#something quick from yesterday

[frightenedcookie]

Lime Llamas my beloved

[matoitech]

tumblr annihilated the quality of this so i added a text free image of him so ppl could actually see him! the quality will probably hold up better on my FA lol. i wanted to use a text tool in paint or sai to write all that out but they were either crunchy or just straight up not working for me today

anyway i have had levels boyfriend-adjacent guy in my head for months (almost a year honestly i think) but i only had a fuzzy idea for his design itself in my head and the many attempts i made to just find smth by doodling weren't promising. so while i still think this is a little complex for him (probably kinda overdesigned especially cuz im still so pleased with levels design and her color blocking and she has a great 'looks more complicated than she actually is to draw' design to me) and ill likely mess w it a bit in the future, im happy with where i ended up this time! i have a lot less experience drawing robots than i do just normal furries so figuring out pleasing shapes, lines, and plating for more inorganic stuff isnt rly second nature to me, but i'll get there, and im happy with him for now :-)

one thing i was trying to translate w his design that i couldnt fit on the ref was that since he's level's mechanic and he also does as much of his own servicing as he can, i wanted some of their plating and (minimal) greebling to be similar. zag has some plating styles he likes i think.. i did want their colors to contrast but still look good together :) i had to fight everything in me to not make him just teal. i love you teal. level had enough teal in her design lol. zag got a greener teal for highlights than level's 'beachier' color scheme bcuz i cant resist at least a LITTLE bit

[moeblob]

I vote for Argenti! I hope you feel better soon!

Thank you ! I do feel much better (though I admit I hurt a little for very much my fault reasons but it's mostly manageable through light pain meds).

Take an Argenti o7 I got lazy and didn't draw the roses I was gonna draw to the left so there is now a wide open blank spot.

[kanene-yaaay]

Lan Xichen and Wei Wuxian only started to get into tickle fights because one day, while he was teaching about music cultivation to Wangji’s class, since he had to go to shufu resolve a serious matter, Wei Wuxian confused him for Lan Zhan and, in an unfair attack from behind, locked his arms in a hug and tickled his ribs until a very (not familiar??) laughter was ringing in the air.

Of course, even after saying that he didn’t take the confusion to his heart and accept his brother in law’s apologies, his revenge was swift and merciless. Not one to be easily outdone, Wei Wuxian decided to compete to see who was the biggest tickle monster in Gusu Lan

Rip mah bro Lan Wangji. And the juniors. They will all be missed

[goblin-enjoyer]

Ok I think I’m too far gone. I had a dream where izutsumi was demanding I eat better in a gift shop connected to what seemed like some sort of dark iron dwarf raid entrance. I know “haha watching/reading dungeon meshi makes the characters pop up in your head and tell you to eat better” is the funny joke around here, but were you gits not 100% joking or something? Am I just looking too much into a random dream? (Probably)

[court-of-constellations]

Hello everyone!! I'm back with another post about my original universe, this time about nymphs!

This is even longer than the vampire one so the rambling is under the cut, and I was so tempted to include information about my inspiration for certain things and why I made the creative decisions I did, but I refrained because I wanted to keep this focused and not go off on tangents (however, if you do want to hear about that stuff, feel free to send me an ask at any time! I'm always happy to ramble about this universe!)

So. Nymphs. They're typically defined (by humans) as nature spirits, but what does that mean?

Well, the literal dictionary definition is "a spirit born from the earth or water; a being connected to the earth." Nymphs are, in short, personifications of nature. That's not to say that every little aspect of nature has a corresponding nymph- but there are several kinds of nymphs for several different types of nature.

Nymphs, as a whole, can be divided into two categories: land and water. There are a couple types of nymph that could fit into both categories, and one specific type of nymph that doesn't fit into either, but most nymphs can be clearly defined as one or the other.

Nymphs frequently spawn in areas with high magical concentration; why this is, nobody knows, and most other scholars have put it down to those areas being sacred in some way. These scholars are the same ones that hail nymphs as creations of the divine, made to safeguard the lands that are rightfully ours, so any conclusion of theirs must be taken with several grains of salt. I find that many scholars who subscribe to this field of thinking have never even seen a nymph in their lives, and assume that they are all perfectly like us humans (despite their appearances). This is a lie, one that continues to be retold despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

To understand nymphs, one must first understand that they are not human. They are sentient, intelligent, and quite interesting, but no matter how humanoid their shape might be, they are not and never will be even close to human beings. The exceptions to this rule will be covered later, but true nymphs are nature in its purest form: wild, unpredictable, and untameable. Like fairies, they operate on an entirely separate morality than humans, but unlike fairies, there are no clever tricks you can use to escape them, no set rules you may follow. If fairies are order, nymphs are chaos. If you should encounter a nymph, then by all means converse with them and befriend them if you like, but never forget that they are not the same as you, and no matter how benevolent they may seem, they could turn on you in an instant.

