#if i do prompts again remind me of this...

[grinsgrimmy]

hi! i love your content so much :’) can i request a drabble?

Manhwa: How to Get My Husband on My Side (or How to Win My Husband Over)

Character: Iske Van Omerta x Reader

Prompt: Reader giving Iske a handmade bracelet.

Any information: make the bracelet pink :’) and end it with the duchy’s reaction seeing Iske with a pink bracelet on his wrist hehe

thank you so so much for writing! i can’t wait for more of your content! happy writing! 🩶

Ｇ Ｉ Ｆ Ｔ .

ㅤᯓᡣ𐭩 𝖨𝖲𝖪𝖤 𝖵𝖠𝖭 𝖮𝖬𝖤𝖱𝖳𝖠 𝗑 𝖠𝖥𝖠𝖡!𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

HOW TO GET MY HUSBAND ON MY SIDE

๋࣭⭑ֶֶֶָָָ֢֢֢𖹭 drabble . (1036 words)

sum. you made a bracelet for iske. he can't help but like the gift way too much than he should

note : thank you for the request and kind words, anonie! i literally screeched in my dorm when i read your request bc it's so cute. i unfortunately went over word limit again...

drabble request slots have reopened !

ㅤ⪩⪨ m.list

iske would do anything to make you happy.

even if it meant falling for your silly whims that you pulled from god knows where.

he owlishly blinked as your fingers worked around his wrist, attaching something to it with a giddish smile on your lips. whatever it was, he barely protested against it when his eyes fell upon that smile that made his knees weak.

he was in his own world as he stared blankly at your lips. you were so close, so close that he could feel the warmth radiating off of you. it was enough to keep him rooted in place, admiring your facial features as you busy yourself with attaching something to his wrist.

“done!” you announced proudly, stepping back to admire your work. only then did iske glance down at his wrist to see a delicate bracelet.

a pink bracelet.

the bracelet wildly contrasts with his dark, rugged attire. speechless, he was left blinking at the bracelet he deemed incredibly fragile.

one wrong move by him and it would probably break.

“odd choice of colour,” he piped up, his tone a little incredulously, but held no protest against it. you tried to stifle your laughter at his reaction.

he gave a deadpan to you, who was clearly trying not to laugh. iske ignored the mischievous glint in your eyes, “you made it yourself?” he asked, not daring to move the bracelet. you nodded excessively, “mhm! it took me a while to make it.”

you lowered your sleeve to show him a matching pink bracelet on your wrist. “now we're matching!” you teased, your eyes twinkling with glee, “if i look at it, then it'll remind me of you, and when you look at it, it'll remind you of me!”

cute.

iske immediately thought as he stared at your beaming face.

a little red tinged the tip of his ears.

he hummed, “my wife's talent exceeds me once again.” he murmured to himself with affection. a reminder of you— his clever, whimsical wife who brought colour to his otherwise gray world.

you huff proudly, laughing to yourself. you failed to witness the way iske's gaze softened at your words. he moved his wrist around, admiring the simple charm of the bracelet.

a small smile of amusement and fondness graced his lips. "i'll cherish it,” he vowed, his voice low and sincere. he slowly raised his wrist to his lips and kissed the pink bracelet.

you felt your heart skip a beat, flustered as the realisation hit you. his kiss on the bracelet held the same meaning as if he had kissed you directly. you began to stammer, searching for words, which depended on Iske's amusement.

he leaned down to press a gentle kiss onto the top of your head. “thank you, my wife,” he then whispered into your ear softly. the sudden closeness caught you off guard, and you let out a surprise squeak, which earned yet another dry chuckle of amusement from iske.

iske adjusted the sleeve of his fit. he blinked, watching the sleeve obscure the delicate bracelet, hiding it.

feeling an unexpected pang of dissatisfaction at seeing it obscured, iske folded his sleeve, letting the bracelet sit visibly against his skin.

a small smile touched his lips as he admired the bright band that stood out alongside his usual stoic appearance.

the rest of the day went on. the people of the duchy found themselves utterly baffled. iske strode through the halls, displaying the pink bracelet around his wrist with his sleeve folded up to his elbow.

he ignored the whispers that followed him whenever he went. this was their notorious stoic lord, after all— one who rarely showed warmth—

and yet there he was, proudly showcasing the delicate, handmade bracelet in the bright shade of pink.

you were at the knights' training grounds with iske's sister, ellenia.

everyone immediately knew it was given by his wife.

you tried your best to fight the urge to flee out of embarrassment as iske came down the field with the bright bracelet still on his wrist, as if showing it off.

the knights all surrounded iske, they could barely contain their laughter and teasing grins as they all fawned at the sight of him with a bright pink bracelet.

iske's annoyance began to rise. “something wrong with it?” he asked, his voice flat yet holding a clear tone of warning. the knights had grown bold as always.

they all stifled at his clear signs of warning and saluted at him, “nothing wrong at all!” they all chimed simultaneously, hurriedly going back to training.

“wife,” he walked to you and raised his wrist to you. he looked at you expectantly, “take it. i don't want to ruin it when i train.”

iske did not want to take it off himself since he was worried his strength would have broken it.

it was too fragile in his eyes.

iske did not want to destroy a gift made by you.

you reached out immediately, fingers brushing against the soft threads of the bracelet as you slowly slid it off his wrist.

when you slipped the bracelet off and gently placed it in your palm. daringly, you took a deep breath and leaned in to plant a kiss on iske's forehead.

he turned his head towards you and nodded, taking your hand to place a gentle kiss on it before returning to the middle of the field to bark orders at the knights.

you could hear the knights whistle at the sight, which earned a harsh glare from iske— forcing them to be quiet almost immediately.

you could not help but notice ellenia, who was standing beside you— had a slight sulk that you could have missed if you were not that observant.

her stoic demeanor did not quite mask the hint of envy in her eyes as she watched the exchange. you brain immediately clicked at why she was sulking.

with an amused smile on your lips, you chime teasingly, “so what colour does ellen like?” chiming with a teasing grin.

ellenia huffed, looking away with her ears tinged red. “anything from you,” she said curtly with a tiny frown that resembled a pout.

