#putting up wall art and curtains

[thedeviljudges]

why is there never enough time for anything. 😭

i'm sitting on two fics that need to be finished, a shitload of fics that need to be read, and a bookshelf full of books i still need to get through.

and yet there's no time to knock any of it off the big list. rip the guilt. 😑

[insistonyourcupofstars]

finally set up my curtains that I've put off for years.... bought a dry-erase calendar that I color-coded.... bought hair/skin care... drank more than one cup of water

[eros7hanatos]

➽ Sleepless Nights

Husband!Diluc x wife!afab reader Warnings: smut, breeding kink, creampie, unprotected sex, I think that’s all? Word count: 811 A/N: inspired by rice-hime’s fic “well into the weekend”. Diluc is so husband AND daddy material I can't-

art creds: asterrales

Your hands tightly grip the sheets, trying to claw your way out, weakly pulling yourself forward as Diluc’s firm hands pull your hips back; eliciting a loud moan from you.

“D-Diluc!” you scream, your voice as shaky as the rest of your body. You turned your head back to see the glistening body of your husband. He looked so pretty like this, watching you through his red hair that kept sticking on his face, whether it was from sweat or your cum, you didn't know nor care. 

“Didn't you say you wanted us to have a child, love?” he said in a tone so sweet, not matching with his rough and harsh thrusts. You gasped as he reached deeper inside your cunt, pressing onto that sensitive spot. You two had been married for a while now. He was a great husband, however he was almost always busy with work and his own things. You two hadn't had time alone for a long long time, always falling fast asleep before he had even come home. However today was different, Diluc had come back early and you told him how you felt. In a moment of weakness you let slip that you wanted a child.

“You…want a child with me?” he asked, slowly, as if he was thinking hard about what you just said.

“Yes, but it doesn’t have to be now! I understand that you're busy and don't have time. We haven't had sex since our wedding night…you’re probably too tired after working everyday.” you say, you were a bit sad, you had to admit. You would often masterbate alone, missing his fingers, his mouth, his cock… but he was busy, there’s no way he would be able to have time to pleasure you.

“Then it’s a good thing tomorrow's the weekend.” he surprised you. You look at him, wide eyed.

“B-but what about the tavern? and the winery? They’re both open on weekends.” 

“Fuck it. One weekend is worth putting a baby in you.” 

And that’s how you got to this situation. Completely fucked out under Diluc. Archons, how long has it been? You then feel that familiar sensation in your lower abdomen, cunt clenching around Diluc’s cock. You screamed, but no noise came out of your throat as you came once more, sucking your husband dry.

“F-fuck. Y-you have such a beautiful cunt, love. All mine. Let me fill you up again, fill you up until I’m sure you’ll bear my child.” 

His pace slows, pulling his cock out just below the tip to watch the mixture of yours and his juices ooze out of you before slamming back in. Even as his pace slowed, you felt as if he reached even deeper inside you, poking your womb gently. As if giving it a gentle kiss every time he thrusted.

“D-Diluc!” you moan, chanting his name over and over again, like a mantra. You can feel every inch of his cock, every vein, every crevice rubbing against your walls wet with slick. The sounds of vulgar and messy sex that bounces off the walls drives you crazy, the stench of his cum and yours adding to your madness. “F-feels so good. N-need more of your- Ahh! c-cum!”

“I’ll give it all to you, love. Sh-shit- you’re clenching so tight. J-just lie back there while I pump you full of my seed.” 

You feel your cunt pulse, clenching and convulsing, that familiar electric feeling had come to greet you once more. “D-Diluc! C-cumming! ‘M c-cumming!” 

“Hah, hold it out, please, for me love? Want us to- Ngh! C-cum together.” Diluc grunts, fastening his pace and deepening his thrusts, reaching places that you’ve never known he could. You whine and scream, trying your best to delay your high as tears fall from your eyes.

“D-Diluc!” 

“A-almost there, love. Gonna put a baby in you!” he says, looking at you through the curtain of his blazing red hair once more, his grip tight on your hips as he slams into you over and over, chasing his own high. With a few more harsh thrusts, Diluc grunts, “C-cum for me love. G-gonna breed you so well-” 

You both scream, almost in unison, reaching your peaks as a familiar warmth fills your insides. His thrusts continue, letting you ride your high as well as his as he continues giving you his seed which you welcome with open arms, ahem, open legs.

After a moment he stills inside you as your head falls onto the bed sheets below you. You breath heavily then let out a loud gasp as you feel rough fingers brush your clit gently. 

“D-Diluc?!” you say, breathlessly as it turns into a moan. Suddenly, you felt his hips snap into action, slamming into your still sensitive cunt as you cry out in overstimulation.

“I said the weekend. We’ve barely even started, love~”

[nkogneatho]

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌

—cw: soft dom + bold!choso, fem!reader, blood, a little graphic, creampie, hints of exhibitionism, nickname(angel) nasty, messy, oh and choso slaps your coochie.

—a/n: eat up you chosito whores

watching choso being agitated was probably your favorite thing ever. despite his unnatural and mysterious aura, he wasn't hesitant to showcase the emotions inside him. Especially, when he was irritated. His brows drew together, eyes curtained with dark emotions. His right side soaked in blood, the art he was known for.

but despite all of the anger, he was anything but mean to you. he could never. you were his precious baby.

"Are you sure, angel? I'm still soaked in blood," he asked.

"mhm...need you. please, choso."

those words made his lips extend into a smile. choso lifted your hips up, pulling in the nearest pillow and placing it under for a better angle. white cotton covers now stained red. so did you. so did everything he touched. But god was it tempting? to just be painted in his love. to be tainted with his lust.

"Already so wet? Say, baby," he cooed, dragging you by your thighs with both of his hands so you're closer, "What made you wet? Me?" Your cheeks started burning from embarrassment. So much that you could only reply in a nod.

"use your words, angel, or i'll slap this pussy" he wasn't mean. he just knew how to get your pussy worked up for him. he knew that deep down, under that mask of embarrassment was someone who wanted it to happen. who wanted to drown in choso's curse, in his desires. "fine."

*slap*

It stung, his fingers, blood red against your clit for a harsh second.

"ngh—" you jolted at the sting.

"wanna try again? what made you so wet?"

two seconds passed and he was getting his palm in action before you yelped out "your abs! please. i saw you at shibuya and i couldn't take it." you really couldn't. Yeah you've seen him naked a hundres times but not when he was fighting. Not when he was killing with a poker face, as red dripped down, plaguing each cell of his sweaty skin.

"mhm? is that so?" he positioned his cock to your entrance. "didn't know you were watching me. good thing though," he slammed his hips so hard, the headboard hit the wall. "cause if i'd seen you there, i would've fucked this pretty pussy in front of everyone?"

you cry, his actions and his shameful words sending electricity to your nerves.

"ah! fuck! fe—feels so goood. mmm."

"hmm...yeah? look at her sss—look at your pussy sucking me all in," he grunted. "gonna fill her up real nice, angel."

Choso started putting his entire energy in fucking you into another universe. You were convinced if he went even a little bit harder, he'd end up breaking the bed, the wall and you.

When he finally pulled two orgasms out of you, he couldn't contain himself anymore. His moves got sloppier but swifter, until he came inside you, spilling his cream inside you. He pulled out and watched his cum leak and meet the blood that sputtered off from him on the skin. You laid sore on the bed, tinted with a hue of bright red, with splashes of cum. You never looked more beautiful to him.

Tags: @dadhazard @princess-okkotsu @dabisqueen @hand-domain @erencvlt @meadows-of-light @1mawh0re @vampress7 @dilfslayer3000 @canary58143 @gunfiendbabymama @http-kats @mocking-rain @finnoah @skillsluts @thekanrojimitsuri2 @euvwia @missyusuke-and-the-team @adimelymanner @blinkingsuns @sinistersnakey1427 @igocrazyeveryday @viviennesvenus @chaoticexistence @marvdcspace @sleepysnorlaxsblog @sunshytea @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi @moonchild12354 @naughtygobbo @megumistoehair

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Glimmering Shadows | Azriel x Reader

Summary: While visiting Spring Court on political business with Rhys, Azriel meets you, a Faerie with little glimmering sparks that help you in the same way his shadows help him, and he decides that visiting you a few more times afterwards couldn’t hurt.

Word Count: ~ 1.8k

Warnings: None!

A/N: This was so cute to write, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Masterlist | Next

It had been an ordinary visit to Spring Court, Rhysand arriving with only Azriel flanking his right side. Cassian was off in Windhaven, probably about to bite Devlon’s head off, per usual.

Spring Court had shaped up since Tamlin had gotten himself together. The Court was working better now, still recovering from the war like many were, but after a few changes and adjustments to the system and ruling, the citizens seemed happier, the land and economy thriving, and most of the houses were put back together from the previous damage. Azriel’s shadows surveyed the area around them while Rhys walked to Tamlin’s manor, it also being freshly restored it seemed.

They entered, a slightly tense welcoming from the Fae at the door, before walking in, only to meet Tamlin, seeming unhappy as ever to see the High Lord of Night, gesture them to follow and led them into his office. The house was made primarily of wood and vines, with delicate colored windows that, when the sun hit them, portrayed wonderful patterns of flowers and vines shining onto the floor.

The office had a few windows open that were quickly shut by vines, those of which moved on their own, it seemed. The desk was made of what looked to be expensive wood in a deep chestnut color, bookshelves coating the wall to the left, a large map of Prythian on the right, and underneath it a map of Spring Court in personal detail. Tamlin was freshly shaven, his blond hair silky and shimmering as it flowed down, his green eyes clear, clothes ironed and expensive as any other ruler’s.

Try as he might, the son of Spring could never acquire the same casual power as Rhysand. Azriel knew that for sure.

That was when he felt it. A small feeling of something flickering, and going out, before a shadow slithered back up to him, seeming agitated. Tamlin noticed, eyes narrowing.

“I’d rather our discussion stay private.”

His voice, carefully neutral to Rhys, said. A pair of violet eyes glanced back at the shadowsinger, before Rhys gave a casual shrug, and Azriel, knowing what that meant, promptly left the room and began wandering the manor. He felt it again. More flickering, then the shadows returned to him despite his repeated attempts to make them go back out. They were agitated, but wouldn’t tell him what was wrong, it made him wonder what it could be.

Nothing around the manor seemed to be causing it, though the bugs that made his skin itch were annoying. He huffed, exiting the manor, only for his mind to promptly be told something.

‘Don’t go too far. Wouldn’t want Tamlin thinking you’re spying on his precious bug-infested land.’

The smug voice of his High Lord rang out in his mind, before retreating as quickly as it had come. A few of the servants, mostly lesser Fae, glanced at him as he passed. Some with wonder, some with fear. However, the closer he got to the area where all his shadows that had been had gone out, he found one female who only looked at him with amused curiosity.

It was a bit far into the woods, trees in hues of deep amethyst purple and a light shimmering pink hanging down like a curtain, he pushed them aside, met with an area with long grass and blooming flowers, and you, the female sitting on the somehow-not-rotting fallen tree that was hollowed out, holding the tiniest little bunny he’d ever seen.

As soon as he’d caught sight of you, the bunny had hopped off, his attention now directly on you. There were tiny little sparks around you, but when he looked closer it seemed more like globs of see-through glitter, like a toddler’s art project come to life through the shimmering pieces of what he could’ve imagined as pixie dust surrounding you. Not to mention the wings, nothing like his own, yours being thin and delicate, shaped like a butterfly’s, with a rich hue of translucent colors. A rare species of Spring Court faeries had such wings, most choosing to hide them from sight, as you promptly did when seeing him, the delicate appendages slowly fading from view.

He’d been staring.

“Who are you?”

He asked with a mild frown, you raised a brow, an amused smile on your face. The gesture sent an odd aching feeling in his chest flaring up that he tried to shove down.

