#there is definitely a trace of body paint on my legs and arms and on my face bc i'm a messy painter

[drinkingbitterboy]

currently painting a couple rooms at a friend's place and i am not just happy to sit there and watch the paint job dry

[monster-disaster]

Can you do a female demon x female reader? I need more lesbian monster content !!!!

demon!female x human!Reader Good to know: smut

Summary: You meet an ex-classmate from college for an interview. She has other plans.

You can feel your professionalism slipping through your fingers with each passing second you spend in the female demon's presence.

The fragrance of her perfume fills your senses when Ada comes closer, sitting down on the armrest of the sofa. She leans against your side while gently holding your arm and caressing your skin with her freshly painted nails. The teasing touch sends shivers through your body.

"Your pictures don't give you enough justice," she says. "You are much prettier in real life."

Your voice gets stuck in your throat. "Oh?"

The woman hums, leaning closer. "I follow you on Instagram." Her plump lips ghost over the curve of your neck. "You are the sweetest in your colorful summer dresses."

"Thanks," you croak out, almost sounding like a question. Heat burns under your skin while your heart pounds in your chest.

"I hoped you would wear one of them today."

"I'm sorry?"

"It's fine," she chuckles, looking over your form shamelessly. You wear a white blouse with a dark blue skirt that reaches your knees and matches your high heels.

Standing up from the armrest, Ada moves in front of you. You feel cold without her firm body pressing against your side.

You watch her, mesmerized and breathless. "What are you doing?"

A slow grin pulls on her vivid red lips as she slips onto her knees. Your thighs clench at the sight of the woman.

Ironically, there is something ethereal about her. Perhaps it's the smoothness of her light pink skin or the gentle curls of her dark hair framing her horns, which are a few shades darker and gracefully trace the curve of her head. You can't be sure since there is so much you can admire about her. Your heart skips a beat as your eyes follow the straight slope of her nose and the firm curve of her full lips.

"Something I wanted to do since we met in college."

You can feel the warmth of her palms even through the thin fabric of your skirt as she rests them on your knees. Your muscles tense for a second when the beautiful demon pushes them apart while your mind struggles with keeping up with the woman. Her hands trail up on your legs, pushing your clothes up with the slow but confident motion.

Ada looks up at you with amusement in her eyes. "Did you know I liked you back then?"

You shake your head. You had no idea. The demon wasn't a mean girl by any means, but she was always... unreachable. Sometimes, you weren't even sure if she knew about your existence even though you spoke several times.

"I'm surprised," she chuckles.

By now, your thighs are bare under her caressing hands. Her thumbs move between your legs in slow circles, getting closer and closer to your panty-clad pussy.

"Why?" You ask. You sank deeper into the sofa without your noticing. You melt under her touch.

"All my friends knew about my crush on you."

You want to slap yourself across the face when the only reply you can force out of your mouth is an 'oh' and Ada laughs again, slipping her long, manicured finger under the damp fabric of your panties to pull it away.

"It's fine, though," she says. "I mean, this is my chance to make up for the lost time."

Your mind is blank as you try and fail to process everything. Your whole body is on edge with anticipation. There is a heavy knot in your belly, keeping you on the sofa, compliant and easy under Ada's attention.

"And it's definitely worth the wait," she grins, letting the tip of her thumb brush over your clit for a second. Just enough to take your breath away and send shivers down your spine.

"Really?" You gasp out, holding onto the leather of the sofa. Your nails dig into it, and you only hope you don't damage the fabric.

She hums, leaning closer. Her shoulders spread your legs apart even more.

When you woke up and got ready to do an interview with your old classmate about her successful company, you didn't think you would end up like this. Half-naked and wet in her office while she feasts on the sight of you.

"So pretty," she says, letting her finger slide over your wet slit once again, parting your lips in the process to get a better view of your soft, glistening center. "And smells so good."

Your mouth opens to say something, but before you can form words, the demon grabs the flesh of your thighs to tug you to the edge of the seat.

"Hold them for me," she says, holding up your legs until you reach behind your knees to do as she says.

Heat and embarrassment flood your whole body in the new, vulnerable position.

"Good," she hums, reaching under you with one hand to grope your bottom while her other hand keeps your panties out of the way.

You watch Ada transfixed as she leans down and licks your pussy with one long swipe. Her eyes are on you the whole time, staring at your unfocused eyes, open lips, and heaving chest. The demon's mouth moves up to your clit, flicking it with her tongue before sucking the sensitive bud into her mouth. Her cheeks hollow, and your back arches. Your legs almost slip out of your hold as your toes curl with pleasure.

"Ada." Her name escapes your lips as a moan, and she hums, satisfied.

"You taste so good, Y/N," she says. Her lips and chin shine because of your wetness. "I imagined being between your legs so many times since you called to get an appointment with me."

"Really?" You gasp out, her thumb works on your clit, not giving you any break even while she talks.

You called her because of the interview a week ago.

"Really," she replies. "I was so angry when I couldn't find a date sooner to meet you."

"It's fine," you gasp. Your hips grind up against her hand. Her fingers are soaked with your juices by now.

The female chuckles. "It is now."

She winks at you before lowering her face down back to your pussy, opening your lips to feast and slurp on you. Her finger doesn't stop on your clit while your climax builds inside you with each passing second.

"I'm almost there," you groan, closing your eyes.

Ada hums. The vibration of her reply rolls through your body in thick weaves. You moan and gush around her tongue that slipped inside your aching hole while you were busy chasing your pleasure under her caress. 

Ada's tongue fucks your pussy while teasing your clit and making you see stars under your closed eyelids. Your orgasm ripples and trembles through you while your muscles jerk and twitch, and your nails dig into your own skin at the curve of your knees.

For long seconds, the world stops existing while you sag into the sofa, and the woman still between your legs cleans you up with long swipes. Every touch and lick of her tongue on your sensitive flesh makes you twitch and shake.

When you lift your head to look at her, she grins at you hungrily. "We can start the interview now."

- Masterlist Sweet Asks Patreon

[ramblingoak]

Am I the only one thinking about how much Copia regrets moving on stage whenever he feels his old man body hurts in protest the next day?

Definitely not, Anon! In fact you inspired me:

A Mouthful

Papa Emeritus IV x Reader

Warnings: a bit of body worship and some suggestive teasing from Copia because he can't help himself hehe, otherwise this is just a soft moment with him, 600 words, sfw (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers!)

“Right there, amore!  That’s perfetto.”

You bit your lip to hide your laugh at the overly exaggerated groan Copia let out while you kneaded the muscles in his back.  He was always a mess after performing, aches and pains quickly settling in after the adrenaline wore off.  While he often teased the audience about needing a “violent shower” nowadays he mostly just needed a long soak in a hot bath.

And you, of course.

“You’re good at this, I should keep you around.  Give you a job.”

“Oh?  And what would my title be?”

Copia turned his head to the side, his white eye catching yours.  There was still face paint caught in his wrinkles, you’d have to make sure to get that cleaned up before he fell asleep.  You raised an eyebrow when you saw the growing smirk playing at his mouth.

“Eh, non lo so.  Maybe something about the sibling in charge of rubbing down Papa?”  He grinned when you snorted, now turning his body to the side and capturing your hands.  “You don’t like it?”

“I don’t know, Papa.  It’s quite the mouthful.”  The gleeful look on his face at your words had you shaking your head, trying to contain your own smile at his antics.  “Don’t you dar–”

“Well, if it’s a mouthful you want I know just the thing.”

You both erupted in giggles, Copia tugging at your hands to pull you tightly against his body.  He groaned when he turned onto his back, an arm around your waist keeping you close to his side.

“Copia, let me finish.  You’ll be too sore to move in the morning if you don’t let me finish.”

“Just un memento, amore.  A few quiet moments before you work your magic again, bene?”

“Okie dokie, Papa.”  

You smiled when he pressed a kiss to your forehead and shimmied a bit so you were more comfortable.  This was your ritual with him after his ritual on stage.  A hot bath followed by an intense massage of his back and legs.  Sometimes it led to other things but it was also nice when it just led to you both cuddling against each other.  Copia sighed then and you looked up at him, blushing at the soft smile on his face.

“I’m not sure I’ll be uh…up for anything else tonight.  Mi dispiace.”

“Copia, you never need to apologize for that.  Okay?”  He nodded and you leaned up to give him a soft kiss.  “Let’s get you rolled over again so I can finish up.”

He slowly turned over and you grabbed the cream you used on him, rubbing it between your hands until it was warm.  You took a few seconds to admire his back, your eyes tracing the freckles and the sporadic bits of hair that Copia refused to believe existed.  The blanket had drifted down to the swell of his ass and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring, thinking of how good he looked in those tight pants he wore on stage. 

“Amore?”

“Oh, sorry, Papa!  I got distracted.”  

You avoided looking up from his back as you began to rub the muscles again, the bastard would just be smirking at you anyway.  As your hands drifted down his spine you let them dip lower, right below the edge of the blanket so you could press them into the flesh it was hiding.  Copia let out a very different sounding groan then and lifted his hips to encourage you to press harder.  When you obliged he dropped back down, slowly beginning to grind his hips into the bed.  

Maybe you’d get a mouthful of your Papa later after all.

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

[dilftaroooo]

a somewhat detailed gojo imagine because he looks like such a whore in that black compression shirt that I can't help myself

its suggestive but no smut. gn!reader is down bad and perverted. Gojo is also a gym bro

You've noticed something remarkable in Satoru that was too drastic to brush off. It's been plaguing your mind like a medieval peasant--infiltrating your system until you hack out opaque burgundy of sin, until your fingertips are dusted black with libidinous impulse, wanting to reach out for the angel with blue eyes so he can relieve you from your misery.

It's his physique, his muscular build. He's been working out more often than not. Honing the definition of his thick biceps and bulbous pecs whenever you accompany him in his deadlifting sessions at your university's gym.

His body is impeccable and you will never forget how his figure inevitably held you in a trance, still recalling the black compression shirt hugging his torso like second skin: the shiny polyester glazed under the gym's light as he maneuvered with grace yet handled the weights with ferocity, perfecting his form before engaging with the flatness of his core and bending over to lift the hefty object (you made sure to revel at how the roundness of his ass juts out in the gym's mirror) then straightening his legs.

Fattened snakes spiraled around the circumference of Satoru's arms. They throbbed hard at his tense posture while carrying the loaded barbell. The veins that trailed down his hands were defined. They looked phenomenal with his manicured nails--clipped, filed, and polished with a clear coating. He's painted evenly with sweat that makes his skin sparkle--a salty droplet making its way down the curve of his bunny-like nose resulting in him twitching it which funnily emphasizes the comparison. He's gorgeous in every way. Even the heavy smell of must that seeped through his pores felt poetic to you.

His breaths are ragged and uncontrolled. They're rapid, paired with clenched teeth to elicit a series of pained hisses. It's something you didn't bother to scowl him on because you're so busy ogling the rest of his body.

You remember taking a good look at his chest and my God--the tight shirt left little to the imagination as puffy areolas swell under compressed fabric, completely overriding the stiffness of his nipples. His pecs were ample and they poked out whorishly to whoever had eyes fortunate to witness. Lowering your stare, you relish at how his six-pack convulsed at the pressure, beautifully sculpted like every part of him. Continuing to decline your gaze, you've even been able to drool at the flaccid cock that was tucked away in his sweatpants. If only you weren't in a public space and confined to the 'childhood friend' label.

His body jittered lightly as he sensed the urge to let go and he did, the obnoxious slam of the weighted plates that collided with marble flooring could've been enough to scare you if you weren't so accustomed to the sound.

Satoru looks at your awaiting figure that sat on top of a bench across from him. He prohibits the sweat from rolling down his chiseled jawline by capturing it with a cool, damp washcloth you offered. His breathing becomes more relaxed with each inhale he takes and the blush that decorates his face begins to return back to his normal fair tone.

Narrowed eyes in addition to a confident sneer caught your sight and you smiled back due to how infectious it was.

"Wanna feel?" He points to his huge bicep. You couldn't resist the desire to give in and touch him. You reach out for the thick muscle and Satoru leans back to give you a worried look on his face. "Be careful, though. He likes to bite." He quipped, liking the way you chuckled at his silliness.

Once eager fingers grab ahold of him, you almost release a wanting mewl from your lips. You trace your fingertips along the lengthy stream of his veins, still marked in his sweat, but you couldn't care less. They look good, too good, and they look even better when Satoru playfully flexes his arm under your caresses. Azure eyes watch you under hooded lids as he drinks up your amazement, which undoubtedly boosts his swollen ego.

You move the army of digits down his forearm since that's where the map of his veins leads, so you follow its direction. Light, wispy, white hairs on his arm glow under artificial lighting, covering the limb with specks of stars.

Then you're met with his hand which was two times larger than your own, pinpointing the substantial difference in size. He's big. His fingers overrule yours by a mile along with his stature. The thoughts in your head swarm like locusts when coming to terms with the size difference that you don't even realize your palm connects with his as you daydream about the astonishing contrast. You're no longer just admiring his physical gains but rather how he can use those gains against you.

Satoru giggles under a hushed breath and he moves away from you to stand up to his staggering height. Grabbing his duffel bag before putting all the equipment he came to the gym with.

"Let's get going. 'M starting to get hungry and rush hour is about to hit. I'd hate to be in the middle of that." He chirps amidst scratching his belly. He looks over at you and you catch a tinge of something in his eyes, though you're not sure if it's what you think it is.

"And you staring me down like that is riling me up. Do remember that my ego is inflated as is, sugar. We don't need it to overpower me to the point where I'll end up doing something I won't have any regrets about."

[kimetsu-no-yaiba-writings]

hi ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

i want to say that i really like your work and would like to try to make a request with douma, where s/o is very random

for example, they just hang out and then s/o gives out a random strange fact like: "did you know that dolphins can fall in love very much and build relationships the same way as people?" or she can run up, pet him and run away, etc

feel free to ignore it! hope you having a wonderful day, love you

and forgive me for my english, it's quite crooked

Hello \(≧▽≦.)/ Thank you so much for saying that anon, that truly makes me happy to hear, also don't worry, your request has been heard loud and clear! And I love it!