“okay~” you say happily, which made her huff again, this time with satisfaction.

this was home.

and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

・❥・want a hc / oneshot? please consider commissioning in ko-fi !

[rosieswriting]

More than what you see

Remus Lupin x reader

Summary: You need to remind your boyfriend how much he is worthy off once again after a terrible full moon

Note: English is not my first language so it probably has some mistakes! It´s pure fluff with hurt/comfort from reader to Remus because i just love this prompt so much.

Words: 1.4K

He was barely holding himself together; shoulders slumped as he leaned against the cold wall of your bedroom. Still, as you reached for him, he shifted, pulling his torn sleeves down over the raw skin on his arms.

“Don’t. I’m fine,” he muttered, but the words lacked conviction, his voice barely a hoarse whisper. He tried to tug the tattered fabric tighter, as if hiding the wounds could somehow shield you from seeing just how much he was hurting.

You knelt beside him, hands hovering just inches away, waiting. He took a shuddering breath, eyes fixed somewhere over your shoulder, guilt flickering in them. “You… you shouldn’t have to keep doing this,” he mumbled, voice cracking as he finally let his head fall back against the wall. He was quiet for a moment, then added, “I don’t want you to see me like this. Not… every time.”

You bit your inner cheek at his words, your own heart aching for him. “But I want to be here for you. I want to help you,” you said slowly and softly, making sure not to elevate your tone. “Please, let me help you.”

He looked up at you; it still felt surreal to him to have someone in his life who wasn’t annoyed or bothered by his condition, even after years of friendship and months of dating. He just looked at you for a moment and nodded, allowing you to care for him.

You smiled softly and grabbed the hem of his shirt, slowly and carefully beginning to take it off him, the new scars along his chest revealed.

“It’s not like I prefer you with clothes anyway,” you muttered playfully, trying to lighten the mood as you let his shirt fall to the floor and reached for the med kit beside your bed.

He looked away, trying to hide a hint of a smile as you joked. It definitely helped reduce the tension. “Shut up,” he muttered back.

He tried to relax as you gently tended to his wounds, first disinfecting them and cleaning the dried blood from his chest and arms. “It’s not that bad, really,” he mumbled, wincing only slightly a few times when the cloth touched a particularly painful spot.

He was trying to downplay the whole thing, acting like he wasn’t struggling. He didn’t want to bother you or make you worry. Even so, the fact that you were here with him, taking care of him, made his heart fill with a different kind of comfort.

“Rem,” you called out softly. “I worry and heal freaking birds when they have a broken wing or something. You clearly went mad if you think I won’t help my boyfriend,” you teased him.

Remus raised an eyebrow, giving you a deadpan stare. “I’m offended that you’re comparing me to a bird,” he joked back, appreciating your playful banter. “You’re too good for me, you know that, don’t you?” he muttered, the smile that was beginning to form at the corners of his lips fading a little.

You finished healing his wounds and set the med kit on the table next to the bed before sitting in front of him, looking at him.

“I don’t know that. What I do know is that you don’t give yourself enough credit. I’m only good for you because you’re good for me. That’s how we work,” you spoke softly, brushing his hair out of his face.

He let out a soft sigh, closing his eyes. Of course, he had his moments of confidence and self-acceptance. Still, on days like this, his self-esteem hit an all-time low, and he couldn’t help but feel like you were doing too much for him.

“But I’m a werewolf,” he pointed out in a low voice. His mind kept telling him that someone as good as you should run as far away as possible from a creature like him, not stay and care for him.

“You are Remus Lupin,” you said quickly and softly. “You are my friend and my boyfriend. Being a werewolf is part of you, but it doesn’t define you. You are you, and you happen to be the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

He swallowed hard at your words, feeling a mixture of emotions welling up inside him. It wasn’t as if no one had ever said something kind to him; thanks to Merlin, he had wonderful friends. But those words coming from you always hit him hard. He still hesitated to believe them, though. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Rem,” you mumbled softly, your own heart breaking at how he couldn’t see himself as you did. You cupped his face softly and made him look at you. “You know me; if I even thought for a second that you were a monster, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be dating you, and I wouldn’t be telling you how amazing you are. But I am here because you, Remus Lupin, are nowhere near a monster. Not even close.”

He closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of your soft hands as you cupped his face. Your words were like a warm caress that soothed his aching heart, but he still struggled internally to let your message sink in. “I just don’t want to hurt you,” he muttered, opening his eyes and looking into yours. “You deserve someone who’s normal, someone who isn’t a walking time bomb.”

“I know what I’m worthy of,” you cut him off softly, not wanting him to keep talking down about himself. “I’m worthy of someone who loves and appreciates me. Someone who’s with me at all times, who cries with me when something bad happens, and who laughs with me when something good happens. I’m worthy of love and devotion. Of someone who’ll come to me the moment I call them, even if they’re doing something important. Of someone who makes me feel safe,” you spoke sweetly, caressing his cheek. “And that someone is you.”

Remus was quiet for a few moments, his eyes locked on yours as he took in your words. Each sentence was like a knife, tearing down the walls he’d built around himself. He swallowed hard against a sudden lump in his throat. “You do deserve that,” he managed to say at last.

“And you give me all of that and more,” you let out a short laugh. “Merlin, I used to think I was such a loser, Remus. Really, I always thought nobody would ever have the patience to even try to date me. But then you appeared, and you were you. You were the only one—and still are—who lets me ramble for hours about silly things. You’re the one who makes me feel loved. No monster could ever do that.”

His heart clenched at your words. The thought of you thinking of yourself as a loser tore at his soul. How could you, the kindest, sweetest, and most generous person, ever think something like that? He reached out and took your hands in his, holding them tight. “You are not a loser,” he murmured softly. “You are vibrant, caring, and everything good in the world.”

You smiled at his words and squeezed his hands. “So are you, and it pains me that you don’t realize. I love you, everything about you.”

Remus’s breath hitched at your words. The feeling of your hands clutching his and your smile washing over him left him lost for words, unable to find the right response to express just how deeply your love affected him.

“I love you too,” he choked, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours. “More than anything in the world.”

“I will tell you every day that you are not a monster until it gets into your thick head, do you understand me, Lupin?” you mumbled softly, teasingly.