With all of this out of the way, let's finally get to the types of nymphs and their origins.

Land Nymphs

This category of nymph, as the name suggests, are tied to the land. There are several kinds of nymphs who fall under this category, and those nymphs have so many subspecies among them that if I listed them all, this text would be thicker than my torso.

Still, I shall endeavor to at least impress upon you the general idea of which nymphs come from where, so that you might know to use the correct terminology when describing to a friend and encounter you may have had in the woods or fields. Any further study into the subspecies can be found in other, more involved texts, ones whose authors were compensated enough to care about listing every type of nymph that could possibly be found in our lovely lands.

The first to be aware of are dryads, nymphs who have spawned from trees. It is unknown how long a tree must live before becoming a dryad, but this author suspects it to be somewhere in the hundreds, if only for the fact that cutting down younger trees has not as of yet brought a furious dryad out for my blood into my path. Should this change, this text will naturally be updated should I survive long enough to do so.

There are as many types of dryads as there are types of trees, and though there are certainly scientific names for each and every one, I personally have found that simply using the name of whichever tree they spawned from is quite sufficient. A dryad who spawned from an ash tree is an ash dryad, from an oak tree is an oak dryad and so on and so forth; I am quite sure I need not recount the name of every tree for the reader to understand my point.

True dryads, once born from whichever tree they are, are from then on about as attached to the tree as a human might be their parents; their personal feelings vary from nymph to nymph, but in terms of life force, they can and will live even if their tree has been cut down. Unlike humans, the only thing that can kill a true dryad is when the last trace of their tree has disappeared from this world; be it by decay or fire or a misplaced disintegration spell, once the tree is well and truly gone, so too is the dryad.

In terms of a dryad's appearance, their skin will be made out of the same bark as their tree, their hair the same leaves, their innards the same wood. Their eyes may have fruits or flowers in them depending on the tree and time of year, but they may simply be empty sockets. In any case, you should know a dryad at first sight, for unless walking trees are quite common in your place of residence, there's really nothing you can mistake them for.

I would give a description of a dryad's typical personality, as so many others have in their own texts, but my experiences with them have made me aware that they differ in personality as much as humans do; this holds true for all nymphs and I will not repeat such trite and blatantly untrue statements as "all dryads are nurturing, all naiads are mischievous," etc. That is my final statement on this matter and if I receive one more letter from my editor asking where the personality descriptions are, I swear I will-

(Editor's Note: The rest of this tirade had to be cut for its vulgarity and surprisingly creative threats towards me, my place of work, the scholars that continue to perpetuate these stereotypes, their families, and oddly enough, any cows they may have in their possession. Rest assured it was very much unsuited for such a text, but I preserved as much as I was morally able to.)

The florae, nymphs born from flowers, differ from dryads in appearance and origin, and that is where the differences end. They are comparatively rarer as flowers are quite fragile and much more likely to be destroyed, but so long as the vine or shrub or roots survive, so too will the flora. Oddly enough, trees that produce a dryad may also produce a flora from its flowers.

Florae are typically made out of whatever their flower bloomed on, be it vines or stems or branches. Whatever their flower was, replicas of it will be blooming all over their body, including in their eyes, and their hair will be made out of its petals. I have encountered florae many times, and I have yet to figure out just how some of the hairstyles they have are physically possible. One of the many mysteries of life, I suppose.

I suppose now that we have discussed dryads and florae, we must now discuss the dragon in the room: the dryads and florae that were once human beings.

There are many, many different theories of why and how this phenomenon occurs, but there are three facts we know: one, that if a human being is turned into a plant, they will inevitably become a nymph, two, that these humans are visually indistinguishable from true nymphs, and three, they are much more fragile- if their tree is cut down or their flower dies, they will die too and there is nothing that can be done about it.

It is for this reason that turning people into plants is so harshly punished, for you have condemned them to either an early death or a painfully prolonged life that could easily be cut short by anyone unaware of their plant"s true nature. But this is not a book about ethics or law, and if you wish to know more, than you must look elsewhere, for I have shared everything that is relevant.

With that out of the way, let's talk about (gods save me) the other land nymphs.

There are nymphs far older than human civilization, and indeed, humanity as a whole. These nymphs are known to the particularly religious as "The Elder Ones" and to the rest of us as simply the land nymphs.

The best way to explain these nymphs is to take a quick look at history. All throughout time, the earth has been shifting and changing, and as it changes, so too do the nymphs who personify it. These nymphs are fluid and ever changing, their types only vague classifications that serve to describe just what they represent at the moment. They are old, wise, and frustratingly reclusive, and the only reason we know they exist is because of what other nymphs have told us.

