#they are easily one of my favourite things to paint!

[lila-kriegerin]

It would be amusing if someone did send an e-mail for each sex of that fungus while continuing to try to censor "mushroom" and other frequently repeated words so they don't easily spam block anything that says shroom, fungi, amanita... you know the drill. If the entire text became increasingly hashed the office trying to block e-mail would possibly block someone sending them too frequently, but if everyone would happen to be throwing eggs, tomatoes, toilet paper, etc., it would be impossible to spend too much time trying to block all senders since theres no time to sort kfficial mail from noise so not massive sweet bans should be happening either.

Thays an interesting IT security problem for their iffice to grapple with. It's a good thing I know nothing of those things and it's way above my paygrade and every one else's since no one could ever interfere wkth making america great again, right?

I bet someone might want to run the risk of using the global replace search function in a word processor since that is the tits for doing the task of continuing to change many recurring items like "17,000" (for example) with random alphanumeric variants which should also help keep someone out of the spam filters... though that person may be tempted to vary document length so whoever may wish to stop them wouldn't have the bright idea to block their favourite words and alphanumerical sequences, right?

The US government has many 3I373 H4X0r5, so you shouldnt even think of ever trying to have fun poking their baskets while looking for holes to shove so much data into!

That's a bad idea to call them and e-mail them too much with unimportant stuff because they need all available time to properly do their jobs instead of feeding hard drives of data through cloud analysis to find useful data in the e-mail servers. That would cost too much time, effort, and money so don't make their jobs harder!

While you're at it, don't remember the e-mail address DEIATRUTH@OPM.GOV unless you really have a real emergency to report someone illicitly using DEI practices in any place of business or society, golf resorts, etc.

It's really important to have good patriotic citizens telling them important things about those uppity minorities throwing their weight around and disenfranchising true American patriots who want to make America great again.

I would never tell someone to ever even think of swamping their phone numbers and e-mail addresses and web portals because Donald Trump is the nunber one hero to patriots who want to make American great again and you could get in trouble!

You should know it is also never worth sending copies of various film scripts in plain text format in the e-mail's body that involve anything you're interested in, although I do know someone who works there would love to find out what the actual dialogue was for the Wookiees in the Star Wars Christmas Special and all three trilogies.

Whoever shouldn't do those things also definitely would want to avoid sending anything truly pornographic without protecting their parts and lil ipp because whoever could do anything that unrecommended could catch nasty bugs and worse attentiin, shame, and fines if they ended up as Don Quixote in court or even a drunk tank or on a ridealong with one of our excellent boys in the thin blue line between American citizens and their woke DEI goals.

Be careful out there, everyone!

Be a real, true-blue, dyed in the wool, American patriot!

Forget about anything except doing your jobs and using your personal time (not company time on the job) to to properly inform the right offices and contacts about unamerican activities and all the interesting things they need to know.

That way, you can really paint the town red going after those fake american wannabes by reporting them on only your own personal time when you arent misusing the moments you're bored at work. Focus on the job when you're the job, and focus on special people when at home— absolutely never on the clock —and may God bless America!

Make America great again by showing them who needs to be kicked out of the places that only the real American patriots belong— in power in the USA!!

(X) (X)

ETA a new option:

(From a source I will not link.)

[aylameridiandrawsstuff]

Just finished off this bad ass 40k Inquisitor commission! Do you think he has enough purity seals? probably not...

Commissions are still open!

Get in touch here!!

[seafoamsol]

Process gif for the [ last piece ]! It was a bit of a rough ride.

[submattenthusiast]

makeup

synopsis - pegging matt in his sexy costume

pairings; sub!matt x dom!reader (no use of y/n)

contents- smut, pegging, ass play, mommy kink, male masturbation, use of pet names, cum, all that good stuff.

a/n - this was heavily requested! but i understand that this is not for everyone so please do not read if this makes you uncomfy otherwise enjoy! not proofread

“okay you can look now” matt giggled, referring to your hands covering your eyes. matt had been so secretive about his halloween costume claiming he wanted it to be a total surprise. not even letting you come shopping with him. you slowly removed your hands and opened your eyes, they adjusted to the brightness of the room before focusing. it took everything in you not to scream, he looked so fucking good. covered in black clothes head to toe with tiny spots of orange and grey, brown hair so perfectly messy, and black face paint smudged around his blue eyes as a cherry on top.

“now don’t you look handsome mr. wayne” you complimented. matt twirled as you praised his costume, giving you a full show. you sauntered over to his standing figure to look closer at him. your hands felt up over his costume once close enough, stopping at his hands that were covered with fake bandage wraps. the skin was smooth in comparison to the ragged material adorning his wrists. you brought his hand to your lips and softly kissed his knuckles, just above the bandages.

matt smiled shyly at your soft touches and kisses. “don’t tease”. matt was close to melting under your touch– almost forgetting he had to go take pictures with his brothers soon. “sorry you just kiss look so kiss good” you purr. with one last kiss, you let his hand go. “i’ll be back in an hour or so?” matt offered in return, implying that you had all night to kiss on him and other things. you nodded while straightening him up .“don’t be long yeah?”. his soft hair tickled your face as whispered teasingly, lips brushing against the shell of his ear “my favourite toy is calling your name” . shivers ran down his spine at the mention of your strap-on, riling him up already. not to mention the seduction laced in your voice, it drove him insane. It took everything in him not to bail on his plans.

۶ৎ

the instagram notification broke your focus from the halloween movies and specials you were watching on tv. Matthew.sturniolo just made a post displayed across your wallpaper. you clicked on it immediately, excited to see how the photos came out. once instagram loaded it showed matt’s post of 4 photos of him as batman and references for his costume. six in total. your jaw dropped as you swiped, seeing matt look so mysterious, dark, and sexy. the bad lighting of the photos made it even sexier. you liked the photos and commented a few emojis with horny messages. 

after oogling over the post for a few minutes you placed your phone down and headed back towards your room to prepare for matt’s return. the floorboards creaked under your feet as you sped towards the bathroom.

your hands wrapped around your towel as you stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, water still dripping off your body and leaving a trail behind you.

still, in your towel, you rummaged through your closet for the special black lingerie you planned on wearing tonight and a cover-up while you waited. it was wedged in between one of matt’s hoodies and your jacket. you pulled it out and smiled, caressing the lacy fabric as you thought about how you would look in it. draping it over your arm you moved on to finding what you needed for the intimate acts you planned on engaging in with matt. the box of toys was hidden well, in a spot which only you and matt could find easily but nobody else would think of looking. opening the velvet top you instantly reached for the strap on and the lube. once you had those you carefully looked around in the box for anything else you might need before shutting it and stepping out of the closet.

you placed the various sexual items on your bed, laying them out in the order you would use them; lingerie first, then the lubricant, and finally the star of the show the skin-toned dildo attached to black straps. you sighed and turned on your heels to get ready, excited to look nice but not for the process. after about 30 minutes you were so satisfied with how you looked, silily getting distracted by yourself in the full-body mirror in the corner of the room. the black fabric hugged your body just right, showing off your cleavage and parts of your skin under the see-through lace. 

your phone kept you busy for the time being, watching various tiktoks and liking more halloween costume reveals. you scrolled until matt cracked open the bedroom door. “sorry for the wait, the city needed me sweets’ ” matt said in his batman voice as he walked into the room. you shut your phone off and chuckled at him still being in character. you swung your legs to the side and hopped off the bed, and began seductively stripping out of the cover-up. discarding the garment and you strode towards your boyfriend slowly. showing off the black set to him.

matt’s eye black surrounded eyes widened at the sight of you. he mouthed a damn as he met you halfway, his bandaged hands immediately reached for your waist. your arms wrapped around his neck as he grabbed your waist, closing the gap between you both. your fingers tangled in the hair on the back of his neck as you talked. “are you all mine now mr. wayne?” you giggled, keeping up with his act. his thumbs smoothed against your sides as he took you in, just floored by you. “all yours” he whispered as he leaned in to kiss you.

the quick kiss quickly turned into a heated makeout session, without the tongue fighting— though sexy, matt gave you complete control, letting your tongue slip into his mouth and your lips engulf his. the kiss was messy and full of need from both parties. multitasking while you kissed him you started to walk him towards the bed, pushing his body back without breaking the kiss. matt grabbed at your lace-covered ass as he stumbled backward. you groaned into his mouth at his wandering hands. once at the side of the bed, you broke the messy kiss. saliva was swapped and connected you both once you pulled away. 

you reached around his long legs and moved the toy and lube before pushing him back on the bed, ensuring he wouldn’t hit anything on his way down. matt hit the bed pretty hard but his multiple layers softened the fall. he opened his arms and positioned his legs so you could climb on top of him. you took the signal and crawled over his body only stopping when you reached his crotch. balancing on one hand you dragged your free hand across the tent that formed in his pants while you guys kissed, you felt it poking due to the proximity but got lost in the feeling of his mouth.

matt gasped at the touch you were giving him. he was sure his thick cargos would hide his hard-on until he stripped. “this all for me?” you cooed, tracing the outline of his cock. he nodded quickly. “yes mama was thinking about you fucking me the whole time”. you can’t even lie, the confession made you grin, knowing a couple of whispers hours ago affected him this much. you paused on the groping to stradle him. your thighs caged his smaller legs in. the scratchy fabric made marks against your thighs from how close you were and his cock was distracting under you.“and i was thinking about how bad i wanted to ruin your makeup”

you brought a thumb up to his lips and tapped lightly. the cracks and dry patches stood out as you touched them. matt instantly opened his mouth for you, lips wrapping around your thumb perfectly. matt’s tongue swirled around the tip of your thumb as he got it wet for you. “good boy” matt whimpered at the praise and sucked until you took your finger out his mouth with a pop and dragged it under his eyes — leaving a smudged empty spot on his face. perfect.

“please ruin it i can’t wait anymore,” matt said as he squirmed under you. his cock was begging to be released and touched. and his tight hole was dying to be stretched. you caressed his cheek as you looked down  “you’re gonna look so pretty as i fuck you” he shuddered at your words and whispered a please, resorting to begging now as he began aching for you.

his eyes followed your movements as you reached for the lube and strap. they lit up as soon as your fingers made contact. you slid off his lap and sat on the space next to him. “pants down and ass up,” you instructed. while matt scrambled off the bed, you focused on coating your fingers with lubricant.

the sounds of matt stripping filled your ears, the zipper flying down, pants ruffling as he pulled them down, and the plop of his boxers joining his pants at his ankles. he turned his head towards you, watching you coat the tips of your fingers in lube. you placed it down on the bed and turned to matt, cooing internally at his obedience. your clean hand smoothed over his soft bare ass, caressing it but avoiding where he wanted you to touch. “ready?” you asked. he muffled a please and nodded eagerly. 

you spread his cheeks with that same hand and used the other to prep his hole. you gently spread the substance around, making matt hiss and arch at the coldness. your fingers circulated his tight skin before plunging the index in. squelching sounds came from the tight fit you had to make. his hole clenched around your finger as he moaned out at the insertion. you watched his body as you fingered him, searching for signs of discomfort. “you’re so tight baby, how am i gonna fit inside you?” you tease.

his body tensed at the sentence and at the fact that you might not be able to fuck him if he was so tight. his head shot up as he got deeper into his thoughts, he could and would take you, matt was determined to defend himself now. “jus’ gotta stretch me out please don’t say that” he begged. you took his words seriously and began massaging your middle finger around his hole as you prepared to insert it. two fingers are enough to stretch, right? 

with one finger already inside, he started to loosen up. his rim wasn’t fighting your digits anymore, instead welcoming them. your second finger slid in effortlessly, not having to go halfway like you did the first. with both your index and middle inside you began to curl them upwards. aiming to get as close to his prostate as you could without hurting him. you built up a pace as your fingers slid in and out. matt’s body jerked against the bed as you fingered him. he was getting that full feeling just from your fingers. his muffled moans and whines rang in your ears as you pleasured him. he turned his head to the side so you could hear him clearly as he begged for you to start fucking him. “please ‘m ready i need you so bad”

“easy now, we have all night” you tried to warn, selfishly. you just wanted to spend a little more time playing with him. he was right though, he was ready and stretched out enough to take you fully. matt’s pink lips formed a pout as you denied him once again. you were taking your sweeeet time with him but he trusted you so he didn’t complain further. you flicked your wrist a few more times before pulling out fully. a pang of emptiness washed over him as you removed your digits, but he didn’t get to dwell over it for long. “all fours” you instruct. you weren’t fucking around anymore.

you wiped your lubed up fingers on his ass before he sat up. your action elicited an indescribable sound from him. upon your instructions he jumped up from his previous position and climbed on the soft bed. his feet almost hanging off the bed while he waited in the doggy position for you. you grabbed the toy by the straps from the right of matt, checking him out a little as you reached. your stocking clad feet stepped into the straps like you were putting on pants. you brought the black material up until it didn't budge anymore, the straps fit snug over your clothed pussy and waist.

matt waited ever so patiently as you attached the strap to your lower half. even though he was facing the opposite direction he still knew what you were doing. the sounds of the objects moving helping tremendously. the cap popped off of the bottle like before letting him know your next moves. you smothered the head in cold lubricant, the small drop you applied going a long way.

you threw the bottle on the dresser before stepping closer to the bed, tip almost lining up perfectly with matt's ass. you placed a hand on the small of his back and pushed slightly. perfecting his arch and planting his body how you needed it. your other hand gave quick strokes to the silicon, ensuring it was fully covered and slippery. matt's arch was good enough for you to slide in now. you removed the hand from his back and attached it to his side.

