#its moderate pride

[jikangairodo]

‘ hc ‘  + pride

nanami feels pride in his appearance; suits ironed, shirt collars starched to perfection, hair brushed back without a single strand out of place. there's pride in the pristine condition of his apartment. his watch. the way he caries himself. his cooking. most of all, he's proud of getting where he has and achieving the rank of a first grade. he came from a non sorcerer family, with no prior knowledge or backing. he isn't the strongest, but he isn't delusional enough to think he can be in the world they're in. as long as he can protect those around him, he's okay with exactly where he is.

it's enough. he's enough.

[knifeslidez]

there seems to be two kinds of very young queer kids that are occurring:

1. hyper-edgelords with no understanding of boundaries who don't understand how to properly engage with queer people in a way that isnt loudly calling someone a slur in a public place

2. very sheltered, highly reactionary and undereducated on actual queer history. will have a breakdown at you because they think your identity is offensive somehow

they do, however, share the following traits:

- cannot/will not engage with any serious discussions of sociopolitical issues

- has rarely interacted with queer people outside of an online environment

- also likely to have never talked to people with identities and experiences much different than their own

- will probably grow into being insufferable twitter gays

[adhdsocialist]

being into women and monster prom is SOOO sad

[traumatrios]

the name of the game

pairing… dodge mason x fem!reader

wc… 2.3k

summary… you don’t talk to strangers— but there’s something different about dodge. was it his charm? his looks? or the way you couldn’t get him off of your mind?

warnings… ends in smut, face riding, drinking (not drunk sex), iconic red cowboy boots, brief pain pleasure, dodge is soooo delusional

josie’s notes! um i kinda don’t remember how panic ended for dodge (i finished it a week ago) so take the beginning plot with a grain of salt

otherwise enjoy my lovelies ❤️

Dodge didn’t have many friends to begin with, but with most of the kids his age out of Cape and attending college, he did feel quite lonely. 

He’s not a stranger to the fact that college wasn’t in the cards for him– he had too many responsibilities. He knew his sister could very much take care of herself, but lazy Sunday’s on the couch next to her was where his heart truly belonged. 

His mother needed help managing the restaurant, because as much as she prided herself for her hardworking motherhood and independence, he saw the breath of relief she had whenever he was there.

He was perfectly fine as a blue collar working adult. What did he need college for anyway? It was too expensive, especially after the necessary but monetarily disappointing ending to Panic. He was too old to apply now.

Dodge took his time off of working at his bar to nurse the foam of a beer from another in a neighboring town. 

Was this really what his future was? He was dangerously nearing a seat in the same boat as the men surrounding him in the ambience of the dive bar: old (21) with a family at home (he was unattached with a sister and a single mother 5 minutes away from his apartment). 

Dodge might as well accept it; this was his destiny.

But the glimmer of fate came to him through a vision he wasn’t sure whether he was imagining from the wild dreams in his head or the material of a Playboy magazine. 

The mechanical bull sitting in the middle of the recreational space of the bar with a pretty girl attached to its saddle.

Dodge couldn’t tell if you were a saddle bronc rider (like himself) or just intensely familiar with your hips. You rode the mechanical bull like it was a kids bicycle with training wheels.

But with how you grinded against the fur of the mechanical bull with the rhythm it was bucking, he landed on the latter.

It was entrancing to look at, he admitted. The winks you sent into the collecting audience only strengthened his hopes of getting one shot at him. 

The mechanics continued to whir and spin you around, pathetic attempts to throw you off of the attraction you were obviously very skilled at riding. Have you been here before? Has he just never noticed you?

How could he never notice you.

Before he knew it, Dodge was leaning against the inflatable rim of the attraction, eyes wide in awe of your performance. One hand gripped the braided rope attached to the nape of the bull’s neck whilst the other waved in the air freely to your girlfriends, who had been screaming your name in the same way Dodge heard it yelled by paparazzi during award shows his sister watched on the weekends through the television.

The moderator of the attraction seemed just as impressed as anyone else watching you, even holding the twinge of suspicion some kept in the quirk of their brow. A crowd eventually formed around your performance, whistling and cheering you on as the meat of your calves squeezed the sides of the bull’s stomach.

Dodge thinks he heard a “yee haw!” come from the intoxicated group of guys (no younger than 30) stuffed in a booth attached to the wall facing your ass.

Bright digits flashed on the screen beside the control booth, announcing the new high score of Big Star Bar. 2 minutes and 36 seconds.

As you unmounted the artificial bull, Dodge didn’t pull his eyes away from you like the rest of the crowd did. You weren’t a one hit wonder, he had to know your secrets. What was a girl with hips like yours doing in a random dive bar in Texas?

Dodge wasn’t sure how to approach you, especially after losing you in the crowd of girls in identical cowboy hats and guys in flannel. He was lucky enough to skin his eyes over the bar and spot your sparkling red boots tapping and gliding against the dingy dance floor.

The boy filed through the crowd until the heat in the air turned from heavy to sweaty dance floor heavy. 

Dodge scanned the horseshoe— painted? —on the back of your jean jacket and how it paired with your cowboy boots. It felt like something out of a movie, seeing your outfit.

“This your first rodeo?” he greeted, though from his stance behind your back, he wasn’t surprised by the small jump in your shoulders. But when you turned around, you were just as beautiful up close than you were on that damn bull. Dodge noticed the thick pieces of glitter scattered across your collarbone and how it seemed to match with the other girls in your party.

“Sorry. I don’t talk to strangers,” you shrugged, offering Dodge a friendly smile in apology.

Your gaze didn’t even falter or scan him, just unwaveringly looking him in the eye before you turned around again to chat with your friends. 

“Aren’t those the most fun to talk to though?” Dodge tried, and god did it form a pit in his stomach to feel like one of those guys that pushed for a girl's attention— a bad guy.

This got you to turn back around again.

Truthfully, his looks were hard to deny; especially with that ivory colored cowboy hat on his head. Otherwise, he wore a navy tee with a pair of dark jeans and black boots; the simplest thing ever. 

One hand was stuffed in the pocket of his jeans, the other tapping its digits against the sweaty glass of a bottle of beer. 

“Do you really wanna talk? Grandma taught me that boys like you never want to just talk.” 

Dodge couldn’t fight against that, not confidently at least. He knew he didn’t want to just talk, but he also didn’t know what else he’d want to do. Is this what being in limbo felt like?

You gave Dodge the grace of a second before pointing an eyebrow at him and turning again, only this time walking off with your friends to a different corner of the bar.

Dodge was too stubborn to talk growing up, and in this moment— and only this moment —did he curse himself for doing so.

In Cape, everyone was a regular. 

It didn’t matter where you went or with whom, you were known better than the alphabet.

When Dodge came into town, he became a regular. In most places, at least.

He knew you weren’t from Cape because you weren’t a regular here. Which is why he was surprised to see the same red heels he’s been dreaming about since the weekend stroll into the establishment he worked in.

You knew what you were doing, of course. You knew about Dodge Mason because Gina knew about Dodge Mason, and she knew about Dodge Mason from her boyfriend Daniel.

That’s how you got here, wasn’t it? But, Dodge didn’t need to know that.

He didn't need to know how your girlfriends teased you for playing hard to get or how you began sweating just from looking into his piercing eyes.

And when those piercing eyes caught the sight of the painted horseshoe on your back, he thought it must be my lucky day.

As you sat at the bar, Dodge couldn’t think of any other way to praise whatever god trailed you in here rather than repeating the same ‘thank you’s in his head.

“Evening, lucky,” he coined the nickname from the symbol. You fought a smile at his wit, instead rolling your tongue along the flesh of your lip. 

“I’m sorry, do I know you sir?”

Dodge chortled at your act, but your face stood unwavering. Your tits looked perfect while pressed against the bar, but Dodge managed to pull his eyes a little higher to see the small tick in your neck signaling your so-called ‘confusion’.

You must’ve not liked his silence, because you picked up the silence with a small sigh and your order.

“May I have a shirley temple with just a dash of lime juice, please?” you batted your eyelashes at the unconvinced boy, being met with the playful roll of his eyes. 

Despite himself, Dodge began to concoct your beverage. You were strange, he thought. Where did you come from? Were you visiting? Would he see you again if nothing came from this conversation? How would he be sure?

He had to make sure this one counted, not like that pathetic excuse of conversation at the bar. The clicking of your nails rippling against the waxed bar behind his back mimicked the ticking clock– he might as well shoot a shot. Perhaps it was an easy target, especially with his luck sprawled against your back. 

“Did your grandma also teach you these manners?” Dodge planted the highball in front of your impatient hands. You took a look at the glass, then him, then to the glass again, where your eyes stayed as you tasted the drink. The sugar spreads across your tongue, satisfying its parched state.

“I still don’t talk to strangers,” you said, but the smirk that played on your face told Dodge something different. Your game wouldn’t fool him, not when you drop it just as limp as that. Did you want him like he wanted you?

You two weren’t strangers, no, he knew you were meant for something more. 

“So you admit to it,” he turned his head from the focus on your drink, only to catch your face hot with guilt. He chuckled to himself at your game.

“We ain’t strangers. This is our second meeting, perhaps fate is sending a message?” God, when did Dodge Mason become so sappy? He was grasping at the ends of a rope he wasn’t sure you were on the other end of.

But then you smiled. You smiled and twirled the skinny black straw around the ice of your drink. “And what message would that be?” you challenged.

Dodge leaned his elbows on the dark oak of the bar. He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue before his proposal, or rather, ‘the message’. “You should come home with me tonight.” He kept it at that; simple and charming. 

You giggled like a schoolgirl at his confidence. By the looks of it, he had been a lustful young adult, admittedly like you, with maybe a studio apartment. Your mind could only think of one thing he planned to do if you accepted the invitation, and you knew it wasn’t puzzles and lemonade. 

Were you opposed? Not entirely. 

“And what would this night entail? What do I get from entering your home? You gon’ drive me home after?” You matched his stance, leaning forward on the folded elbows you stuck to the waxy countertop. Dodge felt a stream of intimidation flow through his veins at the way you pointed your eyebrow at him.

“Might have to come to find out,” he replied, swiping his tongue over the toothpick that hung from his mouth. You couldn’t restrain your eyes from flickering down to the pair of lips. 

You were sure the sharp metal of his handle left a burning mark when he pushed you against it in the barren hallway of his apartment building. But with the incessant kissing of his lips distracting your mouth– and eventually everything else –it didn’t matter much to you anymore.

Your frame had been stripped of all fabric, laying in addition to his in the ratty hamper dejected in the corner of his room. Soon enough, he was insisting on a third round to cure the burdens of his barren tongue.

“Wanna see how you ride up close, baby,” he reasoned through a hushed tone, kissing the clammy skin of your temple.

How could you refuse? Especially when his hands began to rub those soothing circles into your hips and the tip of his tongue licked the shell of your ear during the whisper.

When he was prodding his tongue into your entrance a few minutes later, you knew it was the right decision to follow him out of the door. With your tits bouncing underneath the warm light thrusting through the ceiling of the sauna he called his room, Dodge took it upon himself to bruise your skin of this (rather heated) interaction through two large grips of his hands on your ass whilst you fucked his face. 