Thus far, the classifications are:

Oreads (mountain nymphs)

Valleaeae (valley/pasture/glen nymphs)

Pratae (meadow nymphs (Editor's Note: I personally don't understand the point of this distinction))

Napaeae (dell nymphs)

Haliae (seashore nymphs)

Umidae (wetland nymphs)

This is all we really know about them, and though other nymphs claim that it was them who created all other nymphs, that sounds far too religious for this book.

Water Nymphs

Water nymphs are far less varied than land nymphs (thank the gods, this chapter is getting long enough as it is) and they are all, in terms of origin and appearance, functionally the same.

Naiads (the term for water nymphs in general) spawn from a water source that isn't the open sea (why, this is still unknown.) They are made out of water and may adorn themselves with objects found in their water source, such as colorful rocks or flowers and things of that nature.

The subspecies of naiads are:

Lacuae (lake nymphs)

Pegaeae (spring nymphs

Fluminae (river nymphs)

Naiads are a curious case. Unlike land nymphs, they cannot be killed by any means. Instead, they will spawn, live as long as they like, and then once they're done they will dissolve into the water from whence they came, and another naiad will spawn and the cycle will start anew.

There will never be more than one naiad at a time from one water source, and we have yet to discover any nymphs born from the ocean.

Underworld Nymphs

Underworld nymphs have only been said to exist by the precious few undead who are willing to discuss such matters. They are not proven to be anything more than the dreams of a dying mind, and thus I will not be including them in this text no matter how much my editor begs me to.

If you wish to research them, there are a number of scholarly texts that hotly debate their existence, role in the Underworld, origin, and quite literally every little thing about them.

Vagari

Whatever Vagari may be, they almost certainly aren't nymphs. Some say that they are the children stolen away by fairies, others say that they are the tormented souls of lost travelers. All that can concretely be proven about them is that they can be seen wandering the woods, wearing clothes made out of animal skins and leaves, and wearing a mask in the shape of an animal's head.

I write about them in this text solely because we are just uncertain enough of their true nature that they could, possibly, be some form of nymph.

And with that, this text comes to a close. I hope this will serve you well wherever you may be, and always remember: if you should meet a nymph, treat them and their source with respect, never forget that they are as wild as the earth that formed them, and don't get too attached to any objects they may see in your possession. Or just run. That would work as well.

[b4kuch1n]

1/ true to luner new year tradition I've caught a cold after finally getting home and being able to unclench my cheeks. minor one probably so its just gonna be very annoying for a while 2/also true to luner new year tradition I've jumped into something new with No preamble so. hopefully I get this one done fast and we have a 12pg scribbly comic on hand 3/ I'm on bluesky now. do not ask abt what Ive been posting on there u will see

[fredthedemonpartner]

Is it perhaps slightly dramatic to compare the experience of executive dysfunction to the experience of being in a saw trap? Probably. But it’s also the best metaphor I can think of for the intensity by which my brain does not want to do certain things. Writing an email? Every word is a fishhook I need to remove from my skin in order to get out before the timer goes off, and brother that camera is gonna have to circle a couple times before I’m liable to start pulling. Sobbing and screaming but I’m literally just trying to answer a prompt that’s unintuitive and overly detailed about something I physically cannot care less about. Like I want to be done with it all more than anything but my brain is convinced I will not make it out of this with all of my fingers intact.

[machidielontheway]

Eating cherries and feeling like summer

[skyward-floored]

hey there. If you're looking for Wild centric fic I have some recommendations! Comfort, a fic about Wild being non Binary. https://archiveofourown.org/works/21674401 In Flux, a Twi & Wild fic with time shenanigans https://archiveofourown.org/works/30578819/chapters/75429143

What's The Opposite of Tunnel Vision: features Wild and Hyrule, angst, hurt comfort, and a happy ending https://archiveofourown.org/works/35802436/chapters/89276611

Hope this isn't weird, I just love Wild and want to share some gems

Ah thank you! Tunnel vision is a good one, that’s one of my favorites :) thanks for the recs!

[windywhispers]

o i think panette deserves more scruffly hair. yes she is all prim and proper and whatever bc shes retainer. but i think she needs to be scruffier

[exopelagic]

i am now entering finals mode so very sorry i’m gonna be dead for approximately 12 days

[yuukiiqwq]

Satoru was confident that you liked him back. He was positive. He had no doubt in his mind that you were going to be his pretty little wife. Is he getting ahead of himself? Sure, he is, but he's that confident. That's until he noticed how he hadn't received any chocolate from you.

It was Valentine's Day, and he still hasn't received any chocolate from you. Yeah, he had a mountain worth of chocolate from all those people who gave him it, but where was yours? He couldn't find it anywhere. He was sure that you would have placed your chocolate on his desk since you hadn't given him his. He double no triple checked all the chocolates, yet he could not find the one that has your pretty little name written on it. He continued to search through the chocolate pile for the fourth time today.