“I’m guessing you’re the one who’s been sending all those shadows?”

You asked, completely ignoring his question. He sighed through his nose.

“You’re the one that's been putting them out?”

He asked with a knowing tone, shadows darting out from him to meet your little tiny pixie pieces, both warring against each other as they intertwined, some shadows sending the glittery things back to you, some of your sparks sending his dark, shadowy creatures back to him. It was almost as if they were playing.

“That would be me, yes. What’s your name, … shadowy figure?”

You asked, and he then realized that he was cloaked in the shadows that had returned to him, making him look like a splotchy black figure in this Court’s bright light. No wonder the servants had been giving him weird looks.

“Azriel. And yours, pixie-dust?”

You giggled a bit at the name, finding it amusing. He found it odd how much he liked hearing and making you laugh.

“Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Azriel.”

You said with a small smile, offering a hand to shake in greeting. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had offered him a hand besides maybe Elain, and even she’d been scared of him at first. He took your hand, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the scarring that coated his calloused hands, compared to your soft, gentle ones.

“A..pleasure to meet you as well.”

He replied, cautiously watching you, the way you held yourself. A hint of recognition entered your gaze as you examined him further.

“Oh! You’re that Spymaster, aren’t you? Night Court?”

You then asked, and he internally cringed at the fact that the only reason you knew him was because of his occupation that involved slaughtering and torturing people, not to mention spying.

“Yes..”

Before he could even finish his sentence, you continued talking. You were very talkative and friendly. It was almost overwhelming, but he found that he liked it, surprisingly.

“That’s what those shadows are for, like little spies, I’m guessing? My little pixies work the same way, they just run around and help me with things, it’s honestly —“

He stood there, listening to you talk before he was pulled to sit down by his shadows next to you on the log. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, listening to you rattle on and on first about your nieces then your one nephew who would always sneak out of his crib, or your mom who still treated you like you were a little girl despite you being at least a few centuries old….

‘Someone’s lovesick~’

A certain High Lord’s voice in his head called out, and though Azriel wanted to deny it, he knew better.

He was an absolute goner.

*********************************************************

He’d been looking for any excuse to see you, honestly. Even lying straight to Cassian’s face about why he’d missed training. The truth? He’d been flying to Spring Court, visiting you.

It had become a real problem, honestly, how distracted he was because of you. Even on missions he couldn’t stop thinking of your smile, how he loved listening to you speak about things you loved, like the flowers and flora of your homeland, or the way you’d showed him your delicate little wings after his first few times visiting you. A few months passed, and his little crush hadn’t gone yet, in fact, it had blossomed into something much more than a crush, and the others were starting to notice.

“What’s got you so distracted lately, Az?”

Cassian’s confused but intrigued voice rang out from in front of him where they sparred, iron clanging against iron, bodies moving in a dance of death they’d practiced too many times before.

“Nothing.”

He said simply, shaking his head. Cassian only laughed, a sound that only reminded him of you, and your —

And then he was on the floor, Cassian’s sword at his throat as he grinned triumphantly.

“What’s her name?”

His annoying brother asked in a teasing and knowing tone, Azriel only huffed, getting back up and dusting his leathers off.

It wasn’t anything serious, he told himself.

Even when he found himself flying hundreds of miles to go see you again that very same night, he found you on the windowsill of your house, watching the sky with a sleepy smile. He landed silently, walking closer to you and stepping on a twig on purpose, so he wouldn’t frighten you. Your gaze snapped over to him, and you beamed, getting off of your windowsill in a smooth motion to pull him into a warm hug, a gesture he always melted into.

“Do your wings not get sore from all that flying?”

You asked him, separating only enough to look at him. He smiled, barely, but any sort of smile from him was enough to make you happy.

“It’s worth it, for you.”

He replied before his lips curled into a more genuine grin.

“Though maybe you should come visit sometime.”

He suggested, tone joking but also with a hint of actual meaning. He’d talked about his home, Night Court, to you before, and tried getting you to come visit it or even just let him fly you over it, but you’d always denied it.

“What would I tell my family? They wouldn’t support me with you, and-“

That was when it happened, when your eyes met, his pleading, yours empathetic, when it snapped right into place. Everything was warm despite the cold chill of the night, and the breeze as it blew past. Both of your eyes widened, the only sounds being that of the leaves rustling for a few moments, but you both knew what had happened.

Before you could get a word out, his lips were against yours, yours against his, both savoring the feeling of finally crossing that final bridge and letting each other feel. Your little pixies danced with his shadows that night, in harmony for one moment, despite being the opposite of each other.

When you finally separated, he smiled, full this time of warmth and happiness.

“Does this mean you can come visit now?”

He asked, and you only laughed despite the tears in your eyes, and the ones in his, and pulled him closer into another kiss.

He’d be lucky if you ever weren’t visiting now.

Tags:

@hqmsby

Part 2

[fratttymatty]

The Basement

(All characters are 18+)

Elliot York had always lived in a world of his own making. A world painted in shades of faded Polaroids, sepia-toned photography, and the tactile hum of his beloved vintage film camera. At 30 years old, he'd never left his childhood home. His mother didn’t mind. She was just happy he was there, safely tucked away in the basement, where he spent hours surrounded by his photography equipment, sketchbooks, and the scent of old books. His life had always been quiet and unassuming—except for the occasional flare-up of frustration over his stalled career as a freelance photographer and artist.

The basement was his sanctuary. He had put up curtains to separate the clutter of his workspace from the cozy corner where he gamed, lounged on old leather sofas, and tried (and failed) to distract himself from the loneliness that gnawed at him. The art on the walls, his collection of vintage cameras, the scattered paintbrushes and half-finished canvases—they were all remnants of a dream that had long been abandoned. But Elliot had found peace there, or at least a dull form of acceptance.

But one evening, as he sunk into his usual routine—editing photos, sipping cheap wine, and scrolling through social media—something strange began to happen. The room felt different. The walls started to shift and hum with an energy that he couldn’t quite understand. It wasn’t a good feeling, not the cozy, familiar vibe that usually calmed him after a long day. No, this was something else. It was unsettling, almost alien.

Elliot stood up, his bare feet cold against the concrete floor. He reached for his phone to check the time, but the screen went black before he could tap it. As if on cue, the lights flickered, then dimmed, and then everything went dark. The silence that followed felt suffocating.

Before he could react, the floor beneath him began to tremble. His heart raced, and the air seemed to pulse with something he couldn’t name. Suddenly, there was a blinding flash, a searing light that filled every corner of the room. He shielded his eyes, but it was no use. The glow was everywhere.

The sound of furniture shifting, re-arranging itself, reached his ears. When the light finally faded, Elliot opened his eyes to find that the basement had transformed into something… different.

Where his art studio had once been, now stood a private gym. The walls were lined with weights, punching bags, and racks of dumbbells. There was a neon sign in the corner that read “GET BIG OR GO HOME,��� and a large flat-screen TV mounted on the opposite wall, with gaming consoles strewn across a low table. His leather sofas had been replaced with sleek beanbag chairs, and there were posters of famous athletes and cars decorating the walls. The entire room reeked of sweat and testosterone.

Elliot staggered backward, his mind scrambling to process what had just happened. He looked around in a daze. This… this wasn’t his space. This was some jock’s lair. It was everything he wasn’t. But before he could piece together what was going on, he felt a strange tug in the pit of his stomach. It was an almost physical sensation, a deep, primal force pulling at him, rewiring him, altering him in ways he couldn’t comprehend.

And then it started.

His body began to heat up, the air around him feeling thicker, as if his very cells were being remade. His skin stretched and tightened, his muscles swelling unnaturally as the change began. Elliot gasped, but the sound came out wrong. His voice, once soft and melodic, deepened into something guttural, more masculine. The edges of his vision blurred as the pain started to radiate from the inside out.

His hands, once slender and artistic, grew thick with muscle. His arms were covered in a sheen of sweat as his shoulders broadened and his chest expanded. His abdomen contracted and thickened, forming the abs of a bodybuilder. He could feel the air leaving his lungs as the transformation continued—each breath a battle. His legs grew stronger, thicker, the bones in his legs cracking and reshaping, giving him the powerful legs of a jock.

As the changes continued, Elliot's mind was bombarded by new thoughts, new instincts. The urge to lift weights, to work out, to dominate, it all consumed him. His thoughts flickered and shifted, like pages turning in a book, each one erasing a part of his old self.

His hair was the first thing he noticed. The bleached buzzcut he had been sporting for the past year—decorated with delicate flowers and a symbol of his indie artist lifestyle—was gone. In its place was a thick, dark brown fringe that fell messily across his forehead, styled in the latest TikTok jock fashion. He ran a hand through it, surprised at how it felt so right to him now.

His clothing, too, had transformed. The oversized hoodie and vintage jeans he had been wearing were gone, replaced by a fitted, tight athletic shirt and cargo shorts that clung to his newly muscled thighs. He stared at himself in the reflective surface of the gym mirror. The person staring back at him was unrecognizable.

The most shocking change, however, was the way his mind worked. Elliot—no, the person who had been Elliot—was slipping away. His new name was Ethan. He knew that now. He felt it. The name Ethan York seemed to pulse in his veins. The old worries about art, about the future, about being different—all of that was fading. In its place, a new drive surged within him: sports, girls, and partying. The thrill of competition, of lifting weights, of kissing girls on couches like these… that was what mattered now.

Ethan stood there for what felt like hours, unable to tear his eyes away from the mirror. His entire identity was slipping through his fingers like sand. His old life—the life of an artist, of a photographer, of someone who had longed to find his place in the world—felt distant now, like it belonged to someone else. It no longer seemed to matter.

A loud cheer echoed through the basement, and Ethan realized with a jolt that there were people here now. His friends—his new friends—were hanging out in the basement, lifting weights, laughing, playing video games, and throwing around crude jokes. One of them, a tall guy with broad shoulders and a thick neck, slapped Ethan on the back.

“Yo, dude, you ready for the party later?” he asked, his voice full of that easy confidence that Ethan now understood all too well.

“Yeah, for sure,” Ethan replied with a grin that felt so natural, it was as if he had always smiled like this. His old self—the one who had stared at the world through the lens of a camera, capturing fleeting moments—was gone.

As Ethan joined his friends, slipping into the role of the charismatic jock, he realized that there was no going back. He had been reborn. His old life, his old dreams, everything that had once been important to him, now felt hollow, irrelevant.

The basement—the gym, the gaming consoles, the posters of athletes—was no longer a prison of his own making. It was home. And for the first time in a long time, Ethan felt free.

He never once looked back.

The first few days after the transformation were a blur of new experiences, sensations, and… changes. Ethan, as he was now called, settled into his new life with an unsettling ease. At first, there was a part of him—buried deep inside—that clung to the remnants of his old identity. The artist. The creative soul. The man who had spent years living in his mother's basement, making art and dreaming of a different life. But that part of him quickly became overshadowed by the aggressive, hyper-masculine energy that now consumed him.

The more he worked out, the more his body seemed to crave the endorphin rush of weightlifting, of winning, of being the best. His muscles were constantly sore, but the pain felt good—it felt like he was becoming something greater, something stronger, something… dominant. And the more he grew in this new identity, the more he found himself disdainful of anything weak, anything soft. His patience with his old hobbies—photography, art, writing—waned. His camera, once a tool of self-expression, now sat neglected in the corner of his room, gathering dust.

Ethan started to feel that old life was for losers. The people he used to admire—quirky artists, introverted thinkers, anyone who didn’t fit into the tight mold of a jock—seemed… pathetic now. And in its place, a new breed of arrogance and entitlement bloomed within him. He was the center of his world now, and he knew it. The stares, the whispers—he loved them. He could feel the eyes of girls on him whenever he walked into a room, and it sent a rush of pride through his veins.

