” you breathed, eyes fluttering as he nibbled your skin, “a-are you sure? If you’re not ready then—”

“I’m ready,” He growled, pressing his brow against yours, “just thought you should know, cariño. Don’t want to disappoint you.”

You rode him for what felt like hours, his giant cock slamming into where you needed him the most. You ached from the stretch of him, your cunt swollen and raw, gushing all over his length. He was a moaning mess, biting every surface of you he could: your neck, your shoulders, your collarbones, your breasts. He was insatiable, cumming within minutes of your pussy swallowing his cock. Refractory period non-existent. He’d go again and again and again till he painted you completely with his spend and you were too fucked out to speak.

Nope. He didn’t disappoint. Not even a little.

[thef1diary]

howdyyyyyyy

very specific but i feel like dirtbag!daniel would love to see you lick cum from his belly, idk what else to say tbh.

just a thought i wanted to share 🤭

— Hellooo nonnie! Lemme start with I gasped and had to put my phone down for a quick min when this ask came in. Dirtbag!danny would absolutely love it—with the view he has of you, it’d be hard not to. It's all about the control, the power dynamic, and the degradation that comes with it. Here’s a lil blurb: 18+

Daniel’s sprawled out on the bed or maybe the couch, head tilted back, curls a mess, a hand gripping the back of your neck as you work him over with your mouth and hand. You’re relentless, dragging him closer and closer by swirling your tongue around his tip while your hand steadily pumps his cock, squeezing just right until you feel him tense, that telltale groan escaping his throat.

You pulled your mouth back, drooling over his cock while keeping eye contact with him as you continued working your hand around him until he reached over the edge.

It’s messy—hot streaks of his cum spilling onto his abs, dribbling down into the sparse hairs of his happy trail. You keep pumping him lazily, drawing out every last drop as his cock twitches in your hand, sensitive and spent. He’s breathing hard, head still tipped back, curls damp and sticking to his forehead, and you’re just sitting there, admiring the chaos you caused.

But he doesn’t let you bask in it for long. His head lolls forward, eyes heavy-lidded but dark, locking on yours with a smirk so cocky it makes your stomach tighten. “Look at the fucking mess you caused,” he drawls, his voice low and gravelly, cutting through the haze in your head. His hand moves from your neck to cup your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze fully. “What are you gonna do about it, huh?”

You swallow hard, your thighs pressing together instinctively at his tone. There’s something filthy in the way he says it, something that makes heat pool between your legs, and he knows it. He always knows it. You blink up at him, trying to catch your breath, but he doesn’t let up.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he taunts, thumbing at your lower lip. “Don’t just sit there looking pretty. Clean it up. Lick it off like a good girl.”

The command sends a shiver down your spine, and you don’t hesitate. You lean down, starting at the top, your tongue flicking out to catch the first streak of cum off his skin. His breath hitches above you, and you feel his hand slide back into your hair, not pushing but keeping you exactly where he wants you.

It’s slow, deliberate. You drag your tongue along his skin, licking up every drop, savoring the salty taste mixed with the faint warmth of his body. He’s watching you, you can feel it—feel his gaze burning into you, the way his abs tighten under your tongue when you dip lower. You pause at his happy trail, your tongue tracing the line of hair, gathering what’s left of the mess.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, his voice rough with satisfaction. His hand tightens slightly in your hair, just enough to send a jolt of heat through you. “Make sure you don’t miss a single drop.”

You don’t. You take your time, pressing your thighs together as you work, the ache between them growing with every filthy word he says. It’s degrading, the way he talks to you, but God, you love it—love the way it makes you feel wanted and claimed, the way it makes you crave him even more.

When you finally finish, your lips glossy and your cheeks flushed, you look up at him, and he’s grinning like the devil himself. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, smearing a bit of spit and cum that lingers there. “Good girl,” he says, his voice dripping with approval. “You look so pretty with my mess on your mouth.”

You bite your lip, a whimper escaping you as your thighs squeeze together again, trying to sooth the ache building in your cunt. He notices, of course he does, and his grin widens. He tugs you up, pulling you into his lap, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he looks up at you.

“Don’t think I didn’t see that, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his tone teasing but dark with promise. “Squeezing those thighs together like you’re desperate. You want me to take care of your pretty little cunt too?”

[esote-rika]

I wanna, uh, him in the back of his mom's Mercury | Chip Taylor

Summary: I wanna uh him in the back of his mom's Mercury; Chip and fem!reader have car sex (in her mother's car). that's it.

Category: Smut (MDNI),

Warnings: Fingering, P in V unprotected sex, pulling out, oral sex (male receiving), mentions of the reader's mom's death

a/n: This idea buried itself in my brain and wouldn't stop pestering me until I wrote it, so... here it is lol this is largely unedited. Crush by Ethel Cain has been in the top 5 of my spotify wrapped for two years in a row, and every time I listen to it, I imagine Chip Taylor. Might make this into a series inspired by different lyrics of the song? If enough people want it idk. Not normally a smut writer, please take it easy on me! comments and reblogs would be appreciated <3

If there was a rule about fucking your boyfriend in the back of your dead mother's car, then consider it broken. Perhaps it was blasphemous but you were never that religious to begin with; at the very least, it was kind of disrespectful, debauching the car which you inherited when your mother passed away.

Any and all reconsiderations flew out the window as Chip curled his fingers inside you, hitting a spot that made your hips buck in response. Straddled over his lap in the back of your mom's Mercury, you thought how could something that felt this good be ever considered profane?

Without shame, you rode his hand, trying to get him to repeat the action.

A whine left his lips as your ass hit his erection, and suddenly he was thrusting up against you. The friction made you shudder, made you say, "More, please, more." into his neck where your face was buried.

You sank your teeth upon his flesh when he added a third finger and you felt the ache of the stretch, bit down hard enough to return some of the pain to him because what was love without a little ache?

Chip whined again, pushing his fingers in and out of you continuously. His pace never faltered despite the sting of your bite and you licked at the skin as though you were apologizing for being so rough. His skin tasted like salt as your tongue flattened over the spot, soothing the bite, knowing that for all his strength, all his hard angles and rough edges, Chip was fucking soft. He was soft and he bruised like a peach and you loved every little bit of him because of it.

He was soft, and he deserved softness in return. You were willing to give it to him, willing to assuage the indelicacy of your actions because you loved him. The fact that he made such pretty noises when he's nearly delirious with pleasure was just a bonus.

"Need you," you gasped, lifting yourself to your knees. Your fingers worked at the buttons of his jeans deftly, tugging the fabrics down just enough to free his cock.

"Baby," his voice was scratchy, strained, "I don't - we used up the last of the condoms."

As if you cared. You've already gotten this far, nothing was going to stop you now. "We'll be careful," You promised, pulling his wrist away. At the loss of his fingers, you hissed, already feeling empty.

"You - you sure?" he asked, eyes liquid gold in the dim light and you thought it was so unfair that a man could simultaneously be this pretty and this sweet. And then you remembered that he was yours, that he was hard and aching because of you and it felt like everything in the world was all right.

"I'm sure, baby, trust me." You leaned in and met his lips with yours as you sank down on his hard length, moaning into the kiss as you took him to the hilt. Nails dug into your thighs, before pulling away quickly to reposition around your waist.

Chip, ever sweet and soft, did not want to sully your skin with the crescent moon indents of his nails, because that would hurt and he did not want to hurt you, ever. You giggled against his lips.

"What?" Chip whined, lips trailing from your mouth to lay kisses along your jaw, down your neck.

"Nothing," You replied, slowly beginning to rock against him, "Absolutely nothing."

He hummed into your skin, hands tightening around your waist as you set the pace. "Feel so good," he mumbled, his words slurred as though he was drunk.

You wanted to bottle the sound and keep it forever.

"Yeah?" You quickened your pace, clenching your walls around his cock every time you sank down, "You like that?"

He hummed again, leaning back into the backrest and pulling you along with him.

"I love it," he answered, his hips thrusting up to meet yours. A gasp escaped your mouth as it hits the spot his fingers had previously been toying with. "I love you." he added, before sucking at the spot just beneath your jaw and you almost laughed at how tender he sounded, a stark contrast to the obscenity happening at the moment.

"You're sweet," you replied, withholding the words because you knew it would elicit another sound from those full, pink lips.

"Mhm..." as you predicted, he whined and pulled away from your neck to stare at you. His pupils were blown wide, brows scrunched together to look up at you pleadingly. This time, your laughter bubbled out, unwilling to be contained.

Chip pouted, and you knew you were a goner for him.

"I love you too."

As soon as the words left your mouth, he thrusted up into you harder. You bit your lip, legs shaking from how full you feel.

"Let me hear you," he begged, holding your waist to guide your movements, "Please."

You can't deny him anything. A string of curses fell from your lips as he fucks into you,  fingers finding purchase on his hair. You gripped the soft, sweaty locks tightly, eyes squeezing shut everytime you feel his cock drag out and slam back in. Your other hand went to the backrest, bracing yourself as you impaled yourself on his dick, over and over again.

An easy rhythm developed, the car rocking to your movements as you met him thrust for thrust, bouncing on his cock like you were made for it.

"Fuck, Chip, yes!" you gasped, your pace faltering slightly as the pleasure coiled low in your stomach. He felt this, he knew you like the back of his hand at this point, and he reached one hand down upon your center, seeking out your clit.

"Come for me, baby, please." he groaned, rubbing fast circles on the sensitive nub. You liked to think you were the more dominant one in this relationship, but one plea from Chip and you're suddenly cumming.

"F-fuck!" your pussy clenched around him, and you sank down once, twice, and suddenly the world seemed to explode into a white hot crash. He held you close, stopping you from moving and accidentally triggering his orgasm, but his fingers continued to rub your slick folds, helping you along.

"Good?" he asked. He hadn't finished, not wanting to be irresponsible about this, and he loved bringing you pleasure anyway. If he could, he'd do it every hour of every day. But you had plans for him, so he just had to be patient.

"Perfect." Panting for breath, you looked at him, took in his agape mouth and sweaty forehead, and smiled. "You're so pretty," you cooed, running a hand down his jaw. His skin was damp with sweat and overheated.

You gave him one more peck on the lips before pulling away from him. His cock slides out from your pussy, slick with your cum and practically throbbing with need. With shaky legs, you somehow squeezed yourself on the floor, on your knees.

"Y-you don't have-"

You shushed him by licking the underside of his shaft, the combined taste of your cum and his skin making you moan. "Let me help you out baby." You say, before wrapping your lips around his cock and hollowing out your cheeks.