He must have missed it, right? Or did someone steal it? He swear he's going to hunt that person to the end of the Earth. Who dared to steal something that was rightfully his?

"Satoru, calm down."

He looked up at his best friend, who was trying to hold down a laugh at his panic.

"She'll probably give it to you later. The day just begun."

Right. Suguru is right. You'll give him his chocolate later. He's a good boy. He can wait.

That's what he told himself, but Suguru and Shoko have already received theirs this morning, and his is still nowhere to be found. Where is his chocolate? You're just sitting there in your seat, looking all pretty as if Satoru is not going through a huge dilemma because of you.

He couldn't help his hands that kept inching itself closer to the chocolate you gave Suguru. He wouldn't know if he snatched it, right? Suguru had received a lot of chocolate! He wouldn't know if he took it... was what he convinced himself before Suguru slapped his hand away.

"Satoru," he sighs.

"But Suguru!!!" Satoru whined as he sunk down into his seat.

"Be patient. You'll get yours soon."

But how soon is soon? Satoru isn't exactly known for his patient.

It was the end of the day, and still no chocolate from you. He asked Suguru and Shoko to leave first because he thought you would finally give it to him when both of you were alone. But you haven't. Where was his chocolate?

The two of you were approaching the exit of school, so Satoru made a quick decision, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into an empty classroom. He quickly shut the door and locked it.

"Satoru?" You asked in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"My chocolate."

"Your chocolate?"

"My chocolate from you! The symbol of your love towards me!"

"I didn't make you any," you replied smoothly. "Forgot to make them yesterday, so I woke up early today to make them, but I guess not early enough. I only had time to finish Shoko's and Suguru's. I didn't have time to make yours. Otherwise, I would have been late."

Satoru swear the world just ended. He looked down at his chest because he swears his heart ripped out of his chest at your words. Nope. Still alive. Why is he still alive in this cruel world? You had no chocolate for him? None? Not even a crumb?

"That's fine with you, right? I mean, you got a bunch of chocolate from other girls! You don't need mine."

He swear he is about to burst into tears. He didn't care about other girls. He didn't care about their chocolate. He wanted yours. How could you be so cruel and deny him of your chocolate? To reject him like this? He was devastated. No. Beyond devastated. Where is the closest cliff so he can jump off?

Pure silence radiated the room as Satoru tried to comprehend this horrible situation. Then he heard a small giggle slip pass your lips. That small giggle soon turns into a full-out laugh.

"You should have seen the look on your face, Satoru," you say as you try to stop laughing.

Was this funny to you? Why were you laughing at his suffering? Do you know how much he looked forward to today? To receive the cute little wrapped up chocolate you made for him? He dreamed of today, and you didn't have chocolate for him?

He then sees you reach into your bag and pull out exactly what he had imagined. A cute little chocolate box wrapped up in a baby blue color with a touch of white ribbon to finish it off. Fuck. He thinks he just got a heart attack seeing your chocolate. His chocolate.

"Princess, please don't joke like that to me ever again. You scared me half to death. I was going to jump off a cliff," he whined as he took the chocolate from your hand.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his dramatic behavior. "Stop being dramatic, Satoru. It's just chocolate."

A look of offense dawned his face as you utter those horrendous words to him.

"Chocolate? Just chocolate?" He huffed at you. He can't believe you as you treat this amazing god send gift as just chocolate. "Don't you dare call this just chocolate! This! This right here is proof of your undying love towards me!"

You laughed at his antics– "You're getting ahead of yourself, Satoru."

He delicately placed the chocolate safety away in his bag, treating it as a prized possession. He's looking forward towards white day. He already knows what he wants to get for you. He pulled you into a hug, nuzzling his face against your neck as he mutters– "You won't be saying that after I wife you up."

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, yandere, captive reader, omegaverse, forced bonding is implied, subjugation, some type of sexism, soft dom, but extremely patronizing

��� fem reader

You offer to go down on him for the first time since he claimed you for himself, and his heart swells with all sorts of bliss—shock and awe, love and pride—utterly overjoyed at the pretty sight of you, so pliant and on your knees, acting like a proper Omega for a change—his cutest little mate. It’s so adorable he ought to take pictures, yet he doesn’t want to miss a thing or spoil the mood—after all, you always get so embarrassed when he brings the camera out.

So he settles for just watching—his adoring eyes resting on you, admiring how you struggle to fit all of him inside your mouth, thinking it’s the just cutest and sweetest how you try so hard for him. Bless whatever brought this new change of behavior on. He can’t be grateful enough.

It was only a couple of days ago when you’d still bite and claw and run away from him at every turn, growling and snarling like a rabid wildling and not the sweet Omega he knew you could be with the proper love and care. Maybe it’s just that—has his love for you finally tamed you? Oh, he couldn’t be more pleased if that’s it.