"Yo, Ethan, you gonna hit the gym today or what?" a voice called out as he walked through the basement. His buddy, Kyle, was sprawled across the new couch, his feet up on the coffee table, wearing a tank top that showcased his broad arms.

"Yeah, in a minute," Ethan replied with a lazy shrug, flipping his dark, messy hair out of his eyes. He no longer cared about the quiet, artistic moments he'd once cherished. Instead, he reveled in the shallow conversations, the jokes about how much protein they were consuming, and the constant flexing of muscles.

But then there were those moments, the ones that made his blood boil—moments that left a sour taste in his mouth, even in the high of his newfound popularity.

One evening, he was hanging out with a group of his friends—drinking beer and playing video games in the transformed basement, laughing too loud, throwing insults at each other like it was the height of wit. The mood was light, but there was something that cut through the laughter that made Ethan’s muscles tense, his jaw clench.

A guy he barely knew—Mark, one of the freshmen from the high school he still technically attended—had shown up at the party, wearing a tight shirt that clung to his body a little too snugly for Ethan's liking. Mark wasn’t a jock, not in the way Ethan now thought of as right. He was more on the geeky side, wearing glasses and talking too much about video games instead of football.

“Yo, Ethan, I didn’t know you liked photography,” Mark said awkwardly, holding a bottle of soda like it was his lifeline.

Ethan glanced over at him with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, I used to be into that art stuff. Now I’m focused on real things, y’know? Like... working out.” His voice was rougher now, full of the newfound arrogance that he couldn't even recognize as self-loathing anymore.

Mark fumbled with his drink. "Oh, cool. I mean, I think it's awesome how, like, artistic people can still be jocks."

Ethan’s expression shifted immediately. His lip curled into a sneer, and his eyes narrowed. “Artistic, huh? That’s cute. You know what I think about art?” He looked down at Mark with mock pity. “It’s for soft people. You know, like… weirdos.” His words were sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. The others at the party laughed, clearly uncomfortable but complicit in the joke.

Mark flushed, visibly shrinking under Ethan’s gaze. Ethan wasn’t even thinking about it at this point; he was just speaking what came naturally. The idea that someone could be into photography and still be tough, still be masculine, felt so wrong to him now. He couldn’t put it into words, but his gut told him that real men didn’t concern themselves with art or sensitivity. Real men got girls, lifted heavy weights, and dominated life. His new life.

But it wasn’t just about art. Ethan’s homophobia had grown like a weed in a garden, spreading uncontrollably. It was like his new self had to rewrite every part of him, especially the parts that could be considered “weak” or “soft.” His tolerance for things that felt “feminine” had evaporated, and soon, even the smallest hint of something that was remotely “gay” or “queer” made his skin crawl.

At one point, when a guy from school—Chris—who was a bit more effeminate and openly gay, sat down on the couch near him, Ethan felt his blood pressure spike. Chris had always been polite, always too friendly, but Ethan had never given it much thought—until now.

"Hey, Ethan," Chris said, adjusting his hoodie and running a hand through his sleek hair. "You up for a game later?"

Ethan didn’t look at him at first. Instead, he took a long swig of his beer, his eyes scanning the room. "Nah, man. I’m good," he muttered, his tone dismissive.

Chris laughed awkwardly. "Alright, well… if you change your mind, you know where I am."

Ethan’s eyes flicked back to Chris, narrowing. “Honestly, dude, you should maybe… like, tone it down a little,” he said, his voice low, deliberately cutting. "You don’t have to be all... effeminate all the time. It’s a little weird."

His words hung in the air, like a heavy stone.

Chris blinked, clearly taken aback. "What do you mean?" he asked, his face shifting with confusion.

Ethan leaned back, his gaze hardening. "I mean... just… you're acting like you’re in a fucking musical or something." He chuckled, but it sounded hollow even to him. “You don’t need to act so… gay all the time. It’s just uncomfortable for everyone.”

There was a cold silence in the room. Mark, Kyle, and the others shifted uncomfortably, but no one said anything. They just stared, either not caring or too afraid to speak up.

Ethan didn’t care. He was beyond caring.

He was a man now. And men didn’t have time for weakness, for sensitivity, for anything that didn’t fit into the world he had molded for himself. The girl he had been flirting with earlier, Mia—she was all over him now, and that felt like the only thing that mattered. He wasn’t some soft, emotional artist anymore. He was Ethan York, and he was popular, and he was a man.

The party continued late into the night. Ethan and his friends played video games, traded insults, and knocked back more beers. The air was thick with bravado, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. But Mark—who had been pushed aside by Ethan's cruel words earlier—remained quiet, nursing his soda.

He watched Ethan, his old classmate, with a strange mix of fascination and unease. Something about Ethan had shifted, something deep, something unsettling. But at the same time, Mark couldn’t help but feel a weird sense of longing—a desire to be part of the group, to be part of what Ethan had become. There was a magnetism about Ethan now, something powerful and alluring. And despite everything inside him that told him he didn’t belong in this world, a small voice in his head whispered that maybe, just maybe, he could change.

It was then that the transformation began.

It started subtly, like the shifting of shadows, creeping through Mark’s body like a slow burn. He felt a wave of heat flood through his chest, his limbs tingling with unfamiliar energy. He was still sitting on the couch, his eyes locked on Ethan as if hypnotized, but everything around him seemed to blur. His body seemed to ache, his muscles pulsing as if they were being stretched and expanded.

Mark’s hands clenched, his knuckles cracking as his fingers thickened with new muscle. His legs seemed to twitch, his jeans growing tighter around his thighs as they bulked up, swelling with new strength. He gasped, his breath catching in his throat as his entire body seemed to reshape itself, and his thoughts—his old, nerdy thoughts—faded away, replaced by an overwhelming desire to fit in, to be powerful, to be strong.

His clothes felt tight, uncomfortably so, and with a sickening snap, his shirt ripped open across his chest as his pecs ballooned out. His face burned, his jawline sharpening, and his hair—once messy and unruly—now fell in a dark, tousled fringe that framed his face in the exact same style as Ethan's. He barely recognized himself. Mark’s body, once scrawny and awkward, was now a mass of muscle, solid and imposing.

He stood up, suddenly feeling taller, stronger—almost as if he was made to stand out. He looked around the room, his gaze landing on Ethan, who stared back with a mixture of amusement and pride. Mark didn’t say a word.

The transformation had taken hold completely.

“Yo, Ethan,” Mark said, his voice now deep and confident, full of swagger. His tongue felt heavier in his mouth, and his words came out with a new arrogance, “This is fucking awesome.”

Ethan smirked, clearly satisfied. "Welcome to the team, bro," he said, throwing an arm around Mark’s newly broad shoulders, the two of them standing side-by-side. It felt natural, as if this was how it had always been.

Mark didn’t hesitate. His old self—the nerd, the shy, creative guy who had spent hours tinkering with gadgets and buried in his books—was gone. In its place stood someone who had finally found their place in the world. Mark was a man, and he wasn’t going back.

The soft hum of the gym in Ethan’s basement was now a constant background noise in his life—weights clanging, music blasting, and the occasional cheer of a newly broken record. The basement had been his domain, but in the last few months, it had become more than that. It had become the center of his life, not just in terms of workouts and gaming, but in how he’d built the new life he’d always dreamed of—confident, strong, and undeniably him.

But the biggest change had nothing to do with the weights or the video games. It had everything to do with her.

Mia.

She was sitting on the couch, her legs tucked up under her as she flipped through a magazine, occasionally glancing up at Ethan as he adjusted his dumbbells. The space between them was no longer just one of attraction or chemistry—it was something deeper now, something rooted in trust and understanding. They had been together for several months, and while the world around Ethan had transformed beyond recognition, there was one constant—Mia.

And she’d always had a way of seeing beyond the surface.

“Hey, how’s the game going?” Mia asked, a playful edge to her voice. She didn’t need to say much to get his attention.

Ethan grinned, setting down the weights. He wiped the sweat from his brow, then leaned against the wall, glancing at her. “Crushing it. Of course.” He winked, his tone cocky, but the smile on his face was genuine.

Mia raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You’re always crushing it,” she said, her voice light but full of affection. "You need to teach me your secret sometime."

Ethan laughed, walking over and sitting next to her on the couch, his hand naturally resting on the back of her neck. He let his fingers trail lightly over the skin there, brushing away a strand of hair. “You mean the secret to being irresistible?” he said, voice laced with playful arrogance.

She snorted. “You really do have an ego now, don’t you?”

He grinned, but the cocky edge in his voice softened. “Maybe a little. But I’m not complaining. Life’s good right now.” He took a deep breath, feeling the quiet satisfaction of his success, but it wasn’t about the muscles or the achievements. It was about the life he had built—and who he was building it with.

Mia reached up to cup his jaw, her fingers gentle as they traced the sharp line of his face. She studied him, her expression softening. “Yeah,” she said quietly, “I can see that. But you know what? I’m proud of you, Ethan. You’ve worked hard for all of this. I see the difference in you.”

Ethan smiled, the weight of her words settling warmly in his chest. “I don’t think I could’ve done it without you, Mia.”

She tilted her head slightly, still holding his gaze. “Maybe not. But you did it. And that’s all you.”

There was a silence between them—one of those comfortable, content moments that didn’t need any words. He knew what she meant. She wasn’t just talking about the physical changes—those were easy. What she meant was that he’d grown into a person who wasn’t afraid to be himself anymore. He wasn’t pretending to be someone he wasn’t, or hiding behind old insecurities. He was a man who had claimed his place in the world—and who had found someone who not only accepted him, but loved him for exactly who he was.

Their lips met softly in a kiss, one that wasn’t rushed or full of desperation, but one that carried years of silent understanding. They’d both grown over the past months—not just together, but as individuals. Ethan had finally come to realize that strength wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, too. And Mia had always been there, steady and real, pulling him forward whenever he felt like he was slipping.

As they pulled away, Mia grinned up at him. “So, what are we doing tonight? I was thinking we could actually hang out in the real world instead of this basement gym.”

Ethan laughed. “You mean… like a date? Outside of this cave?”

“Exactly,” she said, her smile wide and genuine. “Maybe we could hit up that new sushi place you’ve been talking about? You know, actually go somewhere without a weight bench involved?”

Ethan thought about it for a moment. He was used to the basement—the familiar pull of weights, the games, the comfort of his private space. But as he looked at Mia, at the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about something as simple as dinner out, he realized that there were more important things than the four walls that had once defined his life.

“Sounds perfect,” he said, reaching down to take her hand. “I think I’m ready for something new.”

Mia grinned, squeezing his hand. “You mean you’re finally ready to leave your little kingdom?”

Ethan chuckled, pulling her up from the couch and leading her toward the door. “Maybe. But don’t get used to it. The basement's still got a few more workouts left in me.”

Mia laughed, her head resting against his shoulder as they walked out the door together. She was right—Ethan had changed. And while the muscle and the confidence were part of it, the real change had happened inside. He was no longer the guy who hid in the shadows of his mother’s basement, afraid to show the world who he truly was. Now, he was the man who had built his life, step by step, with the strength of his own will—and with the love of someone who saw him, really saw him, for all of it.

And as he stepped into the world outside, hand in hand with Mia, Ethan knew that whatever came next, he was ready for it. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t just surviving. He was living.

And he had someone by his side to enjoy it with.

[sanctus-ingenium]

we need to talk about Inprnt.com

Following a really good post with more screenshots and evidence by @dynasoar5 i'm going to talk about my own experiences with @inprnt and why I am about to put my shop on indefinite hiatus from Monday the 14th of August.

First of all I'll say that since starting my print shop last year it has been a significant help to me financially - I was able to not worry about affording car insurance or motor tax (together commonly over a thousand euro) when I bought my first car, for example. I am immeasurably grateful to anyone who chose to buy one and I treasure all the pictures I've been sent of my prints hanging up on people's walls. Right now they are displayed in a real (if small) art exhibition in my home town.