Dodge’s curious tongue soon turned into a hungry one, accompanied by the brief scraping of his teeth against the puffy lips of your pussy. The small bumping of his skull against the wooden headboard spurred him on rather than slowed him down, and you hoped the string of moans and mewls coming from your mouth were enough gratitude to satisfy his desires.

Due to popular demand– a loose request that fell in pieces from Dodge’s dumbstruck position underneath you –you wore his cowboy hat, glaze sticking from your hairline onto the weaved material. Dodge didn’t mind, in fact, he reveled in the thought of that same sweat mixing with his own during a rodeo. Dripping down his face just like how the sudden flood of your sweet juices were coating the stubble on his chin and the point of his nose. 

Dodge lived up to his word the morning after, tapping the ends of his fingers against the leather of the steering wheel to the tune of Bruce Springsteen’s voice singing “Glory Days” from the beaten up radio of Dodge’s Cadillac. Summers' heat wavered through the air of Cape even when Dodge drove past the speed limit on a lonely road. 

When you arrived at the doorstep of your grandmother's house, Dodge didn’t worry about the possibility of seeing you again, only admiring the way you swayed your hips and clicked your heels against the pavement during your strut. The corners of his lips pulled up into something that was not quite a smirk. 

He liked how your game was turning out.

traumatrios, 2024

divider by @saradika-graphics !

[crippled-peeper]

for Disability pride month, Reddit is screwing over its blind users

They made it impossible for r/blind to be moderated by blind people by blocking the use of 3rd party apps like screen readers from being used on the site

Currently, blind people cannot moderate or use the site

I haven’t seen it discussed here so I’m making a post about it

[localducks]

A monster fuckers guide to the brothers

♡I like creature design, and this is a perfect overlap in interest for me....so I wanted to see how "odd" I could make the brothers outside of what I consider a very basic cannon.

♡ This is supposed to be gender neutral, but the reader is assumed to be AFAB

Lucifer

Cum

lu..Lucifer's cum is black, deep black only broken up by the slight blue shimmer you can only really see if you look at it sideways. And it's clingy, branching off in webs when caught on fingers and sticking to the inside of your thigh like saliva. You will also be immediately made aware of how much of it there is, a trait all demons share but one the avatar of Pride specifically has a deep appreciation for. He could fill a 16oz cup in one go, and while he doesn't technically have a breeding kink(liar), the sight of his partner full and satisfied always leaves him with a deep desire for more.

Dick

One of the least monstrous of his brothers, what he lacks in form he makes up for in show. The tip is black, nearly as dark as his cum, and as it slowly gradients out of the color the blue undertones of his skin become much more apparent. He's the second largest, and so similarly to Beel, his dick excretes a thin slip to make the squeeze easier, which has a red shimmery tint to it. But it's actually neither of these things that take you the most off guard. You notice an odd change the first time he cums, either while deep inside you or as he slipping back in, a small voice in the back of your mind hurridly asking whether you can even be sure if what you think is happening is the truth. But by the thrid or fourth time Lucifer has cum, the matter becomes undeniable. His cock starts off at a moderate length and girth, clearly that of something not so human, but managable enough. The kicker is that for every time he cums, he grows, swelling larger as your body becomes more relaxed and pliable, able to take more and more of him every time he dips back within the glistening confines of your body. He doesn't even bring it up the first time you are intimate together, finding the look of pure shock deliciously adorable. What a predicament you've found yourself in, but it can't hurt to go for just a few more hours, could it?

Teeth

True and proper vampire teeth, honestly not much else to say. Lucifer finds them to be one of the least interesting aspects of himself in comparison to his brothers(not that he compares himself to his siblings, why would you ever assume such a thing, he's so very above that), but you would probably beg to differ when he jams them into your neck as he cums. Lucifer is tall, much much taller than most humans, and just like all of his brothers he's proportionate to that height, so for you, a human, his teeth are about an inch, or the length from the tip of your finger to the first knuckle. Both sets of canines on the top and bottom jaw, by the way.

Tongue

In comparison to the rest of the attributes talked about so far, his tongue might be the strangest in appearance. Long, very warm, and paler than a human's, it has a texture you could only describe as rigid, the series of buds along its surface being much wider than yours or mine, with little feeler nodes along ths sides of it towards the back. You won't notice it until it's tasting at the skin of your neck or hips, but they can also move when he feels like it, silently taking pleasure in the little jolts of surprise you offer unsolicited as reaction. While the color of the muscle itself isn't really noticeable, the saliva it leaves behind on your skin is transparent and dark, bordering on black.

Mammon

Cum

Mammon's cum....is iridescent gold, and has the same texture as a humans. He doesn't cum as much as many of his brothers, so instead he can go 5 to 6 times without getting tired, back to back. His sin affects him greatly during sex, seeking his and your release with seemingly infinite desperation, not caring about his own overstimulation and fatigue if it means he will get to please you entirely again, sometimes getting to a point you have to use your pact to pull him out of the self inflicted trance. He adores you so much, so much more than words or thoughts could ever allow him to say, so please, just lay back and let him have one more of your pretty orgasms, you don't understand how much he needs it.

Dick

His dick also mostly appears human, save for its length and the slight abnormality of the head having three raised ridges along the back of it. The only other thing that would really alert you to the fact he isn't human are his marking patterns, which run along the shaft like veins. They are in the same style as the ones decorating his torso when in his demon form(and they glow too).

Teeth

You can't tell me Mammon doesn't have gold teeth, I simply won't take criticism, I'm dying on this hill. Just his top canines though, which are moderately sized and sharp, jutting out of a smirk or sneer. The rest are just incisors and molars, though all of them take on a sharp edge while in his demon form. Mammon takes great pleasure in biting you, no matter the occasion or who's around, especially if it's one of his brothers. It feeds the desire to tell others you're his without being too intrusive on your time and boundaries, and he also just really likes the feeling of sinking his teeth into you. He is gentle about it, only ever biting as hard as you're comfortable with, but just know he can't quite help himself around you all of the time, and if a reason to make it abundantly clear you are his arisise, be warned he will be covering you as much as possible with the indents of his teeth.

Tongue

Mammon's tongue is long, like longest only second to Levi, reaching about 9" inches inside you with more strength behind it than any human could. Yet despite this not much else is out of the ordinary for a demon. The texture of it is only a little rougher than yours, and it has the exact same pink hue to it. The tip of it though is thin and tapered, perfect for precision, with a venom piercing running through it. A matching one sits much further up, vertical this time, which he clicks against his teeth when bored, or, a new favorite of his, right into your ear, taking great delight in watching you squirm at the sound.

Leviathan

Cum

Levi's cum is milky and paper white, almost appearing sheer under some lights but only if he's cum within the last few hours. And it's thick, like gelly almost thick. Like pulling thick, and one load is enough to fill a tea cup. Given the situation with his dick, that might seem a little less than expected, and then you realize it thickens after being ejected into you, developing into a soft warm goop that sticks to your walls and often requires a finger(or tongue) to leave the confines of your body. Otherwise it will be left inside, and considering how much Levi cums, it might end up places only his tail can reach, if you would let him(please please let him).

Dick

Levi was nervous to have sex with you for a list of reasons, a long, long list of reasons, and somewhere close to the top, was how different he knew his anatomy was in comparison to a human’s. And even though he knew you would probably like it, it didn’t quell the seething embarrassment he felt the first time you got both his pants and boxers off. But instead of the immediate rejection he feared, expected really, to squish onto your face and through your voice, you just sat there, looking at him with your mouth slightly agape and your eyes drooping, hearts nearly visible in them if he imagined hard enough. Cute, all other thoughts left his brain other than that. You were so, so cute. How in the three realms had he ended up with the most perfect human he could possibly ask for. And one so eager to please, at that.

And to be far, you had good reason to stare. Levi has two dicks(such widely known fan canon the developers might as well just come out and say it) that fall somewhere between human cock and tentacle territory given the firmness of the first and the flexibility of the second. Both start thick and then slowly taper out until they’re about the same thickness as his tongue, with ribbing all the way down to where they peak out of his body. There isn’t a head to the shape, ending instead of a blunt point. There are no scales to be seen, but the coloration is similar, starting off black at the base and then gradually turning blue. They can each move on their own, often meaning he doesn’t have to thrust as much, but he can’t control them, so don’t blame him when the stimulation gets to be too much for both of you, clamping around them will just cause them to wiggle harder. He’s sensitive too, all of him including the vent his dicks peak from, which you can stick your fingers into if you want him cumming within seconds. When he’s not “hard”, his cocks stay sheathed within the vent, able to close almost entirely.

Teeth

SHARK TEETH SHARK TEETH SHARK TEEEETH. Levi has the second biggest chompers out of his brothers, each chunky and pointed, ready and poised to bite. Not that he would, and if he happened to get too caught up in the moment and sink those teeth into your shoulder or more likely your thigh, please expect more than an hour or so of apololigetic after care centered around that bite.

Tongue

Long, thin in comparison to his brothers, and significantly forked, Levi's tongue keeps with his overall theme pretty well. It's very flexible, and both of the forks can move on their own in a similar way his dicks can, but he has much more control over it. The actual texture of his tongue might be the oddest thing about it, as it's practically smooth to the touch, only a couple bumps and ridges making themselves clear if you run your tongue or fingers over it. His saliva doesn't really help you find anything more about it either, as it's thicker than a humans and clingier, the strands that connect you two when making out far less likely to break from just moving back. The coloration is like a humans, but the further back into his mouth the darker blue his skin gets.

Satan

Cum

Satan's cum, similar to Lucifers, is sticky, black, and potent, a single load enough to fill a jar. It clings to the slick and sweat your body makes, only really able to be cleaned off with a good soak. He cums longer than normal too, every demon does, but he specifically takes 1-2 minutes to empty himself completely.

Dick

Pretty. Ooooohhhhhh he's pretty. He actually has the most normal looking cock out of all of his brothers, long and thick and pale all the way down until you get to his tip which blushes red under attention. And that's it, at a first look. No ridges or odd shapes. You might even consider him average by demon standards. So when he sits you down a couple days after the first time you are intimate together and he starts talking about how he has a knot, it throws a wrench in the preconceived notions you had had. But he is a demon, this shouldn't be such a surprise, you think. You sit there a little stunned as he explains every precaution he's thought of and how to best make you most comfortable with the strangeness of difference(you shut that train of thought down immediately), but it's not until he starts explain the internal functions his dick has that really brings you back to reality. There are two feeler like structures that can extend from his urethra, designed to add another layer of pleasure for both him and his partner, but they can also gently pry open the cervix in order to add more real-estate for his cum.

Teeth

Satan doesn't like his teeth. In his opinion they get in the way too much, too sharp and inconvenient towards the words he uses on a daily basis and hard to be delicate with. But under this opinion, deep in a far corner of his mind, he does think they would look nice sunk into the skin of your thigh. Or your wrist, or your neck. His teeth consist of front insicors, just like a humans, and then immediately become razor-sharp canines that vary in size but are all the same shape, curved in towards the inside of his mouth.