Look at you… trying your very best. He didn’t mind if you could only fit half of him—just seeing you try to take it all made him more than happy. The way your pink tongue slides along his veins—all teasingly and ticklish—makes him smile while looking down at you. Petting your head in smooth, encouraging strokes—reminding you to breathe every now and again.

He even pinches your cheek when you cough, crooning, “Careful now, there’s no need to rush, baby—take it slow.”

You curse him from where you kneel at his feet, trying to get it over with quickly. Despite your struggles, he seems pleased, and you think you might have managed to get yourself off the hook. That is… until he wraps his cock with one of his big hands and pulls it away from you. 

“I think that’s enough for now,” he says in his best attempt at sounding suave by nature, and yet, as you look up at him, you see it plain as day.

It makes your guts fold—the eagerness that encompasses him as he looks down at you with kind eyes and a smile—not completely able to hide the frenzy behind it.

No, please, you sulk inwardly—your clit is so sensitive from yesterday, you think you might die if he toys with it again today. You almost indulge the urge to scoot back, attempt to crawl away, and hide in false hope. But you know, chasing you around would just serve as kindling to his inner animal—he would take it as a game, hunting and pinning you down only to lick you clean like a dug-up bone.

You shudder at the thought and almost beg him to allow you to continue, almost insist you can do better, but all you manage is to bite your tongue and cry instead.

“You did so good, baby, don’t pout,” he coos, cradling your face and lifting it up to let him kiss it silly—chastely yet excessively—quick pecks all over, the same way you’d kiss something that’s just too cute for its own good.

It’s his way of comforting you, you suppose, or it might just be him poking fun. You can never really tell with him—if his coddling is all some act or something even more unsettling. But you suppose it doesn’t really matter either.

“Come here, baby, and I’ll do the rest, okay?” he asks, and yet it isn’t a question as he hauls you up off the floor and repositions you as he sees fit—on your back, belly-up beneath him.

His alpha pheromones are quick to overwhelm you, thick and suffocating, pouring over you in waves, drenching you in sweat and something else—something that makes everything sensitive.

The former fight you had when you were still independent has all but left you completely—siphoned from your being every day that’s passed and left you soft like the rest of those Omegas you vowed you’d never become—weak-willed with a body even more so. You feel like a stuffed animal at this point, full of cloudy cotton with a broken voice device that only knows how to squeak when played with.

He takes you beneath the knees and folds them down neatly by your head—one large hand taking both your summoned ankles in a single grip—and you’re locked in, unable to do much else other than pant—kept from breathing too much by the weight of your own thighs pressing down on you.

This had been what you were trying to avoid—this awful position which he seems to love just as much as you dread.

He whistles in awe at the pretty sight of you—all squished beneath him like that—face flushed, and your bloated lips parted with cute little draws of breath—tits bunched together, glossed in a sheen of sweat and heaving with the labored rise and fall of your chest—and that adorable cunt, wet and puffy, swollen up like a pink pillow eagerly waiting for him, a soft bed for his cock and a perfectly bite-sized slice of his favorite cake. His gut rumbles, and his mouth soaks. To think he hasn’t had a single taste all day—he’s beyond starving.

You squirm under him, and he chuckles again, this time breathily—showing more of the unsightly animal with the low growl that seeps into his voice, “Such a pretty girl…” It’s unclear if he’s talking to you as his inkwell eyes are set on something else. He sags forward, back hunched as he bows down to face the object of his desire with only a hair’s breadth of separation—breaths thick, puffed hot against you—canines bared in an eerie smile. “So shy…”

He ignores your wiggling completely—pinching the chunk of cunt where your clit hides, making it peak forth like a little button to press, and his grin broadens.

“There it is,” he licks his teeth with a raspy sigh—eyes wide and deadset. “My beauty.”

You squirm a little more, even though you know you’re not going anywhere until he’s satisfied. He doesn’t waste much more time—not allowing you to prepare. Keeping the pinch, he opens his mouth wide and takes the chub with eyes closed, tongue flattened and wide, cloaking your exposed clit with thirst. “Mmgh…”

He always gets like this—cute-aggressive and pussy-whipped. It’s as if he and your cunt have their own private affair, the way he completely ignores you. No, that’s not entirely fair—he gets like that when feeding you his tongue as well, but you suppose it’s easier making out with your pussy as it doesn’t need to get up for air. 

Neither does he, it seems.

He groans loudly and releases your clit from his pinching grip—but keeps his whole mouth on you—lips, tongue, and all���nose and chin too, buried there while his hand moves down to slip three digits inside, filling you up with little regard to the stretch.

Your breath flares and shudders with a whimpery moan, toes curling along with his fingers, biting your lip at how he hooks them right into the soft spot of your gummy walls, then fingerbangs you fast, right down to the knuckles each time.