(top right print is not from inprnt though)

They're great prints. Never had any complaints about them. But here's what's going on behind the scenes.

Earlier this year, around March or April, Inprnt sales started increasing in regularity. I'd made as much as $600 a week during previous sales when I made proper promo posts here, but with this increase in regularity, I felt that I couldn't make promo posts every single week. And then one day, I'm not sure when tbh, the sale just never ended. It just didn't stop having that "Ending soon! 15% off your order" banner at the top of the site. Right now it says "Final Hours: $5 Worldwide shipping and save up to 35% off your order!" and not even for a second do I believe in this final hours bullshit. It's been 'final hours' for weeks now. Months, even.

Why is this a problem? Well, how tf am I meant to make a promo post for a sale that is always "ending soon!!" and then never ends. One week it'll say "this weekend only!!" and then when the weekend is over, the sale banner just changes its wording and the sale doesn't end. I can't promo this, it makes me look like a liar and a skeevy salesman by association! It makes the site look like it's 1 week from crashing and burning, and the site owners are just scrabbling to suck as much money from artists as possible before they drown.

And they are sucking money from us. To peel back the curtain, Inprnt money can only be transferred to my paypal account 30 days after the sale is made, just in case the order is cancelled and refunded. This means I used to make one withdrawal every couple of months, when there was enough build-up of money to make it worthwhile. It also forbids withdrawing any sum under $50 btw. I would make a withdrawal request and then, after a 10 business day wait, it would reach my Paypal account.

Not anymore! The past few withdrawals have taken over a month to complete. They are straight up keeping my earnings from me for longer the agreed period. This was my last fulfilled withdrawal:

Note the date.

Almost two months.

And here is the latest withdrawal request that still has not been fulfilled.

It's coming up on 1 month and if the pattern continues, it could literally be November or December by the time I fully clear all sales.

So what's going to happen to my print shop? Because my art is currently being exhibited with a QR code linking to the shop, I can't close the shop this week. Instead I will close it on Monday the 14th of August, next week. That means that on the 14th of September, I can withdraw all of the remaining money without having any left over. My account balance will go to 0 and stay there. Although I'll de-list my prints I will leave my account there, because at the end of the day I don't want to leave Inprnt. It still offers the best artist margins and as I'm now unemployed after graduating, the additional support is such a load off my mind. So this is a chance to wait and see - if they improve their services, I'll happily re-open.

It's a big deal to me because selling prints is sort of my ideal life as an artist. I never had the attention span or self-discipline for commission work and I found that it left me creatively stagnant. I always want to try new things, new concepts and ideas, and being able to think "yeah, people will like this as a print" while I experiment is honestly very reassuring. And I know that in going on hiatus, it'll break a lot of "buy a print" links in my circulating posts. Oh well lmao. If you want to buy a print right now - go ahead, it might be your last opportunity. Another way to support me would be to check out my ko-fi for once-off donations or some nice sketchbooks/comics/book samples you can buy, or subscribing to my Patreon.

As of right now, Inprnt owes me $381 (the unfulfilled request submitted above for $186.60 and my current standing balance of $194.80 which takes 30 days from each transaction to clear).

[fatkish]

Aizawa x Autistic cat-quirk Reader 3/3 NSFW

Part 2:

Part 1:

(Art not mine again, I found it on Pinterest)

As you and Aizawa got further into your relationship eventually you moved into his apartment. Aizawa was more than happy to be able to come home to you and be able to spend his time with you without having to worry about meeting up or making time to go anywhere. Since you moved in with Aizawa there are things you did specifically to help accommodate your needs. Aizawa gave you full support and permission to do whatever you needed to make his home yours as well.

A few of the changes you made were installing various hide boxes that you placed around your’s and Shouta’s house/apartment, they have little cat beds inside and a curtain covering the entrance to them.

The boxes are actually color coded based on how you’re feeling and how one should interact with you.

Green means you’re feeling good and are happy to interact, yellow means you’re a little anxious but are up for snuggles, red means you’re overwhelmed and leave you alone.

Aizawa’s other cats liked the hide boxes so you made bigger ones and helped him create an exercise course for his cats to use that runs along the walls

There is also a small water fountain that you placed in Aizawa’s apartment for his cats to drink from, you replace the water every day and wipes it down to clean it

You’ve also put brushes on the sides of certain furniture, walls, and on the cat’s towers. These brushes help you as well as Aizawa’s cats with grooming and helps reduce the amount of hair on everything and the amount of hairballs. The brushes are easy to clean and remove hair from. The cats just have to rub themselves against it and it brushes their fur collecting any loose hair.

As you both began sleeping in the same house/apartment Aizawa has gotten to see a lot more of your unfiltered self.

Sometimes when you’re completely in the Autistic zone you’ll just lay on his chest and lick Aizawa’s stubble whenever he’s laying down. You’ve explained to him that sometimes you just have an unstoppable urge to lick him and that you enjoy the feeling of his stubble. You apologized for it but he doesn’t mind it and lets you just follow your instincts.

While he was asleep you had played with his scarf and got tangled in it only for him to wake up to you yowling and angry, he laughed as he untangled you

Sometimes you’ll use cat behaviors to express yourself without words. One of the ways is when you make biscuits: you’ll do this whenever you’re happy in both cat and human form. Sometimes you don’t even realize you’re doing it.

another thing is Bunting: (y/n)’ll rub on Aizawa and leaves their scent on him every time he leaves the house (hound dog thought an intruder got inside UA and tracked the scent only to find Aizawa. He explained that a cat quirked friend rubbed their scent on him and that’s what inui is smelling)

Eventually Aizawa had to introduce you to his friends. At first when you met Hizashi you were spooked by his loud voice and even puffed up your fur with your back arched hissing at him.

After a bit you got used to his presence and carefully approached him. The moment he started scratching your head and giving you pets you folded and that’s when you both became friends.

After having known him for awhile you and Hizashi worked together to create a cat music playlist for his radio station. They created “cat radio: the 9 to 5 station for your feline friend” the station plays music for cats created by various artists and plays Monday to Saturday from 9:00 am to 5:00 pm.

You gave him a list of sounds that cats enjoy and he mixed them together and created a rhythm that sounded almost like human music.

Whenever they hang out he plays his newest pieces for them and they tell him what they think and if it could be improved.

Sometimes on Sundays, Hizashi and reader will accept calls to the studio or will open emails/letters from the listeners of the cat radio channel and reader will answer the listener’s questions about their cats and give advice as well as help the listeners understand their cats and somewhat translate for the cat(s) using their quirk’s ability to communicate with cats. Sometimes they have special guests such as veterinarians to answer questions and discuss cat things.

After some time (y/n) eventually met Nemuri as well. Nemuri immediately fell in love with (y/n) and quickly became their relationship coach. Whenever you’re having issues or need help with anything you call Nemuri for advice. She’s the one who helped Aizawa with the more intimate aspects of your relationship.

One time as a joke, Hizashi gave (y/n) catnip just to see what they’d do, only for them to get really horny and tackle Aizawa when he got home.

They kept biting him and eventually he had to lock them in a room to relieve their urges with the help of some ‘toys’ and needless to say, Aizawa was extremely exhausted afterwards but enjoyed tying his little kitten up.

However after that he never allowed catnip near them again unless (y/n) agreed beforehand due to how it makes them feel

When they get frisky in bed Aizawa will often bite the back of their neck where they have a human scruff, the skin there is just more loose and stretchy.

He will also make sounds like a seductive growl or rumbling when he bites it. This causes reader to become completely relaxed and intensifies their physical sensitivities as well as their 5 senses when they’re having sex.

You also experiences heats instead of periods(for you girls). (Boys experience heats too)

During this time you become especially sensitive and horny. Aizawa will mark and track the days leading to your heat so he can prepare for it.

He has bought various toys that he can control from his phone as well as a teddy bear that he recorded messages on for you to listen to his voice when he isn’t home and you need to relieve yourself

A lot of the messages are dirty talking telling you what he’s going to do to you when he gets home, praises and compliments or just him telling you how much he loves you

“Who’s my pretty little kitty? That feel good? I can’t wait to get home, you’d better prep yourself, because I’m not going give you any time to prepare.”

“Look at you, you’re so wet, such a naughty little kitten, making a mess.”

“You’re such a pretty little kitty, making such cute little noises, I just can’t wait to get home and sink my teeth into you and fuck you all night”

“Face down, ass in the air kitten, you know how I like it”

“Look at this cute little ass, maybe I should tie you up, make you beg for me as I spank you”

“I’m going to make you scream so loud you’re gonna give Hizashi a run for his money.”

“That’s it, good (girl, boy, kitty) go on and purr for me baby let me know how good I’m making you feel.”

“You’re so tight, I love you so much.”

When he does get home during their heats, he’s always happy to help them.

During your heats he’ll give you catnip on occasion as an aphrodisiac to help you when he’s especially tired since it makes you even more sensitive.

After your heats Aizawa will happily snuggle you and help you get around since you’re sore afterwards more often than not.

All in all, your relationship with Aizawa is purrfect, and he couldn’t ask for anything more.

[sanyu-thewitch05]

Kinktober Post

Yandere Vampire x Princess in a tower

Kofi: https://ko-fi.com/cherie47467

TW: Mind control, drugging, blood, dubcon

In a dark tower in the woods, is a girl in a white nightgown. Her hands are bound by chains attached to a wall, and her neck is the same. From the looks of the room, she had been there for ages. Her face is thin, and her hair is as stringy as straw. She has waited for her hero to come, but it seems she may die before it happens. That girl was you. A princess who got put into a tower as a sick way to kill you so he can marry another. You wish your life was like one of those fairytales, but that seems impossible.

"Hello? Is anyone in here?" A voice yells, walking up the steps.

You try to make noise come out of your throat, but it's no use. You shake your arms a bit, rattling your chains. Your savior comes into your room, his eyes full of pity. He's the most beautiful man you've seen alive. His hair is long and black, his brown skin is as clear as glass, and his chiseled chest can't even be contained by his white v-neck blouse. Every part of his body is a work of art—especially those enchanting purple eyes of his.

"Oh, you poor darling. I'll get these chains off of you," The man says, breaking your chains with his bare hands. "Can you get up?"

You shake your head no, and he picks you up.

"Don't worry, I'll bring you to the carriage," He says, carrying your body out of the tower and to the outside world.

The sun blinds you, hurting your eyes as sunlight enters your eyes for the first time in a few months. You bury your head in your savior's shirt, trying to block out the light.

"Aw, darling, I had no idea you liked me so much," He chuckles, putting you in the carriage, drawing the curtains on the windows, and shutting the door. "Now that it's darker, why don't we start with an introduction? My name is Roman Beaudelaire, and I am one of the many dukes of this kingdom. I know your throat is too weak to speak, so I shall not force you to say anything."

You sigh and put your head on the sides of the carriage. Your body has never felt more tired.

"Once you're at my estate, you'll be taken care of. Now, rest. You need it," Roman says, his eyes looking more beautiful by the second.

You fall asleep, and when you wake up, you're in a bed with silky red and black sheets. Your old nightgown is gone, and you're wearing a new one that's pastel pink with bows on the sleeves. Its material is soft and makes you never want to take it off.

"Lunch, my darling?" Roman inquires, bringing in a plate of the finest foods to eat. "I brought some of the smaller crabs from the port, fruits, and some herbal tea. I hope you like it."

You touch a crab on the plate, feeling the texture of its body. It's been so long since you've seen the outside world, you've forgotten what some things are and look like. Roman chuckles, sitting on the bed, grabbing a crab from your plate, and cracks a leg for you. The meat looks so delicious and red you want to gulp it down immediately. You grab his hand, scarfing down the piece of crab meat.

"No need to rush, darling. I won't take the food from you. But please be sure to drink your tea. It'll help you feel better," Roman says, enjoying your reaction to the food.