I hope I've done your request justice (^ω^.) and please know that your always welcome back to browse and request something from me again.

Your English is great by the way,so don't worry!

Douma/Doma with an S/O who does random things - [Headcannons]:

There where many things that Douma/Doma found boring, in life and with entertainment, but you weren't boring - you were anything but boring

Each day you did (or said) something that tickled his funny bone

Each day you had a new fact, hobby, skill/talent and object that you had to share with him that genuinely had his brain working overtime at how you knew or did that

Douma/Doma finally found something to look forward too each day and it was you and your randomness

Your randomness was cute - adorable even - and it definitely saved you from scenario's that would have ended up with your death (and a rather pissed off and sad spouse) or at least hurt

Douma/Doma enjoys your random fact of the day - that you randomly drop on him at a random point in the day

When you first started your random fact dropping you'd started with facts about the human body during a tea ceremony

"Did you know that the average tongue is about three inches long" You said simply, taking a sip of your tea before continuing "and that the human body can shed about 40 pounds of skin?" - its safe to say that Douma/Doma was so dumbfounded by those facts he over-poured his tea with a rather star-struck expression

Although he does quite like the cute random facts that you tell him too - "Did you know that trees can make friends and talk to each other? Isn't that sweet"

You also had the habit of coming up to him randomly - at different points in the day - and inspecting his hands and tapping three times on his wrist (directly on where his pulse point would be) before leaving without a word

And bopping his nose

And sometimes knocking gently on his forehead

Also you like tracing shapes through his clothes on his back, arms and legs - making him guess the shapes and words you form with your nails

You also liked stealing his fans to use them for something random and/or weird - he once found you using them to cut fruit...

Once you baked a 10 tier cake and brought it in mid sermon with his followers with plates and water

Food was another thing that you made randomly, you baked and cooked new and weird things and brought in for him to try - as well as his followers....

When he sleeps in, it's always a 60/40 that you'll have done something to his hair - You like to fiddle with and decorate his hair and you have once perfectly styled his hair into a plaited mohawk

You've painted his nails - "Oh paint them pink next time love" He'd whined once into your neck "I want them to match the colour of your love~" + "Oh! Like the colour of my organs too?" followed by a blank stare from Douma/Doma

As you both where about to sleep you turned to him, perfect smile on your face and sleep hazing your eyes and said, "I wanna eat you! Just take a chunk cause your too perfect and beautiful for this world" before promptly falling asleep

He has found you trying to do cartwheels down the hall

You've always got something up your sleeve and it honestly brings Douma/Doma so much joy to live through each day, finding out what you had in store

.....you've made a finger puppet version of him before as well as a doll and you have used both as advisors - "And what do you think Wackus Bonkus?" "Kill him" "Oh! You Naughty Wackus Bonkus!"

[slickchickchocolatier]

heelel trying to rizz his wife would be cute

*ahem*

Warnings: some spoilers if you haven’t read the Se7en series. Finger play, nipple play, loads of fluff, some factual and fictional retelling of Biblical events…try not to fall in love with the Devil.

“What are you doing, darling?”

He creeps up from behind, admiring the curves of your body seated gracefully, dressed in a sheer beige dress. The fabric was entirely see-through, allowing him to observe every detail of your form. Before you is a propped portrait of an old painting displaying Eve and the deceptive snake, the Devil. Your husband.

“I found this old painting, it was slightly damaged and faded so I wanted to fix it.”

He leaned and bends down to rest his chin on your smooth shoulder. Observing the painting in question, he chuckles against your skin upon seeing it. “Huh. The old forbidden fruit story.”

He leaves his wording short as he places a kiss on your collar bone, and scoots the fine delicate strap of your dress aside with his tongue. With your shoulder completely bare, he coats it with his saliva. Running his tongue along the outline, he traces the tip all the way up, just below the lobe of your ear. “Are you always going to taste this good?” He jests as he snickers a grin into the nook of your neck. It too, made you chuckle subtly. He had his moments.

It has been over a year since you’ve been held captive, with the acceptance of belonging to the devil. you’ve remained in your station as his queen and bride, although it wasn’t that hard to stay committed, after all, he took very good care of you…such great care. You literally were treated like a Goddess.

True, initially his manner of making love was, and continues to be some times, brutal and demonically aggressive. But the one thing that remained forever intact behind the ugliness of his acts was the love and loyalty he had for only you…that is why you were here in the first place.

“Is it true?” You hinted a nod toward the painting of Eve and the Snake. He stands straight and walks over to his throne, casually seating himself in his usual manner. It starts with a wide manspreading of his legs, loosely crossing one over the other while a wide gap still remains between his thighs, exposing the outlining bulge of his crotch beneath his black trousers. His white collard shirt is lined in the edges with lace while the black suit coat seals in the Victorian fashion, showing off a gentleman’s appearance.

He often switches between silver and black locks, yet always opting to flare the latter while in the comfort of his own home, Hell.

“It depends what the Bible states, although—“ he sighs out a breath as he raises his brows and continues to speak softly to enlighten you. His tone always softened with you…only you.

“A lot of the scriptures were made up by man, I doubt a lot of the events told are in full truth…some not even true at all.” He playfully taps his fingers on the arm of his throne as he smirks, intrigued by the deception of mortals over the years.

“Why would they lie and make up stories?” You inquire as you look him in the eye.

He chuckles once more as he returns the stare. “To feel like they have a sense of control over ungodly creatures—such as myself, my brothers, and…you.”

“Im not ungodly.” You insist faintly, nearly whispering it only for him to gently cut in. “Oh but you are. You definitely are. The moment I kissed you back to life, and brought you here, you’ve become no different from us.” A sly smile births from his lips as he adds on to his statement. “It was meant to be.”

You knew he was right, but tried to remain in denial to salvage whatever was left of your humanity, if it was even there to begin with. Going back to the topic, you inquired more about the story of Eve. “So is this one true?”

His eyes shift over to the painting as he halts his finger tapping. They move back over to you, piercing into your soul with their black coloration, yet never losing that adoration he had for you. He merely nods in response.

“Why did you do it?” You ask gently, not wanting to provoke or trigger his anger, seeing as the past was a sensitive topic, according to his brothers. Yet, he always insisted that you would have nothing to be afraid of. He always spoke how you had the luxury that most don’t, not even his own brothers, and that he would always be open and transparent with you. That was one of the foundations that proved his love for you, just one of them. So you took advantage in certain moments such as this, relying on his word that he would always be in control of his emotions, and instead, feed you the knowledge and facts through his tongue.

“In my lifetime, some of the things I’ve done have become used by mortal men to exemplify unlawful actions—all of which will forever be associated by my name. What people do not realize is that all of Gods creations, those created in Heaven, Earth, and Hell, are no strangers to the harshness of betrayal, desertion, sorrow, regret, and illumination—not even the Devil. I may be the King of Hell—Lucifer, Helel, or whatever disdained name they assigned me…but like them, I was created by the same father. Therefore I am flawed and imperfect.”

His eyes remained steady with yours, lazily gleaming under heavy hooded lids, almost appearing as if he was sleepy, though you knew that wasn’t the case. He was relaxed, peaceful, and in a state of tranquility, all because of your presence. He could always count on you to make him feel light as air, even though you could never know it, because he felt that there was not enough he could ever do for you, to show just how meaningful you are to him.

“So, you regret it?”

He tilts his head just a smudge as he gives a delicate smile your way. He responds to you in jest. “Are we in the mood for a history lesson?”

You both chuckle. He raises a hand and strokes his chin in suave fashion and props his face against it, leaning over to the arm of the chair. “Encouraging a woman to eat a simple fruit is one thing, but to do it in the manner of lying, trickery, and deceiving her is another. Either way, the result is the same, and I do not renounce it, nor do i ever find myself regretting it.”

You furrow your brows in confusion. “But you just said it was a mistake made out of the harshness of emotions.”

He slightly nodded in agreement. “Yeah…but had I done anything differently…had I not hated and plotted for their demise—had I not made the move and convinced that naive woman to take a step that resulted in her banishment from that garden…I would not have had the chance to experience the joy in discovering you…in keeping you…and to love you.”

Your breath hitches as he gently spoke out heartfelt words. Dear God…you can’t believe yourself for admitting it but you have come to fall deeply in love with the Devil.

“I see.” You gulp down a nervous swallow as your cheeks flush, the blood coursing through your veins heats your body, all because you were touched by the sweetness of his nature.

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, y/n. If I had to do it all over again—if I have to kill or die for you, I would. I will give up the last drop of my tainted blood just in your name…taking advantage of a fresh young mind into disobeying God…that’s just a small fraction of what I would do all over again, if it means it will lead him to create you…all to tame me.”

“Are you trying to seduce me with your touching words?” You smile and bite down your lip, feeling immensely overwhelmed by his confession of the unyielding love he has for you. His eyes widen in amusement as his smirk grows wider. “Is it working?” He jokes back as you both chuckle in unison.

He pats his lap, signaling for you to come to him, and you do. You perch yourself on his thighs and lean back against his broad chest, letting him reach around and grab onto the center of your waistline. He kisses your ear and cheek nonstop, sniffing in your scent simultaneously.

“I have my own way of showing it—some times it is in the manner that is most unorthodox…it frightens you and makes your body bleed. But you should know that it is all because of the effect you have on me. You bring forth the light of Heaven within me, ground me to the earth and experience humanity, and trick-start the fires of Hell. You are responsible for both, the ugliness and beauty of my nature. I’ll never be able to control myself when I’m with you. You are the impulsive breath in my chest that unhinges me. I want to do everything to you, and make you feel it.”

He kisses your shoulders once more, before pulling the remaining strap down and exposing your breasts in full bareness. His hands are cold, as always. He reaches up and cups both your mounds delicately as he tastefully pinches the nipples, occasionally tapping the jeweled ringlets decorating them. You lean your head back over his shoulder upon feeling the gentleness of his sexual passion. Inch by inch, you yearn for more, regardless that his gentler side will rage havoc and become demeaning, brutal, and viscous…but it always felt so good. Painful…but good.

He works his tongue on your neck and breathes in, the faint sensation of his nostrils flaring against your skin was delightfully sinful as he begins to move his hips underneath you, forcing you to wave yours in sync. “Oh Heeseung.” You moan out in a chiming tone. Delighting in the sound of your angelic voice, he keeps it going and feels the same knot forming in his gut as he scoops his hands underneath your thighs and slightly lifts them, spreading them apart.

Open to kiss the air, he smooths his palm over your moist cavity and gently slaps it, flicking his finger against your clit. All the while he kept whispering those sweet, flattering words into your ear, against your hair, and onto your cheek. “How does it feel, baby? To be the tamer of the Devil…to have him under your spell and belonging to him…forever.”

Your throat and lips tremble as he kept going. “How does it feel to be his favorite? To be forever cherished by the dark king and become his one and only bride? How does it feel to be called Lilith? To be mistaken as Eve—to be the soulmate of the Red Dragon. Tell me baby…how does it all feel?”

“Mm! G-good…so good—Heeseung!”

“Tell me you love me back, y/n. Tell me you love me just the same…tell me you worship me just as I do you…that you swear by my name as I swear by yours.”

“I-I do!” You stutter your words. It was becoming hard to speak, to breathe, and to move. Your body goes limp but it did not matter, his telekinetic abilities keeps you propped even when you didn’t have the strength to steady yourself. There was also of course, him. He was invincibly strong and sensually masculine, could anyone blame you for faltering and admitting your loyalty to him?

Spreading your vaginal lips, he fingers and plays with you. Moving his fingers in the same manner as a pianist, his movements are smooth, pleasant, and applied pressure in all the right spots. His flattering words continue, while his fingers, tongue, and the pitch of his voice all take a dark turn. All of which you were expecting, mentally noting that he was on the verge of fucking the screams out of your chest, and you couldn’t hide it…you couldn’t wait for him to do it over and over again. Who knew sinful pleasure better than the Devil himself? The type that makes you bite down your lip and curl your toes in. The type of love that made you hiccup your breaths while gasping for air, screaming his name repeatedly while he whispers yours.

Who else…would tell you from the depths of his own soul, the words of affirmation that brought you to your knees…

“Absolutely NOTHING I wouldn’t do for you…my darling girl.”

[storiesofsvu]

Anthony DiNozzo NSFW Alphabet

Anthony DiNozzo x reader warnings; nsfw, sexual situations. a.n: i know some of you have been asking for this and i'm ngl, it's likely not what you expected, but these are my headcanons and what I believe. I think there's a lot of wild opinions out there about this man and we're all entitled to our own lol.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Tony’s generally pretty soft, and pretty wiped. He’ll collapse into the bed, an arm winding around you, encouraging you to nestle into his side while you catch your breath. If it’s more of a casual thing, he’ll likely get at least half dressed, sharing a glass of water with you before he drops your clothes into your lap. (or if he’s at yours, he’ll just get dressed). It’s not too much extra cuddling for the casual partners, he doesn’t want to blur those lines, even if you were already friends.

But if you’re his girlfriend, or he wants that, there’s lots of soft cuddles, his fingers tracing up and down your back, he makes sure you rehydrate, offers up a snack, leftover Thai food in bed kinda thing. A massage is likely part of the foreplay, but a nice warm bath or steamy shower is definitely an aftercare thing for him.

B = Body part (your favourite body part of theirs and theirs of yours)

You love Tony’s shoulders, they’re broad, strong, he’s in good shape and they prove it. He can pick you up and toss you around a bit when he feels like it. You’re also drawn to them after a long day, when you know he’s had a rough go and without a word you’ll wrap yourself around him from behind, holding him for a moment before you start to massage his shoulders.

For him, if it’s a sexual thing, Imma say he’s a boob man. Don’t get me wrong, he loves ass too, but there’s just something about tits that he can’t resist. Not as sexual, he loves your hands, loves the innocent way you pick up one of his hands in yours, tracing patterns, following the lines. He loves to hold you, always grabbing your hand when you’re out on the streets together.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically).