His hand flew to yur head, fingers tightening at your hair for a brief moment before unclenching. Instead, he gathered your hair back, and held it at the base of your neck to get it out of the way. Your heart ached at gentleness of his touch, and it only made you want to make him feel even better.

Looking up through your lashes, you started to slowly bob your head up and down his length, making sure to suck every time your pulled away, just as he liked. You moaned around him, and his hips bucked as the vibrations went up his body, pushing his cock further down your throat.

"Shit, sorry I-"

You took it like a champ, never once breaking eye contact as you sucked him off. Chip moaned, his head lolling back, but his eyes remained on you and you alone. It made you shiver, the way he was staring at you with those honey colored irises as he blew his load down your throat.

You swallowed it all, giving the tip a soft kiss for good measure, before clambering back onto his lap. Strong arms automatically wound around your waist, and tucked you against him chest.

"That was incredible." he murmured, pressing kisses along your temple.

"Mhm, yeah." You hummed in response, nodding. The two of you cuddled and caught your breath, in this small piece of heaven carved out of the backseat of your mother's car.

[7ulpix]

Simon Riley with AAF! Reader + Skincare 🫧

🫧 warning(s): girly/very feminine reader, very messy, not proofread!

paring - simon riley • reader

word count: 561

🫧 request - not one!

🫧 author's note - FIRST WRITING POST ON HERE?? HI HELLO just me rambling....british military man save me......reader is Simon's gf at the time!!!!! PLEASEPLEAS leave criticism, this is my first time writing for COD idk how to write for older guys 😞💔💔

- 🫧 -

After having a very busy day, Simon cannot wait to come home to his very bubbly girlfriend and adorable puppy, Riley. No matter how much of a bad mood he is in, the two always manage to soothe it instantly. As he opens the door he is welcomed by a very excited puppy and his girlfriend, both in the kitchen.

"What are yer' two up to?"

"Nothing much. Trying a new skincare remedy."

Simon had moved from his position by the door to leaning over your shoulder. He peeks down at the bowl you're currently stirring to see a brownish mixture of ingredients and the smell of.....coffee........

"Those my coffee beans yer' got in there, too?" (🤨)

"Needed them for the recipe to work."

"I need them in order for me to work."

You look up at him and stick your tongue out before continuing your stirring.

"It's supposed to help clear your skin and reduce redness and eyebags."

You finish stirring. Turning away to get two smaller bowls.

"Don't think Riley can eat this."

"The bowls are not for Riley silly, you're doing it too!"

"Me?"

"Yeah! We're both trying this out, pretty boy. Go get cleaned up."

Simon sighed very loudly in a sarcastic way as if he was so tired of being bossed around, walking to their shared room. After 20 minutes, Simon came out freshly clean after a shower, switched into black basketball shorts, and a black baggy shirt. His outfit was the complete opposite to his girlfriend: pink robe, pink bonnet, pink nails, black tanktop, pink minishorts, and bunny slippers. Even Riley, the scary German Shepard their neighbor downstairs hated, had a light pink collar. You had now moved into the bathroom with the two bowls, Riley sitting by the tub, most likely bored.

"Ready?"

"M' ready."

"Okay, just rub it all over your face. Avoid your mouth though, not very tasty."

"Tasted it, didn't ya?"

".......not the best, you can definitely taste the coffee beans."

You push one of the smaller bowls towards him. He grabs a bit of the mixture, slowly rubbing it on his face as much as he can. You do the same, rubbing it around your face.

"Okay, now we leave it on for about 15 minutes!!!"

"So what do we do in those 15 minutes?"

".......watch Teen Wolf?"

The next 15 minutes were spent on the couch, finishing season 1 of Teen Wolf with riley enjoying the headpats received. If Soap witnessed Ghost sitting and wztching a show like this, he would lose it. Simon never thought in his entire life, he would be sitting on his couch watching a young teens show about being turning into a hybird wolf. He also never thought he'd see Riley rolling around on the rug, while his girlfriend gives the most praise he's ever seen.

"Timers up! C'mon we gotta wash this off our face."

Simon's out of his daydreams and into the bathroom with you. You both wash your face, you even lean up to leave kisses on his chin and rubbing water onto Riley's face so he doesn't feel left out. You look back into the mirror, smiling noticing that small blemish from earlier, is gone. Simon doesn't see much change done to his face besides glowing a bit more. Kinda sad only you get to see that glowing face. <3

[tyunn1ngz]

taehyun nsfw alphabet

cw: maybe afab implications? i think it’s pretty sex neutral tho and as always no gender is directly stated!

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

pampers u with soothing words and gentle touches, wrapped tight in his arms w ur head on his chest so u can listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat<3 him giggling when he cups ur face after he cleans u up, ur just so cute when ur all tired out :((((

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

on him his arms and his stomach ,,,,,, beautifully toned and just ......................... AAAAAAAAA. riding him w ur hands on his abs when u try to steady urself, his breathy laugh w his hands aiding u in bouncing in his lap .,,, the strength hes got that he basically does the work all himself. anyway.

on u probably ur lips, loves loves lovesssssss kissing u so much(>ω^) loves how they look when ur mouth drops open, pants and moans of pleasure, pleas for more; all falling out in a haze... and also just maaaaaybe a little obsessed w how they look around his cock :o

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

thick but i think it'd probably actually taste nice is that just me

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

loves to film himself getting off and just taking nudes in general idk how many times ive said this but ill continue to say it bc i know im right ok and im fr gonna start begging everyday to see them

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

i think yes, even if its just a little and he definitely knows what he's doing. he was going to be good at anything he does regardless, that shit is always in his nature somehow but now that he's been around just a tad he really knows exactly what he's doing (×_×)

f = favourite position (this goes without saying)

riding, u in his lap or on his face is actually to die for in his opinion. or just any other position where he can really showcase his strength to u, he's not fussy on the details ;p

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

a mix of both but more on the serious side, loves spitting filth that has u trembling just a little harder— but is just as obsessed w ur laugh as he is ur moans, so maybe during foreplay he'll caress u in ways that tickles just to get u giggling before he really breaks u down <3

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

trimmed nicely but not completely shaven cuz that shit gets itchy growing back in

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

intimate w him means almost no space between u, and nothing exists outside of u two and the throes of pleasure at those exact moments. and while it’s not technically romantic he loves telling u ‘i’ve got u baby’ and smth abt the way he says it always just has ur stomach swooping a little w butterflies

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

piggybacking off of answer d, i don’t think he’d jerk off a whole Lot if he can b with u instead but he absolutely makes a show out of it everytime. barely cums unless he’s looking at himself and if thats narcissistic literally WHO cares

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

besides the strength kink, biting and being bitten r huge ones for him— not only does the sensation make him cum a little harder but smth abt the possessiveness of it all that really just does it for him— ur his only and he’ll make that very well known!!!!!!!

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

he took u in his studio once and hasn’t stopped thinking abt it ever since. that’s all i can really give u on that

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

when u assert urself when u kiss him, ur confidence in an outfit u feel particularly hot in, probably even would pop a stiffy over if u simply just said smth really smart— or even if u said smth dumb tbh, feed into a little bit of dumbification, make his ego a lil bigger cuz he has to be the smart one in the relationship

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

probably a no to stuff like cnc, and nothing too painful or that will draw any blood— just a little pain is enough!!!

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he has no preference but he is a bit of a sucker for a blowjob bc !!!!! he loves ur lips!!!!! remember!!!!!!! (imagine his chest heaving and dark eyes looking down at u when u give him head and his hands gently pushing ur hair back and telling u how good ur doing even if u literally arent—as long as ur enthusiastic hes going to fall apart w u between his legs wooooooo boy)

when it comes to giving im telling u for the billionth time SIT on this man’s FACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

prefers rough and fast, fucks so feral and so nasty and knows just how to roll his hips so u curl in on urself its so hot (//∇//)

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

loves a good quickie imo, spontaneous raw desire and the thrill of it all can really get him off at times. a little obsessed w fucking u up the way he wants and watching u struggle to make it look like u weren’t doing anything sus at all when u both rejoin all ur friends<3

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

yes!! he’d have some hard limits that he’d say no to and that’d be final but outside of that he’d try almost anything at least once!

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

i imagine it would either be one round but it could go for hours— or several rounds that aren’t as long, i don’t really imagine him being the type to go all night but hey if ur still horny he’ll get u off again however he can ฅ/ᐠ. ̫ .ᐟ\ฅ

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

probably not many if any at all, he can make u cum so easily w just his fingers he hadn’t rly seen a need for them but he’s game to try whatever— vibrator, cock ring, handcuffs, whatever u wanna try baby!

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

big tease, but also sometimes its not on purpose he genuinely just loves the feel of ur skin on his, so his touches that seem fleeting and like they’re meant to rile u up because hes not really touching u where u want; thats not on purpose!!!! ur just so soft and u feel so nice </3

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

not very loud, loves to groan right into ur ear though bc u grow a little louder in response, so reactive :3c he’s a panter, little grunts and whimpers but all breathy and just for u to hear only nobody else Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑)

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

really really wants to try a threesome w one of his friends, someone else in txt the most likely. would even settle for one of them just watching the two of u fuck, it makes him a little crazy to think abt but he doesnt even know why

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

average length but thick … and he knows how to use it….. takes long drag of cigarette…

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

pretty average libido until he starts dating and has sex w u for the first time bc then i think itd be thru the roof im ngl here he just wants to have u all the time hes obsessed w u and everything is just so exciting

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

pretty soon after u guys clean up but u can tell he tries his hardest to stay up to talk w u a little longer— but u guys r so cozy and so tired out that he can’t keep his eyes open and neither can u, fighting sleep together w delirious giggles while ur all tangled up in his arms<3

[umemiyan]

𝙄 𝙇𝙊𝙊𝙆 𝙏𝙊 𝙔𝙊𝙐.

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢 𝗫 𝗗𝗢𝗠!𝗚𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / mommy kink, mdlb vibes / handjob / edging / crying / mentions of punishment / technically gender neutral aside from reader being called ‘mommy’ / almost 1k words

idk y'all. i can no longer deprive my mommy domme spirit of what it needs. if it's ooc... just look away. I NEED THIS OKAY. and he needs to be punished and then babied a lil bit. it would fix him. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE BOY!!!!!

Your ribs might as well be fused together given the way you’re pressed so tightly to each other’s sides, skin welded to skin as blood pulses life throughout the both of you. It’s the moments like these that make you realize he’s more human than most would like to believe. 

You can see it in the way that very same blood causes him to flush various shades of pink and red, can feel it in every tremor of the muscles that work so hard to hold him upright. Satoru Gojo is more of a human being than ever when he’s in your grasp, and that’s precisely why he’s always so eager to be within it.