“Fuck, baby—so, so good, always so good,” he slurs out into you, tongue otherwise too engaged to bother sounding coherent, yet you understand nonetheless, even though you can never really get used to it—how utterly unashamed he is. “Come on, baby, cum f’mo—cum on my face—” he all but happily begs, tongue out, slurping your slit brazenly.

He’s not a very classic Alpha—how he worships you on his hands and knees with a throat full of plead and praise. He doesn’t even touch himself—cock left hung and bobbing against the bedsheets, hard and strung up with a net of veins, pilling pearls of pre that all go to waste—too busy with you. 

It’s stupid how you’re the one who ends up feeling ignored as the unwanted and overwhelming pleasure manhandles you into submission.

“Cum, baby, give it to me.”

You mewl as his tongue draws something out from within you, making your clit blare and thrum with your heartbeat. You struggle to enjoy it, you always do, feeling forced to surrender, and yet the more you try and deny it, the firmer his hold gets, relentless as he sends you right over the edge. You yelp and seize up once it takes you—clenching tightly around his digits as they unknot your insides, turning you into utter putty in his palm. 

And even then, he doesn’t stop—as if he doesn’t know how—sighing with elation as you quake on his tongue. That crooked smile on his face, nothing short of predatory and vile as he maintains the motion of his fingers, moaning in turn at your cute spasming and all the wordless babble that leaves your lips as you shake your head, crying for him to leave it alone. “Plea’ no more—stop, too much—”

He just chuckles against you—you really are too cute for your own good. Silly little Omega, don’t you know what your pheromones do to him? But okay, fine, since you asked nicely. He gives the slit one last thorough lick before wiping his smile while sitting up.

You haven’t even started coming down when he dabs the weight of his shaft upon the sensitivity, cooing at the lewd little plaps it makes, all slick as he slides the length between your flustered pussylips—fucking through the fat of the mound, running over your full clit, again and again, while listening to you squeak more nothings.

He only croons, “Yeah, I know you like that, baby—this pretty pussy of yours just loves my attention, doesn’t it?" His eyes seem to glow with something sickly, his voice thin, just shy of unhinged. "Always so cute, I could die.”

He can’t get over it—you’re too adorable like this. Watching you pleasure him was a welcome surprise, but ultimately, this is how he always wants you—flipped and pinned with your cunt exposed to his every wish—his favorite toy that never disappoints.

“Your pretty pussy’s always such a crybaby, y’know that? Look how it weeps f’mo—so needy to get stuffed. I bet you want my knot, huh?” he keeps mumbling while using his cock to play with your overworked cunt without yet entering it. “Alright, baby—don’t worry—I’ll give it to you,” he rasps, drooling.

You can’t keep from whimpering when the bed jostles, accounting for his repositioning as he moves to mount you with his feet planted down flat on the bed. Your ankles are pinned passed your head at this point, tipping your cunt up higher than your head.

“Yeah—I’ll give you what you want.” His voice darkens, and so does the look in his eyes—soaked in something you don’t like—something wild and downright terrifying. “And I’ll give it to you good.”

You almost protest, but you know there’s no getting through to him—not with that expression. You hate Alphas, you hate him, and you really hate this awful pose—this mating-press pile-driving overkill where he always bullies into the backroom of your cunt, insisting on fucking your cervix as he digs his cockhead right at the mouth of your womb, knotting you and filling you up with the full worth of his load. It never fails to make you feel utterly wrecked and bedridden in the morning.

But he doesn’t care about that. You have no places you’re supposed to be anyway—nowhere aside from right here, in his bed, where you belong—his sweet Omega bride who’s going to give him lots of pups.

He lines himself up, pressing his head past the ring—watching it swallow around him and biting his lip at the sight. “Look at it, baby—look as I stuff that perfect pussy all the way up—”

He sinks in slowly, revering your cunt for every inch you receive—watching it in awe as it takes the entirety of his length right down to the base. It’s like a magic trick how it all disappears—you’re so tiny, and yet you’re built for this, to take every part of him in, hugging his shaft with velvet heat, milking him as he kneads the spot inside you that always makes you cry out so good for him.

“Yes, baby—that’s my girl—take it all,” he coos, all but sitting on your ass with his cock down your cunt. “It’s like your pussy’s made for me, isn’t it? Perfectly tight, perfectly deep, perfectly wet and chunky to feel like I’m fucking heaven itself—”

You feel no different from a toy when he does this—a squeaky toy manufactured for a Chihuahua puppy, yet mistakenly given to a full-grown Rottweiler. He straight dogs your cunt through several peaks—so soaked now that it fossettes down both the slope of your belly and the cliff of your spine. And still, he keeps going, rambling on like usual—all words that fail to reach you.