He’s normally one to use condoms, but if it’s an established relationship with another form of birth control he’s all for coming inside you, getting to fuck you bare and really feel everything. It’s primal, it’s intimate, it’s how he feels so utterly connected to you. On the more dirty side of things, he absolutely loves coming in your mouth, whether it was a blow job or after making you come and him pulling out, it drives him wild seeing it painted on your tongue/lips and cheeks while you’re looking up at him with a wild grin.

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

Honestly, would not put it past this man to be intrigued with pegging.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) He’s got a good level of experience and certainly knows what he’s doing. Some people like to tease that he’s all talk, and if you do, he’s definitely going to show you just how wrong you are, cause he’s great at what he does and takes pride it in, especially with how many orgasms he can give you.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying) Hear me out: missionary or variants on it. He likes to see your face, watch the way it scrunches up, the way your mouth falls open in silent pleasure, watching the way your body twitches and shivers as he fucks you. Positions where he can really get his hands on you, feel your skin on his, play with your tits, have access to your clit, ones that his mouth can latch onto your body, leaving marks so you remember how good he made you feel. He loves to throw a leg or two over his shoulders, able to plunge even deeper into you. Morning sex he loves a good spooning from behind.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I think this one’s pretty obvious, I mean, it’s DiNozzo. He loves to throw a joke or two in there, especially during the foreplay, before or during the time clothing starts to come off. Before he’s completely flustered with just how hot you are, he’s constantly tossing out one liners, using accents/weird voices and the like. And there has definitely been an occasion or two where he made you laugh so hard it put a hard stall on any action happening, but to be completely honest, that just made him love you more.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) 

This depends on the relationship, if it’s a one night thing, or a friends with benefits, then he holds back the intimacy and keeps that mask up. If you’re someone he loves, then he can really turn it up, candles, tenderness, showing you just how much he loves and cares about you through physical affection.

J = Jack off (masturbation head canon)

Weekly at minimum, likely in the shower for easy clean up. If it’s been a long/stressful week he’s likely to self indulge, especially to help him sleep at night.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He’s into the role play aspect, loves to go out pretending you’ve never met and face the “challenge” of picking up someone new, throwing in some new tricks and the like. There’s likely some more themed looks, not necessarily full blown costumes, but the aspect of getting to be someone you’re not kinda thing. He likes to make you come, so overstimulation is definitely gonna be on this list too.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

Any surface in his/your apartment. Bedroom, couch, the cushioned bay window sill (at night, likely by candle light so no one can actually see in, but the risk factor still plays), bent over the kitchen counter, in the shower, you can bet you’re going to christen every surface in the place.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

To put it simple: you. Doesn’t matter if you’re dolled up with a full face of make up and your hair done, ready for a fancy date night, in a new lingerie set you bought just to torment him, or if you’re in one of his t-shirts and your faved cotton panties on a cozy, lazy Sunday, every single one of them will get him going and he can’t keep his hands off you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything with extreme bondage or any level of pain past a hand spanking. He’s seen a lot of really dark stuff in that realm while at work/on the job and a: doesn’t ever want to hurt you, or b: bring back any dark thoughts, especially while in the bedroom. He wouldn’t ever hurt you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Absolutely loves both.

You cannot tell me he doesn’t adore eating pussy and we both know that he’s fucking incredible at it. He’ll happily bury himself between your legs for as long as you’ll let him, especially if he knows you were having a bad day, he’ll eat you out for hours.

The days when you call him into the bedroom looking all seductive on your knees with that little smirk on your lips are the days he just can’t get his pants undone fast enough. He’s never one to do the “downward shove” and he’ll rarely ask for blowjobs, but fuck does he ever love it when your lips wrap around his cock and you encourage him to thrust into the back of your throat.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Bit of both. Depends on the situation, depends on if it’s a quickie or not. If there’s not a lot of time, if it’s a sneaky bathroom hook up it’s gonna be fast. If he’s about to leave for a longer case/UC case, it’s going to be slow, sensual he’s going to take all the time he can to admire every inch of your body before he has to go.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Loves ‘em. Sometimes you’re ready for date night and he knows he needs to have you *now* and you’re not gonna complain about him ruining your lipstick cause you know he’s gonna make it up to you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s up for experimenting, playing around with kinks and the like, but he’s not super risky. He’s got a reputation/career to think about so certain things are just out of question from the start.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

This man can go for round after round. He’s well aware that he might not be able to fuck you over and over again, but he can easily use his mouth, fingers, or pull out a toy to taunt you with while he recovers. And he’s never going to complain when you start to jerk him off or go down on him to help things along.

When it comes to how long he lasts, it kinda depends on the situation, how long its been, how utterly turned on he is, but he’ll always make sure you finish, multiple times.

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

He owns accessories; blind folds, maybe some silk ties to bind your hands together, some kind of pinwheel/pleasure wheel, while he doesn’t like lots of pain, he’s into sensation play, temperature play, things to spice things up without hurting anyone. Once he’s with someone, he’ll learn what they like, check out their collection, have a conversation about toys and likely invest in a couple that they like, he knows that a vibrator isn’t competition, it’s a helping hand in the bedroom, whether he’s there or not. And then there’s the added benefit of him getting to say “well… show me how you use it when I’m not around” and watching you get yourself off.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s not the biggest sexual tease. He likes to tease about sexual things outside of the bedroom, make little comments in front of mutual friends about your sex life (nothing that would ever offend you, they might turn your cheeks hot, but he always knows you’re okay with sharing that information). He’s also the one who will likely take bets on sports games, trivia nights and the like, and the loser owes the other head at the end of it. When it comes to actually being in the bedroom, he struggles to keep his hands off you, he’s the bratty one, so you’re likely not the one getting punished.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not overly loud, more groans and grunting, swearing, soft mutters of “god that feels good” “fuck, don’t stop” “that’s my girl…”

W = Wild card (a random head canon for the character)

He’s not afraid of subbing. While he’s pretty dominant most of the time, like I said earlier, he’s the fucking brat. And he’ll act up on purpose on nights when he knows you’re more likely to get annoyed, casting him a warning glance of “you’ll pay for this later” and it will only egg him on more. He’s never opposed to being teased and edged and loves seeing you take control in the bedroom.

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

I don’t think I even need to explain this. He’s thick, big enough, not huge to cause pain, but a bit larger than average.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not as intense as you would think with all of his quips and the like, he likely jerks off at least once a week, has his favourite porn sites/stars. If he’s with someone, there’s sex at least once a week if not more, and he loves a good lazy Sunday where you don’t even get out of bed, fucking all day.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Unless he’s completely wiped, he’s almost always the second person to fall asleep. He likes to know that you’re taken care of, that you’re comfortable and safe. He’ll slip out of the bed, making sure you’re warm and tucked in before getting you a full glass of water on the nightstand, that your phone is plugged in and alarms are set and ready for the next day. He’ll slip back under the covers and pull you into his arms, watching you sleep with a soft smile on his face as his fingers trace the curve of your lips, your jawline with a feather light touch before he finally falls asleep.

____________________

@fandom-princess-forevermore @cabotfan42 2 @alexxavicry @rainbowelshrhian @princessgemini98 @m00nkn1ghts @supercriminalbean @hbkswife @onmykneesformarvel @kmc1989 @happygirl-0408 @prentiss-theorem @boimlers-gonna-boim @tinyprettyangel @happygirl-0408 @winchesterbeau

[novacqnes]

heyy!! i'm in love with your writing 😍 it is so impeccable seriously the definition of a *chefs kiss* piece of art (please keep it up) especially tattoos & secrets, it made my day 🥹 could you please write a ellie x fem!reader where ellie paints the reader but then the reader strips to seduce ellie and then the smut happens 😏 i need top!ellie please 🛐

an artists’s muse // ellie williams

warning: smut; fingering, top!ellie, some dirty talk, strap on usage (fem receiving)

a/n: thank you :) i absolutely love this idea, i apologize for taking so long with it but i hope you enjoy!

her eyes traced over your figure splayed on the couch just a few feet away. she looked back at the canvas in front of her, making the first stroke. at first they were light, she examined your body, her deep green eyes focused on your form, savoring each moment. once she was sure she had the image down she made the abstract lines meant to represent your body more prominent.

ellie tucked her bottom lip in between her teeth, intently analyzing every inch of you and it felt like you were on display. with each passing moment you grew deeply infatuated. 

she sat with her legs slightly parted on the opposite side of the oak brown easel. her jeans were a deeper rugged blue that fit snugly around her legs, outlining each muscle. she wore a brown button down that sat loosely on her upper body, underneath it a white tank top that exposed her collarbones.

it was nothing special per say but nevertheless it caused a fervent heat to cloud your thoughts. rather than focusing on the proper posing you allowed your mind to linger, with ellie becoming the center of the fantasy.

she swept her short auburn hair behind her ears, drawing your attention to hundreds of dots speckled across her face. her cheeks were slightly flushed, mainly from the heat that seemed to intensify the longer you remained there. her brows furrowed, lowering her eyes into narrow slits and you were sure she could feel the budding heat too. 

“you’re doing great y/n, just hold that pose for a little bit longer.”

ellie looked over again, this time landing on your chest. she held her gaze there, a bit longer than normal. a deep warmth began to buzz behind your cheeks, resulting in you nearly breathless. within a mere second her eyes were back on the canvas, leaving you with an aching desire for her. 

you cleared your throat, drawing her attention away from the portrait. 

“ellie?”

“yeah, what’s up?” she asked. 

the warmth plaguing the room sharpened to a sweltering heat that made your clothes cling to your skin, like they were trapping you. without a second thought you reached for your shirt, slowly unbuttoning it but maintaining ellie’s gaze. 

“it’s so hot, you wouldn’t mind right?” 

you slid the shirt over your arms, her eyes following along. there was so much more that she hadn’t covered in the painting, parts of your body that were hidden by the clothing, yet she wanted to capture every piece. 

she stammered, “no— i wouldn’t, it’s just the portrait-”

“what about it?” 

a cunning smirk spread across your face as ellie’s face reddened— and you didn’t stop there. immediately you reached for your bra, tossing it to the side to reveal your bare chest. ellie was caught in complete awe. sweat loosened her grip to the brush causing it to fall onto floor. 

“i started it with your clothes on…i can’t finish if they aren’t.”

it sounded more like a question than an outright statement. despite her words the last thing ellie wanted was for you to stop. quickly, she noticed your hand creeping towards your jeans, sliding them down your legs and any remnants of hesitation began to diminish.

“i guess we’ll just have to make it work then,” you grinned, allowing the fabric to fall beneath your knees. 

abashed, ellie’s eyes darted back over to canvas as a battle with her own pleasure stirred between her legs. she tried to remember the image of you fully clothed but all she thought about was the one of you nearly naked. she couldn’t help but look back over as you played with your underwear, the only piece of clothing still present on your body. 

“how’s it going?” you purred.

“good—“

you began sauntering over to her, toying with the hem of your panties until you were right in front of her. breathing became a foreign concept to ellie. she couldn’t think, let alone finish the painting with the sight of you so exposed in front of her. 

you sat dangerously close to her, admiring the unfinished portrait. a small smile spread across your lips as you placed a hand on ellie’s thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. she could feel your breath fan the lobe of her ear, causing the hairs on her neck to rise. 

“you really do work miracles, williams,” you whispered, breathily.

she couldn’t tell if you were talking about the painting or the insatiable desire brewing at the forefront of both of your minds. regardless she couldn’t resist much longer.

“it’s easy with the right muse.”

she dropped the brush from her fingers trailing them down the small of your back until she reached your underwear. the distance between the two of you was practically non-existent. your lips tentatively traced her neck not fully allowing them to touch just yet. 

“y/n.”

her voice was stern, and almost threatening. it sent a wave of pleasure to your core but hesitantly, you stopped. 

“is this what you want?”

self restraint was a virtue that ellie was merely clinging to. she wanted nothing more than to touch you, but she couldn’t, not yet. 

“more than anything.”

ellie didn’t move. she knew what you wanted but she had to hear you say it. by the second you grew even more needy, desperately pressing your body against her for some sort of release. 

“ellie please….” you whined, the pleasure becoming almost tortuous, causing her ego to triple at the sight. 

“what do you want, tell me.”

her tone lowered as did her gaze as she focused on you. she could feel you writhing at her side, it awakened something in her, and at the moment you knew as well. 

“i need you to touch me.”

this was ellie’s green light. she cupped your face in her calloused hands, ardently kissing you. she pushed her weight against you, causing the both of you to fall back onto the bed. her hands traveled down to your legs quickly sliding off the piece of fabric that separated you.

the feeling of your bare skin against her was heaven. she couldn’t help but continue to roam it, touching every crevice as if it were the last time. 

“mmh.. you feel so good,” she moaned, moving towards your neck. 

she teasingly slid her tongue over the vein, feverishly sucking it on it. you could hardly produce a sentence as ellie attacked the most vulnerable and sensitive parts of your neck. her weight kept you pressed against the mattress and it only forced the heat to grow stronger. 

her mouth reached your exposed tits, taking one nipple into her mouth. she looked up at you, swirling her tongue around the sensitive flesh before moving onto the next. your hands shot up, sinking them into her disheveled hair. 

“more….more, please.”

she kept her mouth on your chest, drawing her hands down even further towards your wet pussy, dripping with need. releasing her mouth from your overstimulated nipple with a pop, ellie spat onto her finger tips. the pad of her index finger made contact first, gently rubbing on your clit. 

“shit—“ you gasped, clutching onto her arms.

“so fucking needy…”

she applied more pressure to your clit, moving back to your neck. the pleasure simmered from all angles of your body, leaving you a moaning mess in ellie’s hold. the only thing occupying space in your mind was her and the sinful things she could do to you.

“look at you…so desperate for me. you could’ve asked sooner.”

filthy words fell from her pink lips, some were praises and others unrepeatable. the blood rushed straight to groin as ellie slipped a digit in, catapulting you into a splintering high. your vision became clouded by black spots as she curved her finger, searching for the sensitive spongy flesh. 

“you’re gonna cum for me? all over my fingers?”