a small yelp was heard as you grooved into matt. the tip was barely in and matt was reeling already. his wet hair fell in front of his face as his head drooped down. with a nod, you continued to push past his rim and eventually fully into him. once inside you stilled any movements. letting him adjust to the real fullness, not just two fingers. matt finally was able to let out a sound after having his jaw agape for so long. he let out a grunt as he made slight movements around the strap.

you patted his side as you waited for him to give you a sign of readiness. even though he was eager as ever you never wanted to hurt him. and him not being prepared would do exactly that. "move please" matt groaned. your gentle touch turned into a tight grip on his hips as you gave your first thrust. he kept the arch you gave him and went forward at your hips meeting his ass for the first but not last time tonight.

you pulled back just until the tip only was inside him then gave a rougher push of your hips. the silicon slid in and out of him just right. matt's hands tangled in the bed sheets to prevent him from screaming out. the toy just stretched him so good. his moans of pleasure gave great encouragement as you fucked him. the louder he gets the harder your thrusts get.

the slow pace you had was driving him insane, you were supposed to be ruining him and his makeup. this pace wasn't gonna bring him to tears of pleasure. matt knew you were playing with him again, making him ask for everything. he mustered up the courage to ask for more. "harder please i can handle it" he urged. your grip got impossibly tighter and you gave him one last soft thrust. "don't wanna hear a word of complaint got it?"

you didn't wait for a response and began drilling your hips into his ass. his body wobbled from the fervor of your motions. the slapping of skin bounced of the walls of the steamy room. his hard cock smacked against his thigh while you pounded into him. the symphony of the mixed moans, groans, and grunts combined with the slapping. "this what you wanted, yeah?" you hissed, movements never slowing.

matt couldn't even reply if he wanted to. the way you were fucking him was too much. the tears welled up in his waterline as the thrusts got rougher if even possible. you smiled at his silence, knowing the strap rendered him speechless.

you continued to relentlessly drive your hips into him. one in particular hit his sweet spot. matt let out a cry at the contact and seconds later the waterworks came falling. disgruntled noises came from the boy under you. overwhelming spurts of pleasure were pulsing through his spent body. black droplets of tears stained his face and the comforters under him. his sniffles joined the various sounds in the room.

even though he was crying matt never wanted you to halt your movements. feeling his orgasm creep up matt snaked a hand around his cock. he needed that extra push to come crashing down fully. you hips continuously snapped and matt tried to match your speed on his cock, jerking it agressively. you watched as he clenched around the silicon and knew he was gonna cum soon "oh-oh fuck m close please" matt rushed out.

you slowed down and opted on going deeper rather than faster. matt squirmed at the change of pace but nevertheless kept touching himself to the rhythm you had before. you observed how he stroked himself to give him the stimulation he needed to finish. his moans got louder and with one last stroke from him and the last few deep thrusts he was done for "cumming please—ah" he warned at last minute

your hands caressed him as he spilled his milky cum all over his thighs, hands, and the sheets. matt cried and moaned at the same time from the blistering orgasm he just experienced. you saw his struggle to stay in doggy and pulled out before he collapsed onto the bed, stepped out of the removed the strap on from your sweaty body. you sat at the edge of the bed and waited for him to come down from his current state, not wanting to overwhelm him with clinginess.

matt crawl-limped over to you, silently letting you know he was alright and wanted cuddles now. you opened your arms to his sweaty body and he took his place in between your thighs. "without all that makeup covering your eyes, you look a lot like my boyfriend, mr wayne"

[loki-hargreeves]

Thanks for tagging me @my-secret-shame, I've actually wondered about the back story of your username before and now I know 😁

What's the origin of your blog title? - I wanted a change from my old username and I tried to think of the two fandom that best represented my blog at the time, Marvel/Loki and The Umbrella Academy

OTP(s) + ship name? - Castle and Beckett (Caskett), Dean and Castiel (Destiel) and so many more (especially in the Star Wars universe). I also used to ship Loki and the Grandmaster unironically (frostmaster)

Favourite colour - Orange 🧡

Favourite game - the Sims and Stardew Valley

Song stuck in my head - Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan

Weirdest habit/trait? - Biting <3

Hobbies - writing, reading, painting, drawing, baking, anything introverted basically

If you work, what's your profession? - I'm a midwife student

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? - Like a million different things at once

Something you're good at - Surviving the horrors

Something you're bad at - I can't sew or knit to save my life

Something you love - coffee ☕

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff - weird medical facts

Something you hate - rude people

Something you collect - mugs and porcelain clowns 🤡

Something you forget - to check my emails and messages

What's your love language? - gifts (giving), quality time

Favourite movie/show - I can't pick just one but Moon Knight is definitely up there, as is the umbrella academy (not season 4) and the early mcu films

Favourite food - kung pao chicken

Favourite animal - cats and rats

What were you like as a child? - undiagnosed neurodivergent overachiever, very chaotic but also anxious

Favourite subject at school - I was a nerd, I liked most subjects. Maybe history??

Least favourite subject - P.E.

What's your best character trait? - I'm very passionate

What's your worst character trait? - I self-isolate easily

Edit: just realized I accidentally deleted the last few lines 🙄

No pressure tags: @missdictatorme @lis-likes-fics @asgardian-viking @gemini-serpentis @nimouette @nurseofren

Get To Know Your Moots

thanks for the tag @oscar-isaacx

What's the origin of your blog title? there's a combination of my initials somewhere in there with random letters

OTP(s) + Shipname: having just finished the star wars trilogy, i am very much a finnpoe shipper

Favorite color: purple and light grey

Favorite game: i like the last of us, fallout 4. my favorite board game is monopoly

Song stuck in your head: espresso by sabrina carpenter

Weirdest habit/trait? does obsessing over fictional men count lol?

Hobbies: I love writing (just not comfortable sharing yet), reading, taking walks

If you work, what's your profession? within the business realm. not fun, but i get paid, so i can't complain too much

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? astronomer. i didn't want to deal with all of that schooling lol

Something you're good at: i'm always on time, never late anywhere

Something you're bad at: a lot

Something you love: my siblings

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: any of my hyperfixations, but definitely Oscar at the moment - specifically, episode 5 of moon knight which i rewatched last night lol

Something you hate: nothing really except the political state of the us at the moment

Something you collect: eos chapsticks

Something you forget: i can't think of it right now

What's your love language? i've never taken the test, but probably quality time

Favorite movie/show: movie right now has to be the letter room (do short films count?) and show is unbelievable

Favorite food: pasta

Favorite animal: cats, koalas, dolphins

What were you like as a child? let's not talk about it lol

Favorite subject at school? chemistry and english, i know it's weird

Least favorite subject: social studies

What's your best character trait? i will always advocate for you

What's your worst character trait? I stay stuck in my shell a lot

If you could change any detail of your right now, what would it be? to make the temperature above freezing

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? George washington

Recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love!): i just read @eyelessfaces ahead, ahead with poe and it was so good; highly recommend all of their work

i'll tag @nowritingonthewall @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @have-you-seen-my-sanity

thank you again @oscar-isaacx for tagging me and getting me out of my shell lol

[affableramen]

Bad spirits

𝜗𝜚 Kazuha, Wriothesley, Tartaglia, Neuvillette, Pantalone, Ayato, Capitano, Dottore, Alhaitham, Baizhu

𝜗𝜚 Angst+comfort; mentions of injury; Capitano & Baizhu slightly yandere-ish

Divider by @anitalenia

Kazuha

When you break his favourite vase that was a gift from Ayato Kamisato—a fine vase of violet colour, with flowers painted all over it—Kazuha becomes shocked first. You did it in the middle of an argument, but the both of you knew it was completely unintentional. When the shattered piece of decor lies still on the floor (in shambles), forgetting all your bickering you go on your knees and help Kazuha clean the floor and get rid of the dangerous sharp edged pieces that could harm either him or you. 

He is still slightly mad with his eyebrows furrowed, but he allows you to help him. Though, it might take a while for Kazuha to cool down. He is usually a reserved man, but the heated argument took its toll on him.

“Are you mad at me?”

“It was a personal favourite.”

“I am so sorry, but you acted like a dick.”

Kazuha did not even rush to deny it.

“I’m definitely not a saint.”

Wriothesley

You break his favourite mug in the middle of the night when you woke up to drink some water. The sleepy you accidentally pulled on the glass a little too much and it hit the mug next to it, dragging it down. Wriothesley sleeps deeply and doesn't hear any noise but upon waking up in the morning you tell him the story as you ought to. To that Wriothesley rubs the bridge of his nose and says: 

“Forget it. At least you didn't hurt yourself.”

And he must be right, you could easily get injured while the mug was falling down. Luckily, you are not hurt and Wriothesley, even being slightly upset over his favourite mug, is genuinely not so attached to material things. 

“I’ll just buy another. Maybe the same one. It’s not living things, they are replaceable.” 

Tartaglia

It was not exactly your fault to have broken Tartaglia’s red mask when you were crashing out. He put in the dinner table and it had to be just a little swing of your hand and the mask flew into the mirror on the wardrobe. Luckily to the both of you, the butler was near and he could deal with the mess immediately. Shocked by the butterfly effect and still devastated over the conflict you had, you bursted into tears. Tartaglia was heated too, and he was not exactly in good spirits, however he rubbed his face and rushed to soothe you. 

“Let them clean the mess, we’ll go upstairs for now. You’re full, yeah?”

You were not hungry at all after the warm meal you had, and even after the bickering Tartaglia still remained the gentleman you fell in love with.

Neuvillette

Breaking his cup into halves was definitely not the wisest idea to grab his attention. It was the look of horror in Neuvillette’s face that made you realise what exactly you just did. You looked at your hand in which there was a shattered glass and a few fresh cuts on your hand, already bleeding. Should you have loosened up your grip, as the shattered cup dropped onto the floor with a loud clinging noise. Neuvillette could have gone furious for you breaking his belonging, especially the one he used to drink his dear water from, but upon seeing you get hurt by your own stupid action, he could not help but rushing to you. Monseiur gently took your hand and opened your palm gently. He looked at the palm and concluded: “Foolish woman. I’m going to get a healer.”

It was just two sentences but you felt such emotion, such care for yourself. “ I didn't mean it”, you say, “I didn't mean it, Neuvillette. I was just… upset and stressed out, and you did make it any easier with your cold attitude.”

“I’m sorry, my love. I will be more attentive next time.” 

“I’m sorry I broke your cup. I guess the both of us are at fault.”

Neuvillette noded, his face twitching with worry and other intense emotion you could not comprehend. “Stay here.”

Pantalone

“That was the last straw. Are you happy now?” Hisses he after you break the intricately-done, antic lamp that was supposed to be a gift to Pantalone from one of his business partners. With your leg you mash the insides of the former desk lamp, driving them out to the corner of your bedroom.

“Can’t you see? She’s flirting with you!”

“It was just a gift, why do you have to see everything as a means to court?”

“Because it is one, look, Pantalone. There is even a letter.”

Hearing that Pantalone slowly approaches you and the broken piece of decor, his look is intrigued but disappointed at the same time. Never he had think that he’d miss something so on the nose. 

“Indeed it is”, he finishes reading the letter. “Darling I didn't know. I’m so sorry.”

“One day you have to face your fangirls and just draw a line, ‘kay?”

“I should have done it long ago, I fear”, he takes your hands, intertwining them with his own and looks you right in the eyes. “Don't need no one other than you.” 

Pantalone pulls you into a tight embrace, staying like that for a couple of long still seconds.

Ayato

Ayato wasn't exactly pleased when you broke his favourite fan that was a piece of decorum in the living room. You did it out of disappointment and boiling up inside you felt upon seeing some other women trying to grab Ayato’s attention. You have never been so possessive before like you are today, and for a good reason. Those girls had no right to peek for long at the man who was obviously (and officially) taken. Your emotions were bottled up because you couldn't make a scene just there, you couldn't fight or threaten those shameless bimbos. 

Ayato was rather tired and simply rolled his eyes on top of his head and slumped into his chair. 

“Are you done?”

“Yes I am.”

“Wonderful. I’ll ask Thoma to clean this up. Go to bed.”

He was not exactly kind, and his what usually was a request, seemed like a merciless order to you. 

Capitano

“Enough, woman, you’re just going to embarrass yourself furthermore”, Capitano says as he once again catches a dish thrown at him by your hand. “I said—enough.”

You lower your hand, gently put the remaining non shattered dish on the table and leave the dining hall. Capitano spends a couple of seconds thinking if he should invade your privacy and impact you somehow, or leave the things as they are. Torn between two evils, he finally makes his way after you and catches your arm, gently though.

“We shall discuss all our misunderstandings… in private”, he looks down, as if he is too ashamed to stare into your eyes, though you don't even see his face behind the mask. 

“In the civil manner”, he clears his throat, “as a proper couple.”

The tension between you two dies out for a moment and the Captain releases your hand, his strong posture faltering as a sign that he is consumed by very strong emotions right now. 

“Why not”, you wipe a tear from your eye. “I might humour you this once.”

Capitano offers you his hand and you accept it. As he leads you to the bedroom, he gives you quick glares here and there. 

Dottore

Dottore stares at his broken vial, his face contorted into a grimace as he stares you up and down. 

“I cannot believe you’d do that. Looks like I underestimated you”, he throws the wasted vial into the bin and barks at you. “Leave. I don't want to see your face for the rest of the day. As if you don’t know how much I worked on this shit.”