Tongue

His tongue on the other hand, he likes. If only because it's fun to mess with when he's bored. Shorter by demon standards, meaning it's about 6 or 7 inches, with a tip that can fold in on itself and bristles running all the way down each side, which he can twitch or vibrate at will. The texture isn't sharp or rough, but grippy, more similar to the feeling of a tentacle rather than a cats tongue. The pigmentation of the muscle is a light pink, and he has a tongue peircing towards the very back of his mouth, not really noticeable until he's burying it as far into you as it will go.

Asmodeus

Cum

The first thing you might notice about Asmo's cum is that it smells nice. Everything is nice about it, actually. It's warm but not hot, glides and smears smoothly, it has a dusty pink hue and is pearlescent when seen under light, and it smells...like roses. Surprise!, the avatar of Lust's cum was basically designed to be as pleasing as possible. And then, you start to feel hot. Your skin gets so sensitive that a single soft breath against it makes you squirm, reeling back as a new stream forms between your legs. At this point, you might as well name it, cause it's not drying up anytime soon.

As you might have guessed, Asmo's cum(and saliva) contains a very strong aphrodisiac, known to be the strongest in the realm. He also cums about the same amount as a human in his "normal" form, but that quantity triples when in his demon form.

Dick

Most people would describe Asmo’s skin as either silky, buttery, or at its worst glossy, and while he spends a lot of time making sure his complexion is perfect, less people know how much of that texture is actually natural. Being the avatar of lust means he has a much larger range of things he can make his flesh contort into than most demons, resulting in the smooth feeling of his skin and the almost infinite give it has, all things that extend down to his dick. He has a preferred length and girth, the latter being moderate by demon standards but the former being long, easily poking and prodding far deeper than even some of his brothers, but it’s the additions he’s made that makes blood rise to his face the first time you see him. Amidst the soft shade of his skin sits ring after ring of muscle, taking on the form of ridges most of the time, that start at the head and descend all the way down to the base, thin and waved but when swollen become much more than you might be able to deal with the first time you’re intimate. And to top it all off, they’re pink, and not just blush pink, they’re as pink as his nails. As stated above, his cum does act like an aphrodisiac, but so does his pre, turning your body into a warm, soft toy for him to use for hours on end. All you have to do is lay there and let him see your face while he feeds, don’t worry about anything else. Not that you’ll be able to anyway.

Teeth

Asmo has fangs, which are short, sharp, and venomous, layered two rows deep on both the top and bottom jaw. From the first set of canines flows a more concentrated version of the aphrodisiac found in his saliva and cum, and the second set administers a paralysis venom that gives the body that numb comfortable feeling, making you less susceptible to any stimulation other than pleasure. The rest of his teeth look like a human's, though they are much sharper than they appear.

Tongue

Strange. Similar to the rest of his body Asmo can manipulate his tongue to be just about anything he wants it to be, but when neutral about how it appears, one might consider it strange. Contrived of two main appendages that can split seamlessly into more, the texture is somewhere between flower petal and suade fabric, with a shocking clearness that reminds you of jello. The color of it is pink, but the longer he's gone without a meal the darker the pink gets, until it's almost black at the tip. They are thinner in thickness than most of his brothers, but just as flexible, easily allowing him to funnel his spit into your mouth or either hole, skin prickling with excitement as he watches it's effects spread through your body. The feeling is warm, not hot, and arousal flows in steady waves, making you have to rely on him more than you might think. But don't for a second think he minds, all he wants is for the two of you to know pleasure so deeply it makes even you bones feel the drag of his tongue, the touch of his fingers, and the desire of being filled.

Beelzebub

Cum

Beel's cum has a constancy somewhere between human cum and slick, thick, and has about the same color as both of them combined too. The main thing with him is that he cums, a lot. Like enough to fill a bucket, or two. His dick also excretes a thin slip that allows him a smoother entrance.

Dick

Beel is giant physically in general, so it wouldn't be that much of a surprise(in theory) to know his dick is also big. But the other ways in which you can immediately tell he's not human might come as more of a shock. The underside is covered in rows of ridges, all pointing in the direction of the tip, which is also much more angular than a human's, nearly coming to a flat tip. The top side is almost softly segmented, sort of like an accordion, so the length of him becomes longer as he pulls out and then contracts back when pushing in. And in addition, to all of this, the ridge that sits right under the head of his cock, can vibrate. It only really happens when he's super worked up or about to cum when he's in his "human" form, but it starts almost the second he's inside you when in his full demon form. He tries to be careful about overstimulating you, but he can't do much when your fourth orgasm in a row has stripped him of the ability to use words.

Teeth

Big chompers. His canines are the largest out of all of them two sets in the front of mouth and two sets in the back, with the bottom ones being larger than the top ones. But the rest fall somewhere in sharpness between molars and canines, all of them about as wide as the width of your finger in order to allow for maximum crunch potential. Beel likes to bite, but he's hyper aware of how strong he is and thereby has taken immense time in figuring out how hard he can bite without breaking skin and what it takes to taste the warm syrup flowing beneath it. He also really like seeing his bites after the fact, often causing a pretty blush to adorn his face in response while he thinks about how many more are hiding beneath your clothes.

Tongue

Beel's tongue is only a little bit longer than average length for demons, but the thickness and wideth of it is almost uncalled for. At this point it's unlikely this will surprise you very much, you've seen him eat an entire carton of ice cream without a spoon because he was so impatient or something of the like at some point, but that still doesn't really prepare you for the amount it fills your mouth the first time you make out. You very easily could be made to choke on it, and you can feel all of the texture of it despite the copious flow of spit in between your mouths. Beel's tongue is kinda similar to Satan's in its feel, designed to peel meat off of bones and burrow under skin, yet surprisinglyit feels more like silk getting dragged across your flesh more than anything. All of it is a pale dusty rose color, with only the tip dipping into red territory.

Belphegor

Cum

Belphie's cum, is both lavender tinted and lavender scented. And while he doesn't cum as much as his twin, he cums for about as long as Satan. His dick is really sensitive, so it doesn't take much to set him off, you just have to be careful when you're giving him head. Beel is the same way, but if he came down your throat you might choke to death.

Dick

He's not the thickest out of all of his brothers, but he sure is one of the longest. His dick stays the same color as his skin the entire time, only when under a lot of denial does it turn just the slightest bit red, but the skin is soft, and he's very very sensitive, only needing a few soft words and a warm hand to get him begging for you sometimes. The single most notable thing about him though are the soft spikes protruding from the sides of his cock, starting off largest by the tip and decending in size a half inch apart all the way down to his base, where they almost become invisible. Most of the time, they seem like little more then nodes, brushing along your silky walls as you clamp around him and feeling where they push against you, causing both of you to moan with delight. But other times, on those not so rare occasions where someone earlier that day forgot you were his and his brothers first and foremost, you are treated to the full extent of Belphies strength. The spikes can harden, not to the point of pain, but if he doesn't want you going anywhere, you'd be hard pressed to leave. All of them possess this ability, and the smaller ones are even able to lengthen, almost giving him the girth some of his older brothers have. He gets so smug when he does it without warning you too, teasing about the obscene faces you're making while barely being able to hold onto himself, the warmth of you and how pretty you look adding to the clouded hazy already draped over his mind. He especially likes doing it after he's just cum, forcing you to stay connected to him in one of the most intimate ways possible.

Teeth

Belphie's teeth are actually pretty similar to Beel's, just with two even sized canines instead of the four his twin has. His teeth almost get smoother the further back into his mouth they go, but his bite strength is about the same as Beel's too, so mind your fingers if you choose to feed him. He's one of the biters, greatly enjoying greeting you with a nip to your neck or nibbling on your fingers while you two watch a movie together.

Tongue

Belphies tongue is thick, velvet soft, and tri pronged, each tip breaking off from the main chunk of muscle about a ¾ of an inch up. It's weird, cause you wouldn't assume it has that shape when he talks, or even quite when it's in your mouth, but once he's dragging it over your nipples or along the lips of your cunt it's a little less deniable. Belphie loves licking you, whether it's because he wants your attention or he just wants something to do with his mouth, he frequently will find any excuse necessary to have the feel and taste of your skin under his tongue, often with the added bonus of you pulling him away so he can put it to better use.

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Perv!Dark!Jim Hopper x fem!reader • Jealousy, angst, posessive Hopper • Hopper has a corruption kink and some dark fantasies about reader

PART TWO

Chief Jim Hopper knew he had a problem; several, in fact. There was his moderate abuse of alcohol which bordered on severe, especially under times of heightened stress (which to be fair, seemed like most of the time these days). Then there was his pill addiction, the ones he found himself leaning on throughout the day when the effects of the previous night’s alcohol had worn off. But the problem Hopper had that bothered him the most, perhaps, was the one that involved YOU…

He was absolutely, unequivocally in lust with you. Every time Hopper saw you, the limited bit of feminism he’d learned over the years flew right out the window. He wanted you, and not in a pretty way, or any way that implied romance, flowers, dating, none of that. He wanted you carnally, in a way that almost frightened him because of the strength behind it.

Hopper knew he could control himself, at least physically. He wasn’t worried about that, wasn’t concerned that he’d hurt you. But mentally…he was out of control. The fantasies that filled his mind involving you were beyond pornographic; they were sinful. Everything sweet about you, everything pure, Hopper wanted to corrupt.

As the station’s new secretary, he saw you daily, heard your voice chatting on the phone and with your co-workers. And fuck, how he wanted you. He wanted to know if your pretty face would still look so sweet, so innocent, with his cum running down it? How distorted would your sweet voice sound with his cock rammed down your throat? Would you still be smiling if his hands were in your hair, yanking it backwards as he stretched your asshole beyond its capacity to take him?

Hopper knew he was sick. And sometimes, when he was alone and drunk, or high, he didn’t fucking care that he was sick. He didn’t mind being a monster, in those moments with his hand around his cock, lying on his back with his eyes closed, imagining your mouth around him instead. Servicing him, seducing him, your pretty eyes on his and only him.

He was your boss, after all. Your superior in every way. How Hopper wished he could take advantage of that superiority, to abuse his position of power as thoroughly as he longed to abuse your throat. It was all fantasy, of course, and therefore safe. A secret indulgence that Hopper took little pride in during sobriety, but that he found himself a slave to when intoxicated. Even at the station, he’d have no choice but to relieve himself in the privacy of his office.

Hearing your voice just outside his door, knowing what you were wearing as he’d seen you when he entered the station that morning, Hopper would lock his door and have his pants undone before he got back to his chair. He’d loosen the top buttons of his shirt, sit back and stroke himself to the sound of your voice beyond the door, hanging on your words, the gentle trill of your laughter. He’d imagine how pretty your moans would sound as he took you from behind, how sweetly you’d whimper as he pumped his cum inside you, then licked you clean.

Hopper would reach for whatever was nearby, usually his emptied coffee cup from that morning, and ejaculate into it. And what a poor substitute for your mouth it was, he’d think, breathless and leaning fully back in his chair, cock still leaking and twitching in his hand. He’d always toss the cup into the trash can and clean himself up, so no one suspected a thing. No one else at the station was aware of his perversions, and that’s how Hopper wanted it to be. He knew that if his secret got out, it would ruin his already faltering reputation within the community. Hawkins was his hometown, and had generally been sympathetic considering his past trauma and choice to return home after the death of his daughter. But this? Combined with the rumors of Hopper’s substance abuse, the fact that he was lusting after the new secretary at least ten years his junior would likely solidify his reputation as a degenerate and render him unfit for duty.