“yes, yes— i’m so close,” you whimpered, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes.

the sight of you unraveling brought ellie her own pleasure, fueling her to slip yet another finger into your wet core. she adored the way you clamped around her fingers, offering her no escape, the warmth was unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

within a matter of seconds you reached your first high, writhing underneath ellie. waves of pleasure traveled through your body leaving you paralyzed as she lifted her body from yours, placing a soft kiss on your temple. she stepped away, leaving you cold and still reeling from the orgasm. 

when she returned she was nearly naked aside from the harness wrapped securely around her pelvis. once again a familiar ache found its way back to your pussy, but this time it was hungrier.

“if i could paint you like this, i would,” she smirked, admiring your weakened state before joining you back on the bed. 

it was only the beginning. 

“one more? think you could take that?” ellie teased, her tone nearly mocking you, and it only fueled you to prove her wrong.

you leaned forward grabbing hold of silicone, pressing the tip against your overstimulated clit. the contact was cold and sent an addictive chill through your body. you held it there, allowing yourself a bit of fun before she took control again. 

“fuck….”

the tip became coated in your wetness, sparking an almost primal urge in ellie. 

“lean back,” she ordered. 

without hesitation you released the strap, giving ellie room to push it into your dripping pussy. she took it, allowing you to feel every inch of it entering cunt. you threw your head back, a string of obscenities escaping from your mouth as she sunk herself in deeper. 

“oh…..” you cried, pressing your eyes closed. desperately you tried to contain yourself but that stupid smirk on ellie’s face had already taken shape.

“too much?”

her movements were slow, taunting at that. she thrusted in until the strap buried inside of you, holding it there until you were a moaning mess. 

you stuttered, “no—no i—“ prying your eyes open, you forced yourself to look at her through a veil of tears. 

it felt heavenly.

her thrusts became more fluid, drawing sharp whines from your lips. with each stroke she brushed against your g-spot just enough to tease you and it was purposeful. 

she brought her hand down, circling your clit with her thumb as the pleasure soared to an intoxicating level. 

“harder ellie— fuck— don’t stop.” you muttered through gritted teeth.

she sped up noticing just how deeply it affected you. each movement sent you over the edge, bringing you just a step closer to another high. however, ellie wanted to take her time, she wanted to remember it, the moans, your cries and just how hot you looked.

“how does it feel?”

“so so good….” you mewled.

she spat down on your already wet pussy adding to the infatuating sensation already consuming you. she fell in love with the way it sunk into you, fitting snugly into your walls. she quickly began fucking you more fervently, slamming her hips into your aching cunt.

leaning down, she kissed you sloppily and with more passion than ever before. you moaned into the kiss, ushering ellie closer with your legs. 

she moved towards your ear, gently nipping at it as she whispered, “i’m gonna make you come so hard.”

your legs shook with each earth shattering stroke. the pleasure was almost unbearable, causing a huge knot within your stomach to form, leaving you begging for a simple release. 

ellie took pride in her efforts, it was evident. the sweat clinging to your skin, the pleas falling from your lips, you were mere moments away from cumming all over her bed and she wanted to savor the moment. 

“just like that baby, come for me, all over me.”

with a few last but deep strokes the white hot pleasure consumed you, leaving you entirely speechless. ellie couldn’t help but stare, this was beauty if she’d ever seen it. she leaned down to kiss you once more, removing the strap from your cunt. you looked over at her, reeling from the remnants of your explosive orgasm. 

she cupped your face in your hands, running them over your sweaty face. this was it. this is what she wanted to capture, she looked back at the blank canvas and then at you when an idea sprang into her mind. 

“leaving me soon?” 

“not for a second, stay like that.” 

she hopped off the bed, picking her brush up from the ground. then she turned her canvas onto the opposite side, presenting a blank white page.

“i wanna paint you like this,” she purred, briefly  running her eyes over you once more. ellie looked as if she was in love, and truly she was. she couldn’t remember the last time she’d wanted to create something more. 

millions of potential ideas sparked in her mind the longer that gazed at you and it only fueled her urge to paint. 

“but i look gross…” you muttered.

despite ellie’s enthusiasm you couldn’t fathom why she was so eager to document, especially like that. sweat clung to your skin, leaving you with an almost sticky feel. you could hardly move, courtesy of ellie, so you were trapped in an awkward position. 

“i think you look beautiful…and you are my muse after all,” she grinned, with her eyes beaming directly at you. 

her words sent a gentle buzz of warmth to your cheeks, allowing you to slowly relax as she began a new, more authentic portrait. 

she hummed, “so what do you think?”

“i’m all yours williams.”

[cease-your-release]

"You Mean The World To Me." (SFW)

Following a hard day at work, you and Copia retreat to your shared bath to unwind. (Fluff, 5,581)

Content warning(s): It gets a little suggestive, maybe?

I’m fighting off what I think is a stomach bug, so my proofreading skills aren’t top notch at the moment… technically I did but how much good is that when your vision is blurred from a migraine?

Also on Ao3!

Smut version here

You stand in the en-suite bathroom that you share with your partner, Copia, leaning over the wall of the tub to continuously adjust the water that flows from the tap.

The both of you had, quite frankly, horrible times at work, at least in terms of the work itself. Copia, in his tasking role as Papa Emeritus, had been especially swamped with forms to fill out and meetings to attend, which meant he was either confined to his office in frustrated silence or rushing to where the next conference would be held. He had always made time to see you, or at least call if physical presence wasn’t an option, but today there was absolutely no way he could fit it in. That’s how you knew something was off, but it wasn’t as if you could dwell on it for too long, because you were trapped under your own workload. Yours were much more body-oriented, legs weary and sore from the way they carried your tense body up and down the halls while taking things (which, of course, were not as light as you would have liked) to be delivered to wherever the Heaven you were going. By the end, both of you wanted nothing more than to collapse into the arms of the other, but once you two saw the state of your counterpart, your caretaking instincts kicked in.

“You start the bath, tesoro. Make it as hot as you’d like for those aching bones, huh?” Copia had told you before taking to the sink to deal with his papal paint, which by that point had faded and smudged from the amount of times he had mindlessly rubbed it in his stress. You had spaced out somewhat, and therefore didn’t notice when he disappeared into the main room, but you also didn’t have the energy to worry about it. The curiosity was short lived, however, as he came back only a few minutes later with a pile of folded clothes- pajamas, you gathered- and an armful of scented candles.

You move to help him set everything down, despite his protests, and together you arrange it all accordingly. Before you know it, a handful of subtle relaxing scents fill the room, the dim, warm light from the dancing flames only enhancing the mood.

While you’re doing that, the tub fills, and then you can finally partake in the hot water.

Copia steps in first, then turns back and holds out his hand to you. “Shall I help you in, then?” He asks, and it’s clear he rushed ahead just to be able to do so.

Amusement washes over your expression, which he grins at, and you place your hand in his before joining him. You both sit down, settling with his back to the wall and you facing him, sitting over his lap. “Is the temperature alright? Not too hot?” You ask, running your hands over his shoulders. Even after all this time of sharing the bath, you still can’t help but worry about that aspect.

“It’s just right, amore.” He responds with a sigh at the faint massage. The warm water surrounds both of you, and he leans back against the wall of the tub with a relieved groan. “I can’t explain it to you, but this is what I want right now…” He raises his hand, bringing it to rest upon your cheek. His thumb runs along your bottom lip, tracing the shape. “This… this is good. Everything right now is just wonderful…”

Your lips part under the pressure, then lightly kiss the finger against them, which gets a somewhat flustered smile from him. “Mm… how does your stomach feel?” You slide your palms to his abdomen, which is completely submerged in the bath..

Heavy stress would often lead to a feeling of nausea for him, which the bath could sometimes help with. It definitely didn’t hurt that you were with him, either.

Copia’s eyes flutter, and his lips part for a few seconds before answering. “It’s… much better right now, actually.” He tilts his head, and reaches over to rub your thigh. “And how does my baby feel? Are your legs still tender?”

You can’t help but beam at the name, followed by a deep sigh at his touch. “A little, yes. But that’s to be expected after such events, right? I’m just thankful I can still walk, really.”

“Of course, you’ve done a lot. I can’t believe you’re still so willing to take care of me once it’s all over…” He leans over to place a kiss on your collarbone, sliding his hands to give your thighs a caress. “Sei incredibile..” He moves his lips to just over your throat, and you can feel his touch traveling over your legs. “Are you ready, tesoro?”

You nod slowly with a laugh, a slight tickle caused by his kisses, your arms rising to hold yourself up by the wall of the tub. “Mhm, if you aren’t too tired for it.” You respond, leaning back and lifting your hips so he can reach more of you. “Oh, your hands are lovely..” You’re trail off into a silent groan at his touch, finding the prolonged tension has resulted in a noticeable tightness of your muscles, which were being soothed by the water and his hands..

“Look at you, amore mio.” He hums, watching and feeling the way you move under his touch, pressing his hands into your thighs and kneading the flesh. “Your skin is so soft,” His lips brush against your neck, leaving behind a trail of kisses as they go down towards your shoulder.. “but you are so tense.”

A sigh escapes you at that- his massage and words. “Oh, you know how it is.” Soon enough, he gets to a particular problem area, which pulls a noise from you. “A-ah!”

Copia’s body jerks at the sound, and he gasps. “Amore, I don’t think you understand how much-” His concern is cut short when your hands return to his shoulders, fingers working his tightened muscles just as he is with yours. “Ancora, per favore..”

“F-fuck..” You bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut at the sensation of his touch, feeling your tension slowly melt away. You start kissing his neck like he did yours.

His eyes flicker with each kiss that lands on him, paired with subtle whines when your hands get to the especially tough spots. “Caro Satanas..” He holds you close for a few seconds, digits curling around and pushing into your calves, before relaxing slightly and leaning back against the wall. It almost feels like you’re one in the same- your bodies move in tandem, your hands relieving the other. “Don’t stop, baby, please.”

You grin against his skin, noticing the slump, and shake your head shortly. His breath hitches, lips forming a small ‘o’ shape while a shiver jumps through his spine.

“I won’t, don’t worry.” You reassure before moving to the other side of him, kissing there too. Copia’s fingers grip your legs, and his motions gradually increase in reaction to yours- they’re not fast, however. He’s so slow, so gentle with you, that you can tell he’s putting just as much effort into it as you are.

“You’re amazing at this, you know that? I- oh!” Your words are cut short with a groan, a result of him reaching another area of tightness.

After taking a moment to recover, you pull back and bring a hand up to his cheek, tilting his head to face you. You take in the sight of his love-drunk expression: dazed and half-lidded eyes that dart around your frame, lips parted under deep breath, and a lovely light flush that accents his sparsely freckled skin. “Pretty boy~” You coo, then press a tender kiss to his lips, one very calm and clement.

He looks at you for a few seconds and kisses you back, soft and slow, just like before. He eventually pulls away and meets your gaze. “You and I, tesoro, are amazing together. I’ve never felt so comfortable around anyone before, a-and- cazzo -We are like… one, but still our own persons…” He glances down at where his palms and fingers press into your flesh for a second before looking back up to you. “I need you..”

You smile at his profession and he pulls you chest-to-chest, groaning and sighing. “More of me? You can have as much as your heart desires, darling.” Comes from you in a whisper, a bit breathless. You lean in and allow your lips to trail his jaw, not quite reaching his neck. Then, you mumble something: “Meus es.”

The handful of Latin you picked up from mass sometimes pays off in some of these moments- it is called "romance language", after all.

“You called me yours…” He thinks. “I don’t want any more of you, caro, I want all of you.” He presses his lips to yours shortly, and smooths one hand over your skin, up towards your hip. “Questo è perfetto…”

“Mm, well, I’d say you have that already.” You respond before returning the kiss. You slip your hands underneath his arms and to his back, massaging what you can reach there. “My heart is so full of you, I can hardly call it my own.” You whisper into his ear.

Copia lets your words sink in, and he could swear he feels his own pulse beat to the pace you two move at. “I love you, dolce mio, more than I’ve ever loved anyone before.”

“I know, sweet boy-” You start to say, but are interrupted once again. “Ah, Copia, right there..” You bury your face into the crook of his neck, somewhat panting while he works on your hips.

He gladly obliges, right up until you find his own sweet spot between his shoulder blades. “Oh, tesoro, I- cazzo!” He gets out in a groan.

After roughly another minute of that, you both slowly stop and your hands come to rest on the skin of the other. His hold on you loosens, and one reaches up to pull your face to his. Before you can process it, he presses mouth to yours in a tender kiss.

“I love you.” Is the silent message between you two, only broken by the sound of breathing and the soft smacks of your lips connecting.

You return the kiss with just as much gentleness, and curl your arms around his waist. “The water’s so hot that now we’re all sweaty… What do you think about a shower?” Then, you glance down at your bodies, the perspiration beading from them. “But we’ll have to drain this water first.”

Copia nods, eyes half closed. “Yeah, that’s a good idea…” There’s a hint of concern on his face when he looks at you, his voice matching. “Are your legs alright? I don’t want to push you to walk if you’re too sore.” He says, moving to lightly rub one of your thighs again.

You smile at his question, and lean in to press a couple of kisses to his cheeks. “It’s positively adorable how much you care for me, sweetheart.”

“Thank you for the compliment, dolce mio, but I’d be doing a horrible job if I didn’t care for you like that.” He replies, accented by slight giggles when your lips reach his skin.

“I should be alright to stand for a shower, at least. If nothing else, I may just have to lean on you when it comes time to get back to bed.” You explain, then turn around and start towards the other side of the tub.

He sighs at the loss of your warmth. “And I’ll be right there beside you. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” A smile pulls at his lips after a second of thought. “It could be quite a nice moment, actually…”

You pull the plug from the drain, then stand with a grunt of effort, water falling and dripping from your figure. You shake some from your hair, though most of it may actually be sweat. “Oh, of course it would..” You remark with a grin. “My big strong man, hm?” You tease, helping him up to his feet as well.

“Oh, amore mio…” Copia watches you stand, eyes teeming with nothing short of admiration, and smiles at you as if you had used his favorite pet name. Once he’s up, he leans in for a faint hug, not seeming to mind the lack of clothing between you. You don’t either, since the temperature of your bodies is- quite literally -warmly welcomed after the chill of removing yourself from the water. “I will never let you fall…” He whispers into your ear.