You’re so lightheaded you’re on the brink of passing out—overheating and out of strength, numb and tingly, beyond happy when you finally feel his knot swell within, propping you to take his seed. 

He keels over—his thighs pressed down tightly atop yours—panting above you—eyes half-mast and glazed, almost crying in bliss while feeding you his cum, knowing it's flooding your womb, breeding you full of warmth and love.

“Yes, every drop, baby—it’s all yours.” He keeps a thumb rubbing over your clit as he croons. Voice beyond lovesick, “Let’s make too many pups to count.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Natsuo, Mirio ♡ JJK – Gojo, Geto ♡ HQ – Kuro, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Nagi, Bachira ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Umemiya, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[milo-is-rambling]

The countdown until the first script reading is all I’m seeing in my mind. In four hours and fifteen minutes I’ll be sitting in audience seats of the little black box theater while everyone reads the script for the first time and I get to imagine what it’ll all look like in March when the show is on the big stage

[angelicsoka]

THE HAT RULE, t. owens

word count | 1.7k words

pairings | tyler owens x meteorologist!fem!reader

summary | where tyler owens decides to show the reader what the hat rule is. 

warnings | MINORS DNI!! 18+ ONLY!! HEAVY smut! reader doesn’t know the hat rule. not proofread. lowercase intended. 

a/n | first of all, sorry for disappearing, i've had NO motivation to write on here, but i saw twisters yesterday and seeing glen powell in a cowboy hat changed me as a person, and also gave me motivation to write. i’ve never written a full smut so i apologize if this sucks, i've stepped out of my comfort zone for this one.

the first time you had ever encountered a tornado was a memory you were sure to never forget. growing up in new york meant rain and snow but no tornadoes. so when traveling to nebraska on a field trip in high school, you were unprepared when the sirens sounded, sending everyone into a frenzy. you had watched as the rain pelted from the sky, a funnel forming up above. you were mesmerized as your teacher pulled you to safety, a sort of thrill tearing through  your body. from that moment on, you knew what you wanted to do. you went to college for meteorology, graduating near top of your class before going onto to work at a local news station. but it never quite settled the feeling that something was missing, until you stumbled across tyler owens’ youtube channel. 

tyler owens had become a sensation, a daredevil who did more than just chase the storms, he rode into them. and that seemed to heighten that need of a thrill. so, you hit him up and to your surprise, he replied. and what had started out as a week off of work to storm chase with the daredevil, turned to going part time at your job and joining him on the road.

that was a season ago, and now you were sat at a dingy bar, sipping a beer with tyler and the team. the man himself was sat on the stool next to you, nursing his own beer and listening to lily speak. you ignored the slight butterflies that entered your stomach as he laughed. you had learned to never mix work and love, but something about tyler had you questioning that lesson. he looked mighty fine in his blue jeans and button up, supporting a cowboy’s hat on his head. you noticed your beer was gone, standing up you turned to your crew.

“i'm gonna get another beer, can i get anyone anything?” no’s were murmured around the group except for one.

“i could use another, how ‘bout i come with ya?” you shrugged, tyler getting up to walk with you. lily let out a low whistle, stopping at your glare. 

“be my guest.” you two walked over to the bar top, signaling the busy bartender. “can we get two more, when you get a sec?” the bartender nodded, going to make a few drinks before he could grab their bottles. 

“so, miss city girl, how you likin’ riding with us? ready to go back to the big apple yet?” tyler questioned, turning to look down at you slightly. damn the height difference.

“don’t think you’re getting rid of me that quick, i have a lot more storm chasing left in me, cowboy.” you winked, tyler laughing. you debated for just a moment before reaching up and taking the cowboy hat from his head.

“the hell you think you’re doing?” tyler questioned as you placed the hat on your own head, admiring your reflection on your phone.

“you wear this hat all the damn time, i just wanted to see if there was something special about it? maybe it has some magical powers or something.” the bartender came back around, beer bottles in hand. you thanked him, handing him some cash before turning back to tyler, who had an odd look in his eye. you quickly took off the hat, worried you had pissed him. you went to hand it back to him, when tyler shook his head:

“keep it on, it suits you.” tyler picked up his beer, beginning back to the table. the comment caused a light blush to dust your cheeks. shaking your head, you hoped it didn't show too much as you followed him back. you sat in your seat, confused by the odd looks you received from the crew. nobody said anything about the hat as the night went on, but that didn’t stop the odd looks.

by last call, it was you and tyler left of the crew. thankfully the bar was across the street from the motel, tyler paying the tab much to your protest, before setting off back to the motel. you had forgotten you still wore tyler’s hat upon your head, only remembering when you went to brush your hair from your eyes, your hand bumping the rim. “hey, do you know why everyone kept giving me weird looks after i put your hat on? and why boone and dani wouldn’t stop snickering?” tyler looked over to you as you climbed the stairs of the motel.