Hopper was lonely, very lonely. It had been months since he’d last had a woman, and even then, it was so casual and boring that it meant nothing to him. He hadn’t even wanted her, truthfully; she was just a wet, willing mouth to suck him off, parked behind The Hideaway bar downtown after they’d both indulged in far too many beers. She’d swallowed his cum, he’d fingered her in the front seat to climax, and that was the end of it. She’d left his car for her own, parked a few feet away, and they’d never seen each other since. She’d tried to get his attention in the weeks after, but Hopper wasn’t interested.

Because a week later, you’d come to work at the station, and Hopper’s world (at least, his internal world) had been flipped upside down. He’d never been more attracted to anyone in his life, never felt such an instinctive, primal yearning for a woman who he literally knew almost nothing about. But really, Hopper would ask himself, did he need to know more? He could see everything he wanted to take from you, from just one look in your direction. That body…those soft pink lips that would look even softer with his cum dripping out of them…Your eyes, beautiful eyes that he needed to see rolled back while gagging on his cock…

Hopper was reaching a breaking point, he feared. Although he knew he’d never hurt you, he needed to. He needed to know what you felt like around his dick, what sounds you’d make taking him. He wondered if you’d ever been with a man as big as him before? Hopper knew he was hung, at least three inches above the average man’s size. He was thick too, and he knew from experience that women appreciate a cock with not only length but girth as well. He knew he could pease you, could do things to your body that no other man ever had, if only you’d allow him. If only, if only, if only…

Hopper was drowning in ‘if only’s.’ One way or another, he would have you. The first step , he decided, was to approach you as a colleague. Not as your boss, necessarily, even though that’s what he was. He needed to be subtle about his approach, so as not to come across as abusing his position of power over you. This needed to go down smoothly, softly, a calculated plan of action that Hopper was dedicated to seeing through, from the beginning to where it ended with his cock buried inside you…

He planned to approach you at the station’s annual ‘Spring Fling,’ a community fundraising event for local charities held every year on the second Saturday in April. Hopper chose this event because it was outside of work, yet as an employee of the Hawkins P.D. you were sure to be there. The days leading up to the Spring Fling were the hardest for Hopper, both figuratively and literally. He’d never had to masturbate so often in his life, finding himself painfully hard through most of the work day just being near you. Thank god for the privacy of his office and the lock on its door. Hopper had begun taking extra coffee in the morning with the excuse that he was more tied than usual, with the actual intent of dumping the coffee out and using the empty cups to cum inside.

He groomed himself as usual the morning of the event, taking slightly longer to adjust himself in the mirror before leaving his trailer. Hopper had been a little self conscious about his weight in recent years, but he was tall and knew that his height worked as an advantage for him. Straightening in the mirror, pressing his shoulders back, he met his eyes in his reflection, their deep, intense blue. He was ready.

Hopper planned to make casual, friendly conversation with you, before inviting you to dinner. He’d control his body as best he could, force his eyes not to wander from your eyes to anywhere besides your lips, perhaps, and even then, for the briefest of moments. He needed to seal this deal, to secure your trust (although as Chief of Police and your employer, he was reasonably sure he already had it). No need to get ahead of himself, however, Hopper remembered. It was better to assume you had at least a neutral opinion of him before proceeding, rather than expect your automatic approval.

When he arrived at the Spring Fling, Hopper was surprised to see how just many people had turned out. The event usually drew a big crowd, but the majority of Hawkins seemed to be there this year. It was promising for the charities hoping to earn donations that day, but made Hopper’s effort to spot you in the crowd more difficult. He met up with officers Callahan and Powell, and lingered with them near the stage set up for music to be performed later, hoping that perhaps the trio of them would catch your eye and prompt you to say hello.

When Hopper did see you, he was awestruck. You were, to him, like something divine: an angel dressed in white, your long skirt moving gently in the light April breeze, the neckline low enough to display your breasts but modest enough to keep his mind actively wondering for more. Your hair was pinned up by bright yellow ribbons, tied together at the back of your head to create what looked to Hopper like the crown a princess in a fairytale might wear.

You were so effortlessly elegant, so perfectly innocent, moving through the crowd completely unaware of the effect you were having on Hopper, and likely most of the other men in attendance. Hopper opened his lips to speak as you approached, but was stopped short when he noticed the young man walking alongside you. Hopper hadn’t seen him before, had been so lost in the sight of you that anyone else near you had faded into the background of his vision, blurred by your presence.

The young man smiled and placed his arm around your waist, as if to claim you. Hopper’s jaw tightened; he’d seen this man before. Up close, he was barely a man at all, at least as Hopper perceived. This was a boy, in his early twenties Hopper assumed. Hopper wondered what this boy was doing for you, what he was doing to you, knowing full well that he could do it so much better, regardless of how good this boy was in bed-

“Chief!” you said brightly, pulling Hopper from his vindictive string of thoughts. “It’s so good to see you! I can’t believe this many people showed up today, isn’t it great?”

Hopper forced a polite smile onto his face.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I’m glad to see such a big turnout.” Hopper’s eyes narrowed slightly at the man with his arm around your waist. “You look beautiful, (y/n),” he said, and you smiled, cheeks going slightly pink. Because of course they did. Of course you blushed easily, because you were so sweet, so soft. And it made Hopper want to absolutely ruin you…

“Who’s your friend?” he asked, his tone slightly sharper than he’d intended. You smiled and looked up at the (admittedly handsome, Hopper conceded) man beside you. “This is Steve, my boyfriend,” you replied, your cheeks going pinker. The young man extended his hand to Hopper for a friendly shake. “Steve Harrington,” he said, his big brown eyes full of a joy that Hopper had only dreamed of ever experiencing. “My mom runs one of the charities participating here today, right over-.” He pointed awkwardly past Hopper, who didn’t bother to look, chuckling slightly. “-Over there,” Steve continued, adding “it’s good to meet you, Chief.”

Hopper studied the boy a moment longer, committing to memory all of the details about him he’d have to pick apart and analyze later. “Likewise,” Hopper lied, taking Steve’s hand and squeezing harder than he needed. Steve’s eyebrows rose but his smile remained polite. “Well uh, (y/n) tells me a lot about her new job,” Steve said, his tone pleasant as ever. Hopper’s eyes shifted back to you. “Does she?” he asked, and you smiled up at Steve.

“I tell him what I can,” you teased. “But not all the details; I can’t give away too much information about everything that goes on at the station-.” You playfully patted Hopper’s arm, and he swallowed. “-You know,” you continued. “Official police business and all that…”

Hopper knew you only were being friendly, but his paranoia made him wonder exactly how much you knew about what went on at the station? Specifically, his daily masturbation when you were just outside his door? Hopper forced the possibility away, refusing to entertain it. If you knew about it, you probably wouldn’t be so friendly towards him right now, or anytime for that matter. You’d probably think your boss was a pervert (and that’s exactly what Hopper knew he was) never speaking to him again unless you had to. You were too sweet, too innocent, to ever condone such carnal, almost animalistic behavior from a man, surely. At least, that’s what Hopper had always assumed. It’s why he wanted to test how far he could soil such a pretty little flower, to pluck every petal and see what you were capable of underneath?

“Only good things,” Steve assured Hopper. He nodded politely. “Well that’s good to hear,” Hopper said, but he wasn’t looking at Steve; he was looking at you. “(Y/N) is a real asset to the station. We’re lucky to have her.”

Steve smiled down at you warmly. “Me too,” he murmured, and you leaned into each other for a quick kiss. Hopper felt his blood boiling.

You noticed the odd look on the Chief’s face, and felt slightly embarrassed. Even though you weren’t at work, and in a casual setting, you worried maybe it was still unprofessional to give your boyfriend a kiss in this situation? In front of your boss? You were still learning the proper decorum for working at the station, and you hoped your innocent display with Steve hadn’t rubbed Hopper the wrong way. The last thing you wanted to be was unprofessional.

To lighten the mood, you decided to attempt a joke. “I think,” you told Steve, glancing from him to Hopper. “The reason the Chief likes me is because I get him those extra cups of coffee right away every time he asks for them.”

Hopper couldn’t help it; his eyes widened slightly. You were giggling, probably oblivious to the actual weight of what you’d said, but…Hopper’s paranoia lurched in his stomach. What if…what if you did know? He scanned your eyes for any sign of hidden meaning, for any indication that you were on to his behavior behind the office door. But all Hopper saw in your eyes was, as usual, a beautiful innocence that lay waiting to be corrupted…

Steve chimed in with “I’ll bet you need every last drop too, huh Chief?”

Hopper frowned at him, not understanding for a moment before he realized Steve was talking about coffee. “With your job, being so stressful, I mean.”

Hopper nodded, realizing that his dislike of Steve Harrington was rapidly shifting to hatred. “Yeah, it’s a job alright,” Hopper muttered in Steve’s direction, still avoiding looking at him.

You noticed a friend of your and Steve’s a few feet away, and waved to them. Steve saw them as well, and you both took a step in their direction. “Gotta go, boss,” you smiled warmly at Hopper. “See you Monday morning.”

Hopper grinned tightly, glancing very briefly at Steve when the younger man took his hand again. “Pleasure to meet ya, Chief,” Steve told him. Hopper didn’t return the sentiment.

The rest of the event dragged on for Hopper monotonously. Although he tried his best to avoid seeking you out in the crowd, he still found himself looking for the yellow ribbons adorning your hair, and the white dress that drifted so gently in the breeze. It was a welcome distraction in a way, having so many people around, speaking to him even though he had no interest in them or their conversation. There was only one person in the crowd that he cared about; and now, he knew that having you would be more of a challenge than ever.

Hopper felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned. He was looking at a woman, and it took him a solid thirty seconds to recognize that she was the woman he’d fucked in his car months ago. “Hello there, Sherrif,” she said with an overly flirtatious drawl, her voice and demeanor reeking of desperation. She slid her hand down Hopper’s arm, and he watched it, noting the harsh, tacky shade of her nail polish. He knew that you would never wear such a color. You kept your nails neat and pretty, painted in soft pastels like the flowers in your hair.

Hopper hated this woman’s hand on him. He hated the way her neon pink lipstick had transferred onto her teeth as she smiled up at him, waiting for validation. Hopper wondered how long it would take to wash that disgusting pink lipstick off his dick later? He smiled back at the woman, watching her light up at his attention, that he remembered her. There was nothing in this for Hopper, he realized, besides a quick fix to a problem only your body, your mouth, could solve for him.

He looked past the woman briefly just in time to see you and Steve leaving the event together, hardly able to keep your hands off each other. It was all the motivation Hopper needed to make yet another bad decision; and so he took the woman’s hand in his, and asked her a question he already knew the answer to: “What’re you doing tonight?”

[dandelionsresilience]

Good News - May 15-21

Like these weekly compilations? Support me on Ko-fi! Also, if you tip me on Ko-fi, at the end of the month I'll send you a link to all of the articles I found but didn't use each week - almost double the content!