You reciprocate the embrace, closing your eyes and pressing your forehead to his. “You’re very sweet, Copia. Thank you.” You mutter in response, then press your lips to his nose quickly. Slipping your hands away, you turn around and bend over enough to start the shower tap.

He chuckles at your words and kiss, but when he sees you bend over his eyes widen and a flush rises. He can’t help but get distracted, though fears that if he looks for too long he’ll just be staring. “Vale, caro mio… d-do you prefer if I look away?” Even as he asks the question, you can see him stealing glances at you.

You peek back at him, and swiftly turn your gaze back to the knobs. Though, it’s more to hide a growing smirk. Seeing him get so nervous about your body never really gets old. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, right?” You respond, then stand upright.

“I… well…” The words don’t quite make it past his throat, and the blush grows on his cheeks. “I would just.. Feel bad if you found me staring, I-..” His voice drops to a whisper. “I think you look absolutely gorgeous, even from this perspective.” While he speaks, you feel a pair of hands on your waist.

You quickly look back at him over your shoulder and place your hands over his, thumbs running over the backs of his palms.

“Let me help you?” He asks in a mutter.

“Are you sure about this? Don’t push yourself, darling.”

He lets out a chuckle. “I’m not pushing myself,” He smiles and squeezes your hips, making his intentions quite clear. “but I appreciate your concern, amore.”

Before you can say anything else, he presses his face to your neck and starts to kiss along it, from your shoulder to just under your chin. And once he starts doing that, you can’t help but close your eyes and lean your head back, relenting. “Just take it easy, okay?”

Copia hums quietly- probably at the way you melted -before saying: “I’ll be fine, dear. I promise that loving you won’t break me.”

“Alright, I trust you- mm..” You angle your head to kiss his neck in return, and slide your hands up to caress his arms.

You feel him shiver, and he lets out a breathy groan that’s barely louder than a whisper. “I’ll never get enough of you, bello.” His grasp leaves your hips, and goes to your waist instead. At the same time, he slowly moves to kiss your back.

“Sweetheart, that doesn’t feel like helping me shower.” You comment lightheartedly.

“I know, just, eh.. give me a minute, schricchio?” His grasp tightens again, more reassuring and grounding than demanding.

Your eyes close, and you reach up to hold the shower bar for support. You can feel his hands working about you again, running his fingers over your waist, hips, thighs, and up to your shoulders and arms. It quickly builds into another gentle massage, pressure adding until you’re sighing and soaking up his touch all over again.

Occasionally, his hands brush your behind, which causes you to flinch- a little tense of the muscle is all, but even so, he notices. He laughs and presses more purposefully for just a second, all but groping you before returning to sweet little rubs. “You like it when I touch you there, don’t you?”

You chuckle in turn and roll your eyes.

Within some amount of minutes you’ve all but forgotten the original plan here.

“Oh, bene mio..” After a few moments, he leans in and kisses your face all over. “You look absolutely radiant..” He nuzzles your neck and whispers. “Ti amo così tanto.”

You’re snapped out of your trance, feeling his lips peppering your face. You smile, and try your best to reciprocate over your shoulder. “Mm… thank you, sweetheart.” You mutter, bringing a hand to his head and lightly scratching his wetted scalp. “I love you too.”

Copia hums when you touch his hair, and takes your hand. He kisses your fingertips, one by one, even the thumb. “There we go." He cups your face, then presses his lips to yours very gently. You can feel him breathe a sigh of relief, his face is absolutely flush - but not even because of what you just did, the sight of you truly affects him in such a way.

A slight giggle escapes you at his actions, and you sigh just as he did.

He peels away from your back, on the way getting a couple of soft pop sounds from his spine. Nothing painful, merely something par for the course at his age.

After a moment, you slowly stretch and roll your joints, which causes a deep sigh. “Satanas, my back, a-and legs…”

His eyes go wide at that.. “Are you okay?” He asks with concern, and you feel his hands grip onto you tighter. From his voice you can hear he’s genuinely worried. “Do I need to help you? Should I carry you? Are you hurt?” He asks quickly, the panic evident, along with a touch of shame. “What did I do? I was gentle, right?”

“Oh, honey, I’m fine!” You quickly reassure him, leaning in to kiss his forehead- though that produces another small noise of effort. “You were perfect, don’t worry. I meant it in a good way, they’re much better now.”

Copia lets out a breath of relief when he hears that. “Okay, good.” He says with a nervous chuckle, and kisses you back with a careful hug. “Can I have some rest on my love’s shoulder? I feel much better when we’re close.”

“After we shower, okay? The water’s been on this whole time, it’ll probably get cold soon.” You step away to retrieve a couple bottles of soap, handing one to him.

He nods and kisses you again, smiling. “Alright alright, no sleeping until we’re clean.” He looks down, which is when he gets an idea. “Here, let me help you with that first.”

You flush when you see him lower himself to reach, to wash your skin himself. “Oh, you don’t have to do… that…” But you know it’s no use. You bite your lip and look away, now a tad flustered.. “Thank you, I mean.”

“There’s no need to thank me.” He whispers, caressing your leg as he wipes you up.  He seems absolutely focused on this task, and you can tell he’s not unhappy about it, seeing him occasionally smiling up at you. He moves very attentively, even using a washcloth to make sure he gets it all. In his mind, that’s the least he could do- and it’s a nice way to see your face blush.

You can’t help the sigh that leaves you, because it feels somewhat like another massage to your weakened muscles. You watch from the corner of your eyes until it’s done, and run your fingers through his hair. “You’re very kind to me, my love.”

Copia laughs quietly and shakes his head. “You are amore mio, it’s only natural I take care of you. Just wait and see, it’s going to be my turn next, and I already know you’re going to treat me well, too.”

You smile at him, lightly scratching his scalp. “You know me, I can’t go a day without pampering you.”

He kisses the inside of your thigh, making your flush deepen, and lets out a small gasp. “Oh, you are so soft and smooth, it makes me want to kiss you everywhere…”

“Ah, but that will take a long time, and I want you to get in bed as soon as possible.” You respond with a subtle laugh.

He seems to consider your suggestion, and finally nods. “Alright, I will do as I’m told.” He kisses your other thigh and stands back up, although this time he wraps an arm around your waist and leans his upper half onto you. “Let’s get you cleaned and into bed, you hear?”

You smile at him and reciprocate the embrace. “Loud and clear, Papa.” You say with a giggle, then press your lips to his for a quick kiss before pulling back and getting started on your hair.

As you do that, he works on your back and neck very carefully with a cloth.

You hum at the feeling of him helping you wash the harder-to-reach areas, and look back at him. “Copia, there’s no need to be so gentle. I won’t shatter, you know that.” You reach behind yourself to press his hand a little more to your skin, the muscles tensing underneath his touch. “But… It does feel nice, and I appreciate it.”

“Oh, I know.” But he can’t help it. Your skin is so nice to him, and it makes him want to be gentle at all times. That, and the little scare from last time have a certain effect on how confident his strokes are. Even so, his fingers move a little more firmly on your back, gliding around at an even pace. “A-Am I doing alright?” He asks softly.

You nod, your eyes having closed after a few moments of him starting. “Mm… yes, you’re doing wonderfully.” Soon enough, you’re humming at the touch, somewhat resembling a purr.

Copia feels like his heart is overflowing with affection. You look delightful when he touches you, and you feel like pure bliss, like you’re the most precious flower in the world. He gets behind your ears with his free hand and speaks gently. “Just close your eyes, baby, enjoy it.”

You subconsciously try to lean into the touch, the tilt of your head making it noticeable that your lips are slightly parted. “That’s good…” You murmur, your tone on top of everything else making it clear that you may not be entirely aware at this moment.

His breath catches in his throat. He seems completely unaware of everything else- of the shower and all -as he leans forward and kisses you lovingly on the mouth. There’s so much love in his fingers and lips, you can practically feel and taste it.

Your eyes snap open, but just as quickly flutter shut, and you reciprocate. When you eventually pull back, you slowly open your lids, which reveals pupils blown wide. “What was that for…?”

He gives you a sweet smile. “Because I love you.” He says. He presses his palm against your cheek and caresses it, making sure you see his expression. He leans in close and whispers to you. “And because you’re absolutely bewitching tonight, you look so perfect..” He pauses. “..I want to kiss you forever.”

You exhale shakily at his touch, and nuzzle into his hand. “I don’t look any different than I usually do…” You remark, but his last sentence gets your attention much more quickly. Your gaze darts from his eyes to lips before you end up closing them again, then press a kiss to his wrist, which gets a quiet noise from him. “You could certainly try later, but we have to finish up here.”

Copia smiles gently. “And you’re absolutely stunning at all times, so I don’t see why I can’t kiss you whenever I want.” He gives out a small chuckle and a sigh. “I couldn’t have wished for anyone better.”

A smile spreads over your lips at that, and you pull his hand off of you to kiss the knuckles of it. “My turn to help you wash up?” You ask softly, looking at him with your mouth hovering over the back of his palm. “At least your hair, if you think it’s too much for me to touch your body.”

His hair is still dripping, and his eyes wander to your lips at your kisses. He’s snapped back into reality by your question, though, and clears his throat. “Your touch is never too much,” he whispers. “But… yes, just for now, honey.”

Your smile turns into an excited grin, and you waste no time in getting the shampoo into his hair. You turn him around so his back is to you, and begin gently working the soap into his scalp with your fingers. “You have such lovely hair..” You mutter, then lean down to kiss the back of his neck.

Copia lets out a little groan of relief and closes his eyes as you wash his hair, your words warming his heart. He really just loves listening to you speak. “Mm, you do too.” He whispers and leans his head back in an effort to receive more kisses.

You slowly trail your lips down to his shoulder, and rest your chin there. At the same time, you remove your hands from his head and have them come to rest on his upper arms. “I’m afraid it’s not as good as yours, love.” You press a quick kiss to his cheek before curling your arms around his waist, hugging him from behind.

He feels like he’s melting into you, like he might just lose focus and fall into a state of bliss. “I can’t believe it took me so long to meet you..” He mumbles.

“It didn’t take so long for us to meet as it did to realize we were meant for each other.”

He laughs slightly, and gives a short kiss to your forehead. “You’re right, and it was the best thing that could have happened to me.”

That was true enough. The two of you danced around your feelings like fools for a long while until, by some miraculous twist of fate, the fantasies from your mutual pining had all come to fruition.

“I-” His voice catches in his throat, bottom lip trembling slightly.

You give him a gentle squeeze to his torso, then reach up to slide your thumb along his bottom lip. “You’re shaking a little, are you cold? Come on, get under the water.”

Your touch draws his full attention. “Oh! Mmf- yes, it’s a little c-cold..” He smiles at you. “It’s nothing, no big deal.” He lies. Then he moves forward, stepping under the shower head.

You try to bite back a smirk that tugs at the corners of your mouth, noticing you must have flustered him. You don’t comment on it, only helping him rinse the soap out of his brown locks, accented with streaks of grey.

He then scrubs himself down, as do you, getting the areas that he didn’t earlier. Once that’s done, you take your turn in the water, letting out a deep groan as the bubbles slide down your frame with the warmth.

He watches them go, though has to tear his gaze away when it further exposes your skin. “Mmnh.. You seem to be enjoying yourself.” He sounds happy to see you relax.

You glance at him following the noise, but just as quickly return to the task. “It does feel rather nice…” You respond, just before finishing up. You lean over to shut off the tap, then squeeze some of the water from your hair. “Would you get the towels? I’ll help dry you off.”

He nods, and scans the space around him. “Alright, where are they..?” Before you can point out the rack on the wall next to him he turns, perks up, laughs, and says “Ah, here they are! I knew I wasn’t that blind.” He picks a few of them up, and wraps one around your body before beginning to dry you off, being particularly careful not to press on your back or legs too hard.

You smile at him, partially in amusement, and take a different cloth to lightly tussle his hair. “You know you don’t have to do that, love.” You say softly, but don’t make any real attempt to stop him.

Copia’s cheeks heat up at your touch of his hair. “I know I don’t have to, but I really do enjoy taking care of you.”

It isn’t very long before he’s done, though, and you start to dry him off in return, and he looks away with a flush forming.

“I like to see you smile…” He finally adds on, his words sounding like a shy admission. “so, it’s… it’s worth it.”

“You’re very sweet, you know that? I hope so, because I say it so much.” You finish with that and tie the towel around his hips, then you take another to continue with his hair, moving it about his head carefully. “It’s really nice when you do things for me. I’m still not quite used to it, honestly…"

He lets out a small chuckle. “Aww, really? It’s just a couple of small tasks, it’s not like I’m doing much.” He pauses, a grin growing while you work on his hair. “Do you actually like it that much? I feel like it’s nothing special…”

You nod. “Well, to you it may be small, but they mean the world to me.

“You mean the world to me.” He says, to which you can only smile at.

You eventually get done with his hair too, though it’s still a bit damp, and remove the towel. Then, you smooth it out a little with your hands, and use one to tilt his chin so his face meets yours. “Pretty boy…”

His gaze finds you when you tilt his head, eyes meeting yours once again, blinking quickly as he stares at you, his face heating up considerably. After a moment of silence, he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

You melt into it with a small noise- something between a surprised hum and a whine- and curl your arms around his torso in an embrace. When your mouths separate, you rest your forehead against his. “You are quite the romantic tonight, aren’t you?” You say with a slight laugh. “We should get to bed now, I want to hold you for as long as possible.”

Copia lets out a breath at the contact, something so simple yet so important. "Mm, you're one to talk," He smiles and shakes his head slowly. "you get so cute and love-y when you're exhausted." he whispers, then looks up at you and asks: "Is that what you want to do? Just hold me in your arms and relax? "

“Hey, I’m not exhausted, it's just that my legs are a little weak is all…” You remark in faux offense. “...and my back.” You add. “But, yes. I would very much just like to have you close to me for the rest of the night. It.. wouldn’t hurt to be caressed again either, I suppose.”

He sighs and smiles at you, an expression teeming with infatuation. "If you want me to pet you tonight- and any other night, for that matter -I'll do it as much as you want. Don't be afraid to ask." He hardly stifles a little laugh, and then continues. "Heh.. There's nothing wrong with being a bit of a cat. We can be quite purrfect together."