That’s right. It was just one vial, but for him it was still a piece of effort. Seeing Dottore pushing his anger back as he needs to focus on his job you have a sudden change of heart. You stop behind him, watching as he works.

“Don’t breathe onto my neck, now go away”, he remains the same grumpy old man but you understand it that deep inside his heart he just doesn't want to admit how exhausted and frustrated he is. 

“I will aid you.”

“I have clones enough to aid me”, he snorts.

“Dottore.”

You do not take any objections instead put your gloves on and start assisting him.

“Don't be stubborn”, he says.

“No, you don’t be.”

After a while of grunting in frustration and constantly rejecting your attention Dottore finally gives up and lets you help finish the task in the lab together. 

Alhaitham

In the light of you two arguing Alhaitham certainly expected you to pull a rash action like throwing his book into the river. He sighed and pulls his hair back, trying to cool down. Was it necessary for you to throw his book away? After all—what has the poor book even done?

“You never listen to me!” You cry out. “You only follow the principles of your book, that’s it. Have you ever thought out of the box?!”

“This argument is huge nonsense. I don’t even know why I spend my time on it in the first place.”

“Really? Maybe next thing you’re gonna say is that you don’t even know why you’re staying with me?!”

At that, Alhaitham finally displays a visible sign of irritation on his face. He is a calm man usually, but you have been pressuring him for a while now.

“What do you want me to do?!”

“Listen to my damn opinion! For once!”

You step back to take a breather, and Alhaitham lets out a loud, heavy sigh.

“Good. Tell me your opinion then. I will listen to it, I promise.” His voice has gone softer and he looks at you awaiting for your response. Perhaps you two can still come to a peaceful solution.

Baizhu

“I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not”, Baizhu turns away. He sighs and groans and overall is trying to cope. His lips are already hurt from how aggressively he licks them. 

“I didn't mean to tear your bracelet during our little fight. I was stressed out.”

Baizhu does not honour you with a single look and walks back to his desk. He takes a seat and continues writing his prescriptions to customers as if nothing happened. His hand works, but you can see the wrinkles forced by anger deep inside him to cripple on his face. He ignores you standing there, looking at him and waiting for any reaction that he would make, but he seems to not even acknowledge your presence.

Finally, he rises and walks to hand the prescription to the customer. 

“Okay”, you say to yourself, grab your things and attempt to go home, but in the last moment Baizhu sighs, his thin body blocking your path.

“Sit on the guest couch and wait for me.”

“So bossy”, you shake your head, perplexed with his smugness and sudden assertiveness that Baizhu perhsps kept inside for a good reason. You were pretty tired yourself so there was no point in disobeying the pharmacist. Baizhu waited until you took the seated position, eyeing you with heavy stare and furrowed eyebrows. Once you stopped there, his face took a softer look and he began working on the last few prescriptions.

[avocado-writing]

i neeeed smth silly with wade and his s/o having a stereotypical teenage girls' sleepover- painting their nails, gossiping about boys (logan) and trying to style wade's wack ass wig.

sigh unfortunately i am in love with The Idiot

Honestly? You’re pretty fucking happy.

Wade is incredibly attentive. A goofball, sure, and the kinda guy to take things a little too far sometimes - but he can always tell when there’s something wrong. You’ve been far too stressed. Work has been getting you down, too much pressure with not enough appreciation, and it just feels like you’re being ground into the dirt by someone’s heel. Your usual enthusiasm when you come home has been ablated and you’ve barely been able to give Wade a smile recently. 

So tonight, when you walk in with gloom heavy around you, you’re pleasantly surprised when the apartment is lit with candles and your favourite album is playing quietly on the stereo. Wade looks up from where he’s judging between two facemasks. 

“Okay, we can go with ‘jasmine tranquillity’ or ‘rose seduction’. I’m feeling ‘rose seduction’, but maybe that’s because sensuality is my middle name. Well, one of my middle names. Wade Winston Sensuality Wilson.”

You put your work bag down and fix him with the smile which can’t help rising over your face. 

“What’s all this?”

“I couldn’t have my pookie ending their week on a bum note. I co-opted the place for ourselves tonight.”

“And Logan doesn’t care? Al?”

“Out drinking and at bridge, respectively. I’ll let you guess which one’s where.”

The image of your gruffest housemate sitting across from three retirees while playing cards makes you snort, and Wade knows he’s got you. 

Now? Now the facemask is smelling the room with soft perfume and you’re swilling your Merlot around in its glass, watching as Wade holds one of your bare feet in his lap and carefully applies red to your nails. There are curlers in your hair but none in his wig, because god knows you refuse to touch that thing any more than you absolutely have to. 

“This wine is nice,” you hum, slightly buzzed from the two glasses you’ve already had.

“It’s not, it was ten dollars, but once you’ve had enough you stop noticing that it tastes like ass,” he replies. Yeah, okay, he’s right. You down the rest of it and lean back against the sofa, watching him work as your vision swims a little. 

“You’re really good at this,” you hum. Wade doesn’t tear his eyes away from where he’s applying varnish in neat, diligent strokes. 

“I can sever a guy’s spine through his first and second lumbar vertebrae from thirty feet away. I’ve got steady hands, babe.” As easily as if he was commenting on the weather he holds up a small tray of press-on decals. “Now, do you want the little apples or the little cherries?”

You snort, gleeful. “Oh my god Wade, did you get those from Claire’s?”

“Yes I did. I went into Claire’s today because I’m confident in my masculinity and it’s a wonderful, joyous place to be.”

“… did Laura go in with you so you wouldn’t feel weird?”

“Yukio. I’m picking the cherries,” he decides with an air of finality. You cradle your woozy head in your arms and sigh, happily. 

“I love you, Wade.”

Finally he looks up, his face melting into a smile. 

“Yeah, I love you too. Now do you wanna watch Definitely, Maybe or Bridget Jones tonight?”

“Bridget Jones. You get weird when we watch the other one.”

“Heh, yeah,” he agrees. 

Taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13

[aziraphales-library]

In light of recent events (or not so recent by the time this makes the queue 😅😅) could you all recommend some of your favorite Trans and/or Aspec omens fics?

I know we can search the tags (and everyone should!!) but what are some of y'all's favorites?

I have been looking for an excuse, nonny, so thank you for providing one. We support any and all headcanons and representations of Good Omens characters and their relationships. Please know you can request and recommend any kind of fics you want <3

We have a plentiful amount of fics on our #trans aziraphale, #trans crowley, #asexual, and #asexual relationship tags. But here are some of my personal favourites...

The first four have both trans and asexual characters, the latter two have one or the other...

All Hallow’s Eve by lalaland666 (G)

As it turned out, the reality of a Hallowe’en party for the university staff was even worse than the idea of one, and in all honesty, Aziraphale was just counting down the minutes until he could leave. "Well, this is going down like a lead balloon," a voice said from beside him.

The Art of Human Nature by IneffableDoll (T)

Crowley is a painter who has only ever had an eye for nature. That is, until a client named Aziraphale commissions her for a painting to boost her self-confidence, and Crowley discovers that her client is as beautiful as the Earth itself. Then she goes and catches feelings, because she’s a disaster.

If Not Now, When by ineffablefool (T)

Anthony Crowley has learned by now that anything that makes him happy will be temporary at best. His quietly desperate routine is challenged when he happens to strike up a conversation with a customer at work, and he starts realizing three things, in this order: 1. oh huh this Aziraphale guy is actually interesting; 2. he can't stop embarrassing himself by accidentally flirting with him; and 3. oh no this Aziraphale guy is actually extremely attractive what do I do.

Lavender, Chamomile, and a Rather Permanent Arrangement by southdownsraph (M)

Crowley owns the flower shop across the street from A. Z. Fell's tattoo shop, and can't help but be intrigued by the slightly eccentric, yet incredibly friendly tattoo artist. When Crowley does finally pluck up the courage to talk to him beyond the occasional pleasantries, he kicks off the beginning of a friendship that could so easily drift into something else entirely.

Fine by likeasouffle (E)

Crowley’s gender had changed many times throughout history, and it generally wasn’t a big deal. She’d change her hair and clothing and switch out her genitals, just a couple of quick miracles. But this time her gender had had the audacity to flip right at the moment her relationship with Aziraphale was finally becoming physical, and suddenly she found herself considering his feelings about it, wondering how he’d react. Aziraphale wanted her handsome, he’d said so himself. He wanted her short-haired and masculine. He was a self-identified pansy with a history of late-night dancing with large groups of men. Crowley decided to stay as she was.

Changing of the Seasons by AppleSeeds (T)

Confined to his bookshop, Aziraphale joins a virtual training session about urban foraging led by botanist and natural wellbeing practitioner Anthony Crowley, and feels some relief from his anxiety for the first time since lockdown began. After that, he watches every video Crowley has posted online, but will he ever get up the courage to actually interact with him? After all, Crowley keeps giving him opportunities to do so... Perhaps once the lockdown is over, some one-to-one nature-based relaxation therapy might be just what Aziraphale needs?

- Mod D

[immoral-stranger]

𝐀𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 (𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮) // 𝐎𝐏𝟖𝟏

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟖. 🧣 “I wanna be alone. Alone with you, does that make sense?” – Billie Eilish, Hostage.

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: General depression, anxiety, and sadness, nothing too specific. No she/her pronouns used so maybe afab or gn reader, but I mention them wearing a bra and putting their hair up. Non-sexual nudity.

A/N: Sometimes you need to let yourself be sad for things to become better. Dedicated to all my depressed homies, hope you're doing okay ♡

Oscar could sense it the second he stepped inside the flat and locked the door behind him. No music playing. No background noise from the TV airing your favourite show. The stillness felt like a vacuum, unsettling in its stark contrast to the usual atmosphere. If he didn’t know you so well, he might’ve thought you weren’t home. But the telltale signs of your presence were undeniable—your shoes neatly placed in the entryway, your coat on its designated hook, and your bag resting on the floor—all painting the domestic picture of two people sharing a home. 

He usually loved coming home at the end of a long day. Even more so when he was away for weeks on end, racing around the world. The flat was modest and cosy, rather than the luxury Monaco seemed to be covered in. It was a testament to the both of you—to your love of vibrant patterns and Oscar’s preference for muted hues. Oscar had made places all around the world his place of living, but he had never felt as at home as he did in the place he now shared with you. 

Yet, tonight it felt hollow. Oscar stood in the entryway for a long moment, adjusting to the surprising quietness. He dropped his keys into the ceramic dish by the door, the clink echoing unnaturally in the silence.

You were home. Oscar knew it. But your silence was deafening. 

Oscar was the opposite of you in many ways—he spoke in measured tones, listened to music through headphones instead of speakers, and navigated social events with an easygoing detachment. He was content in the background. 

You were loud, not in an obnoxious or annoying way, but in the sense that you could always be heard. It was one of the things Oscar had grown to love most about you. You would hum along to songs even if you didn’t know them. You’d laugh so loud and genuinely that tears would run down your cheeks and your stomach would cramp, making strangers turn their heads. You were the light of every party, for everyone to see and enjoy, and it didn’t even look like you were trying. The most bittersweet pain Oscar knew was how his jaw would hurt from smiling at you, whatever it was you were doing. 

That was why your silence was deafening to him and quite telling. It wasn’t the absence of noise; it was the absence of you.

In the beginning, you had tried to hide it from him, saying that you had other plans when he asked to hang out or saying that you were sick and didn’t want him to catch it too, since his job was so important and you didn’t want that on your conscience.

But you never did have plans, and you weren’t sick. At least not in a contagious way. 

Oscar sensed it even then, though he didn’t understand the full scope until you moved in together, when you no longer could hide or lie your way through it. You got sad. That was the simple explanation. You carried the world on your shoulders—of expectations, of ambition, of other people’s happiness—so when it inevitably spilled over, you got sad. 

The kind of sadness that couldn’t be explained or easily understood by others. The kind that showed through your eyes and your actions, dulling your light and silencing your words. Your silence meant sadness, and Oscar hated the way it hollowed out the vibrant person he adored.

Kicking off his own shoes and throwing his belongings on the ground, Oscar then made his way to where he knew you would be, your shared bedroom. The door was ajar, and he paused briefly, his hand resting on the doorframe. Inside, the room was dim, the curtains drawn closed. He could just about make out the shape of you, curled up on the bed. 

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle. 

You didn’t answer. Silence, that was all that existed. 

The sheets were a crumpled cocoon of fabric, but no warmth reached you, like a black hole swallowed any light that seeped through the curtains. You’d had one of those days when even breathing felt like a monumental task, each inhale a reminder of the weight pressing on your chest.

“Can I come in?” 

You remained a dark blob of a body, tangled in the mess of wrinkled white bed sheets, red-eyed and weary. You didn’t have the energy to say yes, but you didn’t need to. He understood.

Quietly, he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, sealing out the rest of the world. He crossed the floor with deliberate care, as though afraid a sudden movement might shatter you entirely. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he let his presence speak where words couldn’t.

When you still didn’t react, Oscar did the only thing he could think of doing—he crawled into bed next to you, not saying another word. The mattress dipped under his weight, and the warmth of his body gradually reached through the layers of cold that clung to you.

The quiet felt less oppressive, softened by his steady breathing and the faint creak of the bed frame as he settled in. You didn’t move, but you showed no complaints when he wrapped his arms around you, letting you rest upon his chest, the steady sound of his heartbeat under your ear a constant rhythm. 

After what felt like an eternity, you spoke. “I’m okay.” 