The bed is plush beneath him but it doesn’t compare to the comforting sensation of your arm secured around his waist to keep him close, making him feel warm and enveloped even as the crisp air nips at his exposed skin. Your other hand is wrapped around the red, weeping mess that is his cock, hard and throbbing to the point it causes pain, because you’ve already edged him three times and are now heading for a fourth. Though he’s hoping that perhaps this time you’ll bring him to the edge and let him tumble over it.

Legs spread, Satoru’s head thuds against the wall behind the bed as he swallows thickly, panting as your palm continues to squelch along his length with every slow and precise stroke. His face is wet with tears and he has one hand fisted into the sheets while the other spreads along the inside of your thigh and grips for purchase. 

Where he once was so incredibly vocal, he is now reduced to a being that can only offer soft sobs and whimpers in reaction to your loving torture, and this is how you’re able to tell that he is at his limits. You’ve broken him with your steadfast yet gentle punishment, edged him until he’s bleary-eyed and obedient like a needy child, and your efforts have been successful, so you think there’s no need to drag things out for much longer.

“Mommy, p-please…” he begs in a whisper, voice warped by tears and hips struggling to refrain from bucking up into your hand. Satoru has repented for his earlier transgressions and has since lost the attitude that had gotten him into this situation. You’re starting to feel rather merciful towards him now.

You turn your head to press your lips against his temple, soothing him with a kiss there and mumbling, “Shhh, I know, baby.”

Satoru shudders at the feeling of your warm breath and words floating around his ear, and he’s fallen deep into a space that fills his head completely with fluffy clouds and stardust. He needs you to give him permission to let go, to finally give in to the pleasure you’ve been withholding from him.

“Do you think you’ve learned your lesson?” you ask, tasting the salt of the tears upon his cheek.

Satoru breathes in a small gasp, hips twitching as he nods enthusiastically. “Mhm, yeah—yeahyeahyeah,” he answers you with desperation, suddenly filled with hope that you’ll give him a much-needed orgasm. “I’ll be good, mommy, promise.”

You grin at the way he slurs his words and vows to be obedient despite his insolent nature. “Alright then,” you reply, your permissive tone like music to his ears as your hand continues its rhythm. “You can go ahead and cum for me, Satoru.”

He immediately releases a moan of pure relief and lets his eyes roll to the back of his head, muscles finally relaxing now that he doesn’t have to fight off impending release. He can simply float in a cloud of bliss and let the pleasure wash over him when it finally comes, which is going to be much sooner rather than later at this rate.

Satoru’s grasp on you tightens along with his balls and abs, lungs struggling to breathe properly as your hand picks up its pace a hardly noticeable amount—but it’s enough for him, and that’s evident by how he pants and moans in little ‘ah, ah, ah’s that fill the air.

“That’s it, angel; give it to me,” you goad gently, and that’s all it takes. With one final choked cry, Satoru tenses up and releases ropes of cum that land hotly on his thighs, his stomach, and your fingers, painting them sticky white. It drives him into an even more mindless state than before, and after he’s done sobbing out his pleasure, he begins to crumple into you regardless of his size.

White hair tickles your neck as he makes a home there. “Messy boy,” You giggle lightly and grant his cheek with a kiss, admiring the way he’s covered the both of you with such a heavy load. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Satoru tucks his face further into your neck with a pout. “Mm. You’re mean.”

Rolling your eyes, you playfully shake your head. "Oh yes, I know. I’m just the meanest mommy in the whole wide world," you reply jokingly. "I never ever let my baby cum or give him kisses or hugs or snuggles afterwards. I'm just the absolute worst."

All he does is huff against you and stay silent for several moments afterwards while you rub a comforting hand along his arm. After his body’s gone slack and breathing has evened out into a slow tickle along your skin, you begin to suspect that he’s about to doze off.

“Don’t fall asleep yet, baby. We still need to get you cleaned up.”

Satoru shuffles and whines, wrapping an arm around your waist and trying to force his oversized body even closer to yours in protest.

“Uh uh, don’t whine,” you warn with a slightly firmer tone. “No more attitude today. Not unless you want another punishment.”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I’ve never done a request, and obviously you can say no. But I’d love to hear what you think the sleep tokens would be like with a gf/wife/whatever who had a baby and are not comfortable with the way their body has changed??

I’m 9 months post partum and I’m having a hard time with this, so, idk, you’re so good at writing.

Thank you ♥️♥️

Be kind to yourself mama, you grew a whole new life. ✨🤍

Vessel

Let’s face it, you were a muse to him before your pregnancy but the thought of you growing his baby alerted his brain chemistry. He wanted to be a part of everything. The smallest of things like your back or side itching was interesting to him. So he weathered the storm in your head for you. Jumping at any given moment to remind you just how beautiful you were.

That didn’t change after you delivered the baby. Hair tangled and unwashed for days? Still pretty to him. He would just offer to take your bundle of joy and let you have your time. Or if you need help he’s settling the little one and he’s right there in the shower with you. Sitting you down on a little stool and washing your hair for you. Shirt covered in spit-up and breast milk stains? He couldn’t care less you are still stunning to him.

So he sees it. The glazeqd look in your eyes as you feed your baby. Head thrown over the back of the sofa. Vess settles beside you. Handing you an iced water bottle. Waving a little waffle bar in front of you. One that you just look at before shaking your head. That’s enough to make him frown.

“Do you want a different snack?”, he glances over to the kitchen, “Frozen yogurt bites? Nutella on toast? Crisps?”. You shake your head at it all. “Okay… do you want me to cook you something. We have that brownie mix or I can make you pancakes?”, and you know he would because there wasn’t a craving that went unsatisfied during your pregnancy.

“An apple of carrots might just do”, you shrug. Vessel tilts his head to the side, “You crave sugar when you breastfeed. Apples are tart, well the ones we have are. I could run to the…”, you reach out pressing your hand onto his thigh. “There’s no need, we’ll just eat dinner later on”, you try to smile at him but you can practically see the gears turning in his head. He doesn’t push but his eyes are demanding answers.

“It’s time I seriously start thinking about losing the baby chub I still have”, the words feel sour on your tongue, and from the way Vessel frowns you can tell that it tastes just as sour to him. “Your body grew our child”, he shakes his head. “Yeah, but I want to fit into my jeans again”, you scoff, not sure why you were biting back at him. Vessel stands up, reaching for your hand, “Can you stand up real quick”, and it’s not a question. His arms are steadying you as you both move. The baby lets out an annoyed grunt from all the commotion. One that Vessel is quick to soothe with a couple of kisses to their head.

And then he’s careful dragging you towards the bedroom. Towards your biggest enemy. The full wall mirror. But he doesn’t let you halt as he pulls you right in front of it. Standing protectively behind you. Leaning in to kiss the side of your head, your shoulder.

“I’m starting to think that we see very different things when we look in the mirror”, he says. “Bet, you are a sex god and I am just…”, you start only to be cut off by Vess, “I dare you to finish that sentence”. And there’s an edge to his voice now. The protector in full force. You feel your eyes sting slightly. “You are talking shit about a body that grew our baby”, he continues, hands reaching for your sides as he pulls you against him. “You grew eyelashes, little toes, blue eyes here”, his fingers snake beneath the stained shirt, gliding effectively over your skin. “But I was pretty before this”, you hiccup slightly, watching him watch you in the mirror. “You were”, he admits before adding, “You’re gorgeous now”. Your heart skips a beat and you let a sob slip past your lips. Leaning your head back against his chest. Vessel is right there ready to kiss each tear away. Ready to breathe you in. Until you believe in it too.

iii

He had just come home after rehearsals. Arms full of shit he randomly bought at a grocery store cause Thursday was always movie night. He halts listening for the noises around the apartment. The bub should be having an evening nap now and at times it means you’re also napping so he doesn’t want to disturb either one of you. It’s the light sniffing that makes his senses perk up almost immediately. So iii is kicking off his shoes in a hurry as he moves towards the sound.

He finds you in the laundry room. Hands clenching onto a white dress he knew you had worn so many times back when you two used to go clubbing still. Your tear-stained cheeks kill him internally. He can handle lots of shit but not you crying. So iii is reaching out to you, making you jump ever so slightly. “Shit, I didn’t hear you”, you breathe out, quickly wiping your damp cheeks. But you know that the damage is done. He saw you. Lying about it would be pointless.

He comes to tower over you, both palms cupping your cheeks as he lifts your face so he can see you better, “Hey, what’s wrong?”, he muses. Blue eyes drowning you in. “Come here look at me”, he urges, reaching down to hold onto your thighs as he lifts you, setting you down on the washing machine. Parting your thighs so he could step between your legs.

You let out a deep sigh, “Just don’t feel like me”, admitting it out loud feeling just painful. “What do you mean by that?”, he has an inkling where this is going but he’s not about to jump to conclusions. Even more so not pointing it out because he doesn’t want to fuel the fire that’s already burning.

“Have you seen my tits my shirt straps are holding on for dear life”, you grunt, with a shake of your head. “Oh I’ve seen them”, iii can’t help but smirk, “wouldn’t mind seeing them more often”, he wiggles his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side so he can lean closer to you.

“iii”, you can’t help a little snort that slips past your lips. “What? I am an honest man”, he puts his palm on his heart before reaching out to squeeze your thighs, “Same goes for your thighs if I could I would be all over you”, he wraps your legs around his torso. You look up at him, “Yeah but I’m… don’t you think that I’m ugly now, not as hot?”, you ask, before chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Not as hot?”, iii raises his eyebrows, “Mama, you are the hottest. Sizzling hot, look”, he presses a finger to the swell of your breast, letting out a hiss before blowing at the tip of his finger as if he had just gotten burnt. You can’t help but let out a laugh as you shake your head, “You’re unbelievable”. A grin spread over his face, “No, you are unbelievable, unbelievably beautiful”, he pointed out, reaching to cup your jaw, “You brought life into this world that’s fucking breathtaking”, he muses against your lips before leaning in to kiss you.

ii

He has the baby sprawled on his forearm. Little koala straddling a tree trunk. He loves it like that. The little kicks growing into sleepy calmness. He’s mixing eggs with a fork with the other hand. Humming a tune beneath his breath, a new melody he’s been working on with the boys.