1. Translocation of 2,000 rhinos in Africa gets underway in “one of the most audacious conservation efforts of modern times”

“The 2,000 rhinos - more than are currently found in any single wild location in Africa - represent around 12-15% of the continent’s remaining white rhino population. […] “Rhinos perform an important ecological function in the environment as a large grazing herbivore,” says Dale Wepener[….] “The protection of rhino is far more than just looking after rhino; other species that occur in the protected areas will benefit from the protection,” explains Jooste. “This will lead to an increase in diversity and result in much healthier ecosystems.”

2. Florida Corridor Buffers Effects of Climate Change on Wildlife — And People

“A massive multi-partner effort that has conserved 10 million acres for wildlife in Florida over past decades will help buffer wildlife—and people—from the effects of climate change, a new report says. […] Protecting these corridors is important for wildlife genetics, demography and connectivity […], conducting prescribed fires in the corridor can reduce the risk of more intense wildfires [… and] they can provide buffers against hurricanes and seasonal thunderstorms.”

3. Global life expectancy to increase by nearly 5 years by 2050 despite geopolitical, metabolic, and environmental threats

“Increases are expected to be largest in countries where life expectancy is lower, contributing to a convergence of increased life expectancy across geographies. The trend is largely driven by public health measures that have prevented and improved survival rates from cardiovascular diseases, COVID-19, and a range of communicable, maternal, neonatal, and nutritional diseases (CMNNs).”

4. Valencia has Spain’s longest urban park

“Jardin del Turia (Turia Garden) is the green spine of the City of Valencia and Spain’s (and possibly Europe’s) longest urban park stretching for a length of 8.5 kilometres [… and] the current administration plans to make Jardin del Turia Europe’s largest city green space by extending it to the sea[….] Almost all Valencia residents (97 per cent) live within 300 metres of an urban green space. […] Jardin del Turia is a true urban oasis that provides exceptional thermal comfort, with a temperature difference of up to three degrees compared to other areas of the city.”

5. This Paint Could Clean Both Itself and the Air

“When an artificial ultraviolet light source shines on [photocatalytic] paint, the nanoparticles react with pollutants to make them break down—theoretically removing them from the nearby air and preventing a discoloring buildup. [… R]esearchers developed a new photocatalytic paint that they claim works using UV rays from ordinary sunlight, making its self-cleaning properties easier to activate. They’ve also shown that they can effectively produce this paint from recycled materials [including fallen leaves].”

6. Planting Seedlings for a Cooler Rockingham

“A dedicated group of volunteers recently planted over a thousand native seedlings in Lewington Reserve [… and] re-established canopy cover to areas of the reserve to create cooling shade for the local community and provide homes for native wildlife. […] Planting lots of trees and shrubs in urban areas can help create shade and cool cities, mitigating the impacts of climate change, contributing to biodiversity conservation and building greener, more resilient communities.”

7. Sydney’s first dedicated affordable housing for trans women designed to deliver ‘positive outcomes’

“Community housing provider and charity Common Equity NSW, […] which is for people on very low to moderate incomes, prides itself on creating inclusive living and promotes the independence and well-being of people and communities […, and] will deliver the first-of-its-kind social housing in a bid to provide a safe place to live for transgender women seeking an affordable home.”

8. Rewilding: How a herd of bison reintroduced to Romania is helping ‘supercharge’ carbon removal

“170 European Bison reintroduced to Romania’s Țarcu mountains could help capture and store the carbon released by up to 84,000 average US petrol cars each year. […] By grazing a 48 square kilometre area of grassland in a wider landscape of 300 kilometres squared, they helped to capture an additional 54,000 tonnes of carbon each year. That is around 10 times the amount that would be captured by the ecosystem without the bison.”

9. World’s biggest grids could be powered by renewables, with little or no storage

“[…] 100% renewable supply can then match the load by putting surplus electricity into two kinds of distributed storage worth that [an energy expert] says are worth buying anyway – ice-storage air-conditioning and smart bidirectional charging of electric cars, and recover that energy when needed, filling the last gaps with unobtrusively flexible demand.”

10. Supporting the Long-Term Survival of Copper River Salmon and Alaska Native Traditions

“With $4.3 million in NOAA funds, the Copper River Watershed Project and The Eyak Corporation will remove fish passage barriers, opening more streams for salmon spawning and subsistence fishing. [… As part of this effort, o]ld narrow culverts that constrict water flow will be replaced with “stream simulation” culverts wide enough to fit the full stream, including its banks. They are also deep to allow contractors to place stones and other material inside to mimic a natural stream bottom.”

May 8-14 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[star2fishmeg]

could i trouble you for some more luke x inexpereinced reader 🥹maybe like when they’re having sex or when he’s making her feel good? ily

Oh nonnie, it's never any trouble <3

Finishing's the last thing on Luke's mind, he's ascending on a high that's sending him straight to paradise the more he thrusts and you're clenching around him, clenching him like a tight embrace, so warm with every nerve in his cock being kissed and he wants to feel like that forever.

Your nails rake through his curls, tugging harsh and tearing deep moans from his chest that he doesn't try to muffle in your neck, your other hand scratching his flexed back, eyes fluttering closed with words jumbled in your throat, only able to let out beguiling moans from the completely newfound pleasure of sex.

"Shit- you okay? Did I hurt you? Want me to stop?" he murmured, placing a wet kiss to your cheek, "Baby, I need you to use your words."

Opening your eyes into a half-lidded gaze, lazy smile perking up on your lips, you manage to formulate a breathy sentence, "M'kay. That feels so good, please don't stop."

He presses his lips to yours gently in response until his tongue's slipping its way into your mouth, finding yours in a messy rhythm where passion's the music. You wrap your thighs around his waist unexpectedly, Luke's cock burrowing deeper into your cunt and he's releasing a guttural moan that breaks the kiss as he tries to hide in your neck again. You're wailing out high-pitched pants at his moderate pace, perfect for adjusting to his size for the first time, getting you going, but you're only getting greedier, there's too much filthy desire shooting through your system, too much electricity and fluttering around your stomach, like a coil tightening and you need it to snap.

"Doin' so well, such a pretty pussy, s'like you were made for me." Luke coos, a small sense of pride knowing your cunt will only stretch for him.

"Lu, lil' faster, please, lil' faster! Shit- wanna cum, gonna cum," the pleas tumble from your lips, arms trying to find a grip on his back.

"You sure? Don't wanna hurt you, we don't have to be rough right now, we can take it-" he's genuine, the puppy-like gloss over his eyes as they find yours, he just wants you to feel good.

"-Lu, you're gonna be a good boy and make me cum, m’kay?" your nails once again tug on his hair and his lips smear into a smirk, heat washing up his neck and as if on command, his rutting quickens, tinted with a carnal fire in his eyes.

"Fuck, that's hot," he breathes, "yes ma'am, anything you want,"

[cherubfae]

𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔣 𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔢 || {𝔞𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯}

Alastor never put much faith in things like fate, no matter how much the red string tied around his left ring finger seemed to say otherwise. It hadn't glowed for him like it had for many others. Would it ever start? Perhaps his soulmate died long ago, that would be just his luck.

tags: gn!afab!fallen angel!reader, human to demon Alastor, blood/gore, mentions of death/killing, soulmate au, one shot

Alastor loathed the idea of soulmates. Someone perfectly aligned for every being on earth. A silly little thing to give one false hope. There were many out there who drove themselves mad, staring at the red rope tied in a neat little bow around their left ring finger, the invisible end of it somewhere in the ether. Hoping and praying that it would emit a bright glow one day and tug them towards their person.

For thirty years, Alastor's string never glowed a single time. He wished it didn't dishearten him at times, absentmindedly stroking at the soft cord. His invisible leash tying him to someone else. Perhaps his person was dead. A depressing thought. But his cord remained red, not the ugly monochrome grey that widows often bore. No, his person was still out there somewhere. Some place he'd never been.

Tracking was a skill Alastor took pride in. It went hand-in-hand with hunting. He was skilled and knowledgeable in almost every aspect of hunting, including miserable human prey. The filthy degenerate he was attempting to bury was one of Earth's worst. The kind of man who preyed on the kindness of women and manipulated them into more depraved acts. Alastor would stand for none of it.

Bang!

A harsh popping sound reverberated loudly in Alastor's ears. His eyelids drooped closed for a second. Opening them again, he realized he was kneeling in pitch black. Blood soaked his hands and pooled the dark ground surrounding him. It was hard for him to focus. Was this his blood?

In a split second, the ground opened up beneath him. A fiery red opened to swallow him whole, and down he fell into the pits of Hell, straight into the Ring of Pride. Where all Sinners go.

Alastor was quick to make a name for himself, as the Radio Demon, one of Hell's fiercest sinners. He took great joy in broadcasting lesser demon's worthless screams all across his radio signal. It reminded him of the finer days of his life as a human. He truly enjoyed being a radio host.

And the most peculiar thing? His string would glow on occasion, yet every time he tried to find its source, the red light would dim and then extinguish entirely. It renewed in him a hope he didn't realize he had. His soulmate was alive--well, undead, perhaps, and here in Hell. He must find them.

Centuries passed, Alastor had stopped chasing the glow. A part of him feels hopeless like a dog trying to capture his own tail. Running in circles and always just out of reach. This petulant curiosity and, ugh, longing were not suited to his taste. He'd given up entirely. Maybe you wouldn't want to see him. Have you heard of him? Were you already terrified of him despite never having met yet?

Today, the buzzing static in his brain wouldn't cease. Creating an ever-growing migraine that not even his moderately chilled whiskey could provide relief. Still, the liquor provided a nice burn as it slid down his throat. He downed it in one gulp, sighing at the now empty crystal glass. Empty. Just like him.

A strange buzz tingled in his chest, a tugging. A rippling sensation that electrifies his body to surge forward. Snapping a glance down at his hand to find that the string itself now extended to the floor, leading out beneath the hatch of his radio tower-- and it's glowing a bright fuschia red.

Molting into shadow, Alastor followed it like a wolf scenting blood. Trailing it all the way to the hotel's lobby where he stops dead in his tracks. A woman with great wings folded at her back he had never met before stands before him chatting gently with Charlie. Thankfully, Lucifer was nowhere in sight, but he had a feeling you two were well-acquainted. The string pulled taught and Alastor's no longer beating heart soars at the squeak you emit. The lobby goes silent.

You turn to him with wide, almost owlish eyes. A deep flush coating your cheeks as you rather comically look from your hand to him and back to your hand. The fated rope has considerably shortened, encouraging Alastor to take an experimental step towards you; delighted when you do the same.

Alastor lifts his hand up, a motion you mirror. Your palms meet, fingers lining up against his sharp red claws. His hand greatly shadows yours. The smile you beam up at him is infectious, a soft crease in his eyelids as he returns the gesture with a relaxed gaze. No wonder he couldn't find you. You were angelic-born.

"Hello." You breathe softly. A gentle whisper that makes his mind hum a low tune, gentle static echoing the room, and his smile increased.

Alastor links your fingers together. "Hello, my dear. It's lovely to finally meet you."

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[bandgie]

Armageddon | 1 Year Event

➛ welcome to the end of the world.

we've made it to (roughly) one year of my first kpop fic! it's been a great ride and im so happy that so many people read my stuff even if I question my own ability. thank you so much for your support and I hope you have fun with this event!