Oscar tilted his head toward you, his brow furrowed but his expression still gentle. “No, you’re not. But that’s okay.” 

You swallowed hard, the knot in your throat loosening just slightly. He always had a way of seeing right through the lies you told yourself. You let out a shaky breath, the calming kind to stop tears from falling. 

“Rough day?” he asked. 

“Rough life,” you mumbled. Your eyes stayed fixed on a spot somewhere in the distance, far beyond the four walls of the room. “I should just pull myself together, but I don’t know how. I just turn into such a fucking bother.” 

Oscar shifted, tensing up as his hand reached out to lightly brush your hair back from your face. “Hey,” he said firmly, but not unkindly. “Don’t hide from me. You could never bother me. I want to help and care for you.””

“You shouldn’t have to.” Your voice cracked, and you closed your eyes tightly, a tear slipping out and disappearing into a wet spot on Oscar’s t-shirt. “I should be able to do it myself.”

Oscar let the silence stretch between you for a moment, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles on your shoulder. “Maybe,” he said at last. “Maybe one day you’ll feel like you can do it yourself. But right now, you don’t have to do it alone. Right now, I’m here for you.”

You didn’t answer. Not that you had to. It wasn’t the easiest of things to talk about, or accept the fact that people around you were kind enough to be supportive. Not all people, but Oscar at least. There was a shame connected to it—of how certain adults just kept on going without stopping and how you had never managed to belong to that group. You still felt like a teenager thrown into a life with responsibilities and expectations far beyond what was possible. 

Accepting weakness, or showing the need for help, never came naturally, but almost always forcefully—when the leaking crack that was your life finally had overflowed the bucket that stood beneath it, catching droplets. 

It was the kind of thing you could overthink into oblivion. What your own personal failures would cost the people around you. How it would affect them in ways you couldn’t directly see. And if this would change their opinion of you, that you really were such a fucking bother. 

Oscar watched you zone out completely, like you’d gone somewhere else momentarily, so far lost in your own thoughts that you weren’t present in the room with him. He brought you out of it with a gentle caress of your cheek, wiping your tears with the pad of his thumb and cradling your jaw to make you look at him. 

“I’m sorry that this ruins your plans,” you said slowly. 

He had forgotten about his plans the moment he got home and could sense your silence. It was some opening of some exhibition that one of McLaren’s sponsors was putting on. It said quite a lot about his feelings about going in the first place—that you were the one to remind him of it and that he probably would’ve forgotten it otherwise. There was no way in hell that he would be going now, to a place where he would be bored out of his mind, when you were at home in this state. 

Oscar lightly shook his head at the thought. “Don’t even think of that. You are my plans now.”

And while it should’ve made you feel chosen and cared for, it also showed the sacrifices he was making just to be with you when you weren’t strong enough to be on your own. 

“Do you want to talk more about why you feel this way?” Oscar’s voice was soft, careful not to disrupt the fragile peace that seemed to linger in the room. He didn’t want to push too hard, but he couldn’t help wanting to reach the parts of you that felt unreachable. “We can talk now, or later, or… not at all if you don’t want to. I just want you to know I’m here to listen.”

You hesitated, your lips parting as though you wanted to speak, but the words didn’t come. Instead, you shifted slightly, curling closer into his chest. You shook your head slightly. “I just… wanna be alone,” you exhaled loudly. “Alone with you, does that make sense?”

“It does,” Oscar replied. “It makes perfect sense.” 

He felt the same in many ways. Whilst your feeling of needing to be alone came from a point of exhaustion, his probably came from introversion. Whatever it stemmed from, it was necessary at times to just be in the place where you felt most comfortable and not question it further. 

“You wanna take a nap and then order some food?” he asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, trying to bring a bit of normalcy to the moment.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Can we watch a movie too?” 

“Whatever you want,” he agreed, placing a light kiss on your forehead before he shifted, propping himself up slightly. “Come on, let’s get you changed.” 

“Oscar…” you protested weakly.

He stood up from the bed, carefully when placing the comforter back down to not disturb you. With swift movements, like he’d done it times and times before, he picked out your favourite hoodie of his and a pair of pyjama pants that had probably belonged to him too at some point but were now mainly worn by you. 

“I’ve seen you naked a million times before, and I know you can’t sleep in slacks and a button-up,” he explained with a small smile, standing by the side of the bed, a hand reached out for you to grab. 

Reluctantly, you let him help you sit up. Business casual attire wasn’t meant for sleeping. 

Oscar’s movements were gentle, each touch soft and unhurried. He reached for the first button of your shirt, his fingers brushing lightly against your stomach as he worked his way down. Once the shirt slipped off your shoulders, he set it aside carefully to not wrinkle it further. 

“Arms up,” he murmured softly. You obeyed, letting his arms reach around your body to unclasp your bra, pulling it off your chest. His touch was respectful and tender—a way nudity never used to feel like. He then pulled the hoodie over your head, the soft fabric settling around you like a hug.

He reached for the zipper of your trousers, pausing to meet your eyes for permission. You gave him a small nod, and he eased them off, replacing them with the pajama pants he had set aside, tying the drawstring at your waist. The process was intimate in its simplicity. 

When Oscar finished, he reached for a silk scrunchie from the bedside table. You kept them everywhere, to the point where he had one in his bedside drawer. “Let me,” he said softly, gathering your hair with careful hands. He smoothed it back, twisting it into a loose bun that kept it out of your face.

You felt the corners of your lips twitch into the faintest smile. “You’re good at this,” you murmured.

“Because I know you,” Oscar replied with a soft chuckle. “You’re all set now.”

You fell back on the bed somewhat dramatically, letting the covers puff up around you. Oscar got back in next to you, tucking the both of you in, in a cocoon of warmth. His arms cradled your body, his lips lingering briefly in a kiss against your clothed shoulder. “Now, we sleep.”

. . . 

Later, the two of you lay on the couch, a blanket draped over you as the warm glow of the TV illuminated the room. Toy Story played softly in the background, its familiar characters offering a gentle distraction. It was a comfort film, something easy, something that didn’t demand too much from you.

Oscar held you close, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. One of his hands had found its way under the hoodie you were wearing, his fingertips drawing lazy, soothing circles against your back. 

As Buzz Lightyear declared his mission to infinity and beyond, you turned your head slightly to glance at Oscar, your chin resting on his sternum. His face was relaxed, his attention split between the movie and you. It struck you then, how content he seemed just to be here, with you, even after the long day he must have had.

“I love you, no matter what. You know that, right?” he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the hum of the TV.

Your heart clenched, but not in the way it had all day. This was different. It was from the sheer weight of feeling understood and accepted.

“I love you too,” you said, your voice soft. You scooted upward to kiss him gently, mumbling out words between touches. “To infinity and beyond.” 

Oscar chuckled, a sound that warmed the coldest of places. “Cheesy,” he teased lightly, but his eyes told you he wouldn’t have it any other way.

You leaned into him, feeling lighter than you had all day. And as Buzz and Woody’s adventures continued to unfold on the screen, you felt okay. Not entirely, not permanently, but enough to hold onto for now. Enough to gather courage to work through these emotions bit by bit as time went on. 

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think ♡

౨ৎ [ main masterlist . taglist . other love letters ]

Taglist: @koko-mei @anamiad00msday @floweringanna @lucyysthings @yelenam5 @firefirevampire @alexxavicry @emails-i-can-send @freyathehuntress

[littlemissshoei]

SYLUS HEADCANONS (LAD)

sfw & nsfw — this one's in honour of my sylus smutshot doing so well heh..

content warning: suggestive / nsfw content, mentions of kinks, fluff, bad habits

i love Sylus so much guys.. Nothing's gonna top Zayne for me but he feels like a breathe of fresh air for sure!

﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀SYLUS enjoys teasing you. He loves trampling on all your nerves, pissing you off and driving you towards your breaking point. His sarcastic little remarks followed by the oh so innocent drop of his favourite petnames for you (kitten, sweetie) are enough to make you want to strangle him.

﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀SYLUS makes sure you know how badly he wants you. Be it from his painfully obvious flirt attempts through text messages or how straightforward he acts when you're face to face; He wants you to know that you have his full attention and that he'd do anything to win you over.

﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀SYLUS is honest with you when it comes to his business and way of handling things. He doesn't need someone that's terrified of him by his side, hence why he decided to let you onto anything you wish to know, waiting to see just how much you can handle.

﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀SYLUS makes sure to get you everything your heart desires. He doesn't care about what he has to do to obtain it (Both legal and illegal methods), He will get it for you with no hesitation. So when a strange package with your favourite perfume (that was sold out everywhere) gets delivered to your doorstep, you know who the culprit behind it is.

﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀SYLUS is a sore loser. The amount of times you had to drag him away from the claw machine before he went berserk on it makes you laugh. Kieran and Luke tend to tease him about it — behind close doors that is. What ticks him off even more is when he uses his evol, just to fail his much bragged about attempt too. Whenever the two of you visit the arcade you prefer staying away from any pay to win games, yet you cannot deny how cute that proud look on his face is whenever he manages to get you the plushie you desired.

﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀SYLUS' favourite places to kiss you are your lower back, your inner thighs and your pulse points, though he prefers leaving bite marks rather than soft kisses.

﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀SYLUS loves to mark you up. He couldn't care less about making it obvious. If he could, he'd paint your whole neck full of purple lovebites. Due to his habit, there have been way too many times where you ran out of foundation to cover them. Good thing he's rich, because he always buys you a new one (when you beg him. He prefers leaving you foundationless so you cannot cover them up.)

﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀SYLUS is a switch. While he enjoys being the one in control, watching you squirm under him as you try your best to get used to his length, something about you taking the lead turns him on like crazy. The way your fingers graze over his skin as you tease him, pressing featherlight kisses all over his body, it turns his brain into mush.

﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀SYLUS is very much into bondage, breath play / choking, risky situation (public / semi public sex), marking, etc. His favourite positions are reverse cowgirl (especially in front of a mirror or any reflecting surface where you can see your pretty expression), and doggy style (allowing him to do as he pleases with you)

﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀SYLUS gets pissed off easily when it comes to you. He absolutely despises you staying away for too long, not even mentioning you'll be home later as usual. While he doesn't like to admit it, the fear of losing you gnaws at him. Most of your arguments with Sylus have to do with your stupidity and knack for getting yourself into trouble.

﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀SYLUS usually turns to silent treatment when he's had enough. Even though you two rarely get into arguments, whenever you do he becomes silent. He doesn't like opening up, considering emotional moments like this nothing but a hassle, a weakness that should never be exposed. The more time passes, the more he is willing to open up, but for him to talk it out with you instead of locking himself in his room and staying there until he feels better will take a whole lot longer than the mere babysteps you managed to make so far.

[yuebinnie]

Proverbs 5:19

☾ Pairing : Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Reader

☆ Warnings : mdni. Priest!Alastor, implied chubby!reader, noncanon Alastor, dubcon, coercion, blasphemy, abuse of authority, blood kink, blood drinking, squirting, multiple orgasms, fingering (f receiving), cunnulingus, catholic prayers used in a sexual context, scriptures used to coerce, cum eating, size kink, loss of virginity (implied, not talked about), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, literally just smut

☾ WC : 9.8k

☆ A/N : Taking a break from Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea to write Alastor smut ^^ This contains heavy Christian imagery, so if it's something you are uncomfortable with, this fic might not be for you! I really enjoyed writing this; it's my first time writing smut for Alastor, so hopefully I do not disappoint you all. I also posted the fic on AO3, if you'd prefer reading there. Have fun!

There was something about going to church that felt incredibly soothing. The deafening silence every time you walked in during the early hours of the day, steps echoing against the painted ceiling and colourful rose window, the shadows dancing behind the burning wicks of the candles set on each side of the main aisle, the smell of dust dancing in the air like a reminder of how desolate the people who came to visit truly were. You had not always been religious, but you had found peace in believing that there was a divine truth, that being good in this life would give you eternal bliss.

The church was a small one, and an old one; how it was still standing you had no idea. It was annexed to a small decrepit churchyard with moss-covered headstones that dated from at least two centuries ago. To any passersby, it'd be believed to be abandoned, as the outside of the building was quite literally falling apart, the bricks slowly eroding and the tiles covering the roof covered with the same moss as the headstones. The exterior appearance did not matter however, only the inside did; that's where God resided after all.

Despite its age, the inside and of the church was well kept. Yes, the rose window was cracked, and, as an attempt to keep the place as pure as possible, electricity had never been installed. The candles did the job of keeping the inside lit, and as for the temperature, well, dressing warmly was mandatory during the colder months of the year. The benches were old and the varnish that had once covered them was long gone; dents and chips could be found here and there, but they were still sturdy. The altar was small and simple, a wooden thing settled on a small stage that hovered only a few inches above the floor. Near the entrance sat a confessional which reeked of mould, but in the absolute presence of God, the smell was easily forgotten.

You had a habit of going to pray most days when you were not bedridden from the exhaustion of spending the night reading your favourite verses. 5 AM; the perfect time to pray, just as the world welcomed the sun's warmth and light. Very rarely did you meet anyone else; it had happened a few times, mostly old people nearing death coming to ask for absolution for their sins. Otherwise, the only person you had seen was the priest, whom you only had spoken to once or twice. He would look at you while you kneeled and mumbled prayers and verses, a smile plastered on his face.