“I’m not going”, his happy bubble is busted with the sound of your voice as he turns towards you. “What do you mean you’re not going?”, he frowns slightly. Eyes falling over your curves and the summery dress you had on. Maybe not going was a good option. If he got the baby to sleep he would have you all to himself and if he could just yank the skirt part up…

“Look at me”, you huff in frustration making ii blink. “I am looking, I’m looking”, he nods not following your train of thought. “And?”, you say in frustration. He frowns slightly, “And?”, he repeats your question because he’s genuinely not seeing an issue or maybe the dress was new and he should have said something about it. “I look pathetic in this. I can’t go out looking like that”, you pull at the material of your dress before turning to the side, pinching the bride of your nose.

ii bounces the still half asleep baby in his arms, before carefully lowering them into the swing. He doesn’t have to see you. He can feel the tears streaming down your face. Each tear leaving a new crack in his heart. So he’s turning to you, reaching for your hand but you bat his arms away from you. “Nah, I ain’t having any of this”, he muses, stepping in front of you, pulling your hands away from your face, and guiding them over his torso instead.

“Did someone say anything about the way you look?”, he asks, “Cause I am not opposed to shoving drum sticks up someone’s ass”. You just shake your head, “Everything just feels different, I feel like every part of my body is not mine”, you admit, lip wobbling. “You were just pregnant, you’re feeding a child now and your hormones are once again having a field day”, he states firmly, “Why are you taring yourself apart for something so natural and normal?”, “I just want to feel like myself again”, you muttered, resting your head on his chest. “We can go clothes shopping if you hate what you have, clothes are meant to fit you not the other way around. We can go work out together if that would make you feel better and I am not referring to sex, although…”, ii trails off. “ii”, you grunt, making him smirk, “I’m just saying, if you need me home more so you could do more stuff that would make you feel better, you let me know and I will make it happen”, he reaches out, cupping your face. Carefully brush some of your hair away from your face.

iv

Ivy had a feeling that something had been off for some time now. You’ve been pushing his hands away from your body, or simply escaping his embrace. You stopped changing in front of him. Instead opting to take your clothes to the bathroom. But it’s the Sunday morning that does it for him. He had just settled the baby for the morning nap after feeding them the bottle. He hears the shower running and as if on out-pilot, he’s yanking his shirt over his head. Grabbing the baby monitor and walking towards the shared bathroom. He’s tugging at his shorts when his shoulder collides with the door. He frowns, reaching for the handle only to find it locked. A part of him understood your need for alone time but he much rather get told off and be shushed out of the bathroom than be locked out of it.

So he sits on the bed, right in front of the door. Waiting for you to come out. Not angry not frustrated, but feeling the need to finally bring this up. You unlock the door sometime later. Halting mid-step when you see iv sitting there. “I wasn’t expecting you here”, you chuckle slightly. “We always shower together”, he points out. You watch him for a moment. “You locked the doors”, he says softly, “not that it’s a bad thing, you can do that just… I feel like you’ve been avoiding me”. His words make your heart ache.

“And if I’ve done something to upset you, I would love to know 'cause I am too stupid to see that”, he gets up walking closer to you. You let out a deep sigh but don’t push him away this time. Missing his touch just as much. “I’m sorry”, he mumbles, and you shake your head, “You haven’t done anything wrong it’s all on me”, you let your fingers run over his arms as you think over your next words. “I just… I don’t look the same and I… I guess I was hoping I could bounce back and then you wouldn’t have to see me out of shape”. The sentence comes out like one big breath. You watchiv blink slowly. He opens his mouth a couple of times before closing it.

“I’m sorry but that’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard”, he shakes his head, “What do you mean bounce back? See what? I’ve seen everything. I put frozen pads in your nickers may I remind you of that, after putting that squirty thing to hose it down”. “It’s a peri bottle, not a hose”, you roll your eyes with a shake of your head. “Doesn’t change the point”, he shrugs.

“I just don’t like how I look and I guess…”, your voice dies down as you bite your lips. “Well, rock into my fucking garden. I’ve done a shit job of reminding you of how beautiful you are to me”, iv wraps an arm over your middle, pulling you close to him. “Should have seen through this. I just thought you needed alone time”. He presses his forehead to yours, “Not running a hate campaign against yourself. We can’t have that, love”. You give him a sad smile, “I’ve missed you”, you mutter. “I’m here and I’m taking over your worshipping”, his hands reach behind your thighs as he pulls you up and into his arms.

[onskepa]

We need a so'lek x human x neteyam

Idk if you can do with three characters (but i hope you do)

Nothing out of the blue (got it??)

They are like a couple, but the na'vis are showing love to their tawtute. What i meant is that so'lek and neteyam aren't romantic with each other (gay)

Or if you're not comfortable with this, the reader could be their favourite tawtute. Nothing romantic, just being affectionate :)

Hellooooooo darling~!

So for this one, it will be like platonic fluff. I hope you are ok with this! Enjoy~!

------------------

Pxoeng

[it makes sense to me]

Friends who grew up since diapers will get very comfortable with each other as time passes. Would call each other silly nicknames, refer to the other as family, or practically become family. They are close, where one cannot function without the other. As their lives orbit around the other. Friends can come as two, or in three. A trio if you will. 

A trio is different from a duo. With a trio, you can dominate and conquer anything. Three is a crowd? No, three is a party. A party with inside jokes, fun memories and a perfect balance. Truly an unbreakable bond. 

Which leads us to three certain people. Neteyam, Pxoeng, and so’lek. They are peak example of ‘three is a party’. You have the bright bubbly personality, the mature mother, and the crackhead street dog. You guess who is who. 

“Is it poisonous?” Neteyam asks a bit worriedly, in front of him, his silly little idiot. Pxoeng, a human who likes to test things with her life. And sanity. “I don't feel anything, it tastes kinda sweet” she replies after eating a thick gooey substance leaking from a tree. Licking her lips, she lets the taste settle down, staying still for anything. 

“We can always go to mo’at if anything happens” neteyam offers. Pxoeng nods in agreement, with that settled they continue on their walk. “Or we could go now” a deeper voice followed behind them. Turning around they see an unpleasant so’lek. Arms crossed, frown deep, and clearly not happy with pxoeng’s little stunt. The human girl frowned, matching his. 

“I won't die from it. I ate plenty of inedible things and I am alive. Live a little so’lek, "she says. Rolling his eyes he turns to neteyam, “if she pukes, it's on you”. Neteyam shrugs and doesn't mind at all. “Lets go, we still have ways to go” so’lek says, taking the lead of the walk path. Pxoeng and neteyam followed suit, one on each of the older na’vis side. “You sure seem a bit grumpy today, did someone take the last of your favorite?” neteyam asks so’lek. It doesn't take a word out of his mouth to respond but so’lek gave his answer with a grunt. 

“I know! For lunch let's gather some of your favorite mushrooms to make your favorite stew, how does that sound?” Pxoeng suggests. Giving a moment of thought, so’lek nods. “Yes, that would be nice”.

The three continued on until they reached their destination. Their little piece of heaven, ‘Arch heart’ as pxoeng named it. It was a comfortable little cave, filled with paintings, food, hammocks and among other things, built to feel like a second home. Away from their main home. 

Neteyam entered first and began to roll up some screens to let more light inside. Pxoeng grabbed a fruit and dumped herself onto her hammock and so’lek sits on the edge to enjoy the view of the outside. 

For a while neither of the three said anything, just doing their little tasks here and there. Letting the silence be the comforting sounds to soothe them. It is their favorite part of the day. Just the three of them together in their solitude. No tasks, no chores, no one to take time off of their day. Just pure tranquility. 

“Ok ok, how about…..we use some pali’s to pull the cart and maybe the ikrans can carry it on here. Aaaand whala! We can have nice comfy bean bags in here” Pxoeng explains her little idea after they had a nice hearty dinner in their cave. 

Night arrived, so to be more comfy, so’lek still sitting on the edge but this time pxoeng and neteyam joined him. Pxoeng sat on his lap while she laid her head on neteyam’s lap. Doing as his mother taught him, neteyam calmly massages pxoeng’s head as so’lek squeezes her thighs from time to time. 

“But aren't bean bags easy to tear? The ikrans would tear it apart with their claws” Neteyam says. His playfully boops his nose, “that is why I said to use a cart. So that the bean bags won't get damaged”. 

“No bean bags, the hammocks are enough” So’lek interjected. The other two look over at him in slight confusion. “But you like the bean bags,” Neteyam says. So’lek looks at him then back at the sky. Slightly smirking, the boy playfully shoves the older’s shoulder only to receive an annoyed hiss. “No no, he is right. You are the first to body slam on a bean bag. Wouldn't it be nice to have some here and not sit near the edge like…an edgy anti hero” Pxoeng says. 

So’lek sighs, not tired, not annoyed, just a sigh. 

“Fine, 

“YES!” 

“But you and neteyam are carrying them all the way up here” 

“What?!” 

"But they are heavy...” 

So’lek lets out a hearty laugh as he enjoys their expressions. Especially Pxoeng. Neteyam calms her down by stroking her hair. Pxoeng lays her head on neteyam’s head as she starts to play with so’leks fingers. 

“Fine, we will carry them, but they are for us and none for you so’lek” 

“Now hold on

Aaaaaaaand that is it for this one! Sorry if it was short, but its short and sweet! Until next time! See ya!

--------

Pxoeng = We, three, inclusive

[bitchimasnake-sss]

Can you do Zosanlu x male reader. Fluff/Smut

hi!! i don't think i'd be able to write the smut part very well lol but i definitely think i can do fluff so here you go!! (also i made it gender neutral since it was just very fluffy lol)

ft. luffy, zoro, sanji x gn!reader

set-up: idk, just vibes my lord; hope you feast well

warnings: hints of a polyamorous relationship; other than that, none. just soothe your soul with these headcannons bby <3

- if the strawhat crew is notorious for something, it's taking care of each other with their entire blood and soul (other than being famous for being the most powerful idiots at sea) - atleast that's the first thing you noticed - they would fight like dogs over the last piece of meat but good lord, a merchant once annoyed nami and refused to haggle and luffy almost snapped his neck "GUM GUM IM GONNA PULL A GUN OUT BITCH" "luFFY ITS NOT THAT SERIOUS" - bestest boy ever - anyways, ever since you have (reluctantly) joined the crew, you cannot help but notice how protective the crew gets everytime there's even a tinge of threat - but what you can notice more is how three certain men are at your disposal at the drop of a hat - it's nothing out of the blue, luffy is always ready to die for his friends but with you, his stares last longer and his smiles are more frequent (didnt think that was humanly possible). clingy as he is with everyone, his hands always seem to find your figure no matter what - sanji's a flirt with every living being in sight yet everytime he's serving you something, his fingers lightly skim over you. sometimes it's as faint as the brushing of fingers and other times it's a blatant, lingering touch on the small of your back - zoro's the most obvious tho, he thinks nobody catches on but boy what the fuck, stop making heart eyes at the dinner table. you once said something smart, strategizing to take down a warlord and you're sure you heard him mutter "is this love?" under his breath - back to the point, they are insanely protective - did lead to you yelling at them at one point and storming into your room - but you had to come out cause you were hungry and sanji baked your favourite cookies (fuck him and his stupid beautiful fucking face ugh) - they all steal you away to spend time with you, luffy's hogging you, telling you stories he heard from ussop; sanji's taking you away every 5 minutes to tell him if the food looks/tastes/smells okay and zoro really thinks he needs someone to check if his form is alright (flexing not-so-subtly) - they love to buy you stuff whenever you guys dock on an island, luffy (obviously) gets something to eat, sanji buys you a perfume that reminds you of him and zoro bought you a knife cause you "are really weak, you should train more sometimes. if you want, i can teach you." - one time you got sick and the entire crew was SWEATING OKAY these people were at you day and night, babying you as if you weren't a whole ass grown person - you cannot help but love these fuckers - aaah idk head empty, just wholesome thoughts of them <3

a/n: idk if i did this justice, but i hope you liked it even a little bit! (also, i was confused if you wanted it altogether or with all three but separately, eitherways i hope this is good enough!)