You drink some of the tea, and your body instantly feels better. Your vocal cords feel like they're coated in honey, ready to speak forever.

"Woah, it really did help me feel better," You say, surprised you heard your own voice.

"I'll come back later to collect your dishes," Roman responds, kissing your cheek.

~~~~~~~~~~

For the past few days, you've been eating Roman's food and tea, and eventually, you've gained the strength to explore his estate. You've wandered through the gardens and walked through the library, touching every soft and dusty book. You've even managed to accidentally discover Roman's bedroom when you were exploring the hidden passageways. Admittedly, he escorted you out, before you could question the lack of light in his room, but you'll just ask him about it later when he visits for his nightly chat with you. Hours pass by while you wait in your bed for Roman. Eventually, the clock strikes twelve, and you fall asleep thinking you'll wake up with him on the other side of the mattress.

But you're sleep doesn't last long, as you hear a heavy creak above you. You open your eyes and find a pale creature with long fangs in Roman's clothes holding onto the ceiling. You make eye contact and scream, getting out of bed. You run for the door, but the creature appears before you.

"Please don't hurt me," You beg, back up to the bed.

"Don't you think you should pay me back for nursing you back to health from your disastrous condition? I put my own blood in the tea so your body could heal faster," Roman says, pushing you onto the bed. "Admittedly, the gradual blood loss made me look like a pale corpse, but it's all worth it. I get to have my own princess and soulmate to myself."

"How do you want me to pay you back?" You ask, watching Roman's finger go down your cheek.

"I want you. I want your body and blood," Roman answers, his dry lips kissing your neck. "Whichever one comes first is up to you."

"Blood."

Roman looks at you with his purple eyes, and you feel weak and aroused.

"That's it, relax and let your savior pleasure you," Roman says, slipping your night dress down.

He kisses your shoulder, then penetrates it with his teeth. You moan a little, and Roman plays with your breast. As he sucks the blood out, his dick begins to rise.

"Darling, can you do me a favor and unbuckle my pants?" He asks, chuckling at your horny state.

You do as he says, undressing his lower half and revealing his unnaturally veiny cock. By the time he's done feeding from you, he's returned to his youthful state, ready to get the second part of his deal. He pulls down the rest of your nightgown, letting it fall to the floor, your pussy clothed by white panties. He lays you on your pillow, lining his head with your entrance. He bites your inner thigh, making you moan like crazy.

"That's it, darling. You like having your skin bitten," Roman coos, looking at your damp underwear. "You look ready, do you think so, darling?"

When he looks up at you, your hand is in your panties, getting off to him biting you to the point you don't even notice he stopped.

"Ah, ah, naughty girl. I'm supposed to be the one giving you pleasure," Roman scolds, pulling the hand out of your underwear.

You whine for more pleasure, and he sticks his hand into your panties. He rubs his middle finger against your clit, making you spread your legs.

"Oh, you're ready, darling," Roman teases, rubbing his hand faster so you cum.

He uses his sharp nails to shred your underwear, and you lift your legs up to your head for him. Roman lines his cock with your entrance and doesn't wait to start slamming the entire thing inside. You scream with delight, gripping your legs. His rhythm is fast and steady as if he's been waiting for you for centuries. He holds your waist, his nails pressing into your skin and drawing blood.

"Ah, please! Make me cum again!" You beg, tears in your eyes, feeling the pleasure high build again.

Roman's pace gets faster, and he leans down to your neck. He bites your neck, pushing venom out of his fangs and into your bloodstream. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you cum all over Roman's dick. In an unexpected move of pleasure, you bite Roman's shoulder, and he shivers in ecstasy. His cock shoots ropes of semen into you, coating your walls white.

"Didn't know you could bite that hard?" Roman teases, licking the blood off your neck puncture holes. "Once the venom is throughout your body we'll have days like this forever."

Your eyes focus on Roman, and you see those purple eyes that enchanted you at first sight. You hug his body, snuggling your head on his shoulders.

"That's right, darling. Relax, I'll be taking care of you. No need to explore beyond my estate's walls," He says, rubbing your head. "You only need to focus on me and how we'll be making some changes to your kingdom."

He kisses you, his tongue exploring your teeth and feeling your canines become fangs. He pulls out of you, cum spilling out of your hole, and pulls the bedsheets on you. He lies next to you on the bed, opening his arms so you can snuggle with him. You gladly move into his arms, and enjoy the feeling of his sweaty skin. You place your hands on his massive pecks, and he laughs.

"And you say I like your boobs," He laughs, his free hand going to your ass. "But, I must say I like this better."

He gladly fondles and gropes your body as you drift off to sleep in pleasure.

[ilyrafe]

𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏 ✧ 𝒅. 𝒔.

pairing: drew starkey x f!reader

warnings: fluffy fluff :) this is so sweet and soft y'all might get diabetes, you've been warned!!!!

word count: 0.8k (she smol)

some would say he is whipped, but drew likes to believe he’s just infatuated.

when he wakes up and you’re not next to him, his mood is slightly ruined, just because he’s been living for morning cuddles ever since you’ve started sleeping together. having your body so deliciously warm against his is such a treat.

you’re thirty years old, grow the fuck up!, he tells himself every single time he begins to act like a schoolgirl. the simple thought of you makes him giggle.

giggle!

sleeping on your bed is much better than sleeping on his, your sheets and pillows are softer and they smell nicer, like rosemary. you have such a pretty home, everything has its place. your furniture is carefully curated as is the art spread throughout the walls. the antique furniture combines well with the modern ones, it’s like being in a little fun paradise. or drew is just in love, one of the two. every time he comes back to his boring apartment, he gets annoyed.

the curtains are closed, but he can hear the soothing sound of the rain hitting the glass windows. he never wants to leave your bed, if he’s being honest.

the faint smell of freshly brewed coffee sneaks under the tiny space between the door and the floor, letting him know what you’re up to.

drew looks at the clock on your bedside table and it marks 7:36 in the morning. it’s so early! he is not a morning person, and it seems that you are, which makes him inclined to change that about himself, as he doesn’t want to spend a minute longer away from you.

you’re so stupid, get it together!, he scolds himself.

he puts on his underwear and pants and leaves your bedroom, only to find you at the small island that separates the kitchen from the living room, eating avocado on toast and drinking coffee in the tiny silk nightgown he took off from your body last night.

a soft jazz is playing through the speakers, making it all just feel perfect. the rain, the music, the smell of fresh coffee, you.

you’re truly a sight for sore eyes.

“there you are.”

“oh, hi! good morning!” you greet him with a smile.

it’s funny how physically attached he is to you — it’s almost like your body is a magnet. his arms are immediately around your figure and he’s buried in your skin, wanting to make up for lost time.

“good morning.”

“how was your sleep?”

“it was great until you left me.”

you can’t see his face, but can certainly feel his pout.

“it’s a good thing you’re an actor. put all this drama to good use, y’know.”

he laughs, and you melt. he’s so cute and hot. he sits next to you and you silently offer a bite of your toast, holding it in front of him, and he accepts it, bringing it to his mouth.

“i made coffee, but i also have tea if you want.”

“coffee’s good.” he says as he pours himself some in the empty cup you’ve separated for him.

it’s so nice to have a quiet, slow breakfast to the sound of rain and jazz. drew likes how comfortable he feels in your space, and how comfortable you feel with him. this is still new, but it also feels like it’s been forever.

“so, what are your plans for today?” he asks before taking a sip of coffee.

“does nothing count as a plan?”

he laughs as he nods, “it absolutely does.”

he sees that you’re done with your meal and promptly takes your plate and cups to the sink. you smile, observing him from your spot — even his back is stunning. he said he’s been going to the gym and you can tell he is. with every movement of his arms, his back muscles are doing things you don’t know, but you greatly admire.

you get up from your chair and stand behind him, putting your arms around his broad figure, resting your cheek against his skin. you love the teeny tiny little freckles he has in his shoulders, even though they’re from the lack of solar protection. you’ve gone to the beach with him a couple of times and this man will not put on sunscreen to save his life.

somehow drew makes skin damage look adorably hot.

“d’you wanna watch some movies today?” you ask, hoping he says yes, because you really don’t want him to leave.

he looks behind his shoulder with a grin, “only if we don’t watch any of my work.”

“listen, it’s your fault you’re in movies i might be interested in.” you playfully argue. “but fine, we can watch something else.”

you take him to the couch and once you’re both settled in, you let him pick what you’ll watch, but in truth, you don’t really care about it, you just want to spend some more time with him before he needs to leave and spend weeks away from you.

truly, you had no idea that dating an actor would be so difficult, you didn’t anticipate that you really would be falling for him this fast and that missing him feels unbearable at times, but he makes it sweeter.

he makes it worth it.

[thedeviljudges]

how am i supposed to go back to work on monday like my life hasn't literally changed this past week lmaooooo like what

[notapradagurl7]

Thinkin’ Bout You.

BlackFem!/Plus Size Reader x Joey Bada$$.

Summary: You and Joey were roommates in your apartment and coming back from the summer break, he helped you put your stuff up into in your room until he brought up the one-night stand that happened between the two of you on the day before summer break.

Taglist: @henneseyhoe @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @siqueth @caashmoneynae @avoidthings @sageispunk @cvpidvsq @soft-persephone @life-in-the-slut-house @kindofaintrovert @hxneyclouds @meech667 @last-lost-one @lesbiantreehugger @westside-rot @keyera-jackson @euphorichappiness10 @swavydadon @thecookiebratz @kayla-charmanderrr96 @kaywopp @euphoriagrae @blackelysian @playgurlxoxo @planetblaque @myadalastdon @desiresiwant @moihasarrived @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @blackerthings @harmshake @vile-harlot @suckmybigtoe2 @browngirldominion @thecapodomme @daprettycancer @ingeniestrance @roeroe-world @babybratzmaraj @kprivqooo

( Requested by @naj-ay444 )

A/N: don't forget to reblog, comment and like to support your favorite writers.

Warnings: PWP, praise, dirty talk, degradation kink, spanking, straight-up fifth, profanity, erotic asphyxiation/choking, nipple play, facesitting, consensual for both parties, confession. Unprotected sex(wrap it up)

——————

Your deep brown eyes fixed on the brown dresser with your hands steadily moving the small books in place and organizing a few personal items, the subtle grunt from your roommate made you spin on your sock-covered feet. The man walked across the medium-sized bedroom with a box in his hand, the walls surrounding them were painted in sage green and decorated with small framed pictures of art.

“Do you need help with the box JoJo?” You asked in concern, raising your brows at him.

Your black locs were held up a bun, your dark brown skin and brown eyes. Your curvy body, sported a black shirt, sweatpants, and socks that matched in color. Your hands stuffed in your pockets.

You watched Joey carry the last box into your bedroom, he grunted as he lifted the box and your eyes saw his muscles flexing, the moonlight dancing on his dark skin. Butterflies flew in her stomach, your face grew warm from gazing at him.

Jo-Vaughn shook his head and replied, "Nah, I got it. Just trying to be a good roommate and good friend, you know?"

"Well, I appreciate it. It's nice to have some help after coming back from break. I missed our little apartment." You chuckled lightly, your eyes roaming the place.

"So do I, it's good to be back in our domain, I’ll be back shorty, I’m gonna put this box away” Joey mentioned kindly, nodding in agreement.

Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him, your mind racing with memories of that passionate night before summer break. The two of you lived together in the apartment for almost 6 years, it was a comfortable and familiar space.

You worked at your job while Joey was working as well, spent your evenings smoking a blunt or two, shared laughter and late-night conversations.

“Okay, I'll be right here.” You mentioned back to him, leaning against the wall.

But now, as you stood in your bedroom, the weight of that night hung heavy in the air. Would things go back to normal? Could you pretend like it never happened? The questions swirled in your mind, threatening to consume you.