It was the only downside of it all, that unsettling presence. The priest, a handsome man you had apologized to God for finding attractive, was always smiling. It was a bone-chilling sight; it made you feel as though he could see right through you, like he had access to every single thought that cluttered the inside of your mind. He had asked for your name once and had told you to have a 'delightful rest of the day'. That day had turned out to be horrible, as you had learned your grandmother was diagnosed with stage four cancer and only had a few months left. You had prayed for her, but God had decided to take her, nonetheless. Your subconscious had linked the priest's words as a direct cause of your grandmother's tragic diagnosis, and you had tried your best to avoid talking to him ever since.

When you woke up that morning, sweaty and feeling stickiness between your thighs, you felt sick to your stomach remembering the dreams that had plagued your mind in your slumber. A faceless man, dragging his lips down your stomach, his fingers touching your body in a way that was so sinful; the only logical explanation was that you had been visited by an incubus, an agent of evil. God was testing you, letting evil reach you to see if you'd be as faithful as Job or if you'd succumb to sin like Eve had. You cleaned yourself and changed your nightgown to proper clothes, putting a slightly warm coat on before leaving your house.

The sun had not yet started to show itself, and a thick fog floated above the quiet streets. The sky was covered with grey clouds that seemed to hang low, you wondered if you could touch them if you reached up, but your mind was too preoccupied with your predicament to try and touch something so close to Heaven. Mind running faster than a hare trying to escape a wolf, you tried to convince yourself simple prayers would do, but a loud voice kept coming back, telling you this could only be forgiven by confessing. The thought of having to talk to the priest whom you had convinced yourself was the catalyst of your grandmother's death made you want to cry, but the thought of failing God and disappointing Him was far more upsetting. You reached the church as the first rays of light made the dew covering the Earth glisten, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open.

Your eyes fell upon the priest, who was bent down in the middle of the aisle, a long match in his hand as he lit the candles up. You froze, your eyes running across his shoulders and back. The door closed loudly behind you, and you jumped; the man's head snapped in your direction, his smile growing when he saw who had just walked in.

"You are quite early today, my dear," the priest stated simply, his focus going back to the unlit candles that still begged to melt under the burning flames. "Luckily enough, our Creator does not sleep; we're under scrutiny every second of our time on this earth."

You gulped at the words, the implications they held. You crept closer to the man, fidgeting as you thought of what to say. You let out a small quiet sigh, biting down your bottom lip as you stopped and stood a few feet away from him. The man straightened up and turned in your direction, his head tilted to the left as his gaze travelled across your face, "Oh my, whatever has you this upset?"

Your cheeks flushed as your eyes shifted from his eyes to the floor, the shame of what you had yet to confess weighing down your shoulders like the cross your Saviour had carried through heat and pain. You felt tiny, the priest towering over you; he had to be close to two feet taller than you. Had this been how Lucifer felt when he was at last pushed to meet his fate in the depths, a force greater than all administrating the final judgment? Sinfully powerless, a mere weak being? Tears gathered at your lower lash lines as you spoke, oh so quietly, your voice like the echo of an echo, "Father, I have sinned."

Seconds passed, silent ones, before the man hummed and walked past you, making his way to the front of the church. You twirled around, your eyes landing on where the priest now stood, in front of the old rotting confessional. You gulped, nodding to no one in particular before slowly making your way to the man who was stepping into the booth, the door closing behind him. You did the same, slowly closing the door after giving the empty church one last look, your eyes lingering a few seconds on the nailed Christ resting behind the altar, seemingly judging you.

You sat down, cringing at the creaking of the wood beneath your weight. The grille was pulled up, the silhouette of the man on the other side vaguely distinguishable. You took a deep breath, then spoke softly as you brought your right hand to your forehead, the gesture almost instinctual, "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." You put your hand on your thigh, staring at the unmoving priest, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It is.... too much time, since my last confession. I am a university student, in my last year to obtain a bachelor's degree." A low hum was heard, and you shifted in your seat, trying to find the exact words for your confession.

"Father, something terrible happened last night. In my weakened sleeping state, evil befell me. I was plagued with sinful dreams. You must understand, I am thoroughly devoted to Christ and our Lord, never have I let a man, or anyone, disgrace the body I was given; never have I had thoughts or dreams of this kind. I fear my will is not strong enough, that this evil shall come back and torment me. I fear I will fall into sin, just as our first predecessors did. I am nothing but willing, Father, so please, do help me. I am sorry for all these sins, and the sins of my past life."

You sniffled, wiping away the tears that had fallen down your rosy cheeks, your eyes glued on the silhouette of the man beyond the grille. His silence made you want to cry even more; were you a lost case? Had your fate already been sealed, your soul now tainted because of the touch of evil in such sacred places? You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you waited, seconds becoming minutes.

"This evil you speak of, what exactly has it done to you?" His voice seemed to have dropped lower, the sound a bit raspier. You furrowed your brow slightly at the question; you had been clear about the incident. As if feeling your hesitation, the priest continued, "Ma chère, only by knowing exactly what this evil put you through can I give you absolution."

You felt a blush creep up your neck, and flinched as the crack of thunder was heard beyond the church walls; your heartbeat quickened, was this Him telling you to obey?

You let out a small breath, before speaking up, the words shaky, "As I slept, this evil... Entered my dreams. It took advantage of my defenselessness. It disgraced my soul and my body. Upon waking up, there was... Remains of the sinful things it had my body do." You could feel the man's stare on you despite the grille separating you, causing yours to drop to your knees, feeling vulnerable.

"What sinful things did it inflict upon you?" Rain had started falling, as if the sky itself cried for you; the sound of it hammered against the roof, a continuous wail of grief for your poor soul.

"Father, I don't understand how this is necessa-"

"Do you not want absolution? Do you desire to be locked out of His kingdom? The choice is yours," his tone was harsher, demanding, even. You gulped and shook your head; no, that was not what you wanted. It was the furthest thing from it.

"I apologize for questioning your words, Father," you began, fidgeting with the hem of your coat, "From what I can remember... This evil took the shape of a man. A faceless man. I was in bed, and it joined me, and... We, uh, we kissed. It took my nightgown off." Your hands felt clammy, and you couldn't help but press your thighs together as you recollected the events of your dreams. "It kissed my breasts, then my stomach. It went... Down there, and stayed there until my whole body tensed up. Afterwards, it pushed itself inside me, it thoroughly disgraced my body. When I woke up, my body showed signs that it had reacted to the defiling. Father, please, believe me when I tell you that I was coerced by evil."

Thunder was heard again, breaking the silence that had settled between you and the priest. As the minutes passed, you became uneasy; was the man disgusted with you? Could he sense the sins radiating from your being? He cleared his throat, breaking your train of thought. Your eyes went back to his silhouette, waiting for him to speak up.

"I fear this is beyond the power bestowed upon me, dear," his voice was silky, it made warmth spread inside your chest, as if the vibrations it had created affected your very cells.

Your eyes widened; that was impossible. You had confessed and explained the evil that had haunted you. You had done exactly what He told His followers to do, confessed and asked for forgiveness. You shuffled closer to the grille, tearing up as you begged, "Father, please, there must be a way. I will do anything; I will suffer just like our Saviour has if it's what it takes. I'm supplying you, help me get rid of this evil."

“Very well,” the man said. You watched as his silhouette stood up and opened the door of the booth before it disappeared. The door of your little chamber opened, and you turned your head to look at the tall priest, who adjusted his glasses as he stared down at you. You took a few seconds to really look at him. Despite his smile that made shivers run down your spine, the man was handsome. His skin was tan, his hair dark and styled in an old-fashioned way. His features were sharp, intimidating, almost. Towering over you, his shoulders were wider than some quarterbacks’, and his waist was ridiculously small compared to them. His hands seemed to be twice the size of yours, and you found yourself wondering how he managed to button up his shirts with such big hands.

You looked back at his face as you blushed, realizing the man before you knew of your body in such intimate ways. You slowly stood up as you held his gaze, unsure of what to say next. He took a step aside and gestured for you to step out of the confessional, before closing the door behind you. The priest smiled down at you, “Follow me, dear.”

He started walking down the aisle, the flames of the candles on each side of it dancing as he passed by. You hesitantly followed him, looking out one of the small windows to see the rain pouring onto the world as lightning illuminated the sky. He stopped at the altar and turned to you, his smile ever present. You stopped in front of the stage; sinners did not belong anywhere close to that sacred place. The man stayed silent and with a gesture of his hand, permitted you to step up. You gulped and got on the stage, feeling extremely out of place.

“There is one way for you to repent,” he began, his stare fixed on you, “Though it is a bit unorthodox. The choice is yours, but you must remember that there is no place for sinners in Heaven.” He watched as you nodded quickly; you were eager to be forgiven, to go back to being free of sin. The corner of his lips twitched before he uttered one word, “Strip.”

Your eyes widened as your face turned a deeper shade of crimson. Stripping? You searched his face for hints of dishonesty, hoping he was playing a sick joke on you, but to your dismay, he was serious. Your body was frozen as you looked at him, not even the booming thunder making you flinch.

You opened your mouth to ask why, but the man beat you to it, answering your question before you even uttered a word, “Only by showing Him precisely how this evil tainted you can you be absolved. There is no need to be shy, ma chérie; isn’t He all-knowing? All-seeing? Wasn’t the shame of nudity created by His first creations’ sin? There is no purer form of devotion than to go beyond the embarrassment and bare yourself to Him; than to accept the vulnerable nature of your existence.”

He brought his right hand up to lay it flat against the wooden altar, observing you as you fought an inner battle with your dignity. His words were true, the wisdom of a man devoted to God, of someone who knew scriptures and their meaning. As if feeling your unmoving incertitude, he spoke up once again, “Proverbs 28:13.”

You blinked up at him, mind searching for the verse you had read many times before. You licked your bottom lip with your tongue before reciting softly, “He who covers his sins will not prosper, but whoever confesses and forsakes them will have mercy.” The priest hummed, and you raised your gaze to the crucifix hung on the wall behind the altar, feeling as if He was patiently waiting for you to submit to His will. You puffed out a small breath as you nodded to yourself, a hand coming up to the zipper of your coat, slowly bringing it down to then shrug off the piece of clothing and letting it fall on the floor.

You could already feel the wet cold seep through your thin sweater, but you ignored the feeling as you grabbed the bottom of it and lifted it up until it was completely off you; it dropped, finding its place next to your coat at your feet. Your eyes were unfocused, staring into thin air as you slipped your thumbs under the elastic band of your skirt, pushing it down so it pooled at your ankles. You stepped out of it, getting slightly closer to the priest whose gaze was burning your skin despite the goosebumps covering it. You brought a hand to your back, unclasping your bra before slowly taking it off, baring your breasts to the man. Your nipples hardened as the freezing air licked them and you bit hard down your bottom lip as you slid your underwear down your legs, then stepped out of your shoes, leaving you only wearing your lace-arbored anklets.

The man lifted a hand in your direction, a silent request for you to grab it. You did so all while avoiding looking up at him and followed him as he made his way behind the altar, his fingers squeezing yours slightly, “Our Lord blessed you with rare beauty, dear one, what a shame it led evil to you.” You gasped softly as his other hand wrapped around your waist, your eyes shooting up to look at him. He was still smiling, though his eyes seemed clouded with something you could not put your finger on.

He let go of your hand and grabbed the other side of your waist before effortlessly hoisting you up on the altar, the skin of your ass stinging from the cold of the wooden surface. Your gaze was questioning, and the man recited, his voice low and quieter than it had previously been, “I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service.” You gaped at him; a true man of God, that’s what he was. “Offer your body to Him, and you shall be absolved. Show Him what evil has done to you, so He can forgive and make you pure again,” he held your stare, his pupils slightly dilated. You nodded once, and the priest stepped aside, leaving you to face your Saviour in your naked glory.

You slowly leaned back, using your left elbow to not completely lie down on the wood. You brought your trembling right hand to your lips, the tip of your index finger stroking the pink flesh as you recalled where the lips of the faceless man had touched you. They lingered there for a few seconds before dipping to your neck, dancing around the column of your throat as your eyes fluttered shut; if goosebumps had not already been covering your body fault of the moist cold, they would have appeared, the feeling titillating. Your chest rose and fell in a timely rhythm as you dragged your touch to your breasts where your finger gently caressed your right nipple. Your lips parted, small breaths making their way out as you gathered with your small hand the heavy fat of your breast, squeezing. You could feel the stare of the priest on you, but you attempted to ignore it as you kept going.

Your fingers went down your stomach, using your nails to slightly scratch the skin, and they stopped a few inches below your belly button. You opened your eyes and looked at the crucifix; His peaceful expression, despite being nailed and in pain, gave you courage and you spread your legs, giving your Saviour the perfect view of your most intimate era. You nibbled on your bottom lip as you slowly brought your fingers down, choking on a soft moan when they made contact with your clit. The simple touch made your composure fall a little, your lips parted as your face reddened, feeling more exposed than you had ever felt before. You gently pushed against the bundle of nerves, gasping as your fingers started to move, following a small eight-pattern.

You could feel your heartbeat thundering against your ribcage, matching the loud striking of the heavenly fire against the earth beyond the safety of the church walls. Soft pants left your mouth as you started working on yourself, closing your eyes to focus on the memories of the previous night. Every touch and stroke were vividly drawn in your mind, your fingers moving in an almost instinctual way, leaving you a whimpering mess. You moved your elbow that was holding your weight, slowly leaning your back against the cold wood, before bringing the now free hand to your face, covering your mouth with it as your thighs trembled. Your body was thrumming, humming with new sensations, your mind as foggy as the early morning that had welcomed you when you had stepped out of your home.