[azsazz]

You Keep Me Sharp and Test My Worth in Blood

Vampire!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel's turned you into a vampire and brought you an offering.

Warnings: Blood, gore.

Word Count: 2,229

Notes: Idk about this one but...here it is 🤷🏼‍♀️

_________________________________________

A groan forces itself from your lips when you wake. 

Your head is pounding, mouth throbbing like you’ve tried to chew through the cobblestones on the long path flanking the Sidra, and everything hurts.

Your one saving grace is that it’s night. No sunlight to pour through the curtains, and as you blink your eyes open in a slow gathering of your surroundings, you realize you’re not entirely sure if you’d be able to recognize if it were daytime, with the thick velvet draped curtains hanging from ceiling to floor.

But there are no faelights blaring down at you, only soft, tastefully placed ones throughout the room, casting its entirety in soothing, buttery light. 

Sitting up, you brace a hand against the bare wooden ground beneath you. It’s so cold that you can’t feel your fingertips, your body numb. A stroke of dizziness strikes your already tender head and it takes a few forceful blinks to right your doubling vision.

You’re in the middle of a foyer, but it isn’t one that you recognize. Faded paintings line the walls, their once vibrant colors yellowed and fraying, but there doesn’t seem to be a single speck of dust on the intricately crafted onyx frames.

The furniture is just as deep, drinking in the light like a void. Velvety couches cloaked in a cavernous navy, looking so rich and untouched, as if no one’s ever sat on them, border a hearth, its fire so large the flames seem to lash out at you as if to caress you with its warmth, licking up the sides of the dark stone.

Your stomach churns at the slight movement, aching for food, but the thought of biting into something with how tender your mouth is sounds like the last thing you want to do.

Running your tongue around your dry mouth, you count your teeth, because the only explanation as to why everything is so painful is if you had been hit or hurt your jaw in any way. The last thing you remember was locking lips with a very handsome–

You jolt as your tongue comes into contact with something sharp. You hiss, tasting blood immediately, thick and rich, and you lick over the area again, tentatively this time. You stiffen in your spot, and despite the large fire in the hearth, the room grows cold.

Your teeth are still there, you note, but now…now they’re longer, sharper, as if tearing into a delicious steak would be much easier, although you’re not sure if your stomach is screaming at you to bite into a raw piece of meat, or something not cooked at all, but something pulsing with life…

“You’re awake,” a soft voice startles you. You spin around to face whoever has arrived so sneakily behind you while you were preoccupied, and gasp in horror at the view before you.

He’s a handsome male, the sight of him nearly taking your breath away. His dark hair is loose around his face, disheveled as if he’s been in a fight of his own. He kneels before you. His golden eyes aren’t full of life like the sun, but dull like the coin you’d thrown into the Sidra after making a wish…

He certainly looks like your wish come true.

But that’s not why you had made that terrified noise. It’s what lies in front of him that has a scream burning the back of your dry throat, daring to rip from your mouth in fear.

A male lies on the wooden floor, gurgling and gasping, clawing at the ground for your help.

His green eyes are frantic, begging, pleading, one hand clutched to his crimson painted throat, the other trying to leverage himself towards you, as if you might be able to save him from the male perched eagerly at his back.

You watch, frozen, as blood sprays onto the rich flooring as he tries to speak, and the sharp tang of his metallic blood has your gaze zeroing in on the wound. Your stomach screeches and your pupils dilate, lips parting without your permission to take a deeper inhale of the abundant, tinny scent. It sparks something within you, and you cringe away from the male as he reaches for you, fear-filled eyes begging for help.

The man’s eyes widen and your breath catches in your throat, his hands freezing as he catches sight of your elongated canines.

Flickering your gaze from the helpless male between you and the one behind him, a predatory gleam in his wild, golden gaze, the words slip as the horror of the situation catches up to you. 

“What have you done?”

He blinks once, twice, and that wild predatory look seeps away as his gaze turns on you in a curious manner. He cock his head to the side, brows twitching as if to pull into a look of confusion. It would be cute if it weren’t for the fresh blood on his hands and the man fighting for his life at the both of your feet.

“I got him for you.”

Your mouth parts in horror and you glance down at the male struggling for air. The sound is jarring, his chokes and gurgles ringing loudly throughout the room. It’s the only noise you notice in the house, or maybe it’s the only one you can focus on at the moment.

You shove yourself away at his words. Something about the way he’s looking eagerly at you, eyes flickering with playful hunger as his gaze drifts down to the male, is throwing you. The male’s arms flail, spraying blood everywhere, and you watch how the dark haired male’s tongue peeks out from the corner of his mouth to lap up a drop. 

His body shudders with excitement while yours shakes with fear.

“For me? What do you mean?” Your voice is unsteady, fingers curling against the smooth flooring with unease.

Those gold eyes settle on you again but this time they seem to go soft. He looks like he wants to reach out to you, but you keep slowly trying to back away, and his unnatural stillness is unnerving.

“You need to eat,” he urges, shoving the male closer to you. He slides through his own pool of blood, twisting and choking as he tries to fight off the male’s hands on him. The speed at which it happens is nearly too quick for you to follow and the crimson puddle moves like a wave and you can’t scramble back fast enough, the fabric of your skirts drinking up the liquid.

Your stomach roils.

“Eat?” You question dazed, like all of this is finally catching up to you. The gore, the blood, the handsome male, your surroundings. Where even are you? 

Your stomach growls in response to his words, agreeing with the strange male across from you.

“Yeah,” you nod, and he smiles. “Eat. There’s this place down in the Rainbow that’s fantastic. They have my favorite–”

His face turns stony and you make a choked noise as your words cut off on their own. You turn frantic, trying to force the sentence from your mouth, any words, but your tongue won’t let you. It’s as if you’ve suddenly gone mute.

“No,” the male with the dark gaze stares down at you. His aura is no longer curious and playful, but swims around him like dark shadows. Fury ripples through the room making the flames in the fireplace flicker. “You will feed here,” he nods at the nearly dead male at his feet, “From him.”

“From…” You trail off, looking again to the gravely wounded male on the floor. His movements are sluggish now, and he’s become much quieter, allowing your screaming thoughts the attention they were yearning for. His fingers are clamped around the mottled wound at his neck once more, but you can tell he’s fading fast.

The deep umber of the male’s gaze when you look back at him is startling. It makes you nervous to have his rapt attention solely on you, his deep voice growling demands when you don’t even know his name.

“Azriel.”

You flinch. “What?”

“You were wondering my name. My name is Azriel.”

Azriel. You mouth his name and his smile twists as he watches you taste it on your lips. The motion reveals a flash of fangs and you're stunned for a moment as they gleam in the firelight, sharp and white.

“Go on,” he urges, and like this, with that soft smile and sparkling eyes he looks like he had last night, the look on his face stirring your memories of how handsome he looked with the moon shining down on him. He was quite charming– “While it’s still fresh.”

The fluttering feeling in your stomach fizzles out when you realize he’s gesturing to the male at your feet. Azriel’s fingers are covered in his blood, playing with the warm puddle of red at his feet before he brings them up to his mouth, licking the remnants of crimson from his scarred flesh.

“Unless you would prefer I feed you, my Lady.”

My Lady?

Feed you?

“You want me to eat him?” you ask incredulously, staring at him in horror. 

Azriel only laughs, and it cuts through the seriousness of the situation like a blade through butter. It makes your heart flutter in your chest and if there wasn’t a male bleeding out between the two of you you might like to move closer, taste that laugh on your tongue.

His nostrils flare and his eyes darken like he knows your exact thoughts.

“Not eat him, sweetheart. You’re going to drink his blood.”

“Drink his blood,” you echo, assessing the male on the ground. With both you and Azriel quiet you can actually pick up on the slowing of his heart. The spicy tang of his blood does smell incredible, and if Azriel had looked that good only licking the red from his hands, how might he look if he–

In a flash he’s in front of you, warm hand pressed to the curve of your jaw and drawing you into a feverish kiss. You gasp against his lips, hand snapping up to clutch at his wrist because he’d startled you, but you quickly melt into him, pushing even further up onto your knees as he pulls you flush to his chest.

The taste that he shares with you makes you see stars. The sweet, rich taste of the blood makes your own rush, erotically exhilarating. It’s all you can do to hold yourself back from tearing at Azriel’s clothes, instead burying your fingers into his silky black locks as he ravages you with his mouth. 

His grip around you turns firmer, and his cock strains against his trousers. He so terribly wants to take you upstairs to his room, tear that soiled dress from your hips and have his way with you, but when your new fangs split his lip and you begin suckling on his blood, he’s reminded of how you need to be fed.

Azriel shoves the feeling of you lapping at his lip from his mind, achingly wanting you to be sucking at other parts of him. His cock twitches at the mewl you give when he gently removes you from his mouth, but thankfully he doesn’t move far, twisting you around and sitting you between his legs.

You can hardly breathe with his cock pressed against your back. You can feel exactly how big he is, and you resist the urge to writhe against him as he brushes his fingers down your arms in a soothing motion.

You settle for pressing back into his chest, so Azriel knows exactly your motive.

“Soon, sweetheart,” he murmurs in your ear, reaching out to drag the no longer breathing male closer to you both. 

Your breath hitches and you wet your lips as you think about how it had tasted, absolutely intoxicating.

Azriel settles the dead male up against his side. His head lolls on a limp neck but Azriel is quick to right him, offering you his neck as he leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear sensually. 