He let out a soft chuckle, a mix of amusement and affection. “Trust me, you’re loud enough that it’s impossible to ignore what you say,” he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, making you roll your eyes in playful banter.

“But in all seriousness,” he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, the tension and lingering self-doubt slowly melting away. “I’ll try to stop beating myself up all the time.”

You smiled widely at his words. “Can I kiss you now?” you asked playfully, making him chuckle.

“Of course, dove.”

He leaned in, closing the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a slow, soft kiss filled with reassurance and love.

The next day, when you went off in the afternoon to spend time with your friends, he went to a jewelry shop and bought an engagement ring.

[ecoamerica]

Apply or nominate: https://ecoamerica.org/american-climate-leadership-awards-2025/

Calling all organizations, individuals, and small businesses successfully engaging Americans on climate! Showcase your creativity and climate solutions by applying for @ecoamerica’s 2025 American Climate Leadership Awards. You can win $1K - $50K by submitting your efforts for consideration by a stellar line-up of judges and individuals leading on climate. It’s quick and easy to submit your application or nominate inspirational climate leaders. Apply or nominate today!

[nonbinary-potatoes]

New obsession with these two

Prompt: muggle 06/11/24 @moonwater-microfic

Word count: 536

Regulus stared down at his textbook with his hands in his hair. It wasn't supposed to be a difficult subject, but this homework was impossible. Barty was working on the same peice, breezing through the essay to the point where he'd broken his first quill from writing too fast.

"Bab," Regulus kicked Remus' shin under the table they were sitting at in the library. Remus looked up from his work, a history of magic essay he'd drafted 3 times already. He cocked his head and placed his biro down gently. Regulus found it odd that he refused to use quills anymore, something his friend Lily Evans had taken up after Snape had called her a mudblood. He supposed it was just a way of supporting her, and it had really taken off with other muggleborn students.

"Yeh Reg," he muttered, stifling a yawn and scrubbing his eyes with his hands.

"You're friends with Evans, the muggleborn... can you help me with my muggle studies work" Regulus asked timidly, he wasn't used to needing help with his work and it was easier to ask Remus over Barty who'd loom it over him for the rest of forever.

"My mums a muggle..." Remus said, slowly like it was something bad to reveal to Regulus. He was taken a bit aback, the Lupin name despite not being one the sacred 28 was still a pureblood name. An oversight on Regulus' behalf for not asking, but he didn't really like prying into home lives because Merlin knew he didn't want to answer questions about his.

Remus clicked the top of the pen, and a small spring made the tip of it pop out. He clicked it again, and it went back in. Regulus thought someone ought to recruit more muggle intelligence into the wizarding world because quills and ink wells seemed ancient compared to this. Most of the wizarding world was still stuck in the mid-1600s. Hence, Regulus is struggling so much with the homework;

"Explain three methods of muggle transportation, including at least one method of flight." Regulus read the set task aloud and looked at Remus expectantly.

"Ummmmm.... trains, planes, and busses. " Remus shrugged, offering a small smile as he read the textbook upside down. It wasn't fair him and all his weird friends were so effortlessly smart.

"I actually wanted to do hot air balloons instead of planes," Regulus muttered sheepishly, half prepared for a lecture on how that was stupid.

"I've been in a hot air balloon once" Remus replied thoughtfully "the way they work is easy, just uses the concept of hot air rises essentially. There's a flame that heats the air in the balloon bit and that makes it take off, less flame to go down and more flame to go up" Remus explained softly, scribbling down a few bullet points and drawing a small sketch of a hot air balloon.

It was the small things like that, things that reminded Regulus that love could be soft and kind and warm. Love wasn't harsh words and unbearable punishment to ensure the perfect heir. Love was milk chocolate, parchment notes, and fiction books; sugar mice, secret smiles, and clicky pens. Love to Regulus was Remus Lupin.

[dickarchivist]

I've got you

Clone OC Banshee × GN-Reader

Word Count: 727

Prompt: "back hugs" from @littlemissmanga and "comfort fic for nonverbal reader" from @nika6q

Song: Get You The Moon by Kina (feat. Snøw)

Rating: PG, but as always Minors DNI 🔞

Contents and Warnings: hurt/comfort, light swearing, Banshee kicks a door down in the name of love.

Summary: It's been a long time since Banshee's been home, and the stress of life has you overwhelmed at the worst possible time: right when Banshee gets home.

Author's Notes: another Banshee POV!!! Some hurt/comfort this day. Sorry it's so short, and not at all what I've been saying I'd write next, but at least it's something.

Taglist: @returnofthepineapple @wizardofrozz @eclec-tech @dystopicjumpsuit @clonethirstingisreal @wings-and-beskar @multi-fan-dom-madness @starrylothcat @n0vqni @sev-on-kamino @mythical-illustrator @523rdrebel @littlemissmanga @atomickidsoul @moonwreckd

"Hey Ban~ Today is day 43 of our tragic separation, you're millions of miles away, and it's not fair. So today at work..."

"Day 55 of "No Banshee hugs for me". Seriously, when are you coming home? I miss you. Anyway, my Tooka came back from the vet today- oh right, I adopted a tooka kitten yesterday, I bet you can't guess what I named him-"

"Day 97, Rai told me you miss me. I just... I wish I could hear it from you. I know, I know it's not easy, I know you don't talk, I just-- I'd do anything to have you with me, just so I could understand that you miss me..."

"Day 122... I wish you'd come home..."

I've been listening to your recordings every day since I was deployed. All 132 of them. Every single day since we left, you sent me a diary of your day, stars I can't tell you how much I needed every single one of those. Running through battle fire, hearing you laugh about what "Banbino" was doing. I can't believe you named your tooka after me.

I've thought about you every second of the days. How your hair is tossed in the morning, how you scrunch your nose at how I make Caf... don't be mad, but I still haven't learned how to make it proper. The way your voice sounds and feels when you put my hands on your throat and chest, so I can feel every way you say you love me... I've thought about being with you again since the second I turned to leave 132 days ago.