Pick a Member & Prompt | rules [!!] | no longer taking requests :(

LUST - L.MH & K.SM (SKZ) ➛ intense or unbridled sexual desire : lasciviousness

GREED - C.BC (SKZ) ➛ selfish and excessive desire for more of something than is needed

PRIDE - P.SH (ENHA) ➛ an excessive love of one's own excellence

GLUTTONY - L.HS, P.JS & P.SH (ENHA) ➛ over-indulgence and over-consumption

SLOTH - P.SH (ATZ) ➛ emanates a whole world of despair, depression, boredom and restlessness

ENVY - H.JS ft. C.BC (SKZ) ➛ resentment or sadness at another's good fortune or excellence, with an often insatiable desire to have it for oneself

WRATH - J.YH (ATZ) ➛ an acid within the soul that eats away at the heart until there is almost nothing left

HUMILITY ➛ modest or low view of one's own importance; humbleness.

CHARITY - S.CB & L.YB (SKZ) ➛ the highest form of love, unselfish love of one's fellow men

CHASTITY - H.JS (SKZ) ➛  refrains either from sexual activity that is considered immoral or from any sexual activity

GRATITUDE - K.HJ (ATZ) ➛ to praise, to celebrate; to be in contact with the Divine

TEMPERANCE - Y.JI (SKZ) ➛ to use moderation in all things or to exercise self-control

PATIENCE - L.MH (SKZ) ➛ the ability to accept delay, suffering, or annoyance

DILIGENCE - S.MG (ATZ) ➛ the persistent, determined, constant and earnest effort to complete a task

FAMINE ➛ riding on the night-black horse named fear, the dreaded horseman of famine gallops onward, denying the world life-sustaining food and bringing starvation

DEATH - K.HJ (ATZ) ➛ the pale rider or the pale horseman, is the leader of the horsemen of the apocalypse who's given authority to kill men and animal alike

WAR ➛ specializes in waging war between nations and people rather than internal strife

CONQUEST ➛ said to sweep across the world, unleashing civil war and internal strife

SERPENT - C.YJ (TXT) ➛ wound its way around the human heart and filled us with its poison

LAMB - S.CB (SKZ) ➛ represents purity, and its sacrifice was a symbol of repentance and submission

FORBIDDEN FRUIT - H.HJ (SKZ) ➛ the catalyst for the fall of man— when original sin entered creation and led to the reality we face every day

I already said thank you ik but writing has always been a passion for me. whether ive been here for a year or longer or shorter with more or less notes/followers, im just so grateful to have a platform that people engage with. thank you @desirehorizon for helping me with this event and their input. please make sure to check out their posts!! (and ofc thank you for google for the definitions lol)

[alyrasturnz]

Hi babe!!! Can we get a Chris smut inspired by dress by Taylor swift🩷

DRESS {{ chris sturniolo }}

summary — amidst a party teeming with hazed influencers, their attention diverted by the swirling chaos of the night, the fervent glares exchanged between you and chris go unnoticed. the intensity of your gazes, laden with unspoken desires and electric tension, remains a secret shared only between the two of you, lost in the oblivious crowd.

— smut smut smut

warnings :: literally smut, p in v, pet names, titty sucking lmao

a/n ,, whats up with all the smut requests 😭 i got like three more in my inbox dude

the music roared from the speakers, a cacophony so overpowering it threatened to obliterate your eardrums with its relentless force.

you knew you had crossed the threshold of moderation tonight, the number of drinks you had consumed leaving your mind shrouded in a dense, intoxicating fog. 

the world around you seemed to sway and blur, a testament to the tipsiness that now coursed through your veins, leaving you teetering on the edge of clarity and inebriation.

“i'm going to get another drink!” madi bellowed, her voice striving to assert itself against the relentless onslaught of the music.

“okay!” you hollered in return, a smile playing on your lips as your voice endeavored to pierce through the cacophony.

your favorite song began to play, igniting a spark in your eyes as you downed another cup. with a newfound energy, you swayed your hips to the rhythm, each movement in perfect harmony with the beat.

you donned a form-fitting dress, one that you knew chris had a particular fondness for. it halted just above your upper thigh, offering an enticing ease of access. 

the dress featured delicate, thin straps that elegantly showcased your sculpted collarbones, exactly as you desired. 

the fabric clung to your curves, accentuating your silhouette with perfect precision.

the air was stifling, heavy with an oppressive warmth. the room was teeming with every influencer from LA, their presence saturating the space with an almost palpable intensity.

your smile was an indomitable beacon, your eyes irresistibly gravitating towards chris, capturing the essence of your unspoken emotions.

chris was gazing at you with a look you knew all too well, a piercing glare that spoke volumes of familiarity and unspoken words.

his eyes were shadowed with an inscrutable darkness, his hands deeply ensconced in his pockets, as if concealing secrets untold.

you and chris shared an extraordinary bond, an unspoken connection that transcended mere friendship. 

to the outside world, you were the quintessential best friends, though beneath the surface lay complexities that only the two of you truly understood.

you and chris have been clandestinely entwined in a romantic liaison, yet those who profess to know you both intimately remain blissfully unaware of the delicate dance you perform in the shadows, unseen and undetected.

even with all the telltale signs—the subtle flirtations, the clandestine touches, and the furtive glances exchanged across crowded rooms, much like the one shared at this very moment.

a torrent of warmth surged through your veins, compelling a delicate crimson to unfurl across your cheeks, each hue weaving an intricate narrative of unspoken emotions.

your gaze descended to his trousers, where the pronounced outline of his bulge was inscribed with undeniable clarity.

you sensed an inferno igniting within your core, a torrential wave cascading through your abdomen, culminating in a trickling sensation.

chris gracefully reclines onto the couch behind him, his unwavering gaze consuming you with an intensity akin to a famished soul savoring its last, most exquisite repast.

you swallowed your pride, each step a testament to your resolve, and gracefully approached him, lowering yourself to sit beside him, the air thick with unspoken tension and anticipation.

his hand descended onto your thigh with a deliberate slowness, while his lips inched closer to your ear, whispering secrets only the night could bear witness to.

"you have no idea what you’re doing to me," he growls, his voice a low, primal rumble that reverberates through the air.

your gaze inevitably drifts to the prominent bulge in his pants, the outline unmistakably clear. "i think i do," you whisper, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips, laden with knowing mischief.

chris withdrew, a smirk dancing on his lips. "someone grew an ego," he murmured, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "did ya miss me, princess?" he inquired, his tone a blend of teasing and genuine curiosity.

you sigh deeply as chris wraps his arm around you, his hand meandering along the curve of your waist before finally coming to rest on your thigh, a lingering touch that sends shivers down your spine.

you melted into his touch, leaning against him as your fingers absently played with the rings adorning his fingers, each twist and turn a silent testament to the comfort and intimacy you found in his presence.

"not really," you whispered with a smirk playing on your lips, as chris tutted softly, the sound a gentle reprimand that hung in the air between you.

"we need to fix that attitude of yours," he grumbled, standing up and pulling you with him, his hand still firmly wrapped around your waist, a silent command that brooked no argument.

chris moved you in front of him, his hands firmly gripping your waist as he guided you with deliberate intent toward an isolated bedroom, each step echoing the unspoken promise of what awaited.

chris immediately pulled you into his embrace, the door clicking shut behind him with a definitive finality, sealing the two of you in a cocoon of lust and anticipation.

he hungrily stared at you, his eyes tracing every contour and curve of your form with a ravenous intensity, as though committing each detail to memory. 

the air between you crackled with an electric anticipation until, unable to resist any longer, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours in a desperate, all-consuming kiss that left no room for doubt about his desire.

a subtle smile tugs at your lips, even as they remain entwined with his in the kiss. with a graceful, almost instinctive motion, you reach behind him, your fingers finding the cool metal of the lock and twisting it shut, securing your private sanctuary.

chris's hand firmly clasps your shoulder, guiding you with a measured yet insistent pace toward the bed. as you retreat, your steps falter slightly, each backward movement a delicate dance of balance and anticipation.

chris guides you onto the bed with a gentle yet commanding touch, his presence looming above you as he leans in, his lips seeking yours once more in a fervent embrace.

chris' lips descend to your neck, bestowing a series of tender nibbles and kisses, each one a delicate mark of his presence, leaving a trail of possessive affection upon your skin.

“shit,” you whisper under your breath, as the heat in your core intensifies, spreading like wildfire through your veins. 

your head tilts back in a moment of surrender, your eyes fluttering closed as you are consumed by the growing sensation, each breath a testament to the fervor building within you.

“who did you buy this dress for, ma?” he whispered against your skin, his hot breath fanning your neck as he continued to nibble. his voice, a low murmur, sent shivers down your spine, each word laden with a mix of curiosity and possessiveness.

"only you, always you," you whispered, your voice quivering with a potent blend of need and desire.

he smirked against your skin, a devilish curve to his lips, before lifting his face to lock eyes with you. "good girl," he growled, his voice a low, rumbling affirmation that sent shivers down your spine, each syllable dripping with a mix of dominance and approval.

chris methodically slides the straps of your dress down your shoulders, allowing your breasts to spill free. 

his mouth follows the path of the fabric, descending with deliberate intent, his tongue swirling over your skin in an intricate dance of sensation. 

as he continues, each movement is laden with purpose, his touch igniting a trail of fire that leaves you breathless and yearning for more. 

every swirl of his tongue and press of his lips is an attestation to the passion that simmers between you, drawing out a symphony of desire that resonates through your very being.

he brings his hand to your exposed breast, his fingers tracing delicate patterns that send shivers down your spine. 

the sighs you had attempted to stifle escape as soft, involuntary moans, each sound an attestation to the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. 

your body responds to his touch with an intensity that leaves you breathless, the connection between you deepening with every moment, every caress. 

the air is thick with unspoken desire, the room echoing with the symphony of your shared passion.

chris slowly withdraws his mouth from your breast, a whisper of cold air trailing in its wake, sending a shiver through your skin. 

with deliberate grace, he lifts himself up, his movements fluid and unhurried, before deftly sliding the dress off your shoulders, letting it cascade to the floor in a silken pool.

chris unbuckled his belt with deliberate slowness, the sound of the metal clinking echoing in the room. as you let out a soft whine, his gaze shifted sharply, piercing through the dim light to lock onto you, a silent promise of what was to come.

"patience, baby," he cooed softly, his voice a soothing balm against the tension. with deliberate slowness, he allowed his pants to descend to the ground in a fluid motion, revealing his engorged, crimson member. it sprang forth with an almost urgent vitality, the tip glistening with the evidence of his desire, a testament to the intensity of the moment. his gaze remained fixed on you, pure lust woven into the depths of his eyes, as the air between you seemed to thicken with anticipation.

you swallowed thickly, your breath hitching as your gaze traveled along the expanse of his formidable length, absorbing every detail. despite the countless times you had been in this position, the sheer magnitude of him never failed to elicit a visceral response, each encounter feeling as if it were the very first, leaving you in a state of perpetual awe and anticipation.

he meticulously gathered every bit of your slick with the tip of his length, his movements deliberate and measured. with a practiced precision, he then positioned himself, aligning perfectly with your pussy.

he slowly slid in, inch by inch, his movements deliberate and unhurried. his mouth fell open, a silent testament to the shared gasp that escaped both your lips. he remained still for a moment, deeply embedded, as your walls clenched around his throbbing length, giving you time to adjust to the exquisite sensation.