“Go ahead, love. Drink your fill, and I’ll take you upstairs.” 

You nearly moan at his words, but staring down at the male in your lap you can’t help but feel badly for him, having met an untimely end at Azriel’s hands. His blood is slipping down the sides of his neck and onto your lap and it makes you cringe, your stomach roil.

“It won’t always be so messy,” Azriel soothes, a steady presence at your back. “This one had a little more fight in him than I gave him credit for.” He pecks your neck over the scars he’d left on your neck from the night before. He can’t wait to see your reaction to them.

When you pause, rubbing your fingers through his thick blood and grimacing at the way it soaks into your clothes, Azriel is quick to reassure you. 

“You look beautiful with all of that blood on you, love,” he purrs. “And if you don’t think so, I’ll be happy to lick it clean from every crevice on your body, but you need to eat, pretty, you need your energy.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice, leaning forward and sinking your fangs into the male’s neck.

[abiiors]

red lines - pt. 1 ║// matty healy x reader

a/n: i want you to read this very very carefully: i am pro-choice and i will always be pro-choice. and this is a work of fiction. also feel the need to add that this is more a collection of small vignettes??? ugh idk, hope you enjoy regardless cw: *deep breath* angst, pregnancy, mentions of abortion, mentions of vomit, (and other pregnancy symptoms), crying (so much of it my god) and arguments, mentions of smoking, illness, hospitals, panic attacks, reader has a good relationship with her mother so i guess that's a cw too, (most definitely inaccurate) descriptions of birth. wc: 4.6k

two red lines is all it takes to ruin a perfect life. 

two red lines repeated twice on two different tests that stare back at you from the counter—innocent and white and damning. the bathroom is utterly still, save for the tap dripping one drop every seven seconds. you would know, you counted it, used those seven seconds to ground you and stop you from spiraling into another panic attack for the three minutes it took to get those two red lines. 

pregnant. 

with two more weeks left on tour by matty’s side. 

gingerly you wrap them in toilet paper, make sure they’re safe and secure and nothing’s peeking out. you throw it in the bin, looking at it with a deadness on your face that you feel deep inside. then you call the reception and ask them to take out the trash. 

matty isn’t here. he’s on stage, serenading thousands of people who hang on to every single word he says, looking at him with all the love and adoration in the world. matty, your matty, who belongs as much to you as he does to the people, the fans. you should have been there too but there was the migraine and the nausea that wouldn’t go away. so you told him you would just sleep it off tonight. 

have an amazing night, babe. break a leg. and then a sweet kiss and a promise to see him tomorrow. 

and then the two red lines.

every time you blink you see them flash in front of you—like a promise or a warning. or maybe even a sentence. 

pregnant. 

a baby. 

a cause for happiness and celebration. 

and the conversation from a week ago that lingers in your mind, echoes inside your skull as if those words are the only ones you remember. 

i’m just not ready love, he says, not now. maybe not for another year or two. i don’t know, babies are a lot of work. and i am a lot of work. 

i love you, he says, kissing you deeply and tasting his own cum on your lips. i love you but a baby right now is a hard no. 

nothing in particular spurred this conversation really—just the two of you, naked, and tangled up in the sheets, his hand caressing your lower stomach and you letting yourself daydream. who knew the daydream was indeed reality? and now here you are, head in your hands—partly from the migraine, partly from the anxiety—waiting for him to be back. 

he will change his mind, you know it. matty loves you, and this baby is half you, half him. he will come around and you will be there to soothe his worries. you know he will hear the baby’s heartbeat and fall in love. 

you know he will treat them like the most precious thing in the whole world. 

the thought makes you smile and the door creaks open. 

“pregnant,” he looks at you warily, “what do you mean pregnant?”

the small smile on your face fades away. “pregnant with a baby, matty. what other kind of pregnant is there?”

you wonder if you meant to joke, if he will break character and laugh and everything will be okay again. maybe you just caught him by surprise, this is just a blip. in two more minutes, he will smile and drop down to his knees and kiss your still-flat stomach. he’ll say hello to them. tell them he loves them and then tell you how much he loves you, kissing you gently and pulling you into him. 

you can already feel his feather-light touch on your skin. his mouth lingering on your lower stomach on his way down. 

matty stills in place. 

“no…”

one word, it’s small and broken and so unlike him that you almost do a double-take. 

“what do you mean no?”

“i can’t okay?” his voice rises, “i told you i can’t!”

you can sense the agitation he feels, his hammering heartbeat and the shallowness of his breaths. his hands runs through his hair, spilling the curls everywhere. 

“you’re on the pill.” 

“i think…” you hedge, tears gathering in your eyes, “i think i missed a day.”

he snaps his head up to look at you. when matty first came back to the room, he looked happy and giddy—cheeks pink and hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat. now he looks grey and listless. like all the colour’s been zapped out of him. 

“you missed a day,” he repeats. 

“matty, please…”

but matty is already turning around and storming off to the balcony. through the glass you watch him light a cigarette with shaky hands, taking a deep drag before he tips his head back and blows it out. another drag, another blow. eyes closed. breathing that slowly goes from rapid to normal once again. 

five minutes later, only the stub remains and matty is back in the room. 

“i can’t,” he says firmly. “i told you i wasn’t ready.”

it sounds final. like a death knell. instictively your hand covers your stomach.

“i won’t,” you shake your head and the tears fall rapidly, first down your cheeks then your chin and onto your chest. “i won’t get rid of it.”

matty stares at you quietly, you stare back. it seems you’re at an impasse. 

twenty minutes later, you pack your bags. 

london is greyer than it has ever been, especially from your new flat so far away from the hustle and bustle of the city. not that you’ve had much time to get acquainted with the new area after being bent over the toilet for days on end, retching and heaving until there’s nothing left inside you. a hollowness so deep that no amount of food or water will fill it. 

so you eat strictly for the baby. pre-natal vitamins and supplements and a nutritious breakfast that you throw right back up. but you try. all for the sake of the tiny clump of cells dependent on you. the image of the two red lines has long been replaced with a grainy black and white rectangle. every time you close your eyes, you see the screen lit up with an image of your little bean, moving around. in some far back corner of your mind, you think they look happy.

at night you curl up on your cold bed, phone in hand, the baby’s heartbeat playing on repeat. it used to be his, your brain reminds you painfully. back when you slept all cuddled up with him. head on his chest, his soothing heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

you mother is worried about you. she calls at least thrice a day to make sure you ate every meal and took every pill. she comes every sunday to stock you fridge full of vegetables and fruits and make sure you have enough ginger and peppermint tea. sundays, begrudgingly, become your favourite. your mother, once again, becomes your best friend. 

but you can’t let her move in. can’t let her be a constant presence and drive you crazy and unearth him every chance she gets. so like clockwork, at 6 pm, you usher her out the door, tell her you need privacy and quiet and solitude. like every single time, she promises she’ll be back next sunday. 

and every single time she keeps her word.

one day you wake up to a change—a small one, really, but a change regardless. barely even noticeable at first. it’s your top that doesn’t reach all the way down. maybe it shrunk in the wash, you think. then the full length mirror reminds you of the reality. and the tiny little bump that’s seemingly grown overnight. 

your little bean. suddenly so real. so tangible. so present. 

“hello, little one,” you coo at your stomach, feeling a little silly at first. there’s no reply, of course, just the sounds of morning traffic coming in from the open window. but your eyes stay trained on the bump. “you weren’t so noticeable last night.”

nothing happens. no movement (of course, not. they’re too small for that.), no one appreciating the change with you. matty who should have been here to witness this…

matty who isn’t here to witness this. 

emotions swirl in your head so fast that it’s dizzying. this time there’s no tears falling one by one. there’s the sobs that come all of a sudden and the floodgates that open in the blink of an eye but he is not here to hold you or pull you into his chest when you gasp and gasp for a breath that never comes.

in a panic you dial the first number you can find in your contacts, gasping and yelling out broken sentences and panicking at whoever’s picked up. it’s 8 am on a wednesday, whoever you called must be utterly bewildered. yet when you can focus enough, you realise it’s a man’s voice replying. a familiar voice. shocked and equally panicked and asking you if you’re okay again and again. 

you pull the phone away from your ear and look at the screen. at adam’s name flashing on it. 

the first contact on your list. one starting with an a.

“fuck,” you mumble. “sorry, i’m okay. i’m fine.” and then you hang up, and rock yourself back and forth on the ground until your breaths resemble something normal. 

fifteen minutes later, there’s pounding at your front door and the bell rings incessantly. in your gut you know it’s adam. and it’s confirmed when his voice floats through the door. 

“open the door,” he urges. “i need to know you’re okay.” 

and so you pull yourself back up, harshly wipe away the tears and unlock the front door. 

it’s only been a month since you last saw adam but he looks different. his hair’s grown out, his dark circles are gone and in spite of the worried look on his face, he looks happier somehow. healthier. 

being back home with the love of your life and your baby will do that to you.

“you look well,” you croak out and then clear your throat. adam doesn’t take the bait. 

“do you need me to take you to the hospital? call your gp?” straight to the point as always. you smile at him fondly. 

“no, no i don’t. i’m okay, i promise.”

“you didn’t sound okay.”

“i meant to call my mum, adam. sorry i dialed the wrong number.”

“regardless,” he holds up a hand. “can you please talk to me. or talk to mat—”

“don’t.” the voice that comes out of you is stern. “he doesn’t want me or the baby. i will not let him talk me into an abortion.”

adam winces and rubs a hand over his face. perhaps that was harsh, you think, he’s not some evil villain. but none of it changes the outcome. in every single universe, you end up here—fresh off a panic attack in your living room, talking to your ex-boyfriend’s best friend. 

“how did you know where i live?”

at that he looks a bit sheepish. “i asked you mum. not today!” he reassures hastily when your eyes widen. “don’t worry. i asked her a few days ago. i wanted to… i’ve been meaning to check up on you.”

“and you couldn’t call?” you smile at him wryly. 

“no. i wanted to see you in person.”

“so you can report back to him?”

adam clicks his tongue and warmth fills your chest. he’s always been good to you, always been kind, and loved you like a little sister. you shouldn’t have cut him off like this. 