Lost in pleasure, you jumped, your eyes shooting open as you felt long fingers wrap around your wrist, the priest looking down at you, his own eyes sharper and darker than they had been earlier. Your fingers nestled between your thighs stopped moving as you stared at him, but he tsked, “My dear, you must not hide anything from Him. These lovely, sinful sounds you make, are not to be repressed. Let them be; let Him hear what evil inflicted upon you,” his voice sent a chill down your spine, your back arching slightly. You watched as the corner of his lips twitched and let him pull your hand away from your mouth, gulping as you nodded weakly. “Good girl.”

Your breath hitched at the praise, eyes not leaving his’ as your fingers started to move once again, bringing your legs up to rest your heels against the altar, spreading your legs a bit more. As if in a trance, your gaze fixed on the priest as you moaned and gasped, your hips twitching as you rubbed your clit. You saw his Adam’s apple bob, his eyes narrowing as you used your free hand to caress the skin of your stomach, slowly inching towards your left breast. Your fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance, and with a bite on your bottom lip and a pinch of your nipple, you pushed your middle finger all the way to the second knuckle, your eyes widening at the feeling. You let out a throaty whine, pressing your head harder against the wooden surface that supported your weight. The cold was long forgotten, your body covered in a thin layer of sweat, muscles spasming here and there.

You slid your other hand between your thighs, the digits quickly finding your clit and gently stimulating it as you managed to push your finger further inside yourself. The faceless man from your dreams had used three fingers, and you could only wonder how your dream self had taken them, as you were struggling with a lonely, short finger. Despite the uncomfortable feeling, you bit down your lip and pushed your index alongside the finger that was already pressed inside you. Your face scrunched up at the stretch, a silent sob echoing through the dimly lit space. You felt your walls clench around your digits, your free hand still working on your clit as a way to make the dull ache more bearable. You waited a minute, giving your body time to adjust to the feeling, before carefully pulling the fingers out and thrusting them back in, a surprised whimper leaving your lips as a new feeling started to blossom in your lower stomach.

You arched your back and started speeding up the motion of your hands, unable to keep quiet as your body grew warmer and more tense. Your eyes fluttered open to look up at the priest, who was as still as Christ watching you from His cross on the wall. As you exhaled, you pushed a third finger in, welcoming the stretch with a high-pitched whine. Your knees dropped down onto the altar, leaving your womanhood fully exposed; you watched as the man glanced at where your hands were working in tandem to replicate almost exactly what the evil from your dream had done to you. You gathered the little concentration you had left and started muttering through gasps and moans, “Compassionate Father, you are the Lord who rescues His people. When I am overwhelmed with shame, help me find solace in you. You have said that you will help—though my sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are as red as crimson, they shall be like wool. Remind me that I have been purified by you, that the curse of sin and evil is no longer upon me. In your powerful name, Ame-” You were cut off by a large hand wrapping around your lower face, the feeling making your body jolt.

Right, it had to be the same as the dream; you had not uttered a prayer in it, far from it. You closed your eyes, moaning against the palm covering your mouth, as you focused on the growing tension in your core. Every second felt like minutes and every minute felt like hours as you quickly thrust your fingers in and out, all while you rubbed and nudged your clit. The pressure was almost unbearable, your whole body twitching as your hips tried to follow the movements of your digits as if they had a mind of their own. The priest moved his hand away, and you opened your eyes to watch him bring it to his mouth where he licked his palm, which was covered with your drool.

Something snapped inside of you and a loud sob made its way out of your throat as your muscles tensed up, your walls clenching tightly around your fingers as you stilled them, your mind unable to think about anything beyond the blinding pleasure that took over your body. Your eyes rolled back, pitiful sounds leaving your mouth as your back arched from the altar, your thighs squeezing together, trapping your hands between them. This felt so much better than it had felt in your dream. You teared up; the Lord’s love was so strong; evil could not even compare.

After a few seconds, your body relaxed, and you were left panting and sweaty, as if you had just run a marathon. Slowly opening your eyes, your vision became clearer as you blinked, a smile tugging at your lips as you looked at the crucifix, then up to the priest who had not moved. You removed your hands from between your thighs and brought your left one up to wipe the pearls of sweat on your forehead with the back of it. You wrapped your right arm around your chest, trying to hide your breasts as you spoke up, your voice small but hoarse, “Have I done it, Father? Am I free of sin? Has our Lord given me absolution?” Hope lingered; you had done what you were told to do, you had been good, and your Lord was good and forgiving, He had to have seen how faithful you were.

The man’s eyebrows raised before he let out a small chuckle, shaking his head slightly, “My dear, this was only your confession. The truest and purest form of confession.” Your smile dropped. You looked at him as he made his way closer to the wall, where he stopped in front of the crucifix that had observed you as you worked on yourself. His chin tilted up as he looked at it, before his head slowly turned to look at you, “But confession is not enough for this type of sin, sadly; you must also be cleansed.”

You sat up, your brows furrowed, watching as the man stepped closer to you. He stood in front of you, his right hand coming to rest on your thigh, just above your knee. His touch was warm and inviting, but you still wondered what his words meant, so you asked, “Cleansed?”

His thumb stroked your skin as he hummed and brought his other hand up to your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it, “Yes, dearest, cleansed. Your body was defiled by evil, it must be purified. You’ve shown our Lord and Saviour how, and now He shall reclaim your body as His’.” You looked at him, your eyes round and big, trying to make sense of the words that had just been spoken. A small pout appeared on your lips, and the tall priest bent down, his face now closer to yours as he said, his voice slightly louder than a whisper, “You are so easy to read, you know? But to ease your confusion; I shall represent our Lord and make you pure again.”

You froze, the realization of what the man meant hitting you just like David’s stone had hit Goliath. You gaped at him, your mouth opening and closing, searching your brain for the right words to speak, afraid to insult God and the man who stood before you. You gulped and said after taking in a deep breath, “Our Lord… I cannot think of mentions of this procedure in the scriptures,” you blinked, your eyes shining as you looked into his’. “Father, has this procedure been tested before? Where does it come from?”

His long fingers dug into the fat of your thigh as you saw the muscle of his jaw clench, a small whimper leaving your lips at the feeling. He kept squeezing, his creepy smile growing, “Are you implying my authority was not given to me by our Lord? That my will does not stem from His’? That I would go against scriptures, something I have devoted my life to?” You shook your head quickly; you had messed up. You were to never question the words of a priest, for he was much closer to God than you were, and you had done just that. This evil needed to leave; it made you do, think and say things that would only make you unworthy of Heaven.

“Father, do forgive me! This evil, it has taken control of my body and sou-”

“There’s no need for that. I shall make your sins a purest white than Abraham’s sacrificial lamb. You will be reborn a new woman, utterly sinless,” he inched his hand higher on your thigh, “That is what you want, isn’t it? To let your God make you pure again?” You gave him a slow nod and his smile widened as he brought his free hand to his face, removing his glasses and putting them on the altar next to you. He nudged your knees open and settled between them, sliding a hand against the back of your head as he sang praise to you, “What a good girl you are, ma chère.”

His lips smashed against yours and you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to follow his lead. The hand resting on your thigh slid to your waist and forced you to get closer to him, his chest pressing against your naked breasts. You moaned into the kiss, pictures of your dream flooding your mind, causing you to wrap your legs around his tiny waist and arms around his neck. You ran your fingers through his hair, letting the man run his tongue along your bottom lip, your mouth opening slightly in response. His kisses travelled down your chin, to your throat, his teeth nipping at your skin as you let your head fall back, giving him better access.

His mouth slid to your chest, and you lowered your chin to look down at him as he wrapped his swollen lips around your left nipple. You grabbed a handful of his hair and pressed him closer to you, arching your back slightly. His eye shot up to look at you, humming against your skin, the vibration leaving you a whimpering mess. He separated from your pink, wet bud with a last lick, smiling as he flicked your other nipple with his thumb, “So eager for absolution, aren’t you?” Your soft pants were interrupted with a small gulp as you nodded once again; there was nothing you wanted more. He ran a hand up and down your thigh before grabbing it and removing it from his waist, doing the same motion with the other one a few seconds later. You silently watched as he kneeled, his face a few inches away from your exposed core. The sight made your heart skip a beat.

Something caught your eyes on the wall, and you looked up, seeing a rainbow light up the crucifix hung on the wall; the rain and thunder had dissipated as suddenly as they had appeared, and sun rays were beaming through the colourful tainted glass of the rose window at the entrance of the church. A small smile tugged at your lips, this had to be a sign you were on the right path. You bit down your bottom lip and gazed down, seeing the priest eyeing your womanhood, a hungry look on his face. Your cheeks reddened as you waited for the man to do something.

He slowly inched closer, and let his nose nudge your puffy clit, causing you to gasp softly at the feeling. You felt something warm run up and down your slit, your grip on his hair tightening as he flattened his tongue against your entrance. Your brows knitted, a small noise leaving your lips as he started to move his wet appendage up and down, moving his head slightly as he did so to get his nose to bump against your clit with each lick. His hands went to your ass, and he brought you even closer to his face; you wondered how he could even breathe.

Your mind started to wander as pleasure slowly took over your limbs; was the man between your legs mistaking you for a wine-filled chalice? The slurping noises his mouth was making against you travelled through your body and rendered you dizzy. You pushed his hair back from his forehead and his eyes shot open to look up at you as his fingers dug into the fat of your ass. His pupils were dilated to the point that you could barely see his iris and there was wetness spreading on his cheeks and nose. Lips parted, you sighed and slightly scratched his scalp with your nails, leaving the man groaning as his stare was still fixed on your face. One of his hands made its way down your thigh and disappeared from your view before it reappeared; a dainty wooden-beaded rosary was dangling from his fingers.

The priest took his mouth away from you, a wide smirk painting his lips as he grabbed your wrist and dropped the prayer beads in your much smaller palm. His other hand came forward and started stroking the skin of your inner thigh as he wrapped his long digits around yours, forcing you to hold the rosary. He licked his bottom lip before speaking up, “You know how this works, don’t you?” His smile grew as he watched you nod, “Perfect. Recite them in your head, except the Five Decades; you must recite those aloud. It’s Thursday, so Luminous Mysteries. Whatever your Lord has planned next and does to you, you must keep going, understood?” You nodded again but he shook his head, “Use your words, dearest.”

“I understand, Father,” you said, your voice small.

The man hummed and let go of your hand, dropping it to your other thigh, massaging the skin there as well. His gaze dropped to where your thumb moved to make the Sign of the Cross on the small crucifix pendant. You closed your eyes as you started reciting the Apostles’ Creed, surrendering your body to the faithful man kneeling before you. His lips pressed against you as you finished the first prayer, your finger moving to the first bead. He fell into a now familiar rhythm, leaving you incapable of staying silent as you breathed out soft moans. Something prodded at your entrance and slowly slipped in as you fell back against the altar with a thud. You arched your back as it kept going, much deeper than you had reached with your fingers. It pumped in and out a few times before the man added a second finger, the pressure and stretch making you whimper.

His tongue kept alternating between sucking on and flicking your clit as you busied yourself with prayers. The priest hummed against you before removing himself; you opened your eyes and lifted your head from the wooden surface, eyes widening when you saw blood on his chin and bottom lip. He removed his fingers from you and showed them to you; they were bloody too. You stared at him silently, uncertain of what to say, but he broke the silence, “See what the evil has left in you? Aren’t you so lucky your Lord is ever so forgiving? That he’s cleaning you up to make you free of sin?” You nodded and bit the inside of your cheek. His eyes were gleaming as his fingers went to your lower stomach, smearing the blood on your skin, which made goosebumps appear.

You studied his face, his sharp, dark hooded eyes were staring at you under his defined eyebrows, his plump lips were stretched in a smile; his tanned cheeks and chin were coated with a sheening coat of your wetness and blood. His hair was now messy—your doing—and his fingers were slowly making their way back to your slit. Without thinking about it, you reached out and cupped his cheek with your free hand, rubbing your thumb against his bottom lip. His tongue darted out to lick your digit as his fingers sank back in you, knocking the breath out of you. Your eyes closed shut as you gasped, your hand falling from his face to rest on your hip. You heard him laugh under his breath before the warmth of his mouth was back on you. Your mind reminded you of the rosary you were holding, and you started reciting the Hail Mary.

As you neared the end of the Glory Be, you felt the man add another finger, the stretch making your eyes tear up as you mewled weakly. The words of the prayer passed in your mind, disappearing as he started to thrust them in and out. Your walls clenched tightly around his digits as your chest rose and fell quickly, panting as your body tried to get adjusted to the burning feeling.

Your fingers landed on the first Decade, and you gathered all your strength to start reciting the prayer, your voice shaky, “Then Jesus came to Galilee to the Jordan to John, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying ‘I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?’ But Jesus answered him, ‘Let it be so now; for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.’ Then he consented.” You were interrupted by a yelp as you felt the priest’s teeth grazing your clit, your free hand landing in his hair, gripping it. Your hips kept twitching as you kept going, stuttering through the words, “And when Jesus was baptized, he went up immediately from the water, and behold, the heavens were opened and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and alighting on him; and lo, a voice from heaven, saying, ‘This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.’”