So why am I stuck behind your front door? I can't even raise my hand to knock. Can't even enter the code to your flat... it's my number, you told me that so long ago now... I've been keeping track, I know it's your day off, I know you're just right behind this damn door so why can't I open it!? Come on Banshee! Open the door! Open the damn door, they're right on the other side, just open--

I... I heard that. Did you fall? Are you hurt? No, no don't be hurt I'm so bad at medical. C'mon, karkin' door open! Remind me to fix your locks, I'll replace them, I swear. Oh fuck, the hinges too, I uh... I kicked a little too hard, I think...

"Ban...?" You're crying... why... why are you crying?

When you hold your arms out to me, I dont even take a full step forward before you recoil and cover your face with a racking sob. I don't stop moving. I can't, you need me. I get to one knee behind you and gently rub your back, but it only makes you curl in on yourself more... what can I do for you?

Carefully I sit behind you, and collect you up in my arms, your back pressed to my chest. With my helmet off, I put my head on your shoulder, "I've got you, Cyare... I'm here."

You sound like me a moment, trying to talk, trying to force words. I shush you, leaning my head on yours and swaying softly. Eventually, you turn around, and bury your face in my neck. When I hum, you start to relax in my arms, and eventually, I can't help the little chuckle in my throat. You're snoring... Stars I love you.

It's another hour before you wake up. I moved us to your bed, and had since changed into the civvies you'd gotten me. Softer clothes, I figured you'd like it more than my hard armor...

"Banshee? You're... you're really home? I'm s-sorry, I'm sorry for-- I-I was just- I was so--" your blush when I press my lips to yours, it's so warm I could feel it on my own skin.

"I... it's okay, y-you don't ha-have to expl-pl-plain." Your eyes shine at the sound of my voice... I wish I could talk better, I'd speak for you all the time. "I've g-got you, Cyare."

You nod and set your head back on my chest. As I hum again, you join in, mumbling the words under your breath when you feel up to it. Take your time, Cyare. I know how hard it is to talk, I'm not going anywhere.

[llondonfog]

This is such a weird, RANDOM, and long ask (more like a rant tbh), but I wanted to say something because I can't get it out of my head.

BIBLICALLY ACCURATE ANGEL SILVER.

Before you boo me, I COULDN'T HELP IT. I just, can't get it out of my brain.

Like, Lilia just wakes up one day, sees this mini horror in Silver's bedroom, and freaks out before realizing that IS Silver.

Everything he knew about Silver's parents is a lie.

Then, Silver transforms back, but part way, so he has these cute little wings with soft, white feathers, and Lilia just MELTS.

He's freaked out, amazed, confused, but he wants to comfort Silver, who is both confused and possibly in pain from the transformation. Growing wings seems painful.

Like, he had 6 wings (3 sets of 2) in the horror-fest form that is a Biblically Accurate Angel (I both encourage and warn you against searching that up lol), and now he has 2-4 wings (possibly with the feathers attached to his head as Seraphim Angels have. I think). Compared to his default human body, that's a big difference, right?

Anyway, I wanted to share this with someone. You don't have to do anything with this, or even respond, but THE IMAGE. I love Silver and he's already angelic, so might as well add a Horrifying version of that, AND pretty wings in the more "normal" version. I just can't write or draw my vision LMAO so I have to cope with sharing it instead.

BIBLICALLY ACCURATE ANGEL SILVER IM IN LOVE????

BABY SILVER WITH BABY ANGEL WINGS!!! oh they are so soft and fluffy, like dreams and clouds and silk all at once!! the imagery of him draping them over lilia while they nap or simply shielding him from the sun with one as he gets older....my heart!!!

And then considering the imagery of extremely pissed off biblically accurate silver protecting his loved ones against any who would seek to bring them harm!!! Absolutely terrifying to behold!! I don't know why I'm partial to the specific one of the large eye surrounded by countless wings but that's what I think of!! All those wings to sweep up and protect his loved ones, and more to deal out powerful blows of damage, with one dizzying aurora-hued eye that can seem like the most gentle gaze that allows you to simply bask in unconditional acceptance or the most horrific choking sense of inevitable judgement for what you've done against the word of good.

FANTASTIC CONCEPT I WISH I COULD DRAW IT

on the other hand, the thought of lilia being in such awe and wonder of his child, this pure and innocent being who has been granted to him, who loves him unconditionally and uses his powers to make lilia's life kinder and easier as silver tries to take away the aches and pains and nightmares... I could see it verging into a cult of two territory; lilia being very protective and possessive of his son, the thought of throwing himself into service to protect the boy?angel?savior? at any and all costs, to be his knight in shining armor to keep him safe and unsullied from the world. silver becoming like this odd forest deity creature who pours his magic so willingly into the woods and gives freely to those that need his kindness, and his father is only too happy to kneel to him, renewed in his purpose to serve his benevolent, angelic son...

[weirdglassthing]

LOA Shiptober Day 4: How They Met

October content month was ambitious..

This one took me. Shockingly long. Whoops! I’ll probably end up jumping around the prompt list and it might extend into November 😋

I’ll try to do day 31 on the actual date of Halloween though 🫡

[ecoamerica]

Apply or nominate: https://ecoamerica.org/american-climate-leadership-awards-2025/

Calling all organizations, individuals, and small businesses successfully engaging Americans on climate! Showcase your creativity and climate solutions by applying for @ecoamerica’s 2025 American Climate Leadership Awards. You can win $1K - $50K by submitting your efforts for consideration by a stellar line-up of judges and individuals leading on climate. It’s quick and easy to submit your application or nominate inspirational climate leaders. Apply or nominate today!

[pastafossa]

"Poor thing." (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic) 🔥

So as promised, I'm taking part in the October Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! For Day One I had three prompts to choose from, and I wound up going for the kink prompt of somnophilia cause, well, I'd hinted at it in TRT as being something Matt liked, but never actually sat down and wrote anything out for it. You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me, but for now, please enjoy Day One! This is not specifically written as any fem!Reader in particular, although any readers of TRT can choose to see this as TRT's reader!

As a reminder, if you'd like notifications when I post something, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

You’d had a long week. He remembered you telling him that the night before. You wouldn’t mind if he woke you up—you never did—but odds were good you needed your rest far more than you needed him dragging you up out of the haze of sleep for a sloppy, indulgent midnight fuck. But then… he didn’t have to wake you up, did he? 