A loud laugh escapes you at that, and you playfully nudge him away. “Oh, you dork! That pun was horrible!” But the grin on your face says that you liked it.

He lets out a hearty chuckle, the sound of your laugh making him feel warm. "Ah, well.. at least I'm your dork." He caresses your cheek and gently strokes your hair. "You can make fun of me as much as you like, I don't mind if it makes you happy.. "

You reach up and hold his hands where they are to your face, closing your eyes and leaning into the touch. “I am not making fun of you, Copia.” You say quietly, and begin making your way out of the tub with his hand in yours.

The two of you retrieve the clothes he’d set out before, which are the most comfortable satin pajamas either of you own, a matching pair you had gotten him for an anniversary gift. He only uses his on the most necessary days, and you just prefer wearing yours along with him, so you followed that idea by extension.

“Come on, let’s get to that bed, hm?” You ask after haphazardly buttoning up your top, half of your chest still exposed.

While putting out the candles, he responds. “Well, wait, have you had dinner? At least let me-”

“We can still have food delivered, right?” Your voice cuts through his offer.

He pauses to think.

“Eh.. technically, yes…”

“Then lay down and relax with me, won’t you?” You ask with a laugh, admittedly amused by his efforts. You pull his hand up towards your lips to kiss the back of it, watching him.

He smiles wide and relents, resting his head on you as you two make your way out of the bathroom. “Sì, caro mio… Grazie.”

Translations (Kind of):

“Vale” : “It’s worth it”

[shadowdaddies]

hii do you write for women/would you write some smut with like a dom-ish Feyre and reader?? love your writing <333

Hi!! Yes I definitely write f/f. I had an idea for this request based on this "art" I made in procreate when I was fooling around lol. Turned out kinky but also very fluffy?? Hope you like it💜

Inspiration

Feyre x f!Reader

Warnings: very nsfw below the cut, minors dni, d/s dynamics, light bondage, paint/brush play, fingering, oral f!receiving, face sitting, not proofread

You walked into Feyre’s art studio, feeling restless and needy for her attention. She sat at her easel with a blank canvas, seeming frustrated as she wiped sweat from her brow. 

“Hi, love,” you greet as you stroll over to stand behind her, wrapping your arms around her as you press a kiss to her cheek.

Feyre sighs, “hi, angel,” bringing her hands up to gently rub your arms and hug them to her chest. 

“Are you alright?” you ask, noting her distress. “I’m just having one of those days. I woke up this morning feeling so motivated, I got out those new paintbrushes you bought me and washed them,” nodding to her supplies table, “but once I sat down to start, I started feeling so anxious. I want to be creative and paint something but I’m so distracted, I can’t focus, I don’t even know what to paint.” 

You hum in consideration, “well, you could always paint me,” you say, trying to lighten the mood with a flirty wink. Feyre turns to fully look at you, giving you a curious look. “I didn’t mean to ignore how you’re feeling, Fey. If there’s anything I can do-“ 

Feyre cuts you off, bringing up her hand to trace your jawline and then your lips. She glances at her supplies table with her paints and brushes, then to the couch behind you. “No, angel, I like that thought. I have an idea now, but I need to you be a good girl for me,” she says, smirking at you. 

Your entire body turns molten; you love when she’s dominant like this. “Yes, my lady,” you say breathlessly.

Her eyes glaze, raking up and down your body, and she nods sharply to the couch behind you. “Go lay down, then. On your back.” She pauses, “Oh, but strip first. Everything, including your bra and panties,” she orders as she methodically looks over her supply table.

You obey, quickly removing all your clothes and laying on your back on the couch, watching as Feyre opts to bring the entire table over closer to you. She has a wicked gleam in her eye as she smiles at you, and notice she’s twirling a roll of painter’s tape around her pointer finger. “Put your wrists together for me, angel,” she says in a velvet soft voice. You move to obey her so quickly, she lets out a soft laugh that makes your legs feel weak. Feyre wraps the tape around your wrists and guides them up above your head, leaning in close to you as she does. “Keep your arms up for me, angel. You know the word if you’re uncomfortable at all, right?” You nod, whispering “yes, my lady.” 

“Good girl,” Feyre murmurs and gives you a soft kiss before standing up and returning to her supplies table and begins mixing paints. She then turns to you and slowly begins stripping off her own clothes until she is completely naked. The air is thick with the scent of both of your arousals now, and your chest is heaving with anticipation as you watch Feyre grab her paint palette and a brush. She sways her hips as she moves over to you on the couch and straddles your hips, looking down at you with a mix of lust and adoration. 

She gathers some of a lavender colored paint on her brush and brings it down to your shoulder, painting a broad stroke along your collarbone and down to your chest. The paint is cold against your skin, the contrast between the cold paint and Feyre’s warm body against yours causes you to let out an involuntary hiss and writhe your hips beneath her. Feyre lets out a soft moan at your reaction, and you feel her wetness on your stomach. You’re so turned on, you can’t focus straight as you mindlessly watch Feyre. You know you’d let her do anything as you let yourself stop thinking, and just feel as she drags the brush along your other collarbone, over your arms, across your stomach, alternating different shades of purple and blue. It’s slow and erotic, teasing in the best way as she uses you as her canvas.

You feel the brush swirl around your breast, letting out a soft gasp and a high pitched moan as she brings the brush across your nipple. You feel a new rush of wetness form between your legs, and you know Feyre smells it by the hungry look she gives you. She swiftly moves further down your body to where she is kneeling on the couch above your legs, and moves her brush to pick up black paint and paints something low on your hips. You manage to look down and make out the word ‘MINE’ that she has marked you with, and you gasp, mind reeling with an overwhelming sense of need for her. “Fuck, Feyre please touch me. I need you now, please, please,” you’re begging her pathetically. 

Feyre gives you a smile as she stands up, making her way back to her supply table where she grabs one of her new brushes that you’d gifted her, a wide tipped brush that looks almost more appropriate for applying makeup. “Ask me again, angel. Where do you want me to touch you?”

“Please, Fey, touch my pussy. I’m so wet, I need you now,” you’re pleading with her. She lets out a soft laugh as she moves back to your legs. “Spread these for me, love. Put them up on the couch, heels to ass.” You do as she says, earning another “good girl” that makes it hard for you to breathe. Feyre kneels between your legs, taking the new dry brush and begins dragging it tortuously slow along your hips, moving to your outer folds and giving light strokes for what feels like an eternity. 

You’ve never felt a sensation like this before, the feather-light stimulation both glorious and keeping you on edge. When Feyre finally moves the brush to your clit, you let out a pornographic moan, back arching off the bed as your legs shake at the bizarre feeling. Feyre continues to tease you with the brush while you pant and writhe beneath her, until she grows bored and flips the handle around, dragging it down your clit and pushing it inside you. You moan as she swirls the narrow handle inside you, hearing the lewd sounds from your wetness. “You’re so wet for me, beautiful,” she gasps. Removing the handle, Feyre quickly replaces it with her fingers, curling against that spot that has you seeing stars. When she leans down to suck your clit, you come undone with a scream. 

You come down from your high to find Feyre watching you. “How do you feel, angel?” she asks you, “So good, Fey, so good. Please let me make you feel good.” Feyre crawls over you, granting a passionate kiss to your lips before crawling further up your body and positioning herself above your face. You eagerly began licking and sucking at her clit, before you held your tongue out, encouraging her to ride it to get herself off. She plays with her clit while she rides your face, not taking long to reach her peak either.

Climbing off of you, Feyre reaches up to grab your wrists and gently take off the painter’s tape, placing a kiss to each wrist. You sit up on the couch and she sits next to you. Tucking your hair behind your ear, Feyre whispers, “thank you for inspiring me.”

[lilyharvord]

Flash Fic Friday #4

I'm in Coriane and Nikolas (my OC) Brainrot Land. I have a whole playlist for them now and it makes my heart hurt for them. You're Gonna Go Far by Noah Kahan with Brandi Carlile is definitely the song for them in this. So here is Nik being a stupid boy and Coriane being (a maybe) aware girl. Prompt 4 for flash fic friday @nortaeventcouncil. Enjoy everyone (:

            “Why would I stand by while he said those things?” Nikolas Samos was by no means a small person, nor did he have short legs. He walked fast when he needed to, and yet, he was worried right now that he should be running to keep up with his best friend.

            Almost a head shorter than him, Coriane still managed to to be three steps ahead when she was upset. She had practically left him behind as she berated him. When she whipped around though at his words, her school bag almost smacked him in the stomach. He ground to a halt on the stone arboretum path they always took to get home. The loose stone under his worn boots kicked up and snapped against the toes of hers as she took a half step closer to him.

Rarely was Coriane this upset, and if he was being questioned by anyone, he would say it was terrifying when she was in a mood like this. If he was being perfectly honest, which he never would be, he would admit that she was ridiculously attractive too. Her eyes went from the jewel fall leaf colors to burning ore in seconds as she drew her lips in a tight line and adjusted her bag so it was hanging in its original place on her shoulder. He was like a bar of iron under that gaze, fracturing and melting to an ooze that would very easily roll back down the hill.

Gods be damned when she scrunched her brows like that, he wanted to take his thumb and physically smooth out the lines like he was working with a particularly temperamental sheet of metal.

“Because Nik,” She seethed as she glared at him. “People have said plenty of horrible things in front of and behind my back my whole life. One more won’t kill me.” She threw the words like darts and each one pinged him like one.

He didn’t mean to, but those words made him draw up to his full height. Coriane was not ignorant, she wouldn’t be his aunt's best if she were. Which could only mean she was and had always been willingly ignoring all the things he had been doing lately. It was driving him insane. He could barely sleep while thoughts of her drove him to almost get up and pace his bedroom. When he had slipped that beautiful corsage on her wrist for the stupid dance he hadn’t even wanted to go to, he had so desperately wanted to trail his fingers along her wrist. Instead he’d let go a little too quickly and teased her not to get too excited and wilt the flowers with her body temperature. She’d smacked his arm hard enough to make it ache, but then she had held the same spot with both hands a minute later and sent a chill down his spine during the quick round of pictures by resting her head on his arm. After that he’d stood in a daze and smiled and looked down at her while she pleaded with her parents to just let them leave already, that yes he would have her back by midnight like they had agreed to, that she would be careful, on and on it had gone, but he hadn’t been able to stop looking at her. She had looked so beautiful with the black liner highlighting the shape of her eyes and making them so much brighter in the evening sunlight, the dark red lip stick, and the tiny amount of glitter she had painted across her shoulders. He had to hold himself back from trying to catch the tulle of her dress as she spun around and grabbed his hand to drag him down the street to meet their friends to go. He still thought about that dress and the way the cut of the top had accentuated her waist and shoulders and collarbones. He'd wanted to trace the bones with his fingers the whole drive to the dance. And afterward too, when she had fallen asleep on his shoulder in the back as Douglas had raced back up the mountain to get them back by midnight in his new drop top that his father had gotten him for his birthday. He still dreamed about the smell of her hair after it had drifted around his and across his face in the wind after she had let the curls out from the half up-half down style that had shown off her neck. He'd wanted to trace her neck and kiss it, and cup it the whole night while they danced and laughed. His hand still burned from her holding it the other day while he sat on her porch and told her about what he had seen on his Peidmont mission.

Her ignoring the way he had been watching the side of her face while they sat near the lake last week was just another string in a long line of them that had driven them to this point. It was making him insane that she so clearly was not experiencing the same thing.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He said coolly. “You’re my best friend, I’m not going to just stand there while Xavier say that you took his dick like a princess.” The words felt like poison going through his teeth. They still ached from how tightly he had been grinding them when he grabbed the front of Xavier's jacket and pinned him to the brick wall outside the history building after he said that. It had taken Cori and Douglas to pry him off of Xavier who had trailed after them teasing and cajoling him, asking him if he was jealous from his pathetic position in the friend zone. Douglas and Vince had to physically hold him back while Cori pushed him back and got in his face to tell him to calm the fuck down. She didn't cuss unless she was really and truly pissed off, which had made him come down a few notches. But it had started to open that can of worms and he was so afraid now that she was about to rip the top off of it.

She exhaled an exasperated sound from her nose as she threw her head back and her hands up. The sunlight cut across her features so perfectly it made his stomach ache and he crossed her arms self-consciously as she brought her hands back down to rest them on her hips.

“You’re being ridiculous.” She retorted. “Why do you give a fuck what Xavier says about me?”

“Because he only says shit like that if he’s actually been with that girl!”

“And why would it matter Nik? What does it matter if we did or we didn’t?” She laughed bitterly as she dragged her hand through her hair, pulling the unruly curls out of her face.

“Because I—” He swallowed the rest of the words, watching as the corners of her brows scrunched together just a hint. He shook his head instead and began again. “Because I care about you and what people think of you.”

That crease didn’t disappear but her eyes softened as she clung to the strap of her messenger bag and took a step closer to him. He wanted to back up so badly, but he held his ground as she looked up at him and said, “I can take care of myself with stuff like this.”

“I know.” He admitted, the fire in him dying like she had taken it from him. She always handled those things with such grace, and he was envious of her ability to just roll her eyes and purse her lips. He knew that wasn’t going to stop him from putting a good solid fist through Xavier's mouth if he said anything else. Still she smiled at him, and her eyes lit bright as she shrugged and turned, throwing her comment over her shoulder.

“Besides,” the word was like a hook and he was a fish willingly caught on it. He immediately began to trail her and then came into lock step within only two strides. She smiled at him and teased, “I’m still looking for the right person for that stuff.”  

His heart squeezed painfully in his chest. I'm right here, he wanted to say as he adjusted his jacket. He forced a laugh anyway and said, “I’d like to see you find someone who isn’t afraid of your dad.”

Her smile turned wicked as she winked and replied. “He’s not the one to be afraid of, my mom is.”

That wink punctured a hole in his chest and even as the air left in a rush that he hid behind a laugh again, he still felt the way his heart broke a little more in his chest over her smile.

[the-glorious-evolution-fanart]

what do you think about the convergence designs?