The drag of the man’s fingers had turned pleasurable, and you felt your muscles tense up, the feeling in your lower stomach rapidly growing. You pushed on the back of his head, searching for more friction, and you moaned out loudly when he started mumbling against your clit as his fingers kept moving, “Oh my Jesus, forgive me of my sins, save us from the fires of hell; lead all souls to Heaven, especially those who have most need of your mercy.” You could not register the words but the movements of his lips on you made you come undone, your back arching from the altar as your thighs trapped his head in place, your hips lifting to follow his fingers and urge him to press his tongue harder against you. Your every muscle tensed up, crying out as the waves of your orgasm hit you just like the Red Sea had crashed into the Egyptians as He closed its parting. You spasmed around him, your walls trying to push his fingers out, and you felt wetness drip down your ass.

He separated from your clit, kissing it softly as he removed his digits from you, slowly standing up as you cracked your eyes open, your body still jolting randomly as it calmed down from your high. The light coming from the rose window had moved, and from your angle, it looked like a halo surrounding the priest’s head; a breathtaking sight that had you gape in awe. You watched as he tugged at the collar of his shirt, taking his Roman collar off and letting it fall to his feet. Your wetness was dripping from his lips which were harbouring a soft smile, his hands moving unhurriedly to unbutton his cassock. His eyes travelled up and down your spent body, then to the rosary you had forgotten you were still holding; you clenched your fingers around it and moved to a new bead, your lips moving silently as you recited the Hail Mary in your mind.

You kept your eyes on his hands as they reached the last button, the man shrugging off the black piece of clothing, revealing he was wearing a white tank top and black pants underneath it. You gulped at the true size of his shoulders; you had thought his cassock gave the illusion he was large, but even with it off, he looked huge. The smallness of his waist only accentuated how massive the built of the priest was. He had muscles but they were lean; despite it all, he looked strong and exuded a masculine aura that had you squirming in place.

Your observations were interrupted by his voice, “Do you feel like the weight of your sin has lessened, ma chère?” You dipped your chin once; you did feel lighter. The man grinned wider as his hands wrapped around your waist, bringing your torso up effortlessly so you were now sitting. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning over so his lips pressed against the shell of your ear, whispering, “You did so well, dear, you’re almost as pure as the day you were born. There’s only a step left in this procedure, but it will hurt at first.” He pressed a hand on the back of your head and pushed forward, forcing you to bury your face in the crook of his neck. You inhaled and felt his fingers massage your scalp gently.

He smelled so intoxicating; a mixture of moss, rain, coffee, tobacco and a hint of something floral emitted from his skin. You realized you had pressed your lips against the man’s neck when you felt him tense up, his hand stilling in your hair. You backed away slightly, blushing so brightly you were grateful he could not see your face, muttering an apology. His body relaxed again, and he hummed, “There’s no need for apologies. Bite down my shoulder—don’t be scared to bite hard—it will make you focus on something else.”

You opened your mouth to ask what he meant but pressed your lips together when you heard a zipper, followed by the shuffling of clothes between your bodies. You brought your hands to his chest, the rosary still in your hand, fingers fidgeting with the beads as you felt one of his large and cold hands spread your thighs a little further apart. You felt his fingers run up and down your slit and you gasped at the feeling, your nails slightly digging into the muscles of his chest. A wet sound travelled up to your ears and you closed your eyes, a shiver running down your spine when you felt a hand drop to your hip, kneading the fat there, and his voice, now a low murmur, “Bite down.”

You barely had the time to process the words that you felt pressure against your entrance which ceded, your walls wrapping around something so thick you shrieked before sinking your teeth into the man’s shoulder. It felt like you were being split in half; the thickness slowly forced its way inside you as tears gathered at your lower lash lines before they dripped down your cheeks. You bit down harder and pulled away quickly when you felt iron-tasting warmth coat the inside of your mouth, but the hand still in your hair pushed you against the bleeding bite mark, the priest almost growling, “Bite, and drink. At this moment, I am God; I am Christ. His blood is mine, and my blood is His’. Savour, dear one, and let me cleanse you inside out.” You let out a shaky breath before sinking your teeth back in his flesh, your brows knitting as he pushed his length an inch deeper inside you, “So obedient.”

You let the blood fill your mouth and swallowed, cringing at the taste but unwilling to go against Heavenly orders. Your arms snaked around his waist as he kept slowly pushing himself into you. The pain was unbearable, but your mind went to Christ, and how much he had suffered for the sins of all; the ache between your legs was a pinch compared to what he had endured, so you toughened up and let your tongue lap at the blood. Your brain felt foggy, and you could only take it as a sign that it was your body reacting to being filled with the divine energy pouring out from the priest. His length reached deeper than his fingers had, and you wondered how much of it you had left to take in.

You soon had your answer, the man stilling as his pelvis pressed against yours; he was so deep in you, stretching you so wide. Your mouth detached from his neck, and you pressed your forehead against his skin, panting loudly as you tried your best to relax your walls around him. The hand that was in your hair made its way to your waist, squeezing gently as you felt his lips press against your ear once again, “Your Lord is so pleased with you; you’re taking his cock so well. You’ll be redeemed in no time.” He slowly pulled out, leaving only his tip in, before thrusting in you at a medium speed, leaving you sobbing against his neck. It was overwhelming, the feeling of his length rubbing your inside and the warmth spreading in your chest, God’s love making you burn up. The feeling started to transform from pain to pleasurable pressure, your pained cries turning into needy moans.

You had managed to reach the tenth Hail Mary in your mind, your fingers reaching the second Decade. You whimpered out the beginning of the Second Luminous Mystery, “On the third day there was a marriage at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there; Jesus also was invited to the marriage, with his disciples.” The priest started moving faster, his hips meeting yours at a much quicker speed; you whined as his tip hit a certain spot inside you, the rosary dropping on the floor as you dug your nails into the man’s shoulder blades. You could not concentrate on anything other than the drag of his length against your walls, panting and gasping each time he bottomed out.

He slightly pulled away from your body and looked down at you, his hips still moving as he brought a hand to grab your jaw from under, forcing you to look at him. He eyed you before crashing his lips against yours, moaning as he tasted his blood in your mouth. You slid your hands up to his hair, tugging at it and scratching his scalp as your teeth clashed together, tongues dancing. You pressed your chest closer to his’ and sighed as your nipples rubbed against his tank top, the feeling sending electric shocks to your core. You parted away from his lips, catching your breath, and your eyes opened and landed on the crucifix watching you; you smiled softly—oh how good was His clemency. Your gaze went back to the priest who was slightly panting, his lower face covered in blood—just like yours— as he smirked at you, sliding his hand to your cheek, stroking the skin tenderly.

In half a second, he pulled out and manhandled you, so you were now bent over the altar, your breasts pressed against the wooden surface as your feet dangled in the air, his large hands holding you up. His knee nudged your legs open wider and you felt him slip back inside you, the new position bringing a different sensation. His hips met your ass, and he started thrusting into you eagerly, loud smacks echoing through the church. You held yourself up on your elbows, holding your head up as you looked at the front door; if someone were to walk in, they would see the priest cleansing you, a Godsent blessing.

Your elbows started to tremble, and the man noticed; he slid a hand below your stomach and hoisted you up against his chest, your back pressed against him. He held you up, his arms wrapped around you as his pelvis smacked against your ass, your feet dangling one foot above the floor. He slid a hand down, his fingers running down your slit, groaning as he felt where you two were connected. He ran them up again and pushed his middle finger against your puffy clit, gently rubbing it as he kept working himself in and out of you. Your head fell back on his shoulder, and he took the opportunity to attach his lips to your neck, kissing and nibbling at the skin.

You truly never had felt anything like this; if you had been a fool, you’d have thought you were glowing from how fulfilled you felt. The familiar tension grew in your lower stomach, lewd noises leaving your mouth as the man dug the fingers of his other hand into your flesh, holding you closer to him as his movements became erratic. His groans and grunts were sending shivers down your back, only adding to the multitudes of sensations you were currently drowning in. As if he could feel you were close to reaching your orgasm, he mumbled against your neck, “Let go, ma chérie. Let evil leave your body, let God replace it with goodness.”

Your breath hitched and with a few more nudges on your clit, the pressure building inside you snapped. Your vision went white as you came, the feeling different from your previous releases. Even through the waves of pleasure, you could feel something drip down your thighs and could hear squelches as the priest kept thrusting his length in you. Your mouth was open, silent cries leaving your throat as you clenched tightly around the man. You felt his lips move against your neck, but you were too lost in feelings to understand what he was saying.

Your tensed-up muscles slowly relaxed as the remains of your orgasm washed over your body. You whimpered as the man kept moving, your core feeling overstimulated by his length still burying itself inside your sensitive walls. He quickly pushed your front back against the altar, grabbing your hips as he moved both his hips and yours in sync, your nails digging into the wood as your ass smacked against him. His thrusts were harsh and fast, leaving you breathless; tears were streaming down your cheeks at the delightful ache.

His hips stilled, his length buried deep inside you, as he groaned lowly. You felt your inside be flooded with warmth, whining as you dropped your forehead against the wooden surface, the cold of it grounding you. You were panting, the warmth creating a pleasant pressure inside your core as the priest rubbed his thumbs over your Venus dimples. He stayed inside you for a few more seconds, before easing out of you, leaving you feeling empty. He once again manhandled you so you were now sitting facing him, holding your limp body up as he dragged a hand up your moist thigh, grinning, “See this wetness? It was the remains of evil leaving your body.” His hand reached your slit and he gathered a sticky white substance on his fingers, bringing his hand up close to your lips, “And this is goodness. Do remember, my dear, your sins are scarlet and they shall be as white as snow.”

You gaped at him; he truly was a man of God. He pushed his fingers past your lips, and you let him, wrapping them around his digits as your tongue licked at the goodness. The taste was bitter, but as your eyes met his’, all you could think about was how caring and selfless the man standing in front of you was. You had come to him, worrying about your purity, and he had completely cleansed you of sin and given you his own God-gifted goodness, not asking anything in return. He removed his fingers from your mouth and brushed your cheek with the back of his index, his smile not faltering, “What is this look you are giving me?”

You blinked a few times, your cheeks flushing as you realized you had been staring, “Father, I must thank you. My body and soul were barren, and you made them anew again. I do not know how I could ever repay you.” His eyes narrowed at your words, his hand reaching to grab his glasses before he put them on and ran a hand through his hair. It dropped to your thigh and drew shapes on there, his gaze not leaving yours.

“Alastor,” he said simply before stepping away from you and bending down to grab your clothes. Your expression turned to a confused one as you watched him slip your underwear up your legs, your skirt following. You let him dress you, his fingers skilfully clasping your bra behind your back before he motioned you to lift your arms so he could slip your shirt back on. Once dressed he let his hand lay on your thigh again, before he spoke up, “My name is Alastor. Call me by it and your debt is repaid.” He grabbed one of your hands and dropped the rosary in it before grabbing your waist and helping you down the altar, “Keep this, use it whenever you feel evil is near.”

You nodded up at him and smiled, your grin faltering for a second when you saw that the crucifix on the wall had detached and was now hanging upside down. Oddly, you thought nothing of it and you looked back at Alastor, your smile spreading wide, “Thank you, Fa—Alastor.” You squeezed the rosary between your fingers, watching as he bent down once again, but this time to grab his cassock and Roman collar. You stood silently as he buttoned it up and placed the white collar around his neck. He straightened the fabric with his hands, before meeting your eyes.

“You look quite a mess, dearest, you’d better go home and clean yourself.”

Your hand flew up to your face where dried blood was caked on your chin and around your mouth, and you felt a blush creep up your neck at his words; he did not look any better. Despite it, you nodded, shifting on your feet as you thanked him once again, “I cannot express how thankful I am, Alastor, truly. You, uh, you should probably get cleaned up too; people would probably wonder why there’s blood smeared on their priest’s face.” The man chuckled and nodded before bending down to grab your coat, handing it to you once he straightened up. You took it and quickly slipped it on, putting the rosary in one of the pockets.

You clasped your hands together and bit down your bottom lip as the man put a hand against your back and urged you to walk with him. You walked down the main aisle silently, stopping once you had reached the end of it. You turned to him and opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it, “Go, now. Enjoy your newly found purity.” You smiled and dipped your chin once; he grinned back, “I will see you tomorrow, though I am hoping you will not walk back in here with that same pitiful expression you had earlier.”

You let out a small laugh as you gestured that you agreed before giving him one last glance and turning around, walking towards the door. You could feel his stare burn holes in your back but ignore the feeling, pushing against the door and stepping outside, the sunlight momentarily blinding you. You sighed loudly, looking around to make sure no one was close; the last thing you wanted was someone seeing you limp, your face bloody. You began to make your way back home, ignoring the way your thighs stuck together from your and Alastor’s bodily fluids. You thought about his words, and strangely, you found yourself disagreeing; you hoped the faceless man would come back. You had tasted true goodness, the powerful and unconditional love and mercy of God, and you wanted more of it.

[aviiarie]

♡ — GENSHIN GIRLS AS CHAPPELL ROAN SONGS !

cws & notes. no warnings. various genshin girls x fem!reader. 750+ words. they're all sapphic in my heart. if you like this you might enjoy my good luck babe! inspired furina fic :D

— FURINA · good luck babe!

she can't call it love. the word is on the edge of her lips, lingering on her tongue, but she never speaks it out loud. she just wants to keep things the way they are, keep you close to her without that word hanging over her head. it's nothing serious, so why bother to call it anything at all? she'll ignore the way her heart flutters and her head spins as long as it takes to keep you by her side.

but it isn't enough, is it? because you leave anyway, and she is left with the shadow of your figure chasing the corners of her memory for the rest of her life. in the years to come, she will forget your favourite colour and the way your lips tasted, but she'll always be haunted by the echo of your voice sounding in her head: 'i told you so.'