Wordcount: 3.3k words

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: consensual somnophilia (they talked about this being fine, don't worry), oral f-receiving, grinding, PiV sex, some dirty talk. 18 and up only please!

Oh and we're black suiting this cause fuck yeah.

Your arousal hit him the second he opened the rooftop door. 

The scent of it stopped him dead in his tracks, threads of heat winding through him as he drew in a long, slow inhale, savoring it. Another inhale, and he let out a low rumble of pleasure, his mouth already watering, cock stirring. 

Well, that was one way to be welcomed home.

Not that he was complaining. His night had gone well enough—the fights visceral and satisfying, with multiple people he’d ensured would make it home safely. But your skin against his, fucking his way lazily inside you while you moaned loudly into his ear, dragging your nails down his back, would only make a good night better. However, as he eagerly stepped through the door and closed it behind him, it quickly became clear that your body’s call to him wasn’t exactly intentional. 

He directed his senses down the stairs and into the bedroom, hunting through sensory information, through the fire of the world until he found you in bed. You were laying on your side and tucked under the blankets, one of your arms thrown over his pillow to hold it up against your chest. And despite the tempting scent of you in the air, you weren’t moving. Not really, anyway. At most, every now and then your fingers would twitch or curl, your heartbeat uneven and a little restless. 

Asleep. 

You were dreaming, then.

Maybe even dreaming of him. 

He slowly dragged his tongue over his lips, considering his options.

You’d had a long week. He remembered you telling him that the night before. You wouldn’t mind if he woke you up—you never did—but odds were good you needed your rest far more than you needed him dragging you up out of the haze of sleep for a sloppy, indulgent midnight fuck.

But then… he didn’t have to wake you up, did he? 

Just like that, he settled on a course of action.

He crept silently down the stairs, stripping out of his gloves and black mask as he went, tossing them aside without care for where they fell. The bottom step was carefully avoided, thanks to its tendency to creak and alert you to his presence. He stopped only long enough to kneel and quietly unlace his boots, tugging them and his socks off so that he could slip barefoot into the bedroom, weaving through the shadows, navigating around any floorboards that might give him away. He did it all without a sound, his senses so focused now he could hear the faint whisper of the dust motes in the air stirred by his passage, hear the tiniest shift of your skin against the sheets as you breathed, hear the blood flowing hot beneath your skin where you’d grown flushed and aroused. 

The scent of your arousal was even stronger here in the bedroom, more than enough to thicken the heat inside him, an instinctive little purr halted in his throat before it could stir the air with sound. His body knew just as well as he did what that scent meant, what always followed, and his nostrils flared as he got closer to you, taking in how your pheromones had mixed with his in bed. It stirred some possessive, lazy satisfaction in him to take in the way you’d curled up with his pillow, chasing his scent, and you were even wearing—

Oh. 

You were wearing his shirt. 

It was like you were begging for this, for him, for what he had planned. 

He crept up onto the bed on his hands and knees, each shift of the mattress followed by a pause, a confirmation from your heartbeat and breathing that you were still asleep. He had to be careful if he didn’t want to wake you. It wasn’t that you’d be angry, of course—you’d both agreed that this sort of thing was alright, though he’d had a far easier time making use of that agreement than you had thanks to his senses. No, this was about ensuring you still had a chance to rest. 

Though, if he were honest, the challenge of this was a thrill all its own. It was a delicate balancing act to give you the sensations you needed, allow himself access to your body, all without waking you. It was as if he were hunting you, gradually gaining ground from the shadows until at last he could take hold of his prize. Fortunately, this prize was one that would leave you both satisfied. 

The moment he found himself over your hips, he shifted to catch the blankets and slowly, ever so slowly began to edge them down. 

Gentle. 

Inch by inch, he bared your body to the air. You didn’t so much as stir, well and truly asleep, and presumably still caught up in your dream. Even so, he held his breath, listening closely to the beating of your heart and your shallow breathing. But he’d been careful enough, and besides, you were used to him climbing into bed in the middle of the night, shifting the blankets around as he crawled under them to join you. 

The scent of you that rose up as the blanket slid down was so much richer now that it wasn’t stifled and trapped by thick fabric. It made him shiver, his cock already so hard he could feel a damp spot growing on the silk of his boxers. He needed more of that scent, and to taste it, too, but the angle was all wrong with you on your side. So he gently traced one fingertip up the side of your thigh, applying the barest hint of pressure. You were normally fairly responsive to him even in sleep. 

“Roll over for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, leaning down to brush his lips, light as a feather, against your hip. “You smell so good. I need a taste.”

He wasn’t sure if it was his touch or his voice that made it past whatever dream you were lost in, but either way, some part of you heard him. You breathed out a soft sigh, twitching a little until he helped you roll slowly onto your back beneath him. You made a soft sound that might have been his name, and he couldn’t resist letting out a reassuring little croon as he pressed your slack thighs outwards, gradually parting your legs. There wasn’t so much as a hint of resistance as your legs fell open, baring the wet heat of your pussy to him. 

God, your scent. 

He quickly backed up a few inches before dropping to his hands and his knees, lowering his head just over your hips to quietly inhale the scent of your cunt. The rich, musky tang of your arousal—all pheromones and slick warmth—left him half mad, his eyes rolling back. His hips instinctively snapped forward against nothing but air, his body curving as if he were already fucking his way into you. 

It only got worse, got better when he let his head fall further, hungry for just a taste. He slipped his tongue out until he could use the tip for the barest little lick at the line of your slit where your arousal had gathered, your body twitching as he did. Even that small taste hit him like a drug, and he swallowed down a ragged moan, his chest hitching as he kept the sound from reaching the air. He’d told himself he’d just have a taste, just one, but one quickly became two became three, hungry, quickening laps at your slit until he finally whined softly in want and dropped the rest of his body down, burying his face desperately against your cunt. 