Hey there Anon, my general thoughts I mentioned on my general art blog: https://www.tumblr.com/ikleyvey/721851451454980096/what-do-you-think-about-the-face-reveal-of-viktor?source=share

In more detail:

I downloaded and saved all parts of the Convergence, I really like comics and I value this one as well. I like the colours especially I think.

I love them, I want a bunch of content with them they're so dear to me! But we're not here for beauty. We're here for darkness.

I think we should all have expected bullshit technology that definitely cannot work. Like when sci-fi works slap "quantum" onto anything and think it makes it sound cool and science-y.

No, a severed head bolted onto a thin metal neck connected to the body is not going to be able to live. Riot, stop with putting mechanical parts between organic ones. Stop it. Bad Riot. Just like they wrote in a story about Zaun a woman with mechanical elbows. Her lower arms would rot away!! This is very logical!! And excuses such as "this is fantasy" don't work because the tech level doesn't match super sci-fi. And even in super sci-fi nobody would make such designs because they're impractical.

Their designs do not fit Viktor's aesthetic at all. They're much more like quickly pulled from Warhammer 40K Mechanicus, and not even that.

Case in point, all designs are not thought-through much. It's first draft stuff.

What are these augments?? What are these legs?? Triple faces and spindly arms? No, I want to base my stuff on real stuff...

I heard tracing maybe(?) helps speed things up, and commissioned comics are so often on very tight deadlines and not paid well, thankfully I'm not forced to trace.

We do not need another Dr. Doom copied element. Believe me. Not another one. I don't agree with Viktor having a scarred face, that's Dr. Doom's thing. Riot is using this as a cop-out. It's much better to have him use the mask as a symbol of his ideology, and a metaphor for him hiding his vulnerability in a very obvious way. THIS is why he's physically "perfect" in my version because that characteristic I believe enhances his main traits.

So is he WideViktor, or is he the skinny sickly Viktor from Arcane? Nobody knows, the authors don't know, and I'm sure as hell Riot didn't give clear instructions on that either lolol

^ Best Viktor art bits in the comic imo, even if I don't like the new mask design. (original mask ftw!)

I don't want to dunk on other artists, but movement and anatomy can be improved. Heck, my anatomy needs to be improved as well! But if problems are noticeable in our art, then they definitely should be improved. I mean this as positive encouragement so that art would be even better. (Also lol did they paint my character in pink? I joke)

It was HILARIOUS to watch official content regurgitate what I identified and portrayed as incorrect and very simplistic interpretation of lore back in two-thousand-fucking-fourteen:

I was like 19 or something, never had a single job in my life, had gotten only one commission by then, I was a literal 0. But I always say, believe me when I point out something. BELIEVE ME. Very few people do. And what happens? I end up being right! I'm always happy to talk about stuff though.

I'll make a companion piece to this post specifically about the NARRATIVE of the Convergence comic. Also if anyone wants my opinion on a specific frame from the Convergence comic, send it to me I have open submissions!

[chatgptwritesfanfiction]

Embrace of Serinity

As the evening settled in, casting a warm glow across the Curtis household, you found yourself nestled in the comforting embrace of Sodapop Curtis. The two of you had carved out a quiet moment together, seeking solace in the intimacy of your bond.

Sodapop's arms enveloped you, providing a secure haven against the world's worries. His touch was gentle yet firm, his fingertips tracing delicate patterns along the contours of your back. The steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek brought a sense of tranquility that you had come to cherish.

Your bodies molded together effortlessly, fitting like two puzzle pieces destined to be united. His warmth seeped into your bones, melting away any lingering tension or uncertainty. The scent of his cologne, a subtle blend of earthy notes and warmth, wrapped around you, becoming an olfactory refuge.

As you lay there, your legs intertwined, time seemed to stand still. The rhythmic beat of your hearts synchronized, creating a symphony of love and tenderness that resonated through the room. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you, bound together by an unspoken promise of affection.

You marveled at the texture of his skin beneath your fingertips, tracing the contours of his strong, yet gentle hands. The rough calluses, a testament to the hard work he put into every day, contrasted with the tender way he held you. It was a juxtaposition that mirrored the depths of his character—strong yet tender, protective yet vulnerable.

Lost in the sensation of his touch, you found yourself exploring the landscape of his features with your eyes. The way his chestnut hair fell haphazardly over his forehead, framing his expressive eyes that twinkled with a playful spirit. The curve of his lips, always ready to pull into a charming smile or offer words of comfort. It was a face that exuded warmth and compassion, a face that had become the canvas upon which you painted your fondest memories.

With every breath he took, you felt his love wash over you like a gentle wave, a reminder that you were safe and cherished. Each inhalation brought his scent closer, mingling with the warmth of your bodies, creating an intoxicating blend that imprinted itself in your memory.

The steady rise and fall of his chest against your own became a rhythmic lullaby, soothing your senses and easing any worries that had taken residence in your mind. The world outside may have been chaotic, but in this cocoon of tranquility, you found respite.

As your fingers idly traced circles on his chest, you reveled in the symphony of sensations that enveloped you. The softness of his breath against your ear, the way his heartbeat echoed in your own, the subtle shifts and sighs that conveyed a depth of emotion beyond words.

In this moment, the simplicity of cuddling transcended its surface-level definition. It became a sacred ritual, a language of love expressed through touch and vulnerability. It was a testament to the trust and connection you had forged, a sanctuary where you could lay bare your souls without fear of judgment or rejection.

And as the world outside continued its ceaseless dance, you remained entwined, finding solace in the tender embrace that spoke volumes in its silence. In that moment, you knew that with Sodapop by your side, you had found a love that would withstand the test of time, a love that would forever be etched in the depths of your heart.

a/n: this one made me feel touch starved. i guess it was my fault seeing as i asked for cuddling in immense detail. it wasn't supposed to work that well.

[zmediaoutlet]

fic: feels like rain

I was asked to pinch-hit for the Now It's Perfect challenge; here's my story, finally revealed. :)

title: feels like rain pairing: sam/dean rating: mature length: 1500 words

summary: Just because it's heaven doesn't mean the weather's perfect.

(AO3)

Dean wakes up to thunder. One alarmed beat of his heart in his throat and then reality returns. Thunder, and rain pounding on the roof, the eaves. Midnight-dark until his eyes adjust and find a trace of moonlight, after all, creeping through some split in the clouds and riming the edge of the window and the wooden floor with silver. He stretches out, under the blankets. Warm. That spot on his hip aching but just in the way that it always does, at night, a little reminder of the life he’s lived. That he had lived. He tucks the pillow more firmly under his chin, folding his arms underneath, watches the rain spattering the sill. Loud, but he’ll go back to sleep. Except—

Footfall, and then the other side of the mattress creaks, tips. “Oh,” Sam says, soft, “didn’t mean to wake you,” and Dean says, “You the god of thunder all of a sudden?” with his voice all rough croak. Sam snorts. He slides under the blankets and his knee against Dean’s thigh is cold, his hand chilly-damp when it finds its place on Dean’s hip, and Dean groans but it’s all fake and Sam knows it. Still, it’s important to groan.

The damp registers only slowly. Dean’s sleepy, he’s got an excuse. He fumbles his hand down under the blankets and finds Sam’s fingers, tests them—Sam spreads them out, helpful—and he hums, and Sam says, “Roof’s leaking in the kitchen, I fumbled the soup pot,” and then Dean groans for real. Sam squeezes his fingers. “It’s not that bad. Probably won’t fill the pot before morning.”

“I just painted that ceiling,” Dean says. He gives the silvery rain a harder eye. Flash of light and then a rolling rumble, and the rain intensifies as though to say, yeah? Do something about it.

Sam presses his mouth to Dean’s bare shoulder. Barely a kiss. Dean sighs, and for sighing the lips move—more to the center of his spine—and that one’s more of a kiss, a little smoochy sound following, and while Dean is definitely feeling like a sulk is justified he stretches out flatter, makes a better canvas. Sam smiles against his skin. A shift, then, Sam sliding heavily over his body, still tucked under the blankets—a puff of cold air between them that makes Dean unexpectedly shiver—and—oh, Sam pulled on boxers at some point, because his hips as they settle over Dean’s are muffled by soft worn cotton. Dean spreads his legs and Sam’s thighs tuck between his, and he folds his arms back under the pillow and closes his eyes, lazy, while Sam explores. Lips at the back of his neck, on the other shoulder. A heavy hand over his side, petting from his waist to his hip. Teeth at the side of his throat that make him bite his own lip, and then a softer wetter slide up behind his ear, Sam’s breath there, his chest warming Dean’s back and his arms bracketing Dean’s arms and his hair—swinging forward, and tickling Dean’s nose, and making him squirm, dragging up a hand to bat it away.

“Get you a headband,” Dean threatens, vaguely. “A sparkly pretty princess one.”

Sam laughs, quiet. “For my birthday,” he says, agreeable, and presses his hips down into Dean’s ass. Dean’s fingers curl against the pillow. God, it feels good. Just—Sam. The boxers are thin and Dean can feel the shape of him, thick, stiffening. Not urgent but there if Dean wants it. He kisses Dean’s neck again, open-mouthed, touch of his tongue, and Dean knows that he could have anything he wanted, right now, if he asked. He could get Sam to eat him out, or blow him, or fuck him, or if he wanted he could turn over and grab Sam’s hips and get Sam to ride him, instead, get to watch all those long ripped miles of not-at-all-little brother work down on Dean’s dick and settle and feel it, and get to see that tiny moment of surprise that Sam always has, no matter how many times they’ve done it—that half-second of uncertainty that becomes certainty—when they were separate, and now they’re not.

“You’re thinking,” Sam says.

“Don’t sound all surprised,” Dean says, and Sam snorts, and lifts up just barely and tugs his boxers down, the fabric brushing Dean’s ass and ending up somewhere sort of awkward around Sam’s thighs, from the feel, but the awkward matters less when Sam’s freed dick slides heavily between Dean’s asscheeks, smooth and familiar, and when Dean tips his hips up, enjoying that, Sam angles and pushes down, sliding between Dean’s thighs instead, thick, bumping Dean’s balls. Like saying hello.

Dean laughs. “What?” Sam says, and Dean shakes his head, and says, “Cock and ball convention,” and Sam says what? and Dean lifts his hips, closes his knees, reaches back and grabs Sam’s tight little ass, pulling him closer. Sam’s cockhead bulls past his balls, feels massive. Feels good. Dean’s only sort of hard but Sam’s really there, ready, and his breath comes heavy against Dean’s neck, his hand gripping Dean’s hip, not demanding but—oh, he wants to. Dean knows exactly what he needs. “Go on,” he says, easy, and Sam’s other hand slides up over his shoulder, holding him in place, and—

It is easy. All of it. Heavy spattering rain and the cracked pipe in the shower and the snapped serpentine belt in the Impala and most of all, Sam—impossible, annoying, stubborn, incomprehensible Sam. Easy. Because there’s time, endless flowing eons of time, and one of the perks of being dead is that you can’t die twice. (Not anymore, anyway.) Makes everything else more of an inconvenience than a tragedy. Dean’s had his share of tragedy. The afterlife comes as a real blessing, in comparison.

Easy, to bicker with Sam on their porch in the waning light of a sunset. Easy to fix up a dinner of burgers and beer that Sam’ll bitch about but wolf down like he hasn’t eaten since he died. Easy, easy, easy to yawn awake, in a snowy dawn, and wish for coffee, and be annoyed that Sam for once decided to sleep in and there is no coffee after all, but to find instead that he’s curled on his side, in the bed that he and Dean share now more often than not, with his hair loose over his forehead and his hand lax on the mattress between them, like he was reaching for Dean in his sleep and didn’t quite make it, like those beds they’d share when they were kids, like when Dean was eight years old and terrified, all the time. All the time. Easy, now, to tuck two fingers into Sam’s larger hand, and have Sam’s hand close, and only then to see Sam blink, dozy and confused, but for his eyes to find Dean’s after a few blurry seconds, and to get that smile—that same smile, leaping forward through decades and past the barrier of death—like he’d been looking for Dean, and now he’d found him. Yeah. Dean wasn’t exactly calling that a hardship.

In the bed they’re satiated. Sticky. “Whiner,” Sam says, and Dean pushes at his face, and Sam rolls his eyes and finally peels his boxers off all the way and mops up. “Half of this is yours, you know,” Sam says, and Dean says, “Whose fault is that?” and Sam says, “That doesn’t make—ugh, whatever,” and Dean stretches out on his back, satisfied, while Sam tosses the jizzy fabric away to the other side of the bed—hopefully he forgets and steps on them, because that’ll be a free show in the morning—and Sam rolls right back up against him, warm and vaguely sweaty and delightfully, perfectly real, against his side. Dick pressed soft against Dean’s hip; hairy thigh against Dean’s thigh; his hand on Dean’s stomach, and then his fingers, lighter, tracing up Dean’s sternum, drawing slow circles that’ll eventually get annoying but that feel nice, right now.

Rain still coming down. No more thunder, hasn’t been for a while—although Dean was distracted, the last half hour, so maybe he missed some—but it seems like it’s just going to be one of those steady, soughing storms, that drenches the whole world. Leaves everything clean. And finds a hole in the damn roof, and ruins the work Dean put in on his kitchen, when it was all shiny and brand new and perfect.

Sam’s head is propped on his fist while he listens to Dean complain. His fingers tracing that little circle, on the bare skin, where Dean’s tattoo used to be, where his amulet used to rest. They don’t need either, anymore.

“So we’ll repaint,” Sam says.

Dean sighs, and catches Sam’s fingers. “Yeah,” he says, closing his eyes to listen to the rain. “We’ll repaint.”

[paperlovesadness]

do you think “jet skis on the moat” and “body paint” are about miles? or just “jet skis…”?

Heyyy

Oh my goodness. I'm so so sorry for how late I'm responding to this! I remember leaving it aside because I knew I could sit down and write a whole big answer, but then it kind of escaped my mind. But I'm here now! And will make up for it with probably another novel-length answer 🙈

Disclaimers are always: this is for fun. This is one of a million possible interpretations and even I have a lot of those in my head but just choose the 'loudest' one to share. (Sometimes I'll publish an analysis and then have a million new ideas about the song one day when listening to it. Nothing is fixed). This is based a lot on "vibes" cause it's so hard to understand the The Car songs, man.