“no,” he says. “so i could make sure you were okay.”

it’s a small mercy that the morning sickness eases a few days after that as your bump continues to grow. more often than not, you find yourself with a hand on your stomach, drawing small circles on it and humming to it. lately, you’ve also noticed the little flutters that linger long after you stop humming. your baby responding to you. showing you they’re there. 

it’s not far before you approach the twenty week mark. the most important scan you’ll have throughout. you’ll find out the gender, you’ll find out if they’re healthy or not. 

and each time you think about it, it’s like the weight of the entire world is on your shoulders. 

the night before you contemplate calling your mum, nervous and panicked once again but it’s almost 11 pm. she would be deep asleep by now—she would be excited too. no need to put a damper on her mood. 

then you wonder if calling adam is a good idea. but you quickly scrap it. 

for the first time in months your finger hovers over the familiar name in your contacts. over the little heart that’s still next to his name that you never bothered to change. 

what will he say if you called him now? will he even pick up?

are you ready enough to brave it? 

the truth still remains. you want this baby, he doesn’t. the same impasse you were at months ago. if any of that had changed, he would have called you. he would have reached out… right?

so instead you do the second stupidest thing. you type up his name in google. 

your stomach churns with nausea or anxiety or just impending doom while the webpage loads—slow, too slow for your liking. or maybe time has simply slowed down and you’re too much of a coward to really face the consequences of your own action. 

the webpage loads. the frown on your face deepens. 

nothing. rather, the last article written about him specifically is from two days after the tour ended. everything after that is either recycled news, or some silly quiz about the band. nothing about him. no pap photos, no social media activity. absolutely nothing to indicate he’s even left his house in the last few months. 

you mind buzzes with all kinds of thoughts, swirls with wicked possibilities. you almost even text adam about it before the turning your phone off abruptly and chucking it to the other side of the bed. 

no more temptation. 

sleep is like a fickle friend—has been since the day you left the hotel room in tears. but you close your eyes and imagine your baby’s heart beating inside you in sync with yours. tomorrow, there will be a new recording to replace the older one. hopefully one that’s stronger. calmer. 

when sleep drags you under around three in the morning, you dream of his hands—fingers gingerly touching your stomach, resting on all the spots that flutter with movement. gentle hands that massage your sore feet and work out the kinks in your back. 

hands that you might never feel on your skin ever again.

the doctor smiles coyly and slides an envelope to your mother. it’s a little hush-hush secret, one she insisted on and begged till you relented. the gender reveal isn’t huge or flashy but you know there’s a cake waiting for you at home along with a few friends and family. and for the first time in months, you let the excitement of it wash over you. 

the scan was perfect! and now you feel a bit bad for clutching your mum’s hand hard enough till she’d winced (even though she hid it quickly and smiled at you in encouragement). so now here you are, thanking the doctor and practically skipping out the room with your mum laughing in tow. 

she looks lighter too, you realise, much more carefree as she gushes about her precious grandbaby and how excited she is to meet them. 

“we have to buy onesies!” she squeals getting behind the wheel and you laugh.

“we will, mum, but they’re going to grow out of it in weeks so you can’t go crazy, okay?”

she dismisses this with a wave and a pfft and you can already imagine the mountain of clothes she’s going to buy over the next twenty weeks. 

you nod off to the sound of your mum excitedly making plans for an elaborate baby shower, one that you’ll have to beg her to tone down, but her voice fades away soon. instead, you dream of him. your subconscious wonders what he would have been like today—maybe he’d cry out of excitement or being overwhelmed, maybe he would smile so wide his cheeks hurt. in some parallel universe the two of you would be in the baby aisle—hand in hand and cooing over tiny onesies. 

in this universe, you jerk out of the daydream just as your mum parks in the driveway. 

your friends and family don’t yell “surprise”, much to your relief. there are many hugs and congratulations. tears of happiness and jokes and then a delicious vanilla cake brought in front of you. 

everyone waits eagerly. no one brings him up. not even you, as you sink the knife into it and cut a slice. 

it’s pink. a gorgeous, pale pink. it’s a girl. 

everyone cheers. your mum hugs you and you sniffle into her shoulder while laughing giddiy. a girl, your baby girl. 

right then you know what you’re going to call her—you don’t need baby name lists on google or a hundred suggestions from your mother. you already know her name. 

mia.

mine and mine alone.

blink and twenty weeks go down to fifteen and ten and then five. each day it seems like you only get bigger and bigger, impossibly so. your life is filled to the brim with baby stuff, inside and out. everywhere you look there’s either a pram or a crib or pregnancy books. every time you get one spare minute you’re reminded of the back aches and sore feet. the constant hunger that just does not seem to go away no matter how much you eat.

your mothers visits increase from only sundays to whole weekends to three days a week. 

at first you protest—fuelled by hunger and hormones and mood swings. fuelled by the rage of a thousand burning stars as you stomp into the living room where she’s folding yet another batch of baby socks and blankets. 

“you’re suffocating me!” you snap, already on the brink of tears while she looks at you like you’ve grown two heads. 

“baby—”

“no! mum,” a deep breath and a few stray tears, “i’m not a baby. i’m having a baby for fucks sake.”

“language!” she scolds.

“stop it, just, please!” there’s not much you can do but stomp your foot like a petulant child. proving her point most likely. “stop acting like i need to be coddled and protected. just. stop!”

your mum looks speechless, too stunned to speak but the ball is rolling and now you cannot stop. 

“i don’t need you here. i don’t need you acting like i would crumble and wither away without you. i don’t need you and i certainly don’t need him—fuck!” you gasp for a breath, choking mid-sentence. 

the second those words spill out of you, you want to take them back but it’s too late. her eyes are already red-rimmed and glossy. one tear rolls down her cheek and that’s all it takes for you to break down completely. 

“fuck!” you repeat. “i’m sorry, mum. i’m so sorry.” that’s the only thing you can chant until she chucks the clothes aside and wraps her arms around you, shushing you the best she can through her own tears. 

for the first time in eight months you wonder about what if. and for the first time in eight months, you think about his words from that night. 

maybe not for another year or two.

you’re closer now to the one year mark that you’re to that night. mia kicks your insides again—her own version of support or maybe it’s her doling out punishment for never introducing her to her dad. either way, it’s not helping. all it does is spread pain throughout your lower body as you hold onto your mum, rocking back and forth. 

“it’s alright, sweetheart,” you mum whispers gently, kissing the crown of your head and cradling you like she used to when you were a kid. it makes your emotions worse. increases the ache tenfold. 

“i miss him, mum,” you admit finally, in a voice so small that you might as well not have spoken. but she hears it anyway. she hears it but doesn’t interrupt. she lets you speak. 

“every single day i wonder if he even gives a shit. or if he regrets leaving me, leaving us. i speak to adam and carly and i wonder if they ever tell him about me. i wonder if he even cares…”

you gulp down air, wiping your nose on the sleeve of your jumper and cuddling into her further. 

“and after everything. i miss him more than anything in this world.”

there it is. the truth, finally out there, finally spilled after months of pretending to be cold and callous. you wait for her to speak, to say something that will dull the pain and release you from this torment but she never gets the chance. 

because that is the moment your daughter decides to make her grand entrance.

it’s pain like you’ve never felt before. 

pain and panic and unadulterated fear. she’s not supposed to be here yet. you’re only 35 weeks pregnant—nowhere near full term. what if this affects her negatively. you blame and blame—first yourself; you must have done something wrong, right? ate something wrong or not taken the right vitamins or slept the wrong fucking way. then you blame matty. if he was here, you would have never been this stressed and unhappy in the first place. everything would have been smooth-sailing. 

and yet a small part of you yearns for him to be here. to brush your sweaty hair away from your forehead instead of your mother as the doctor yells at you to push. 

it’s all too much, all too soon. this is not how it’s supposed to be. this is not how any of this is supposed to be. 

the machines around you beep in a rhythm that’s all worng—it’s too loud and erratic and out of sync with the rest of the world. surely, that’s not how fast your heart’s beating. maybe the beeping is something else you’re unaware of. and yet your body feels hot and cold at the same time. too weak to move but pushing and contracting and tearing you apart from the inside. you’re vaguely aware of the screams that tear out of you, of gripping your mum’s hand so tightly that you worry, you’ve bruised it. 

but she’s strong, stronger than you’ll ever be. she endures and passes along some of that strength to you. 

“one more big push,” the doctor encourages. she’s a kind, middle-aged woman. probably someone who’s brought many babies into this world. she knows what she’s doing. but your body won’t cooperate. 

all you feel is a bone deep exhaustion that tries to drag you under as your mother taps your cheek. 

“a big push, baby,” she repeats. “one big push and her shoulders will be out.”

and that would almost be the end of it, right? so you nod with whatever’s left in you and breathe the way they taught you in birthing classes. 

and that’s how it goes. inhale. hold. exhale. gather strength. push. all of it done to a constant stream of rather futile encouragements. until you feel like you’re bursting at the seams and coming undone. about to unravel any moment. 

but then a tiny cry echoes around the room and the world comes to a standstill.

mia’s arrival changes everything in the blink of an eye. 

you have no time left for self-pity; every waking moment is occupied with feedings and nappy changes and laundry. you sleep when she sleeps, you hold her close every chance you get. you sing her and cradle her and shower her with enough affection for two people. she has you and your mum. she doesn’t need anyone else. 

slowly you let other friends and family visit—extremely selective and protective about who gets the priviledge but one afternoon when adam messages you know you can’t deny that to him. even when you’ve tried to keep him, and all of them by entension, at bay. 

in another universe, she would have been his goddaughter. you’re sure of it. 

so you let him and carly and their son visit, let them hold her and gush over her. carly instantly falls in love with her, cradling her close and trying to make her smile even though she’s just woken up. mia babbles at her and grabs her shiny necklace. 

you watch them transfixed, giggling at carly’s squeals and coos until adam asks if he could speak to you alone. 

“i don’t want to step over a boundary,” he starts and you know what’s coming but you let him continue. “have you thought about letting him know? that she’s already here…”

“i…” in all honesty, you had wondered if you should call him and let him know. but what if he still doesn’t care. “i didn’t. i couldn’t.”

adam’s face softens. “he’s back in london, you know? you could. you could try.”

that piques your interest. you hadn’t knows he’d left in the first place. “he’s back?”

adam takes a deep breath, eyes darting slightly and lingering on his wife as if he’s trying to steel himself. as if he has some news he’d rather not share. in the end however, maybe he chooses not to.

“yes, he’s back,” he says, trying and failing not to sound cagey. “he wasn’t until now. but if you would talk to him… just, i think you should talk to him.”

for the rest of their visit, his words linger in your mind. they stay even after the hanns leaving, promising another visit whenever you’re free next and you tell them they’re welcome any time. this time, you even mean it from the bottom of your heart.

but adam’s words come back to haunt you day after day as mia continues to grow. day after day you watch her learn about new things and figure out new stuff around her.

matty should be here. if not for him then for her. and once again you wonder about calling him.

one last chance. if he ignores this then he loses the right to his daughter forever.

so one tuesday morning, you gather the courage. you strap your baby to your chest and go downstairs to make some pancakes.