Your hips twitched, rocking against him just slightly, and you let out the softest little whimper as he grunted and slurped quietly at your slit, wetness smearing across his chin and mouth. Only once he’d thoroughly tasted what you’d made for him did he slide up to your clit, tongue extended to lap at it with little kitten licks, ones designed to encourage your body to give him more of your slick wetness, your body jerking with every pass. He tried to remind himself to be gentle, to take things soft and slow so you didn’t wake, but that was so hard when you whimpered again, whimpered as he pursed his lips to suck lightly at your clit, drawing it into his mouth to work with his tongue. Your fingers curled and released against the sheets, and you tasted so good that he found himself fucking against the mattress, humping mindlessly at the folds in the blankets like an animal.  

“M… Matt.”

His eyes fluttered lazily open, his gaze drifting up around the sensory shape of you. You were all flowing air currents and sounds and scents, twisting tongues of flame fed by the growing heat of both your bodies. Your heartbeat was still too slow to signal you’d woken up, but your breathing had picked up, your eyes fluttering more rapidly behind your eyelids. 

If you hadn’t been dreaming of him before, you were now. And if you were still dreaming, he was safe. 

He rumbled a low noise of satisfaction, using his fingers to part your folds before dipping down to your entrance. Once there, he began to lick firmly at you, pressing deeper and deeper until at last your body opened to him and he slipped inside. You let out a sleep little mewl, one of your legs shifting restlessly in your sleep, your head rolling on your pillow as he moaned quietly, curling his tongue inside you to drag against the silken heat of your clenching walls, his nose grinding gently against your clit. 

Did you know, somewhere deep down, what he was doing? That he’d spread you open like this and worked his tongue inside you? Or did all your dream self know was that you suddenly felt so, so good?

The very idea that you might not know, that you’d left yourself so vulnerable to him, had him dangerously close to coming, his motions growing just a hint more frantic. Wetness smeared across his face as he kissed sloppily at your slit, kissed at it like he might your mouth, snaking his tongue out to slide inside you with every pass of his lips. 

He listened carefully to the quickening pace of your heart, your breathing, taking in the faint sheen of sweat forming on your skin. Every time your heartrate rose too high, he’d slow just a little, or shift his mouth over to your folds or the inside of your thighs. It was there he left you a mark or two, sucking gently at thin, delicate skin. Even if he managed to do this without waking you, you’d know tomorrow what he’d done when you saw the little love bites and bruises between your thighs. The very idea made him purr warmly against you, and he quickly worked his hand down beneath himself until he could undo his pants, pushing the fabric down until he could pull his hard cock free. He took a moment to grind slowly, deliciously against the sheets, presing his mouth to the skin of your thigh to muffle his hitched moan. And that reminded him of what he’d planned on from the start, before he’d become distracted by the taste of you.

He was close, and he needed you. Fortunately, based on the way your body had begun to tighten in increasing waves, you were close, too. 

He let his head roll to the side to rest against your thigh as he panted, still grinding himself against the sheets. “Do you want my cock, sweetheart?” he whispered, his lips curling up into a delicious little smirk when your body clenched at the sound of his voice. “I think you do. Even when you’re asleep, you need me inside you, don’t you?” 

There was no verbal response, but the growing heat of your skin was enough for him. He rocked himself up as gently as he could, stopping just long enough to strip the rest of his clothes off before climbing slowly up your body. As he went, he caught the hem of your shirt, slowly dragging it up your body with him. He couldn’t take it off you—even he wouldn’t be able to mange something like that—but he had no desire to. The idea of fucking you while you were sleep, while you were wearing his shirt, was a fantasy he’d used more than once while taking himself in hand. He did, however, tug your shirt up just enough to bare your breasts to him. 

Obscene, something inside him whispered in delight, a wave of throbbing heat flooding through him. Here you were asleep, shirt pushed up over your breasts, your naked cunt practically dripping onto the sheets. He balanced his weight on one arm as he hovered over you, indulging himself as he palmed gently at one of your breasts, dragging his thumb slowly against your nipple. That won him another soft moan in your sleep, your cunt clenching, body tightening around nothing. Your next moan was even louder when he dropped his head to drag his tongue hotly against your other nipple, drawing it into his mouth to catch it gently between his teeth, sucking lazily until you let out an even louder moan, one of your hands curling as if to claw at the sheets before relaxing. “Poor thing,” he crooned quietly, reluctantly leaving your breasts to climb the rest of the way up your body. “Listen to you, so needy.”

And it would only be right to help with that, wouldn’t it? 

Once his hips were level with yours, he settled in, rocking and grinding his cock gently against your slit, slicking himself up with your warmth and the saliva he’d left behind. The sudden sensation of your burning heat against the underside of his cock made his mouth fall slack, and he started to pant at the little shocks of pleasure that washed over him every time he caught the head of his cock against your clit. You weren’t much better even asleep, whining as your hips jerked, eyes rolling frantically beneath your lids. It took everything in him to keep his motions gentle and slow, no matter how much his body demanded he grind and rut, fuck his way desperately inside you even if it woke you. No. No, not when he was so close, his cock now slick and ready for you. He let out a shaky breath, burying his face against your warm throat, huffing in the scent of you as he shifted the angle and began to slide inside you, centimeter by warm, delicious centimeter. 

“Fuck,” he whispered shakily, one of his hands fisting desperately in the sheets beside your head. “Fuck, sweetheart. You feel so good.”  

God, you were tight, so close to coming that you were already clenching tight around him. That tightness forced him to move gradually, his progress slowed to a sinfully dangerous crawl, one that allowed him to feel every last twitch and shift of your body around his cock. It seemed designed to make him lose his mind when he was already this worked up. In a blink, he’d caught the fabric of your shirt in his teeth, stifling his hoarse, shaky moan, your shallow, hitched breathing a tantalizing whisper of sensation in his ear. It felt like it took hours,  ages before he’d finally hilted himself inside you, buried in your slick heat. 

He forced himself to still there for a long moment, his chest heaving as he scanned over you with his senses again. 

Stuttered breathing, each breath hiding a faint moan. 

The fluttering clip of your heart, just slow enough to indicate you hadn’t woken. 

Your fingers clenching and releasing, spread thighs shifting in minute, restless movements against the sheets. 

It wouldn’t take much more for him to come, he knew that much—the taste of you still lingered on his tongue, filled his nose, and the drag of your skin against his with every breath only left him burning. But he wasn’t a selfish lover, even when you weren’t awake to beg and plead with him for release. No, he’d make sure you got what you needed, too: his sweetheart, so tender and soft and welcoming to the Devil even in sleep. 