"i’ll start moving," he let out a low grumble, his voice a deep, resonant promise. you nodded with a whine, a sound filled with anticipation and need. with a deliberate motion, chris began to move, his hips withdrawing slowly, creating a tantalizing separation before driving forward again, reconnecting with a force that sent waves of pleasure through both of you.

"chris!" you yelped, your voice a mix of surprise and pleasure, as he picked up his pace. with a soft grunt, he threw his head back, the intensity of his movements increasing with each passing moment.

you let out a chain of screams intermingled with whines, each sound a testament to the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. your nails, driven by desperation and ecstasy, raked across his back, leaving a trail of crimson marks. 

he leaned in further, his body pressing closer to yours, as if seeking to forge an impossibly deeper connection, each thrust a powerful declaration of your shared intensity.

"chris, please," you whined, your voice trembling with urgency as he responded with a soft chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin. he buried his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm and teasing against your pulse. "f-faster," you pleaded, the word escaping your lips in a desperate whisper, laden with need.

"y’want me to go faster, princess?" he asked, his voice a low, predatory growl. you desperately nodded, your eyes wide and pleading, the intensity of your need mirrored in the depths of his gaze.

"mhm," you hummed, the sound escaping your lips as more of a whiny moan, laden with a blend of urgency and desire that resonated in the charged air between you.

“do you think you deserve it?” chris asked in a low, gravelly tone, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. his movements were agonizingly slow, each deliberate thrust a tantalizing mix of pleasure and torment.

you let out a soft whine as he tuts, his hips driving deeper into you with a swift, relentless thrust. the intensity of the movement was overwhelming, each motion a blend of urgency and control. 

then, abruptly, he stopped right at the center, the sudden stillness creating a stark contrast to the preceding fervor. 

you gasped, the air thick with the palpable tension of unfulfilled desire. it was as if the very molecules around you were charged, vibrating with the electricity of anticipation, leaving you suspended in a moment that seemed to stretch infinitely, every second laden with the promise of what was to come.

"chris!" you whined, your voice a plaintive, desperate cry that seemed to hang in the air, laden with a mixture of longing and frustration.

"answer me," he growled, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. with each word, he punctuated his demand with a forceful thrust, driving his point home with an almost punishing rhythm. "do"—thrust—"you"—thrust—"think"—thrust—"you"—thrust—"deserve"—thrust—"it?"—thrust. his eyes bore into yours, the intensity of his gaze matching the relentless cadence of his movements, leaving you breathless and teetering on the edge of coherence.

"yes!" you screamed, your voice a symphony of desperation and longing, each note trembling with raw emotion. "i-ive been a good girl,” you whimpered, your words barely escaping your lips as his smirk deepened, a knowing glint in his eyes that only heightened your sense of vulnerability.

he began to drive his hips into yours with a violent, rapid intensity, each thrust a forceful declaration that left you utterly speechless. the sensation was overwhelming, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt him relentlessly hit your g spot. 

every movement seemed to blur the lines between pain and pleasure, leaving you suspended in a state of euphoric abandon. the world around you faded into insignificance, the only reality being the intense, almost primal connection between your bodies.

you felt the knot in your stomach tighten, a whirlwind of emotions coiling within you as tears brimmed in your eyes, threatening to spill over. the intensity of the moment prompted you to squeeze your eyes shut tightly, seeking refuge in the darkness behind your eyelids, where the tumultuous waves of sensation and emotion could momentarily be held at bay.

"close-" you warned, your words emerging as a soft whisper, your voice strained and trembling. the syllables seemed to falter, barely escaping your lips, laden with the weight of the impending climax.

"then cum,” he grumbled, his voice a low, gravelly command that sent shivers down your spine. “cum with me. cum all over my cock, ma,” he growled, each word dripping with urgency and desire. 

his movements became increasingly erratic, thrusting sloppily a few more times before he finally released inside you, a guttural groan escaping his lips. the sensation pushed you over the edge, and you released on his length soon after, your body trembling with the intensity. 

he continued to thrust in and out, slower now, each movement a blend of lingering desperation and the sweet satisfaction of shared release.

after a brief yet seemingly eternal moment, he withdrew, his body collapsing beside yours in a tangle of limbs and sweat. both of you lay there, chests heaving, breath coming in rapid, shallow gasps as you tried to steady yourselves in the aftermath of such an intense encounter.

you remained in that intertwined position for what felt like an eternity, the silence between you filled with the echoes of your shared breaths. eventually, you turned to face each other, your eyes meeting in a moment of unspoken understanding.

a soft giggle escaped both your lips, a tender sound that seemed to bridge the gap between the physical and the emotional, binding you together in the quiet aftermath.

“y/n! you in there?”

[ddarker-dreams]

Forgive me if this sort of thing has been explored before but picture this scenario: Chrollo coming home to darling having a panic attack. Why? What's going on?? She won't tell him, because it's a panic attack triggered by a phobia of something very mundane. She doesn't want him to know she has a phobia and she definitely doesn't want him to know what kind of phobia. To give an example let's say she has an irrational fear of mice. RIDICULOUS. He mustn't know. Lie lie lie distract disengage.

THIS ........ this setup does something for me........... i've recently fixated on this concept where you wake up from an awful nightmare, something like chrollo coldly ordering your death and for it to be as painful as possible.

you wake up, tears on your cheeks and sweat causing your nightwear to adhere to your skin. you're met with an unusual sight — chrollo's side of the bed is empty. cold, too. he must have been gone for a while now. any other night, this detail wouldn't arouse suspicion. if anything, it'd cause relief, that you've finally caught a break from his ever-watchful eye.

then your mind reminds you that chrollo isn't your only foe. it replays those images, those sounds, snapping and squelching as your grisly end nears.

you do what you can to calm yourself. splashing cold water on your face, drinking water, wiping the sweat from your brow; the way you go about everything is mechanical. he could do it, your thoughts taunt. this isn't the monster of your bed — waking up doesn't make the threat disappear. it only brings you closer.

with shaking hands, you open the door separating the bedroom from a moderately sized living space. you shove your pride aside and call out his name. softly, at first, and then at your normal speaking volume. nothing. would he really leave you on your own for this long without setting up precautions?

or maybe... is he preparing to finally do away with you?

the world goes on without your senses bothering to process anything. your body reacts like it would if an apex predator was gaining on you; all-consuming adrenaline, unsteady breathing, trembling limbs. this unrelenting whirlpool pushes you down to abyssal depths.

you're running out of air and it's too deep to surface.

then you hear a voice you recognize.

chrollo's kneeling down beside you, eyebrows furrowing, a prominent frown on his face. he rarely reveals this much emotion, small as it is. you can practically hear the gears in his head turning, attempting to piece together the situation and its severity. his hand is steady on your shoulder and the timbre of his voice soothes you. it's so consistent, so reliable, he always seems to know what to do and what to say.

you don't care to dwell on these bizarre thoughts. not now, not when you feel like you're drowning. an anchor is an anchor, even if it's a man you've sworn to loathe. it's okay to seek comfort, isn't it? no one could judge you. you can't judge yourself, either. you've been through so much — now and in the past — what's wrong with accepting the sweet fruit he's tempted you with?

you latch yourself to him. it isn't graceful or romantic, it's clinging to the lifeline that pushed you overboard to begin with. he lets out a soft sound at the ferocity of your grip. anyone else would've been knocked over by the sheer exertion of force, but chrollo didn't even budge. he must decide to discern the specifics later as he doesn't prod at you with questions. no, he reciprocates the embrace with an ardor that would've sickened you any other time.

you're babbling incoherently and yet he picks up enough to hazard a guess at what brought this about. he reassures you that he'd never harm you, that the thought alone makes him feel emotions he thought himself incapable of. he hugs you close, rubs his hands over your back, presses lingering kisses to your temple, and shushes you.

exhaustion catches up near the final tears you've shed. chrollo keeps himself still so as not to disturb you when you fall unconscious. he picks you up gently, brings you back to your side of the bed and puts you down. fondness envelops his heart at your now peaceful visage. he smooths out a stray hair cascading down your face.

all he intended to do was make a quick phone call, but coming back to you, with your glassy eyes and trembling lips, essentially attaching yourself to him like he's your sole source of comfort ... he might need to pinch himself to ensure he isn't dreaming.

[mikavlcs]

Static Patterns

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Summary: Wednesday’s struggling to say those three special words, so she decides to instead show you how she feels.

Warnings: soft/ooc!wednesday(!!!), reader’s kinda unserious, sorry

Word count: 1.8k

Notes: this was requested by @beauty-in-the-brkdwn​, hope you enjoy<3

Masterlist

Never in her life had Wednesday felt more stupid than she did now.

Mere months ago, she had faced and overcome unthinkable odds, defeating an undead pilgrim and saving the entirety of Nevermore from destruction. A feat she pulled off with moderate ease.

And now here she was being bested by something as trivial as words.

It was humiliating to think about, even conceptually. That she—an aspiring writer—was struggling with words. A communicative tool she had mastered using before the age of five. This was even worse when paired with the fact that what she was struggling to say was so torturously simple.

Three words. Eight letters.

A phrase that millions were able to say in passing and yet the thought of actually saying those words to you was somehow more daunting than the Hyde and Crackstone combined.

It shouldn’t have been, she knew that. Her candor was one of her defining features, a thing of pride even. But when combined with everything they symbolize, those three syllables suddenly weighed a thousand pounds on her tongue.

She tried and failed multiple times and as bitter as defeat tasted, she had no choice but to swallow it down and rethink her strategy.

Thus, a new, different approach was taken. After all, they did say that actions spoke louder than words. One of the most fundamental rules when writing was show don’t tell. So she settled for showing you how she felt rather than vocalizing it.

It started small with something as small and insignificant as breakfast. One morning she decided to procure a bowl of your favorite cereal and another, smaller bowl of assorted fruits.

You would always whine about how they were gone by the time you got there—which was entirely your fault, seeing as you arrived nearly ten minutes after everyone else did—so she figured this was a good place to start.

The excitement on your face as you took your place next to her told her she was correct.

From there it branched out slowly, like roots growing within soil.

She would take your books from you and carry them while she escorted you to your classes—even the ones she didn’t attend with you. It made your commutes much easier since nobody dared step into Wednesday’s way while she marched through the halls.

Stealing snacks for you from the kitchen became a daily occurrence. And with a few well-executed threats, she was able to take them free of charge. They were left in your locker, Wednesday feigning surprise when you found them, but you both knew the truth.

When you mournfully showed her the C+ you got on your Botany test she demanded politely offered to tutor you.

It even got to the point where she was willing to indulge in what she would consider blasphemy—physical touch.

This specific form of affection was something she vehemently avoided, its alleged pleasures something that eluded her. But you abstained for the sake of her comfort, so she would be willing to put forth an effort for the sake of yours.

It wasn’t much, but sometimes at lunch when she was absolutely sure no one was paying attention, she would tentatively cross her pinky with yours. And when you sat across from her at the Weathervane, she lightly rested her hand over yours.