He opened the box and picked the rod and light green curtains, Jo-Vaughn carefully hooked the light green curtains on the sliver pole of her small square-shaped window, gently pulling them apart and closing the curtain.

Jo-Vaughn sported a white tank top with matching sweatpants, and a gold chain swang around his neck. The pants sagged a bit, showing off his boxers.

He thought about that night with you as well, he dicked you down like he had something to prove.

He picked up the empty box and gently folded it thin, walking out of your room. He stepped into the empty room that either of you lived in, setting it down in the back closet, before walking into your room.

Turning his attention back to you. His dark eyes met yours as he walked through the door of your room. The tension hung in the air between the two of you.

“There’s somethin’ I need to ask you Y/N, it’s really important.” He replied in a soft tone, biting down his lip.

“You know you can tell me anything Joey,” You reassured him firmly, having a feeling about what he was going to ask you.

His black locs styled in two-strand twists gradually swayed as he sat down on the edge of your bed, his brown eyes locked with yours.

“Do you remember the night between us at Gemma’s party before summer break?” He asked nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

Your breath hitched at his words, the memories flooding back to you in vivid detail. The way his hands had roamed your body, Joey dicked you down so good, the way his lips pressed against yours, the handprint he left on your ass, You swallowed hard, trying to compose yourself as you met his gaze.

"Of course, I remember," you replied softly, fiddling with your fingernails. Your eyes moved from the floor then back to him.

You paused, your heart racing a bit as you remembered the night they had shared. You cleared your throat, trying to play it cool. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

"Joey, we said we wouldn't bring it up," you reminded him softly, your voice firm yet gentle.

Jo-Vaughn nodded while pursing his lips briefly, his eyes locked with yours again. But he was falling with you, butterflies flew in his stomach whenever he was around you.

“I know, I know but I can't stop thinkin’ 'bout you, the way your body squirmed under me, those pretty faces you've made while I was eatin’ you out and those moans you made, drove me crazy,” Jo-Vaughn admitted, his voice raised an octave.

For the first time, he was speechless and didn’t know what else to say. Jo-Vaughn was tongue-tied every time he was around you. The admission caught you off guard. You had expected him to brush it off, to act like it didn't matter.

As the memory flooded, you could feel the familiar heat pooling between your thick thighs. You tried to push those thoughts away, to focus on the present moment.

“Being this close to you, it’s driving me crazy..” He murmured, moving his locs from his face.

You have a clear recollection of the party night right before summer break, where both you and Gemma were invited and decided to have a good time before embarking on a trip together.

After consuming a few alcoholic beverages while sitting together on the couch, you rose to your feet and seized his hand, drawing him towards you and onto the dance floor. The intoxicating effect of the liquor had swiftly emboldened you.

You used to be reserved and hesitant when meeting new people, and even among those you were familiar with, you only revealed your true character.

The smooth R&B played through the ebony twin speakers, the smell of weed, cologne, and perfume hung in the air, Joey and you found yourselves dancing closely, the heat of the bodies in the crowded room adding to the intensity of the moment. The way his hands moved along your curves, the way his lips brushed against your neck.

The way his eyes bore into yours, pulling him closer to your face, breath fanning across each other's faces, a subtle mix of alcoholic fruity punch and candy.

Your heads leaned in gradually, lips meeting in a soft, yet passionate kiss. The music faded as the connection between the two of you intensified, lip-locking and tongue-kissed you sloppily, his hands roaming down your curves and gripping your ass with your permission.

Eventually, the two of you made your way through the hallways of Gemma’s house, stumbling through the door with drunk laughter and teasing remarks like “I can't believe we just did that" and "I hope Gemma didn't see us."

Once inside the bedroom next to Gemma’s and clothes were tossed out haphazardly. The sound of your moans and the bed creaking fills the room.

“I'm pretty sure she saw you shoving your tongue down my throat,” You replied in a sarcastic tone, chuckling at him.

“Oh? She did? Can I shove somethin’ else down yo’ throat,” Joey teased back, biting down on his lips.

"Is that so?" You smirked, playfully pulling him close. "Well, you'll have to earn that privilege again."

Joey chuckled, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Challenge accepted."

The memory of that night flooded your mind, the way Joey had taken charge and pleasured you in ways you had never experienced before.

After that night, the two of you made your way back to the apartment. Sleeping softly in your bed with Joey, the memories of the night etched in both of your brains. The hangover took over immediately.

Even though you and Joey maintained your friendship and spent time together, you harbored hidden feelings and desired a deeper connection with him.

“I hoped that it wouldn't be weird between us, sex made it worse Joey.”

“I don't just want sex from you, I only want you Y/N.”

He rose from the bed and approached you, maintaining a respectful distance as his gaze traced the contours of your body, lingering on your curves and dips.

You had already crossed the line with him at the party that night, knowing deep down that there was no way to undo what had happened.

"I secretly wanted this to be more with you and I couldn't stop thinking about you either,” you confessed lovingly, her lips forming into a playful grin.

Joey’s grin rested on his face, stepping closer to you, their bodies almost touching. The sexual tension hung in the air, he brought his face a bit closer. His breath fanned across your face, a mix of peppermint and weed.

“What’s stopping you Y/N?” He asked seductively, smirking at the woman.

Your face gradually leaned into his, closing the gap between them, your lips pressed against his, soft and plump just like you remembered. Tilting their heads on opposite sides together, only to deepen the kiss between them.

Wrapping your arms around him as he did the same, his lips were soft against hers, backing away from the wall only to gently plop on her bed, you on top of him which he adorned, he loved how you took control. The kiss ended with a soft smack, his hand roaming up your tank top, feeling no bra underneath.

It didn't block the friction when his fingers tugged at your nipples, “Your nipples are already hard," he whispered, his tongue flicking onto your nipple, wrapping his arm around him.

His plump lips suckling on your nipple while his freehand hand fondled your left breast. Your essence trickling down your thigh to his tip, Joey moaned at the feeling.

Sliding both of their tank tops off and sweatpants, their underwater as well, throwing them across the bedroom floor, now they were out of the way.

His hand roamed between your thighs, “May I?” he asked gently, you nodded quickly, “Yes, baby please..” you murmured, his middle finger and ring finger gently rubbing your wet folds.

You let out a soft moan, feeling your body respond to his touch. Your pussy clenched around his fingers, you needed him inside of you. To feel him again, he was yours and you were his. “You’re grippin’ my fingers already..” He groaned against your neck.

Your hands balled up in the blanket, Joey kissed your neck, collarbone and decorated your dark brown skin with hickeys, his fingers moved in and out of your entrance, and your hips rolled with the teasing pace. he smirked at your reaction. “Jo-Vaughnnn!” you screamed.

“Look at you, pleasurin’ yourself with my fingers. Such a muh’fuckin’ nasty girl, feels good?” He teased again, picking up the pace with his thumb circling your throbbing clit.

“Yes, so fucking good..” You whined softly, pouting in response. His fingers pumping into you at a faster pace, your legs shaking and twitching.

You loved how he stayed in rhythm with each heartbeat, your essence splattered over his palm as he watched it spill, putting him in a trace. “I never stopped thinkin’ bout you, you're always on my mind, Y/N”

The fast pace in his fingers and thumb kept going, guaranteed to make you squirt like the last time. “You make me feel so good,

Your legs almost closed from the intensity until you moaned “J-joey! I-cummin!” you screamed in pleasure, your body plunged between the pillows, and he brought his body weight onto yours. Your breast bounced against his chest, the friction you wanted was there.

“Let it out, lemme have it..” Joey praised through your climax, and whispered in your ear. Licking across your neck and nibbling on your ear. Driving you crazy with bliss.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, bringing him closer to you, his lips suckling on your bottom lip, The pleasure zoomed through your body, and prolonged moans escaped from your lips. “Ohmyfuck! Joey!” Your essence gushed on his fingers, a pool in his palm and on the bedsheets. Squirting undone, wrapping his mouth around where squirted and drank more of you.

A mess that made his dick harden and moaned in response, “Look at the mess you made..” he whispered, rubbing your thighs to help you relax.

Slumping against him, he planted a tender kiss on your lips. “You’re so pretty when you cum on me..” he cooed, letting go of your neck. Withdrew his fingers from you.

You heavily panted from the orgasm and smirked, you crawled away from him, lying on your back on the comfortable pillows, seeing him kneel on the bed. With his dick between his legs, your mouth watered at the sight.

“You missed this pussy baby?” You teased, gently spreading your legs apart. Your middle finger rubbed your clit and moaned softly.

Joey's hooded eyes on you, kneeled on the bed, gripping his length in his hand. He wrapped his hand around your neck,

moaning at his dominance, “Hell yeah, I missed that pussy, I'm comin’ in..” He mentioned, pecking your lips.

Watching him stroke his own erection. Precum pouring out of his tip. He groaned raspily from your pussy clenching. He gently pushed his length between your wet folds, you moaned girlishly from your walls wrapping his dick, inch by inch. “Pussy’s too tight, just for me..” he grunted deeply, pushing his hips.

“Oh.. yes! It’s all for you, that dick is for me right?” You asked while cutting yourself off with a moan, growing wetter by a second.

“Fuck yeah, baby girl..this dick is yours..” He groaned lowly, rolling his hips into you. Smacking your ass while he gripped the other asscheek in his hand.

Stroking into you, hitting your G-spot and you screamed in pleasure. "Ah, Ouu!" You moaned loudly, your nails scratched down his back, smacking your ass with one hand.

His hand wrapped around your jaw, making you gaze at him. The bed creaked under your body movement, his thrusts turned sloppy, "Can't speak, dick got your tongue hm?" he hummed, his eyes on you.

Breathless and trembling, your eyes rolled back but words were caught in your throat. He was plowing into you lovingly, his tip kissing your cervix over and over. “Can't s-speak, dick too good baby..” you mumbled, moving your hips with him.

Your essence gushed on his dick completely and your walls hugged around him, finding a happy home to settle in, you were elated to be with him. “I’m so happy to be yours..” he groaned lowly, kissing you.

Nope, you're not imagining it. He just said it to you, “I f-feel the same way baby,” you moaned in response, and your head fell on a pillow.

Your heart thumped out of your chest and threw your head back. Your voice became raspy, and the passion hung in the room. You were close to your climax, your walls tightened around him again. “Coming!” you moaned in response.

Came undone on his dick, coating him like a blanket and he watched every trickle as he pulled out of you, his tip spurted white and landed on your tummy. “Fuck Y/N..” he groaned, hearing groan your name gave you butterflies, You smirked.

You collapsed beside him on the bed, their bodies still humming with desire. Joey pulled you close, pressing soft kisses to her forehead as they caught their breath.

“I love you Y/N..”

“I love you too, Joey..”

After that intimate moment between you two, it was only right that you suddenly fell asleep peacefully, Joey pulled you close to his naked body and the ceiling fan spun in circles. Taking the darkness around the both of you, your locs hung in front of your face. He smiled at you.

"My girl," he whispered, nuzzling his nose against yours.

As you lay intertwined in the cozy blankets, your bodies wrapped in each other's embrace and your lips gently touching, a tranquil silence filled the air. The outside world slowly slipped away, gradually fading into insignificance as he too succumbed to slumber.

——————

[destielnoirbang]

Who Framed Sam Winchester?

By queerwerewolf | @queerwolf79 Art by anyrei | @anyreiart

Coming to Ao3 on 12/27/2024

Rated Explicit | 29,180 words | No Archive Warnings Apply