He slowly, gradually settled his weight onto one arm, sliding his free hand down between your bodies. Even that much shifting around had him swallowing down a groan, and he couldn’t resist grinding just a little inside you. It made you twitch and whimper, hushed and breathless in his ear as he pressed his cock against that spot inside you. Once he was sure that hadn’t been enough to wake you, he quickly dragged two fingers through your folds, raking gently to gather up your wetness before he brought them back up to your clit. The rhythm he started was slow and easy, a gentle grind and loop over your clit that matched the rolling waves of his hips as he began to gently fuck you, barely retreating at all before sliding smoothly back to fill you once more. 

It took him no time at all to work your body up that final hill, your breathing growing shorter, your heart rate climbing as you began to tighten around him. It helped that he knew what you needed—each retreat was slow and gentle, and he never left you more than halfway before rolling lazily back forward, ensuring your warm cunt stayed achingly full as he brought you just up to the edge. This time it was your mouth that moved, not a word but a soft whisper of skin as you parted your lips, your head tipping back. And he knew that motion, even as slack and lazy as it was in your sleep. 

He purred quietly at the unconscious request that he fill you there, too, lifting his head to seek out your mouth. One soft lick against your lips and you parted them for him on pure instinct, allowing him to slide his tongue filthily into your slack mouth, dragging his tongue against yours, granting you what you’d asked for. You let out a soft sigh, your throat working beneath him as you sucked at the taste of him, of yourself, of you both. 

All it took from there was one more finger grinding against your clit, a gentle buck of his hips as he moaned into your mouth, and you crested, your body tightening and releasing around him in rippling waves. Your head rolled back in your sleep, a soft gasp shuddering up your throat as you twitched and shook, eyes rolling back beneath your lids. You let out what might have been a moan of his name, hot and sweet, a sound that seared its way across his mind like a brand. That was more than enough for him, and he let himself go. He groaned softly against your lips, snapping his hips gently against you as he spilled himself near-silently inside you, filling your cunt with a spreading heat that you wouldn’t notice until morning. He kissed you through it as gently as he could, rubbing lightly, quickly at your clit to drag your orgasm out along with his, pleasure rolling through him in gentle waves. Even once you both began to come down, he wasn’t quite done, rumbling a low, possessive growl as he ground himself inside you further, ensuring he’d coated every last inch of your warm cunt, his, you were his, even in sleep. He toyed with that overstimulation just long enough for his toes to curl, for his spent, softening cock to twitch inside you, spilling a few more drops, giving you everything he had as you drifted back down into a deep sleep. 

Satisfied with what he’d given you. 

He got one arm down and around your hip, gently, carefully rolling the both of you until you were both on your sides, his cock still buried deep inside you. He rumbled a low noise to reassure your sleeping mind, burying his nose in your hair as you sleepily curled into him, one arm draping itself over his waist. 

“Love you,” he murmured. “My good girl.” “Mm.”

[runefactorynonsense]

Cozytober - Day 13 - Apple Pie

How... How does that even work? Don't question it.

[ittyybittybaker]

Mix CD Ask Game

I have a large and varied music collection and I want to explore it more, so I thought it'd be fun to make y'all virtual mix cds! Send me an emoji (or combo of emojis) and I'll make you a (short) mix inspired by the prompt! (Inspired by this post)

💖: a mix inspired by [ship/friendship/dynamic]

😈: a mix inspired by [character]

📚: a mix inspired by [movie/book/show/game/etc.]

✨: a mix that sounds like [vibe]

🎵: a mix that sounds like [decade/music era]

🪩: a mix of songs FROM [decade/music era]

🎸: a mix that sounds like [genre]

🎤: a mix inspired by [artist]

🚫: a mix without [artist/genre/etc.]

💃🏻: a mix of songs I like right now

💌: a mix that reminds me of you <3

🎨: dealer's choice! [give me your best extremely specific prompt]

🙊: a SURPRISE mix! [my OWN random extremely specific prompt]

Please specify for open ended options, and one mix per ask please! I'll assume all emojis in an ask are supposed to be combined. Feel free to send multiple requests, just send them separately please!

[kindlyrot]

I drew them from memory at 4AM. I could hear the birds chirping.

[ecoamerica]

Apply or nominate: https://ecoamerica.org/american-climate-leadership-awards-2025/

Calling all organizations, individuals, and small businesses successfully engaging Americans on climate! Showcase your creativity and climate solutions by applying for @ecoamerica’s 2025 American Climate Leadership Awards. You can win $1K - $50K by submitting your efforts for consideration by a stellar line-up of judges and individuals leading on climate. It’s quick and easy to submit your application or nominate inspirational climate leaders. Apply or nominate today!

[art--harridan]

[Image description: A digital drawing based on the film Slaughterhouse Rock. It depicts the character Alex Gardener floating in the air, wrapped up in his sheets. His head falls back and his arms hang limp. This drawing of his figure is repeated four times: one in blue slightly below the first, one in a light green further down and slightly more left, and finally one in a pinkish red a bit down and to the right of the previous one. There's a vague pink outline around the first one. The figures have a light blue outline around them, making them standout against the darker blue background. At the bottom of the piece, a beam of bright light begins. It gets slightly wider as it progress upwards towards the original figure, which is where it stops. Some faded sparkles surround it.]

Inktober - Day 1 (Dream)

Movie - Slaughterhouse Rock (Dimitri Logothesis, 1988)

[pyrriax]

hi tumblr im back on my bs today i have GOTTA start picking prompts at the start of the day again i had to speedrun one last night bc i . forgot.