She would admit—never aloud—that it wasn’t terrible.

You noticed the abrupt shift in her behavior, of course. The first few times you let it be, curious glances in her direction your only acknowledgment of the situation.

But eventually, the questions started, and Wednesday being always prepared, had her answers ready on her tongue.

“Your complaints about these being gone every morning are tiresome, so I got them for you since you can’t be bothered to show up on time.”

“Your feeble arms looked like they were struggling more than usual. The pitiful display has gotten rather boring.”

“These grades are not reflective of your limited intellectual abilities, it’s disappointing. I’ll fix that.”

Her snark never had much effect on you, so the excuses always earned an honest, if a bit bewildered chuckle from you (though she swore she could see fear in your eyes after that last one). But you didn’t question her further.

If she were to hazard a guess, she would say that you refused to inquire about her actions because you were afraid she would stop upon confrontation. And she knew you didn’t want that.

It was clear to her that you were enjoying her efforts. You were always a more inherently joyful person than her, but she had never seen as many smiles and blushes from you as she did these past few weeks. It was a pleasant thing to witness, she supposed.

And perhaps, somewhere deep down in the dark recesses of her mind, she was enjoying it as well.

-

You were late, like usual.

The Saturday study sessions she set up were scheduled to start at 12:30, meaning that you would arrive at 12:40. Your chronic tardiness was something that was so deeply ingrained that even she couldn’t correct it. She had long since given up trying.

She instead used the extra time to her advantage.

Opposite of you, she arrived every Saturday at 12:20 on the dot, preferring to be early so she could secure her favorite booth in the back of the café. The time before you arrived was used to plan out the lessons she would cover with you and color-coordinate her notes to make sure they were easy for you to understand.

The usual medium hot chocolate you ordered was placed on your side of the table, steam rising steadily from the top, but a new addition was the croissant she decided to order alongside it on a whim. You would appreciate it, she knew, you were always hungry.

At exactly 12:40, she heard the bell on the door chime and the familiar sound of your footsteps followed. She fought against the urge to straighten up and look back at you, gluing her eyes to the notes she was organizing.

There was movement in her peripherals as you slid into her sightline, the crooked grin on your face immediately identifiable, even out of focus. “Hey.”

“Hello,” she greeted evenly, sparing you only a glance as she pushed the pastry further over in your direction. Naturally, your eyes followed the movement and lit up comically once you spotted the food.

“For me?” you asked rather redundantly, the beginnings of a smile pulling at your lips.

Wednesday gave you a blank stare. “You’re the only other person at this table.”

That stupid, stunning smile only widened. You picked the croissant up and took a bite, never breaking eye contact with her. “Thanks, Wen.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, running her eyes over the expanse of your face. Then, “Now, open your textbook to page 274.”

Your face dropped but you obeyed.

Thirty minutes were spent taking notes and going over terms. A great use of the early afternoon in Wednesday’s opinion, though she knew your feelings would differ vastly.

You were focused on working for all of ten minutes before you started sending her long, blatantly obvious glances from across the table.

At the fifth consecutive look in a row, she decided to confront you. “If you have something to say then say it.”

You didn’t seem surprised to be called out, but you still took a minute to delve into your concerns. “What…is all of this?”

She paused her writing, glanced up briefly. “I’m not sure I understand your question.”

“Yeah, sorry that was vague,” you apologized, lightly shaking your head. “I mean all of these things you’ve been doing for these past few weeks—carrying my books, getting me my favorite foods at school, helping me study, and now buying me things…I love it, really but I don’t want you to do this because you think you need to-“

“I don’t,” she interrupted. “I do nothing out of an abstract sense of obligation, you know this.”

She didn’t have to see you to know that you were smiling. “Yes, I do. I just want to make sure that you know you don’t have to do all of this if you don’t want to.”

You were giving her an out. An unnecessary one, but the thought managed to be both touching and offensive. That you would sacrifice something that you are clearly enjoying for her was…courteous.

But the fact that you could possibly that she—Wednesday Addams—was doing anything for someone else because she “felt as if she had to” was nauseating and it needed to be fixed immediately.

“I do. Want to,” she said, her normally seamless cadence stunted as she tried to phrase her thoughts in a way that wasn’t painfully embarrassing. “I’m attempting to express the depth of my…feelings toward you.”

“Feelings? And what exactly do you feel for me?” Your tone was sincere, but there was a hint of smugness in it. Like you already knew the answer to your question.

“Disdain, at the moment,” she deadpanned as her mind receded elsewhere.

If she were to stop talking now, she knew you would drop it and take the win for what it was, but, strangely, she didn’t want to stop. The repulsive desire to open up pulled at her and she couldn’t help but lament the devastating effects that these cursed feelings continued to have on her.

Wednesday accepted her fate, took a deep breath, and swallowed her pride.

“In all seriousness, I…don’t hate you,” she ground out. “At all. Quite the opposite actually. And I felt it was important to let you know that, even if it was only through small, inane gestures.”

There was a moment of silence. Then another, and another. Unable to resist, Wednesday lifted her eyes to you and found that you looked positively awestruck. Eyes wide, brows raised, and lips parted. Utterly speechless.

She drank in the admittedly rare sight.

Slowly, the astonishment abated, and a wide, unruly grin crept onto your face. She knew right then that you were about to make her regret her confession.

“Awww,” you cooed, and, to her horror, you moved forward to press a warm kiss to her cheek.

Wednesday grimaced and glanced around to make sure that there were no witnesses to your display of affection. 

Thankfully, it seemed that no one had seen or if they had, they made the smart decision to look away before she gauged their eyes out.

She turned back and glared at you with as much murderous intent as she could muster, trying to seem utterly disgusted with your behavior. But she knew the undeniable burning in her cheeks told you everything you needed to know.

Giggling, you sat back, reaching over to thread your fingers together with hers. Your smile tempered, softening around the edges until only tenderness and an emotion that she was becoming all too familiar with remained.

You leaned forward again, and this time, she was too enraptured to bother looking around.

“I love you too, Wednesday.”

[gabbomanestamuyloco]

Ok lets make it less of a wall of text

This year to celebrate pride, @staff is

banning more transgender users

marking posts as nsfw because they talk about trans experiences

user recived rape threats and staff said that "That does not goes against therms of service"

What can you do to fix this?

Leave for a better place. I recomend the fediverse. Join to one of those and you're on all of those.

tech.lgbt is a mastodon server. One of the very best moderated. The staff is great. This one is my main recomendation even tho I am the owner of other server in this list.

transfem.social with this name you would expect a place to talk about space lasers. But its an instnce run by transfem people.

cooltrans.men with this name you'd think its about shadow the hedhedog and you'd be right.

labyrinth.zone is sonic-themed in style but its cool.

wafrn is a tumblr inspired software that I made, so this one is "the ad". I made it myself and all.

Places to avoid in the fediverse:

mastodon.art has a modteam that says to care for a safespace but has a history that resembles too much to staff.

mastodon.social is not bad, but moderation is not as good as the other places. Its still thousands of times better than moderation here.

I am not saying this will be super easy, I am not saying that you will get all your followers in a minute. But this place is hostile to you

[bitchfitch]

Fewer women than men enlisted, then only a handful of those women made it through the gauntlet of machismo that stood between them and real valor. Of those that did, next to none of them got promoted up the ranks or into the jobs so specialized and classified that they didn't get official titles.

Zephyr had been aware of this aspect of his workplace, but had never really thought much of it because it simply did not concern him.

It meant he got the odd jobs that had him flying out to exotic places and talking pretty while draped in a moderate income's worth of jewelry and high end fashion, even though women were always the most effective in this sub-field of subtle swaying.

He liked the term "influencer" to describe their line of work, and that was what he told people his job was, but the official term was technically, less-sexily, "psyop."

The lack of women in his immediate circle of coworkers never really stuck out as a failure of the system, it benefited him just fine, until he was stood outside a modest suburban home in the exurbs of Iowa.

The first wave of super soldiers were begining to be retired, and someone miles further up the command chain than Zephyr seemed to have finally had to face the consequences of making a weapon no one could destroy. That, or, this had always been the plan.

Once the things were obsolete, put them behind a white picket fence in ass-nowhere and stick an operative with the job of teaching the murder machines how to live that apple pie life.

It was a stupid enough idea for it to have always been the plan.

The only evidence that it wasn't always the plan was that when the day finally came for the first Andromeda Class Soldier to go home, there was not a Single woman with the right clearances, temperament, availability, lack of a family or friends that would notice her disappearance, and who had a willingness to be spayed, to take up the mantle of Faux-Bride of Frankenstein

Instead there was just Zephyr, who, in the words of his handler, "Was close enough."

He was supposed to be in Bali, but instead He's In Fucking Iowa, because the actual U.S. government didn't think to neuter their science experiment before making it bomb proof.

"Seething" was the only word to describe his mood as he walked down the stepping stone path to a porch that looked like something out of a stock photo.

Perfectly painted with two rocking chairs and a potted ivy, it would be cute were Zephyr's handler were not staining it with his presence.

Elton stood from one of the rockers and demonstrated his one impressive talent as he greeted Zephyr: His ability to look down his nose at someone nearly a full head taller than him.

"Zephyr."

"Elton," he responded coolly. They had ranks, technically, but neither of them typically cared to cast that kind of respect on the other. Especially not when they weren't even using their real names. "I'm looking for someone. Big guy, fugly. Seen it?"

"Your beautiful bride is just inside," Elton held out a cartoonish looking journal to him. "Here's everything you need to know for its care and keeping."

Zephyr took the book in hand, he didn't bother to ask who decided it should be pink and furry with ugly sequins and glitter that was already making Zephyr itch. He knew Elton had probably taken great pride in designing this "diary" himself.

"Hm hm, Give me the TLDR," he dropped it into the small backpack of personal belongings he was being allowed to bring into this mess.

"It's got super soldier dementia. Sad really. It's still in prime physical condition but something went wrong with a reprogramming and now it's bunk. According to the file, it gets confused. Old programs come back online or it's current one breaks so badly it has to revert to those shreds to stop itself going catatonic.

"There's no helping it and no putting it down, so it's your problem. The lab guys stripped out every memory and scrap of programming they could, so it should be a sponge of a blank slate for you to do your manipulations on."

"Everything?" Zephyr quirked a brow. He didn't know if he should be made eager by the limitless potential in making a man from nothing, or intimidated by the vast number of ways he could fuck this up.

"Everything. The higher powers want to see if you can make it into anything useful, and if you can't, then if it's able to adapt to being it's own person."

"Understood," he slung his backpack over his shoulder, "Last question - What are my off hours?"

"It's a temporary and highly sensitive post. You don't get any."

"Elton."

"Don't whine. You'll survive at least a year."

"No I won't. If I'm still 24/7 in three months time I'm killing us both," Zephyr shoulders pass him, not because Elton was in the way, but because Zephyr was hoping it'd knock him down the steps.

"It's a fucking super soldier- You're not killing it," he watches down his nose as Zephyr grabs the keys that are in the lock and opens the door to his new prison.

"Oh," he sneers as he backs through the door "I was Not talking about We as in it and I."

Closing the door in Elton's face was almost satisfying enough to make this situation worth it.