Down-on-his-luck private eye Cas Novak gets hired by Angelic Studios president, Nick Vaught, to investigate a scandal involving an infamous literary character (Lit), Dean Winchester, and Vaught’s primary nemesis, Fergus Crowley. A devilish producer and prop designer who has his hands in every movie studio in Los Angeles. Crowley’s prop factory shares a wall with Lit Town, and worse yet, he owns the contract for every Lit. Every contract, that is, except for brothers Sam and Dean Winchester from the Supernatural book series. When Crowley is found murdered, Sam Winchester becomes the primary suspect and goes on the run. The villainous Judge Edlund vows to catch and destroy Sam, having discovered a means of killing Lits with a substance known only as “Pulp”. Desperate to prove his brother’s innocence, Dean demands Cas help him find his brother before the Judge does. Despite vowing to never work with another Lit after his twin brother's murder, Cas agrees. With a contentious start to their working relationship, Dean Winchester and Cas Novak begin to uncover an ever growing nefarious plot. Can Cas and Dean put a stop to this evil ploy? And more importantly, will their attraction to each other get in the way of saving the day?

[Keep reading for a sneak preview!]

“Cigars? Cigarettes?”

When I turned, it was to come face to face with Dorian Gray. Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t aged a day in about a decade or so. Now whether that was because he was a Lit, or that damned portrait… His cobalt blue eyes rivaled my own, although, if I’m honest, his were always prettier. His curly blonde hair was coifed in a pompadour and his scarlet lips were curled in a hungry smile. He was dressed in a form-fitting pair of charcoal pants and an even tighter black t-shirt that left little to the queer imagination, carrying a tray of different smokes.

“Dorian, what are you doing here?”

With a wistful, overly dramatic sigh, Dorian pouted his plush lips and said, “Work’s been slow for those of us with a little more… culture.” Which meant with how many contemporary novels were capturing the attention of audiences, any Lits from the 19th century or earlier had to get creative to make a living. This suited Dorian, considering his nature. “But I’m still exquisitely tragic.”

With a soft laugh, I nodded, reveling in his beauty for a moment, although I was far too old for him now. “Yeah, you are.”

The lights started to dim and a spotlight shined on the closed curtains. I caught Crowley in my peripheral vision, straightening his tie and sitting upright. He even pulled out a small bottle of cologne, spraying it against his neck. It reeked of licorice and cloves, the breath of a child that got into his father’s cigarette case.

I turned to Dorian with a bemused expression. “What’s with him?”

Dorian smoothed out a nonexistent wrinkle on his pants with a shrug. “Oh, Mr. Crowley never misses a night when Dean performs.”

“Got a thing for Lits, huh?”

At that, Dorian gave me a pointed look. “If I recall, you did as well at one point.”

I cleared my throat and grabbed my drink, gulping down half of it at the implication, feeling a warmth at the memories that comment conjured. The crowd grew silent and the band could be heard from the pit, warming up their instruments. Then a familiar intro began, an infamously upbeat Cole Porter song that had been slowed down from a jazzy little jaunt to something sedated, steady, and sentimental. Just as a soft beat began, the curtains jostled and a leg popped out, bent at the knee in skin tight purple pants.

“We’re all alone… No chaperone… Can get our number… the world’s in slumber… ” A sultry, deep voice sang in a pleasant register, masterfully turning jazz to a ballad. The curtains parted and revealed one of the most breathtaking creatures I had ever seen in my life.

“Let’s misbehave…”

[the-fiction-witch]

Morning Maid

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Flirty af

I hurried myself through the hospital corridors and stairwells finally finding myself at the second-floor room not bothering to knock, I never did and he never made me. Plus my hands where littered with the various items I would be needing this morning. I went inside shutting the door behind me and scampering inside the little room.

I set fresh towels and his clean laundry on the table close to the wardrobe, set his breakfast by the stove ready to cook in a moment, and I set his sheets next to his bedpost given his body still laid in his bed.

The room dark, his fluffy hair only just poking out the covers.

I brushed off my hands and set the stove to begin warming as I went to the window pulling open the curtains to let in the sweet morning sun.

"Ughurhmmm-" Mumbled from the bed with a shift and a wiggle he turned away to face the wall so the light bothered him less

"Dr Dawkins?" I cooed sweetly "Dr Dawkins?" I cooed a little louder but neither even garnered a response, So I went to the wardrobe put his clean clothes away and got him out some fresh ones for the day ahead, I poured him a fresh glass of water that I sat on his bedside table taking the one I poured last night away now empty of course. And I grabbed his coat from the door taking my duster and giving it a firm few wacks to knock the dirt out much as one does a old rug. "Dr Dawkins?" I called again a slight song to my voice "Dr Dawkins!" I called again but still no response came so I carried on taking yesterdays laundry to the door to take with me, making sure things where dusted and organized returning his book to its place, "Dr Dawkins!" I called loud enough it echoed in the room "Dr Dawkins!" I called and by some miracle! he rolled over back to face the room letting the sheets linger at his waist skin dewy from the heat

Well. He's alive I suppose.

I sighed and opened the window and leaning my arms on his metal bedframe,

"Dr Dawkins" I called

Nothing.

"Doctor there is an urgent emergency" I said

Nothing.

"Doctor the hospital is on fire!"

I think his nose twitched.... maybe.

"Doctor Dawkins a large huntsman spider is crawling up your leg."

he let out a breath

Holy shit he breathed!

"This is why no one else signs up for you in the morning you know. I'm the only one who wouldn't have bashed you over the head with a frying pan by now" I chuckled "Dr Dawkins a lady is here to see you and she says she's pregnant"

He wiggled! a little mostly just shifting himself a little

"Okay... Jack there's a gangster here about a poker debt!" I yelled

I mean.. he stirred. a little bit.

I rolled my eyes and got his toast setting his breakfast on the table looking at his sleeping body a moment trying to think of a way to do this that didn't involve a frying pan or ice cold water...

"Dr Dawkins a lady is here to see you and she says she's pregnant"

nothing. dead as the bodies downstairs, and then it occurred to me

"Alright, I guess Dr Dawkins really is sleeping soundly." I smiled "I suppose then he won't mind I take the air out of his nice second-floor window, as it is so very hot today" I giggled leaning on the bedpost again "Umm it's so hot I think I may remove my dress."

And the moment! the goddamn second! I uttered that word his eye flicked open

"Jack!" I yelled making him jump as he clearly wasn't expecting me to be leant on his bedpost

"You lied." he pouted sitting up and leaning against the wall

"I didn't lie. I simply failed to tell the truth."

"That's lying. By definition." he said "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Ohh you know always wanted to see the sights around the hospital" I joked "What do you think I'm doing here, waking you, you dunderhead." I laughed going to start on his breakfast first making some toast as it was the easiest and he liked it the coldest

"I do not require waking." he said "Flip the toast," he said

so I did so "Don't you? Because we both know if I hadn't you'd still be in that bed at the lords hour of half past four you had it your way"

"it's my day off."

"Your a doctor you don't get days off." I laughed putting the toast on the plate and grabbing an egg I brought with me "Sunny, over, scrambled, how'd you fancy them this morning?"

"I'm on call then" He answered "scrambled please but make them-"

"Dry as a bone. I know Jack." I giggled "You planning on getting out the bed at some point I have to take the sheets down to the laundry."

"After breakfast"

"Alright" I rolled my eyes playfully adding his eggs to his plate "You know none of the other girls will come up here."

"Am I truly that terrifying?" He joked having some water

"No. they simply find your... suggestions passive-aggressive and annoying" I explain

"my suggestions?"

"You're nitpicking Jack" I laughed getting the marmalade from my things and spreading it thin over his toast making sure to keep it separate from the eggs

"Nitpicking? That what they're calling it now." He laughed "And it doesn't bother you?"

"No, you like things a particular way nothing wrong with that. I have simply learnt your way. as it is your way or the highway as it were" I laughed taking it over sitting on his bed with him to hand over the plate which he grimaced at

"I wanted jam."

"Well, you have marmalade."

"Why?"

"Because I brought Marmalade. and no Jack I am not going all the way back down to the hospital kitchens to see if they have any jam. You get marmalade."

"No bacon?"

"We're out of bacon so you got extra toast"

"Did he. get the last of the bacon?"

"No, Marybell tried to take it to him, I told her it's not fair when we only have four rashers of bacon to give all four to one doctor and one to the others we argued, we fought and I ate the bacon. that solved the problem" I smiled giving his plate a gentle inviting shimmy

"Still missing something aren't we?"

I rolled my eyes a moment but gave him a sweet kiss which he happily pulled me closer into before taking his breakfast

"Thank you y/n"

"You're welcome you little wombat"

"Aww thank you" he smiled

"That was an insult Jack" I laughed

"Is it? you love wombats?"

"... be quiet and eat your toast," I told him to get up to clean and tidy up

"has it crossed your mind none of the other girls want to come work up her because they know it's your job"

"That's possible. Sure does seem like I've become your bloody maid" I sighed "Still I'd rather be here dealing with your nitpicking than cleaning up the head surgeons' drunken escapades or dealing with your colleague's slaps on the arse."

"So my slaps on the arse are better then?" He chuckled setting his plate on the side

"You're certainly gentler Jack" I laughed "Last time I was in there with him I swear he was trying to hump me every time I bent over"

"See I'm much easier, I'm considerate I save all our humping for dinner time."

"Only because your too tried to do it in the morning" I laughed giving him another kiss and all but kicking him out the bed so I could change his sheets "If you could find the energy we both know you would."

"... Possibly" he shrugs stretching and yawning as he wondered across to his wardrobe in only his underwear "I like after dinner, puts me right to sleep"

"Like you need any help in that department. Often times I'm half tempted to call one of the porters up to cart your body out convinced you've kicked it.”

“You are in a very grumpy mood today” he said as he dressed

“oh? Something I should find chipper and enfrawling about stripping your bed off?” I asked

“Your usually pretty excited about stripping me” he smirked as he snapped on his suspenders and I only glared back “ooohh… very grumpy girl today”

“Maybe I should go visit the other doctor” I joked

“Noo” he whines as he came behind me and wrapped his arms around me softly and gently “absolutely not I won't allow it”

“Oh why not?’ I giggled starting to make his bed with his fresh sheets

For a moment there was silence but he nuzzled close “your my girl.” He cooed and I couldn't help but smile it wasn't what he said but how he said it, so softly and kindly, so sweet and gently, not saying it in a possessive sort of way like he owned me like I belonged to him but that I was his and its so sweet that even something so shall as doing this routine for the other doctor would utterly not be allowed. “Besides we both know I can't sleep without you anymore” he smiled

“You where getting along just fine this morning?”

“Because your been cuddling me all night, It was residual sleep from the last night when you were here” he said turning me to Face him

“Umm I see, nothing to do with the French postcards you've been hiding under your mattress.”

Immediately colour drained from his face

“H- how do you know about that?’

“I make your bed. And clean your room. Just accept you don't have any secrets from me jack. And if you think you do. You don't.” I giggled

“You don't know all my secrets’ he smirked tugging me a little closer

“try me.”

“Go on then what secrets am I keeping?”

“The naughty french postcards your ‘hiding’ under your bed, the stash of toffees you have hidden inside your hollowed out poetry book, the pair of underwear you have hidden away because they are lucky for some reason, that time you kept a baby kolar in your room to you hid it from me, you didn't I knew I just didn't want to ask i assumed you were going through something” I explained and his eyes went wide

“Hu.”

“Shall I go on about how you sometimes sit backwards in the toilet for fun or the fact every time you have a bath you sing a little song”

“I really can't hide anything from you can I?’

“Nope” I giggled nuzzling into his shirt and he happily tightened his arms around me kissing my head “yes”

“What?”

“I also know about the ring you've been hiding in the store room the last six months.”

“Damn it. I really thought I hid that, so … is that a yes?”

“Yes. But it needs resizing slightly its a little big.” I smiled continuing will the bed

“you tried it on?”

“Several times. I get really bored around here sometimes” I shrug, he smiled and pulled me into a sweet loving kiss

“So, as I'm only a on call today? Shall we perhaps celebrate?’ he suggested glancing at the bed