“you don't know?” you shook your head in response, tyler holding a bewildered look. “you don't know the hat rule?”

“there’s a hat rule?” tyler stopped at his door, which neighbors your’s and lily’s. “what?”

“you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.” he deadpanned, your eyes widening and a heavy blush coating your cheeks. 

“oh my god! i promise i wasn’t trying to imply that or anything. not there’s anything wrong with you, because you’re– well you’re you, and–”  you fumbled over your words, stopping mid sentence when tyler laughed.

“hey, it's fine. if you weren’t trying to insinuate that, that’s fine. but if you were, well, now's your chance. and i’d be more than happy to show you how that rule works.” tyler walked closer, a minimal amount of space between you, just enough to allow you to choose whether you close that gap or leave. 

you stood there for a moment, stunned at his offer. and without much thought, you closed the gap, hands going to grip his face and pull him closer to you. his hands moved to your hips, fingers digging into the fabric of your shorts. the kiss was feverish, all unspoken feelings surfacing. tyler began to pull away much to your dismay, one hand leaving your hip to fish out his keys from his pocket as he moved his other arm to hold your waist. he unlocked the door with ease, pulling you inside and shutting the door before pushing you up against it, the hat falling as he did so. he went to town on your neck, enticing soft moans and whimpers from your lips. the way he sucked at your neck and how he had previously handled you had conjured up a pool of wetness in your panties. 

your arm wrapped around his neck, holding him to your throat, as your fingers tugged at his hair. he groaned against your skin, biting down ever so softly when you tugged on his hair. he gripped at your leg, pulling it up to give him better access to your cunt. he rubbed his clothed cock along you covered cunt, pleased with the moans that escaped your mouth.

“god, keep moaning like that and i might have to take you right here.” you blushed once more, pulling tyler to meet your lips once more. you pushed off the door, lips still connected to tyler’s as you blindly pushed him back to the bed. his legs hit the edge of the bed, tyler breaking the kiss as he pulled off your shirt, both of you kicking off your shoes and socks before lips were reattached once more. 

you pulled back, tyler unbutton his shirt as you began to work on his belt buckle. “woah, easy, pretty girl. you’ll get a taste, don’t worry. the night’s still young. but for now, i gotta show ya what happens when ya wear the hat.” tyler pulled off his shirt, walking to pick up the forgotten hat, placing it on your head. “this stays on.” you nodded, eyes hooded as tyler pulled your shorts and panties down. “you’re even more perfect than i had imagined.” before you could question him, tyler pulled his jeans off, his boxers next as his cock sprung up. tossing them to the side tyler pulled you onto his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed, “you sure ‘bout this? i don’t have any condoms.” tyler asked, different from how he just was. you nodded, kissing him softly.

“i’m on the pill, and i trust you.” tyler nodded, holding over his cock as he slowly guided it along your pussy. you held yourself up as tyler’s thumb rubbing your clit, enjoying your whimpers. “please, tyler.” you begged, tyler aligning his cock with your entrance before guiding you down. you hand went your hat as your head rested on tyler’s shoulder, almost pornographic moans escaping from your lips. “oh my god.” he slowly eased himself into you, whispering praises as he did so.

“god, feels like you were made for me.” your cunt hugged his cock beautifully. when his cock was fully in, he allowed you to get used to the stretch, “tell me when you're ready.” you stilled for a moment, adjusting to his size. you kissed and sucked on his neck, slowly beginning to rock your hips. “fuck, let’s get this off of ya.” tyler’s hands skillfully unclipped your bra, tossing it to the side, fingers ghosting over your perky nipples. you pulled off his shoulder, giving him better access to your tits. “you’re fuckin’ beautiful, darlin’.” tyler attached his mouth to one of your nipples, enticing a soft moan. you continued to ride him, hips moving faster as you chased your incoming orgasm. your left hand gripped tyler’s shoulder, fingernails digging into his bare skin as your right hand held onto the hat that adorned your head. 

as your orgasm inched closer and closer, your movements became more erratic, chasing your high. tyler moaned, whispering praises as your walls clenched around his cock. he knew you were close, mouth moving to your pulse point as he pounded into you, taking over. tyler clapped a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit, muffling your screams so you didn't wake up your neighbors. his movements however did not slow as he worked you through your orgasm, chasing his own high. your legs trembled as he continued to pound into you, your second orgasm of the night approaching quickly. “fuck! fuck, ty-” you cut yourself off, body shaking as you hit your climax once more. tyler began to huff and moan, pulling you impossibly closer as he reached his own high. you blubbered, unable to form actual words as tyler’s hands roamed your body. you pulled back, kissing him roughly.

“goddamn,” he helped you off his cock, helping guide you onto the bed, “think you’ll be able to handle a round two?”

“don’t go thinking you can get rid of me that easily.”