[swamp-world]

like i think that we really really really need to actually gain the social literacy and compassion to understand that. not tipping your server isn’t praxis, but the fact that it’s expected that the customer pay the wage of the server also doesn’t mean that the customer (often also stiffed and a victim of wage theft) isn’t obligated to do so, and that while this is within our own economic system a great injustice and act of violence that needs to be rectified, it is in fact not the greatest injustice in the world and seeing people comparing getting screamed at for war crimes to not being tipped demonstrates a drastic lack of any sense of proportion. this is me speaking as both a service worker and someone engaged in organizing. let me be absolutely clear that I am not saying that not tipping your server is praxis. if you are able to tip i think that you should. i also think that “it’s the social contract in america to tip your server” needs to be read as “the structure has been built so that resisting it is tantamount to being a class traitor, and there are no winners in this situation”. i make less than 1k a month. tipping at 15% is straight up not viable all of the time if i want to pay rent. that’s not praxis, that’s me trying to keep a roof over my head, same as the service worker who i can’t always tip. so much analysis of this matter on social media tends to boil down to brute utilitarianism that causes further fragementation among the working class, and not for unjust reasons.

but just as not tipping my server isn’t praxis, tipping my server also isn’t praxis. not because it doesn’t help the individual (it does) but because it functionally validates the extant system in which the customer directly pays the wages. especially in the digital age: whereas cash tips are often considered nontaxable income, digital tips are administered as directly taxable income by the employer. when tips are paid out as wages i think it’s a little unfair to consider them to be “gratuities”.

again: not tipping isn’t praxis, but i wonder often about how many people who parrot this point are engaged in labour organizing or support in any way other than tipping. everyone deserves to be paid for their labour. but likewise, putting the onus on the working class customer to do so doesn’t actually help anyone except for the employer.

if you’re getting pissed at other working-class people for not tipping high numbers, especially impoverished and/or marginalized people, i hope that you are also engaged in literally any form at all, no matter how intense or dedicated, to any kind of action or organization that supports increasing minimum wage and shifting this responsibility from the customer to the employer (i.e. working class to owning class).

[dutybcrne]

Okay, but like

With his full powers now, COULD Neuvi make Furi functionally immortal by imbuing her with his power/tying her life to his?

[ecoamerica]

Apply or nominate: https://ecoamerica.org/american-climate-leadership-awards-2025/

Calling all organizations, individuals, and small businesses successfully engaging Americans on climate! Showcase your creativity and climate solutions by applying for @ecoamerica’s 2025 American Climate Leadership Awards. You can win $1K - $50K by submitting your efforts for consideration by a stellar line-up of judges and individuals leading on climate. It’s quick and easy to submit your application or nominate inspirational climate leaders. Apply or nominate today!

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 106

Adjective: Ghostly

Nouns: Kingdom

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Ghostly: of or like a ghost in appearance or sound, or eerie and unnatural

Kingdom: a country, state, or territory ruled by a king or queen; a realm associated with or regarded as being under the control of a particular person or thing; the spiritual reign or authority of God; the rule of God or Christ in a future age; heaven as the abode of God and of the faithful after death; each of the three traditional divisions (animal, vegetable, and mineral) in which natural objects have conventionally been classified; (biology) the highest category in taxonomic classification

[void-chara]

Allies or Enemies by The Crane Wives is sooooo lawlight. Specifically L POV directly after Light regains his memories

“Are we allies or enemies? This will be the death of me

Remember when I could tell you not to smile when you were mad? And you would always crack And we’d both be laughing in the end Now you’re not so quick to forget”

Like AUGH. yep! Not sure what’s gonna happen next, who’s gonna do it, is he gonna die? He knows that someone’s not getting out of this alive. Is he dying literally? Or a metaphorical death of like. If you were here when I discovered phantoms by mariana’s trench know I’m obsessed with like. Them still “dying” when they have to go on living without each other. and like. The remember part being L reminiscing on when he and light. Well. They didn’t get along. But they had to work together and clearly they got along well enough to share a living space for however many months. Whereas now light remembers being Kira again. And so he’s not intentionally acting different but L can tell, L can read him to know how he holds onto resentments more, how he remembers more. OUGH. AUG. OW. I’m hurting myself. Actually wait I started in the middle but let’s go over the beginning too.

“The words I speak are wildfires and weeds They spread like some awful damn disease I swear I didn’t mean what I said I swear I didn’t mean it

Now listen close, you owe me ears for dropping eaves Forget it all, you caught me in a moment weak Sometimes I just can’t help myself Sometimes I can’t help myself at all”

You have to stretch your imagination a bit but this is very rain scene and a bit foot scene. You know from the anime, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t in the manga but idk I haven’t gotten to that part of the manga yet. Anyway! L being unsure of his words and thoughts, a moment of weakness, Very much that part of ep 25 when they’re on the rooftop in the rain and also a bit L in the infamous foot scene, though it’s not quiiitee right for that. Or we’ll everything is good for that but like there’s not Enough for that. There’s a lot going on there. But that’s what the rest of the song is for! Ok now back where we left off at the start of the post.

“Are we allies or enemies? This will be the death of me This will be the death of me All is fair in love and war, but I can’t fight with you anymore This will be the death of me”

Aaaaa. He wants to stop but he knows if he does he’s dead. He wants to just keep playing his games with Light, but he knows they’re at the finish line, if they keep playing they will reach the end and someone’s gonna die. He doesn’t want to stop playing, but he either stops now and whatever Kira is planning takes him out, or he keeps going an either he dies anyway or light does. The game is ending soon but he just wants to keep going, but he can’t, he can’t fight with light much longer, and he’s not even sure whether he wants to, if that’s the game he even wants most, but it’s the only one he has and there’s no other options. Someone’s gonna die and it’s probably gonna be him.

“What happens now? Do we have another go? Do we bow out and take our separate roads? I’ll admit I’ve had my doubts But I want to be let in, not out But I want to be let in, not out”

he’s not sure what’s gonna happen next. He’s not sure what he wants to happen next. he’s had his doubts about the Kira case before, but now he knows he’s right, and he doesn’t wanna stop just cause he’s confident he’s right, because he knows there’s more, he knows they’re more to see and understand, things he’s never even considered possible, and he wants to know and understand everything. He needs to know everything there is to know about Light and Kira, and he’s not sure which intrigues him more, but he’s not ready for there game to stop, for them to part ways. But he knows they will, he’s to smart to think this ends any other way. One of them is dying. He knows himself, and he knows Kira, and so he knows that this cannot end with both of them still standing.

I’m obesssedd with them!!! New song for my lawlight playlist aw yeah. Also the song is really good I’m gonna listen to more of the band this is pretty cool