“after breakfast, darling,” you tell her, even though those words aren’t meant for her. “after breakfast we’ll call him again. maybe he will pick up. maybe he won’t.”

mia babbles when you kiss her head and flip a pancake, ignoring the worry that settles in the pit of your stomach. you’re so focused on the task at hand (rather, at ignoring the thoughts of impending doom) that you almost miss the doorbell that rings once and then again.

so focused that you have to scramble to wash your hands and rush to the door. maybe it’s your mum again, even though she wasn’t supposed to come today. it won’t be her first surprise visit, though. she misses her granddaughter far too much for that.

in a hurry you open the door, without even thinking about it twice. without even bothering to unstrap your daughter from your chest.

matty’s familiar face comes into view and for the second time in three months, the world comes to a standstill.

lemme know what you think <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855@beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy@sierraeslaprincesa@harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet@thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername@celestcies@sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars

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[delicatesmilesys]

Belphegor (Seven Deadly Sins) ☁️ (helluva boss headcanons)

author note: these are my personal headcanons one of the seven deadly sins! this one goes out to Belphegor!! I know they do not have a speaking role, if there is more content for her, I will make a revamped version or what not idk really. I just really love Belphegor.

I will do one for each sin

this is sfw (18+)

-------------------------------------------------- ☁️ Belphegor has one of the world's softest furs. She is the number one cuddle bug, willing to cuddle with anyone who wants to. Her wool is like feeling fluffy clouds. You could touch them if you ask nicely! She is willing to help anyone with insomnia. ☁️ Belphegor is a fan of Dreamcore. As it gives her a sense of nostalgia and her dreams. She finds liminal spaces to be oddly comforting, despite how weird it all is. She loves all the surrealism of it all. It is a way she soothes her mind.

☁️ Belpehgor's favorite flower is lavender; not only is it pretty, but due to it is also able to help people sleep better. Lavender overall improves people's moods and sleeping patterns. She would often decorate her home with lavender flowers; when you first enter, you can feel the aroma of lavender. ☁️ Belphegor loves herbal teas and will make all sorts of tea. She would use tea to help people sleep. She loves the taste of the tea, finding it both calming and alluring. Chamomile tea is her favorite kind of tea, and she would make you tea if you asked for it, believing tea to be a good remedy. ☁️ Belphegor sleeps 12 hours a day, due to being the sin of sloth. She has built machines to do all the work for her. She loves her beauty sleep and has a natural ability to sleep anywhere and everywhere. Since she has a long neck, she can fall asleep with her head up and lying her head down; she constantly takes naps. She is a hard worker when needed. ☁️ Belphegor isn’t much of a talker but she is more of a listener. She is very attentive to people's emotions and can understand exactly how they are feeling. She may not say much, but she will do what she can to help you. You could talk to Belphegor about anything and everything. She will apologize if she dozes off in front of you talking.

☁️ Belphegor likes AsMR and will often do AsMR-type content if she has a YouTube channel. She is a very soft-spoken person and can be perceived as quiet.

☁️ Belphegor sees through her multiple eyes. She has a third eye, psychically and mentally. Her third eye in itself is connected to mystical intuition and insight. Her eyes are very sensitive; please do not poke them. She may have some psychic abilities, but either way may be unconfirmed. ☁ Belphegor is responsible for the hospitals and administering medications, which would be happiness pills, sleepy pills, party drugs, etc. Any pills that can cure or help any ailments are responsible for creating first aid kits. Basically, the Ring of Sloth has this type of technology, like the way they would help get insulin for imps, offering affordable programs for those who cannot afford healthcare.

☁️ Belphegor enjoys sipping milk and munching cookies. Her favorite kind of cookies are chocolate chips. She mainly likes to drink milk before sleeping or napping overall. They were her comfort food.

☁️ Her favorite musical artists depend. She prefers Melanie Martinez and Jack Stauber. She particularly enjoys listening to lullabies. Any time that music gives that sleepy or weird vibe, she is an instant fan. Her favorite songs are I’d Rather Sleep by Kero Kero Bonito, Tunnel Vision by Melanie Martinez, and Estranger by Jack Stauber. This girl likes Lemon Demon too.

☁️ Believe it or not, Belphegor’s favorite type of animal is the koala. Not only do they look soft and cuddly, but they are one of the animals with the longest sleep cycles. She really appreciates their small characteristics.

☁️ She is not a big drinker. But one of her favorite cocktails is called Blue Dream. It contains 2 ounces of blue curacao, 2 ounces of coconut rum, and 2 ounces of pina colada non-alcoholic drink mix topped off with whipped cream, but she would drink any cocktail.

☁️ Belphegor likes tarot cards and fortune-telling. She is willing to offer to tell you a fortune or do any tarot card reading of your choosing; this is one of her main niches. And she does it not because she has to but because she wants to.

☁️ Belphegor has a lot of pillows and a whole collection of stuffed animals. Her bedroom is like fluffy clouds. Her bed screams Dreamland. Her bedroom is very pretty. The image below is what I think her bedroom would look like

☁️ Belphegor and Bee have a sibling-type relationship, with Belphegor being the bigger sister and Beelzebub being the little sister to her. As a way to keep Bee from abusing the party drugs and not promote stealing, she wants the best for Bee in any that she can provide.

☁️ Belphegor prefers to remain neutral in situations, avoiding drama and controversy. The same during the court scene: she decided to stay quiet for a very good reason. She sees herself as a mediator and often tries to see both sides of each conversation. ☁️ Belphegor is techy savvy, she is able to work or fix any electronics, understanding its mechanics. Bring her anything that is technology and she would fix it. I like to think she was the one who invented the hell phones for the hellborn.

☁ Belphegor is very domestic; she would often be considered a caretaker of sorts and is exceptionally good with children and is known to both lull babies and children to sleep, letting children or babies snuggle up in her fur as she rocked them to sleep and she would be similar to this to her partner, showing how good of a parent she could be if she wanted to

☁️ Belphegor’s favorite color palette:

☁️ Belphegor’s nickname is Bel and will respond to those who call her nickname basically anyone who considers worthy and is her friend. She also doesn’t mind being called Belphie.

☁️ Belphegor loves the moon and the stars, she would be the one who often stargazes. Nights are absolutely beautiful in the sloth ring. She likes Stolas for his job and showing her love with Astronomy with him.

☁️ Belphegor has a secret flock of sheep, most of her citizens are goats. She is similar to Baphomet when it comes to her design and owning scented candles as she was considerably spiritually connected to candles.

☁️ Belphegor is the sixth strongest sin next to Asmodeus being the seventh strongest sin, it is unknown whether or not she would show off her power or not but she does not consider herself a show off.

☁️ Belphegor's Pokemon team: Jigglypuff, Espeon, Drowzee, Snorlax, Munna and Espurr

--------------------------------------------------

[ronearoundblindly]

A, K, & Z for my rare grimy man? 🥺

*While I have seen Snowpiercer a few times, I don't know the whole culture of the train thoroughly, so let's just say Curtis is A) really used to crowded spaces with no privacy, B) somewhere cold as hell, and C) still has very little, i.e. not a bunch of different clothes or idk soap and shit...

Prompts are from this dirty ask game, and they do get somewhat graphic (am I considered a hoe yet? i've written 18 of these suckers). MINORS DNI. You know I love you, you know I'll create content for you, but this isn't it! You want the Light Masterlist.

A - Alone Time

I believe Curtis's exact words would be "what fucking alone time?" but, sure, on the super rare occasion he gets to touch himself, here's how it goes.

He doesn't have access to porn. It's all imagination at this point.

His living space is so over-stuffed with people in bunks who, ya know, live their lives as best they can and so, yup, they have sex in those bunks and almost everyone can hear them. He can use those sounds in his imagination. Some are better than others.

What he imagines, though, is pure escapism.

He pictures someone soft and clean, they smell good, and they take all the time in the world just to look him in the eye when they touch him. There are no toys, just his own hands. He uses both. A recurring fantasy is (while he uses his weaker hand to jack off) teaching some innocent, sweet thing how to touch him. Gets him going, makes him a little wild to think about. Smidge of a corruption kink, this Curtis, but not in a mean way.

He wants someone all his own. Everything is shared and sparse here. He dreams of possessing someone, body and soul, because then they're his, unlike reality.

K - Kissing

Curtis may be desperate for some lovin' but he isn't a bully. This man hardly believes you're his, so he is completely adoring and slow. He wants to know what every possible way to touch you feels like. He holds your chin or cups your face to kiss you, softly, feather-light to start. You taste, smell, feel, and sound real; it's overwhelming and addictive.

He starts this slowly every single time you two kiss. Doesn't matter how nasty the fucking was the night before. Doesn't matter his mood. He really fucking likes these sweet, innocent kisses where you choose to go further, to pull him closer, to accept him into your body. Huge turn on for him.

(🥵 oh shit, I got myself, sweating now, give me a sec, yikes.)

There are some nights where those soft kisses are all he wants and needs in the world. Just the comfort and the escape of your little bubble of love is enough to soothe him to sleep, which is in and of itself a miracle. He's so tired of living on edge all the time...

Z - Zones

For warmth, as much of his (and your) body is covered at all times as much as possible. No one is naked during sex, not entirely. There aren't thick enough blankets to warrant that, and he's not going to lose a toe to frostbite simply to get his cock warmed. That's a bad trade-off. No deal.

Because of that, however, Curtis finds you touching those non-essential-to-sex-places highly erotic. There is no reason for you to have your bare hands way up by his shoulder blades. Sounds bizarre out of context, but he goes fucking berserk when you slither your grasp under his layers of shirts and dig your nails in just a bit. He loves that more than a goddamn blowjob, honestly.

Similarly, most of the back of him down to his thighs, at least half of his legs, and his feet have remained untouched by any human save himself since he was a kid. When his shitty, fourth-hand boots gave him horrible blisters, you scrounged up a bowl of warm water and washed his feet.

He fucking cried, and you thought it was because he was in pain. He's just never felt so loved and cared for in his miserable life. He still gets choked up thinking about that. He holds you that much tighter each time he remembers.

What areas does he love on you? Oh fuck, does he have to choose?

He can't possibly pick just one or two places. You're just all soft and all sensual. Nope, he can't pick favorites. He just can't. Although...one of your nipples seems more sensitive than the other, so maybe that? But he's not gonna give up any other bits! You can't make him. He will fucking fight for all of you.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

Oh, hell, here comes another blorbo...

*faints*