Okay - so firstly, like I always say with The Car - I do believe that album is first and foremost extremely introspective. And Alex likes to say or suggest in interviews that there isn't too much straight up references to his actual life in there... Now I don't completely believe that? He just definitely doesn't want to talk about them (as usual).

What I see in there is a jumble of emotions and feelings and self-reflection - perhaps done in a less straightforward way than he would do previously. Maybe he did it more instinctively? But there's a strong feeling it is there.

So I do think most songs are just... about Alex's inner workings and feelings (also perhaps why it seems more abstract?) - but do some of those have the potential to refer to a very important and seemingly complicated, undefined relationship in his life? I do believe so.

Body Paint - I've tried looking at from different perspectives. And I'm not sure I found enough to connect it to Miles.

Although - there's a mysterious little detail that I've been overthinking for a while - which is this recurring theme of paint in a few songs. This is probably a prime example of my useless overthinking (and Alex would probably laugh about these sorts of connections being made) - but have you ever noticed:

There's still a trace of body paint On your legs and on your arms and on your face

Exactly the wrong time in exactly the wrong place. Save it for a rainy day. Baby, you go hard in the paint

Or are you just happy to sit there and watch while the paint job dries?

(Body Paint // Anyways // Jet Skis on the Moat)

So like do Jet Skis connect somehow with Body Paint (and Anyways) in themes? 👀

Who knows. But that's just a side observation 😅

Now Jet Skis - Jet Skis being connected to Miles possibly maybe I can see a bit more. With lyrics like:

Come over here and give your buddy a hug

So much for deciding not to let it slide

Because? You know our Milex brains work on overdrive hearing stuff like that. Can it be about anything? Yep. Does it bring to mind a certain someone whose been this man's favorite hug buddy? Also yup. Now extrawild theory territory:

"Deciding not to let it slide" kind of makes me think of how perhaps they've maybe established some new boundaries after crossing a bit too many. Like perhaps one of them went and "killed the joke" they had going in (👀) and after that some boundaries were set. Not letting more-than-friendly things happen. Not letting shit like that slide anymore... Until the next time (so much for that resolution!)

Lights out in the Wonder Park

Your saw-toothed lover boy was quick off the mark

That's long enough in the sunshine for one night

To me lights out in the wonder park is a sad image of something gone by. A wondrous place (jeez. Reference not even intended here) full of fun and joy - but the lights need to go off at some point. It's not real life; it's somewhere you can only go for so long before returning to reality.

Saw-toothed lover boy was probably what grabbed a bunch of people's attention? Miles' crooked, endearing smile (before he straightened his teeth) was something he was known for. And something Alex commented on himself I do believe a few times. (I also do know saw-toothed isn't crooked-toothed. It just sort of evokes that image to me?)

Long enough in the sunshine for one night - to me brings to mind the image of someone being given the full attention they want/deserve. But for some reason can't entirely own. (I can be yours tonight, but not tomorrow type of vibes. That's all we can have - then it's back to "real life". Lights out in the wonder park)

I don't know about the pajama pants and Subbuteo cloke. It for sure evokes childhood imagery. So maybe refers to some specific childhood story? Maybe it's about Alex. Maybe someone told him that they did that in their childhood for fun. Who knows.

And then come the super sad parts?

You know that it's alright if you wanna cry

is obviously so sad even if I can't place it anywhere specific context-wise. (Also seems to evoke Body Paint a bit with "Do your time traveling through the tanning booth So you don't let the sun catch you crying" and "I'm watching your every move I feel the tears are coming on")

And then:

Is there somethin' on your mind

Or are you just happy to sit there and watch

While the paint job dries?

When it's over, you're supposed to know

Okay - so what if paint is some specific metaphor? I haven't found a good enough theory for what that could be (would love to hear your thoughts if you agree and have ideas!) (though... i mean in Body Paint itself there's some interesting theories 👀 not sure it works with the rest though). And now... Watching it dry signifies the end or hibernation of something. But then "when it's over you're supposed to know" - kind of suggests like that ending isn't something that the person it refers to is ready to accept. It still seems like an open possibility. Like one side is still hoping.

As though it's the last time you're gonna ride

Is also sad - suggests something seeming like it's ending. It's the last time. But then there's that "as though". Like an open possibility, hope of it not really being true.

But damn; this is a big mess! Because The Car songs are so hard to analyze, they're so abstract. I can definitely see what Alex has been saying about focusing more on the melody and the emotions it evokes and lyrics kind of being an extension of that. Taking a backseat for a second (hehe. Car pun. Not even intended).

It would seem the album that's set on the actual moon would be as mixed up and tough to decipher as if gets but nope! Alex took up the challenge of cranking it up a notch. Because of course he did.

Anyway. I hope any of this makes sense and/or resonates with someone and their thoughts about this song 💛

Thank you for the question, sorry for the delay!

Sending good energy your way! 💫

.

[celestial-ascension]

(This is just a little something I wrote regarding a college assignment that I was required to do. I figured I would post it here since it deals with my series and my instructor permitted me to use it. This is my current writing style and I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know if you would like to see more of these short writing pieces!)

 The Ascenders Writing Endeavors.

Knowledge whether it be intentional or unwarranted, is valuable for they are the stepping stone to a more prosperous and fulfilling future. Writing is one fundamental aspect of obtaining knowledge, it can be traced back to the beginning of civilization or farther back if you count cave drawings and smoke signals. One of the most valuable ways to obtain knowledge to better one's life is by writing, it is a way to leave your mark on history for generations after you acquire and apply the proper rules and regulations. Like anything else, it can be an addiction, craving the sweet information as it is like chocolate, the more you have, the more you need. Unfortunately, this dilemma has befallen Fallon, the Ascender who currently was resting his mind after a tiring day of studying.

Thoughts tumbled around his head like a tumbleweed in the wind, Fallon tried to calm his frayed nerves which were currently on the fritz, in the end, it was in vain as it increased in intensity. Regaining consciousness and eyes gradually opening, Fallon sat up in bed, his emerald green eyes blurry with sleep. Stretching his back and limbs, Fallon vigorously rubbed his eyes. Throwing the blanket off him and swinging his legs off the bed, he sat for a moment to get his bearings. 

Casting his gaze on the analog clock resting on the oak nightstand, he recognizes the familiar neon-green letters displaying the current time; half an hour past midnight, the reality of the situation dawned on him. Averting his gaze to the window, Fallon glimpsed the tell-tale signs of storm clouds rolling in from the west, the moon's glow shining faintly through the blinds.

Standing on his feet and sliding them into a fuzzy pair of draconian slippers, Fallon lengthed his body in a stretch, the crack of unused joints echoing through the room. A soft smile of contentment was displayed on his lips as he took a few steps over to the wooden chair propped up against the closet door. Grasping the woolen cerulean bathrobe, Fallon slipped one arm into a sleeve, and then the other, Fallon grasped the belt before tying it into a tight knot.

Taking a few steps forward cautiously, Fallon stopped in the doorway, listening for the sounds of someone waking from sleep to check on the source of the noise. Letting out a sigh of relief as the atmosphere remained silent, Fallon made his way out of the door and into the hallway, illuminated by torches lining the wall.

As he strode down the hallway, the wooden floorboards creaked eerily under his footfalls, Fallon began to gnaw his lower lip in thought, his gaze becoming distant. Should he pursue valuable insight into writing? Or should he let it die like an ember in the wind? Shaking his head vigorously to rid himself of the troublesome thoughts, Fallon lengthened his stride until his lean legs were eating up the distance.

Rounding the corner and halting in front of a pair of double doors, Fallon couldn't help but marvel at the craftsmanship that had been applied to crafting the wooden frame. Most of the architects in the castle had been hand-picked by his Father King Alaric, their talents are shown in the insignia of the Draconian kingdom which was currently carved into the door frame.

Reaching forward and grasping the brass handles, Fallon pushed the door open before stepping into the grand library. It was the true definition of a library that could be straight from a fairy tale. The grand ceiling extends far above his head, adorned with a mosaic of a night sky, every little detail expertly hand-painted by a professional. Lining the walls towering over him, several wooden bookshelves were arranged in lines, comprising most of the library. Littered across the library were study nooks, a singular lamp sitting atop a long oak desk.

Taking a few steps over to the nearest bookcase and glancing up and down the shelves, Fallon began to browse through the countless books. Coming up empty-handed, Fallon strode over to the next bookcase, tapping his foot in thought as he browsed through them. His eyes lit up with excitement once he had located the book he desired; 'The Ascender Qualifications', the lettering sticking out like a sore thumb.

Gingerly removing the book and feeling the heft of it, Fallon hoisted it under an arm and trudged over to the main table resting in the center of the room, the oaken surface polished to a shine. Plopping the book down on the surface with a loud thud, Fallon pulled a chair over and plopped down onto the cushion. Drawing the book close to him, he blew on the leather cover, sending dust scattering. Opening the first page, Fallon knew he was in for a long night.

Alaric had always been a light sleeper, preferring to grab cat naps whenever he wasn't swamped with his duties. Despite craving the luxuries of everyday sleep and consuming nourishment in the form of sweets and fine wine, Alaric knew he needed to keep a clear head so as not to become too laid back. 

Flinching slightly and almost dropping the ceramic coffee mug, Alaric placed it on the marble counter and glanced out the large window. The inky blackness of night was illuminated by a flash of lightning, swiftly followed by a crack of thunder. Letting out a sigh and running a hand through ebony-hued hair, Alaric knew it was only a matter of time until the power went out.

A feeling of unease slowly began to flow from his chest, signifying someone close to him was troubled. Pivoting on his heels and walking out of the door, Alaric heard the distinctive sound of rain beginning to patter against the aluminum of the roof. Following the sensation of a beacon in the night, Alaric began to pick up the pace until he was swiftly jogging through the halls, the rain coming down in sheets that were lashing against the window pane.

Arriving at the library and glimpsing a shadowy figure hunched over a large book, Alaric cautiously approached, not wanting to startle them. Once Fallon came into view, Alaric took in his son's physical appearance. His eyes were troubled, almost like he was conflicted about something. His posture signified defeat, the slumped shoulders were those of an individual who believed they had reached a dead end. Clearing his throat loudly, Alaric approached his son's side.

"Fallon, while I admire your determination to become a well-renowned Ascender, you do realize you don't have to endure this alone, right?" Alaric's question carried genuine understanding and kindness for his son." Ah, I see you have found the ancient tome of our ancestors. How goes the research?"

Letting out a sigh of exasperation, Fallon skimmed the last few paragraphs before slamming the book shut." Alaric, how fortunate for me that you were in the vicinity. I am not making any headway when it comes to gleaning any information from these tidbits of information. If you recall Father, my next assignment is to learn the rules and regulations regarding writing the Ascender documentation." Flipping the book open to a random page, Fallon could feel his annoyance rising at his current predicament.

"Well, that's the beauty of writing is it not? Yes, our ancestors may have recorded what has already transpired, but that doesn't mean the rules can't be bent and twisted to what we see fit. It is the starting point, from which we can build and refine the written word." Pulling up a nearby chair, Alaric slid down onto the soft cushion and turned his attention to Fallon. His eyes shone with the barest hint of a smile as he nodded his head." The world is evolving Fallon, we can't always be stuck in our old ways you know. For instance, did you know that we can use antonyms and synonyms in regards to our written text?"

"It doesn't surprise me. My instructor once uttered the words ' Writing whether it be academic or a hobby can transcend boundaries put forth by those who are blind to the wonders of expressing one's thoughts and emotions.'" His eyes shone with pride as he was able to recall their words so vividly. Glancing down at the book, Fallon was able to glimpse information that struck him as something he had never observed before." Huh, did you know we also believe in applying the rhetorical aspect of things regarding our written word?"

Chuckling deeply from within himself, Alaric nodded his head in confirmation. Reaching over and sliding the book in front of him, Alaric had a gleam of amusement in his eye." Careful Fallon, the definition of a rhetorical question is as follows 'A question asked to make a statement that does not expect an answer.' Ask too many of those and your brain will be as barren as a desert!" Letting out a genuine bout of laughter, Alaric sighed as he calmed himself." Anyway, regarding your assignment, you will need to apply Logos, Pathos, and Ethos for it to be effective and resonate with the proper audience. Seeing as how you are a bonafide worry wart, you have the Pathos part covered!" Alaric let out a laugh that echoed with joy that he was in the vicinity of his son.

"Hey now! Just because my sentiments are more refined than others doesn't mean I can't tell the difference between sarcasm and genuine seriousness!" Unable to suppress it a single moment longer, Fallon snickered before he burst out laughing, tears forming in his eyes. Wiping them away with a sleeve of his robe, Fallon tried to regain his composure." What would that make you then? The Supreme ruler of Ethos? You are so high and mighty that your visual image should be next to the world in the dictionary!" Striking a dramatic pose, Fallon's voice deepened significantly until it carried a hint of humor." I King Alaric command you to patrol the parameters to scout for the adversary! My logic stems from my inflated ego and I am such a know-it-all!"

Snorting with laughter and doubling over in his chair, Alaric was laughing so much his breath abandoned him at that particular moment. Trying to compose himself and catch his breath, Alaric mischievously wiggled his eyebrows." Tread cautiously Fallon, my Ethos and Logos are refined let me tell you! For example, if you keep rambling about my knowledgeable experiences, I have no choice but to let you in on a little secret." Leaning forward to whisper in Fallon's ear, Alaric couldn't suppress the laughter from entering his voice." I do know one thing, how well-refined and experienced my ethos and logos are, who's to say I won't follow through with expanding my genius outlook on life and become further obnoxious and annoying?"

Despite the torrential downpour currently transpiring outside and the wind howling through the cracks and crevices, it didn't phase Alaric or Fallon who were occupied with the joys of writing and how it could bring anyone closer together, regardless of opinions and experiences. From this night forward, they would pave the way for others to find euphoria in the written word. For you see dear reader, writing is the cornerstone of knowledge and shall be forevermore valued and revered.