“Jack, you couldn't have suggested that before I changed the bed. It's clean. And immediately you want to make it messy again”

“I'll change it again after if my lady wants me too”

“No, later I need to get this stuff down to laundry” I told him going and grabbing the laundry but before I even reached the door “ahhh! Jack put me down!” I whined as he picked me up and tossed me on his bed

“Laundry can wait” he smirked stroking my chin “I cannot.’ 

[lizardkingeliot]

Who wants to read an entire ~600 word scene from the upcoming sequel to my Loustat reunion fic? Because I'm 12k-deep into writing this thing and I'm getting so antsy to get it out into the world already but it's not even close to being done and I could perhaps use a bit of cheerleading so I'm just gonna drop said scene here lol...

Putting most of this under a cut I hope you all enjoy Louis and Lestat bickering about home decor. 🥰

—

The sun had only just set but they’d already been up for an hour. They were standing in the living room on the rug that had been delivered while they were sleeping. The thick pile soft and plush against Louis’ bare feet. Lestat was splitting his time between frowning down at it and frowning over at Louis.

“This won’t do, mon cher. It’s too…” He gestured airily with one hand, sharp nails gleaming in the artificial light. “French country. Were we not going for coastal?” “I’m gonna ban you from watching those home reno shows on the iPad if you don’t—” Louis drew a breath and fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Thought you hated coastal.”

Lestat hummed, tipped his head to one side, scowled down at the rug. “Even so, is it not the aesthetic we are striving for here in our coastal home?”

“You picked out the rug, Lestat. You—”

“It looked different in the online pictures, cheri.”

“Buy another one, then.”

Louis sighed with his whole chest. He didn’t care about the rugs or the curtains or the lamps. Not really. Though he was starting to get antsy about picking art for the walls. Had been itching to pull pieces from his collection since the first night the realtor sent him the listing. As soon as Lestat decided to stop being difficult on purpose, he could make it work. Lestat let out a sound. Tiniest hint of a growl in his throat. Louis watched him gazing down at their bare feet nestled into the pile. “We need to find a proper boutique. Better yet an auction house. Why are we scouring web pages on an iPad for pieces for our home?”

“Easier that way,” Louis said with a shrug. There was an ache in his stomach he couldn’t give a name to. “We can always just hire someone to do this shit for us, Lestat. I know designers, decorators. Artists. I can call some people—”

“You don’t care about our home.”

Louis’ stomach twisted itself into a knot so quickly it nearly doubled him over. “What the fuck—” He couldn’t help it when the words flew out of his mouth. Seriously—what the fuck. “Why would you say somethin’ like that to me, Lestat?”

Lestat set his eyes on Louis. The set of his jawline was hard and tense. He had that look in his eyes like a cat about to do something very, very stupid. “You cared so much back at Rue Royale. Firm opinions on every piece of furniture. The art on every wall—" “I got art lined up. You know that. You know I’m gonna handle the—” “Do you remember that lamp you hated? Wanted to throw it in the incinerator the moment I—" “Don’t see what point you’re tryin’ to—” “dared to bring it home to replace the one—” “I don’t remember the lamp. I remember you—" “that had been badly damaged—" “being impossible about everything exactly the way you are—” “when we knocked it from the table—” “right now.” “making love. And I—” “Lestat!” “Louis.” Louis drew a long deep breath and huffed it out. The tension in his chest abated just a little, just enough. “I don’t remember the lamp,” he said. And clenched his jaw. And shook his head. Lestat was gazing at Louis with wide eyes that didn’t blink. The centers of them huge black voids Louis could have tumbled down into in seconds. He leaned close. So close the ends of their noses brushed together. “How convenient for you,” he growled, one corner of his mouth twitching up. Louis growled back, showed his teeth, tiniest hint of his fangs poking out. “You’re insufferable, you know that.” He reached forward at once and let his mind go dark. Took Lestat by the hair with both hands. And crashed their mouths together.

[monstrifex-art]

Howls in the Heights

Art and story by me, for the TF anthology Shifts from the Shelves.

Story:

Smoke hung in the air like an unanswered question. Between the blotchy wallpaper and the liquor-stained floorboards, the poker room couldn’t accurately be described as “nice.” But Donovan owed me a favor, so for the time being this space in the back of his bar was mine. The faint music of a jazz combo leaked under the door, distant and a little sad. I stretched, twine running through my fingers as I looped it around the tack pinning a balding man’s mug-shot to the wall.

“That one’s kind of handsome,” Rita mused from behind me.

I scoffed and shot a glance over my shoulder. Rita stood close enough that I could smell her perfume. She was watching me map my thoughts on the wall with casual amusement, her dark eyes skimming lightly over the collection of newspaper clippings and photographs.

“Maybe he was. But he’s not looking so good anymore.” I uncapped a pen and drew a large red X over his face. “Handyman Wharton was a real piece of work. But no one deserves to die like that. These murders… in all my years of investigating, I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“Mmm, sounds to me like he had it coming,” she breathed as she leaned her chin on my shoulder. Rita was beautiful in a way that made it hard to think straight. She had wavy hair that fell like a black curtain on one side of her face, eyelids and lips done up in a matching smoky coal. Tonight she wore a cocktail dress that poured smoothly down her curves. The thin fabric left very little to the imagination.

Rita and I had crossed paths in a couple chance encounters over the last couple weeks. She had a habit of turning up just as things were getting interesting, and making just about everything a little more complicated. For some reason she seemed to take a shine to me. We’d started spending nights together, and she proved as enthusiastic between the sheets as she was on the dance floor. Maybe more so.

“I’m getting close,” I murmured softly. “All these bodies—there’s a pattern here. Crime barons, crooked cops… someone is making a power play for this city’s underworld. Whoever they are, they can’t hide from the truth.”

Rita slid off my back and glided over to the card table where she’d left her lighter. She sat, one leg crossed over the other, and took a long drag from the mouthpiece of her cigarette holder.

“I like watching you think, Detective. It’s like watching an old car struggle up a steep road.”

“This car still has some miles left in it,” I chuckled. “See here—Wharton was a regular at the Glass Eye. You remember, where we met at the craps table. And here, if my sources are right, Wharton was smuggling ammo for the Pinstripe gang. They’re based out of Turnstile, where you took me to see that boxing match. Hell, if I didn’t know any better Rita I’d say…”

Something cold ran down my spine. Old instincts flared to life, telling me I’d just stumbled into something big. My eyes flitted from headline to headshot, arcs of twine adding up in an intricate equation. My thoughts clicked like a typewriter, checking hunch against evidence, step-by-step. It was impossible but… the data points aligned. How could…

“Ahhh… starting to put the pieces together, are we, darling?” Rita’s voice found me from far away, as if I was at the bottom of a well. I turned to face her, limbs numb.

“You…”

She smiled, white teeth flashing in the smoky gloom. “Of course it was me, dear. It was all me. All along.”

“But… the bodies. They were torn apart. How did you…”

She laughed in that pitying little way she did when she knew something I didn’t. The melodic sound of it almost made me want to laugh with her.

“Mhmhmm aww, you still look so confused! Don’t worry sweet thing, this one is above your pay grade.” She stood with a little flourish, like a magician’s assistant. “Here. Perhaps a demonstration will make you understand.”

A part of my mind, not sure which, suddenly sounded alarm bells. An instinct to run pumped through me, made my heart beat fast and my perception sharpen. Rita was just standing there, but some awareness deep in my hindbrain was screaming danger. Predator. Flee.

I gritted my teeth. Not yet. Not when I was so close to the answer.

A shiver ran across Rita’s pale skin, starting at her back and working out to her limbs. I could see her hair stand on end. She stretched, luxuriating in the movement. Her lips parted, and a long sigh streamed from her throat like a release of pressurized air. “Hahhhh… You’re about to see who I really am, dearest.”

A quiet snapping noise, then another. Dozens of meaty clicks inside her like the sound of dislocating joints. Rita pitched forward, bending double in a violent motion that knocked the card table behind her slamming to the floor. She gasped, lurching upright with an ecstatic grin on her face. Her eyes! They had changed, darker around the edges and brighter in the middle. Her pupils reflected light like burning headlights. I couldn’t look away.

“All the rest, it’s an… affectation. Like a favorite dress that I wear around town.”

Her elbow-length gloves were starting to tear. I could see dark fur through the rips, black claws cutting neatly through the satin fingertips. She groaned, and I could hear the timbre of her voice roughening. Something cracked in her legs. Her feet shifted, pushing her taller inch by inch as they extended into long sinewy paws.

Her dress clung tightly to her curves as her frame broadened. The cloth strained, her collar line deepening as the flesh of her shoulders and chest rippled with new bulk. I could see her nipples pressing through the black cloth, erect with sensation.

She gestured to the dress, to her glittering necklace and sheer stockings. “This, all these pretty things. It used to be me… Gruuhh.” Her voice faltered as an involuntary growl rattled through her. She smiled sweetly, regaining her composure. “But not anymore.”

The fabric gave with a loud tearing noise as a large tail, black and shaggy, thrust out behind her. She took a few balancing steps forward, then reached up to brush the hair out of her face with one clawed hand. Her breathing was coming deep and heavy now, hot fog mingling with smoke in curls around her smile.

“Don’t get me wrong, darling. I do love our little song-and-dances. Being the stunning vision on your arm is a treat! But the real me can’t dazzle a cocktail party in quite the same way.”

She grimaced, and I could see her teeth lengthening into interlocking fangs. Fur crept down her face, pressing in at the edges of her cheeks and trailing down her nose.

She blinked and stared deep into me with those burning eyes. “I clean up pretty nice, wouldn’t you say? I certainly had you fooled!” She cackled with a wild abandon that approached madness.

Her shaking laughter choked off into gasps as she convulsed with another surge of growth. The wet sounds of her bones rearranging were almost drowned out by the noise of her widening hips and shoulders finally tearing her dress to ribbons. I could just see her face masked in shadow, distorting and stretching as her mouth extended into a snout full of pointed lupine teeth. Rivulets of saliva dripped from her black lips.

I stumbled away instinctively, felt the pins of my map wall dig into my back. Stray clues drifted to the floor like leaves. I could feel my cheeks burning hot as I tried to look away, but I couldn’t pull my eyes from her nakedness as it was torn free before me.

Between gasping breaths, she laughed violently. “YOUR FACE!” she snarled, muzzle curling into a feral grin. “You weren’t this SHY when we MADE LOVE LAST NIGHT!”

She was right, of course. I had seen every inch of her in our evenings together. But there was something about seeing her this way—it was rawer, deeper, more intimate and carnal. I was enraptured with a fascination that had never possessed me during our previous dalliances. I couldn’t understand it. I was hopelessly lost in the rhythm of her shifting flesh. Why? The scene before me was horrific, so why was I feeling this way?

“You’re… I just… I…” I stammered, struggling to put words in order.

“You still WANT me, DON’T YOU?” She was shouting now. “I can smell your desire… What is it you always say? YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM THE TRUTH, DETECTIVE!”

That was it. I was more attracted to her now than I ever had been before. What was wrong with me? Why did my heart feel like it was about to pound its way out of my chest? I shut my eyes, turning away with a strangled cry.

“I don’t understand! Please… I can’t, I don’t…”

“LOOK AT ME, DARLING.”

I blinked toward her, seeing only blurred glimpses. I saw the fur bristling from muscle-laden thighs, the tattered sweat-soaked remnants of her dress stretched over her rippling abdominals. God, parts of her were still so human. She wasn’t an animal or a person - she was something monstrous in-between. She was a terrifying beast, but she was still recognizably… her.

“LOOK AT ME!” she roared, and the room shook. I cried out, and opened my eyes to behold her entirely.

She was beautiful.

She was so beautiful it hurt.

I stepped toward her, and fell into her arms as she embraced me. We fell together to a gasping heap on the floor. We began anew, pressing ourselves into one another with bestial fervor.

The case would have to go on a little while longer.