— CHIORI · red wine supernova

falling in love with you is like falling into a supernova. she was never too interested in pursuing love on her own, but with you, she just seemed to fall into it so easily. it was like you were a star, burning brighter and hotter than the sun, filling her days and nights with light. when she kisses you, she can almost feel fire spark against her lips, like your touch is enough to ignite. it's almost overwhelming, the amount of emotions that brew so quickly, but that doesn't chase away the thrill.

there's something that's so bright about you it's almost blinding. your smile sends her heart beating a mile a minute, your words make her brain fry. no one else has ever made her feel so much that it almost scares her. but if this was love then she would gladly let herself fall for you.

— NAVIA · casual

hearing you call it 'casual' kills her. she smiles and laughs it off, like it's all light-hearted, pretending you're just teasing. it's easy to pretend, to close her eyes and picture the two of you moving into the same apartment, dancing in the kitchen like a couple in a cheesy romcom. it hurts, every time you remind her not to get attached. can't you see she already has, already is? can't you see the adoration in her eyes? can't you see how much she is in love with you? nothing about you is casual, but she bit her tongue until it bled and held back her tears.

she's sick of it. after all the nights of tears she shed, after everything you've been through together, if you won't call it what it was, then she would. she doesn't care what your friends say, anything is better than calling it casual. she's done with letting herself be stifled, letting her love be wasted. she's sick of hating herself. call it casual all you want, she knows the truth and she'll make sure everyone else does too.

— YELAN · super graphic ultra modern girl

she can't deal with another cheap date with a man who doesn't care about her. what she needs someone refreshing, someone fun. she needs a girl who is as dazzling and exciting as she is, someone who can keep her on her feet and send her heart racing. no more wasting perfectly good friday nights on guys who didn't have a single interesting bone in their body, she's after something new.

and that's you. you, who arrived in her life like a firework and continued to crackle and spark ever since. she's transfixed by you, the way you move, the way you speak, the way you laugh. every part of you is mesmerizing, and she can't seem to tear her eyes away.

— KOKOMI · kaleidoscope

it's impossible to describe what you meant to her. there weren't enough words in the dictionary to explain how she felt, not enough colours in the rainbow to paint every shade of love that filtered through her vision when she looked at you. and yet now she was left with a painful monochrome, missing the one person she loved more than anything else in the world.

she's not going to make you stay. she cares about you too much for that. and she'll never fault you is you end up falling in love with someone who isn't her, but part of her does break every time she thinks of it. she doesn't know how love works, it's a mystery to the both of you. but she knows she loves you, and that has to count for something.

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[huellitaa]

pretty girl winter 🧁❄️🎀

ok so winter is my FAVOURITE season ever!! i am THE christmas girl of all time and i wna make this the most beautiful pink christmas ever! and i am so excited to spend it with my favourite people ever (my tumblr girls) ❄️🩷

🧁𓂃 ࣪˖ winter music ♡

sweet dreams, tomorrow x together

last christmas, ariana grande

sleigh ride, the ronettes

merry & happy, twice

beautiful christmas, red velvet / aespa

santa tell me, ariana grande

doughnut, twice

winter wonderland, beabadoobee

jingle bell rock, bobby helms / aespa

rocking around the christmas tree, brenda lee

let it snow! let it snow! let it snow!, dean martin

have yourself a merry little christmas, judy garland

christmas dreaming, laufey

one more sleep, leona lewis

cindy lou who, sabrina carpenter

(🎀🗒 note: i also have a playlist filled with lots of these songs and music here! ♡)

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖ winter beauty ♡

moisturiser moisturiser moisturiser. hand cream is also a must so they dont get cracked and dry, especially in the winter! ❄️🫶🏻🩷

i dont take cold showers in the winter bcuz i get ill easily , so i always take warm showers w 30 seconds of cold at the end 💭🎀💗

vanilla, cinnamon, musk, chocolate, pomegranate, cherry, pudding and sweet, rich scents 💭🐧🫶🏻

makeup in pale pink, white, soft gold, silver, lots of sparkles, dewy and light

red lip gloss / stick is an essential! 💭🎀

🎄𓂃 ࣪˖ winter fashion ♡

fluffy coats!!!!! i personally love my massive black trenchcoat its v cute

scarves, hats, gloves, etc ♡ 🎀🧸

leggings, tights, long socks, leg warmers, etc. (i esp love sheer tights!)💭

anything faux-fur lined

pink, silver, gold, and white ♡

boots, uggs, doc martens, clunky shoes!

🎀💭❄️ simple formula to a cute winter fit:

skirt -> tights -> long sleeves -> coat -> shoes

(long sleeves can be anything from turtleneck to jumper, tights can be leggings / long socks or whatever you like, and the same goes for shoes! this is an easily versatile idea, not one size fits all 🫶🏻)

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ winter movies ♡

muppet christmas carol!!!!!♡ my fav ever

the nightmare before christmas

beauty and the beast: the enchanted christmas

the miracle on 34th street

the grinch (live and animated)

jingle all the way

the polar express

home alone

mean girls (not a christmas film, but the jingle bell rock scene is iconic)

(🎀🗒 note: one thing i like to do is compile a list of all ur favourite shows and their christmas / winter episodes and just binge watch all of them!! 🩷🫶🏻🎄🧸)

🌨𓂃 ࣪˖ winter activities ♡

i love journalling and scrapbooking at any time of year, but i feel like it's always extra cosy in winter! playing some christmas music, cuddling up in pink pyjamas and journalling 🫶🏻🎀🩷

anything to do with baking and hot food is so cosy; gingerbread houses and hot chocolate, christmas cupcakes !! 🎄🫶🏻

i dont really know what category this falls into, but around christmas time i always love to make things about my family and friends; painting, decorating photos and hanging them up, journalling about them, and so on ! 💭💝❄️

make a list of all the people you're getting christmas presents for this year and compile a little bundle of things for them! 💗💭

learn about old winter tales and folklore, fron your culture or from others 🌨🎀

take up sewing, knitting, crocheting, etc. even if you've never done it before 🩷🧸

christmas market hopping!!!!!! one of my favourite things to do in winter is go out with my friends, go shopping and just browse the stalls bcuz theyre always so cute and cosy 🧁🐧💗

writing & making christmas cards ❄️🎀

unnecessary acts of kindness! this should go without saying for majority of the time, but i always love to go the extra mile during christmas to keep with the spirit and everything 🫶🏻🧸🎄

ice skating. obviously. i wanna go w my friends this year !!! 🎀⛸️🧁☃️

all my love, and happy december! 🎄🎀🫶🏻💗

[pfhwrittes]

retail hell reader is being bothered by an uncomfortably friendly customer and tf141 handle it in their own ways.

warnings: female!reader (she/her pronouns) isn’t being overtly harassed but you know when a man is being too interested and too friendly? its that. egregious use of scots as inspired by still game, pet names “love”, “hen” and “bonnie girl” used to refer to f!reader.

word count: 1.5k

pairings: kyle garrick x reader, john mactavish x reader, simon riley x reader, john price x reader.

each reader x named character interaction should be read as a standalone but i stuck them all together as they were too short to post individually in my opinion.

- -

this customer is making you nervous as fuck. you don't think you've been inappropriate with him in any way, just polite and friendly as you sorted out his refund. the problem is that he's massive, easily taller than simon by a couple of inches and he keeps looming over you blaming his difficulty understanding english as to why he keeps getting closer and closer. he's practically mounting the customer service desk to peer down at you (and you have a horrible feeling he's trying to get a look down your polo top).

you're beginning to panic so you do the only thing you think to do (which admittedly is pretty stupid looking back on it) and make your excuses to leave the customer service desk to find one of your friends. or at least find a colleague who will act as a witness if this guy gets any creepier.

gaz handles it like a champ. as soon as he spots the creep following you around he's there. arm around your shoulders and tucking you into his side at the kitchen consultant's desk. his customer service smile is fixed on his face and he refuses to even acknowledge this giant arsehole of a man, just keeps talking to you softly and shows you the kitchen he’s working on. kyle’s beautiful brown eyes only briefly leave your face so he can point out another favourite part of his design, he never once looks over at the creep. it works to soothe you, especially being so close to him. after ten minutes of being blatantly ignored, the creep walks off muttering under his breath. hopefully he’s left the store but unfortunately it’s around that time that kyle has a couple walk up to him asking him if he’s free for a drop in consultation. before he agrees he checks in with a gentle “you alright if i take this appointment, yeah? come straight back if that guy is still hanging around. i’ll deal with him.” he looks so serious you believe him. you reassure him that you’ll be fine and he gives your arm a gentle squeeze before you separate from his warmth already missing the slightly woody scent of his cologne. before you’re completely out of earshot you hear the couple cooing over how cute kyle was with you and his reply of “well, it’s not exactly hard when she’s one of my favourite colleagues…” and the fondness in his voice makes your cheeks heat up. 

-

johnny nearly trips over you as you’re crouched behind the paint desk. “steamin’ jesus, what’re ya daein’ under there hen?” you hush him quickly and silently with a finger raised to your lips. you don’t want to speak because you know the giant is still out there looking for you, you thought you’d given him the slip near the paint brushes but then he’d rounded the end of the aisle so you darted for the relative safety of the paint desk. johnny crouches down next to you and whispers “are we hidin’ from someone? is it simon?” you shake your head and go to answer him but then your blood runs cold as you hear that familiar accented voice. “excuse me? i was wondering if you might help, i’m looking for the fräulein who was helping me?” johnny shoots a look at you and you squish yourself further into the corner of the desk hoping against hope that johnny won’t give you away. thankfully, johnny straightens up from behind the desk with his most charming customer service grin “sorry pal, i’ve no’ seen her. ‘s only me on the desk the day.” the creep sounds nonplussed at johnny’s thick glaswegian accent (you’ve certainly never heard it ramped up like that in all the times you’ve spoken with him) and a little crestfallen when he starts to reply with “oh, perhaps you’d be good enough to -” johnny interrupts him, voice still pitched in a friendly manner but you can hear an undercurrent of tension “naw, sorry pal. i’m busy pitin’ the hems oan the tins. is there anythin’ i can dae fer ye mixin’ wise?” there’s a moment of silence and you watch johnny’s smile slowly slip off his face, his lips thinning into a stern line. “ah, um. no thank you. perhaps she will find me.” the creep sounds a little nervous now if the uncomfortable laugh he lets out is any indication. “aye right. well i’d best be lettin’ you get oan then eh?” johnny shifts on his feet slightly so his calf brushes up against your arm. after another tense moment you hear the lumbering footsteps of the giant move away from the desk. johnny looks down at you with a mischievous grin, “i’ve got to say bonnie girl, you look a right sight down there.” you only feel a little bit bad when you punch him lightly in the leg and he yelps in shock as the blush on your cheeks spreads down your neck. 

-

simon is less than impressed when you duck under the chain across the warehouse doors and flatten yourself against the noticeboard out of view from the shop floor. “you stupid? chains up which means the forklift is out so you need to be too.” he’s pissed off and thinking about how much paperwork he’ll have to fill out now because you didn’t bother to think about the cameras in your dash for safety. he takes a big step towards you before swerving off to the side to block the customer that has just appeared at the chain. “the fuck do you want?” he practically snarls. ‘this isn’t the fucking caff.” simon squares his shoulders and glares at the oversized dickhead that’s wasting his time. “well? can’t you fuckin’ read? staff access only. and you’re not staff so fuck off.” simon barks at the man, not letting him get a word in edgewise to start bitching about stock or whatever it is that he wants. simon couldn’t give a shit, he just wants the customer (and you) to fuck off promptly so he can start moving pallettes around. the customer just blinks and takes several steps back before turning away. you let out a shaky sigh and thank simon quietly. simon hums in acknowledgement and sweeps a critical eye down your lightly trembling form. “he botherin’ ya?” at your nod he hums again before jerking his head towards the back of the warehouse “go put a hi-vis on and sit in the office, i’ll come get you when i’m done on the ‘lift.”. when simon comes back into the office two paper cups of tea in hand thirty minutes later, you offer him a small smile and catch his lips twitch up briefly before he turns away to plunk his cup down on top of a cluttered filing cabinet. 

-

price practically walks into you as you come flying around the end of the plumbing aisle. it’s unusual to see you so far away from the customer service desk and looking so flustered. “alright, love?” his hand is on your elbow as he asks. you crane your neck round to look behind you, too worried about that customer to enjoy his large warm hand on your bare skin. price straightens up and drops his hand away from you when he spots a customer behind you, in his opinion the customer is moving a little too fast to be considered casual. price bristles slightly when he catches the dark look on the gentleman’s face. oh no, he doesn’t like the look of this one at all. especially when you look at price and mouth “help” quickly. price steps forward and puts you at his back, blocking the creep from getting any closer. “can i help you, mate?” his gruff voice is just shy of sounding friendly and you watch his back muscles shift under the black polo top he’s wearing. “no thank you, i wanted to speak with the little woman some more.” god the customer is weird, you shudder a little at being referred to as a “little woman”. price shifts to block the customer’s view of you more fully as he does you notice the back of price’s neck has gone a little red. “not possible. i need her for a job.” price’s words sound like they’re being ground out through gritted teeth in response. “i’m sure simon would be more than willing to help you.” you jolt a little when you spot simon at the customer’s shoulder. a man shouldn’t be able to move so silently in steel toed safety boots. you catch a brief wince flicker across the customer’s face when simon’s hand comes down on his shoulder, slightly too hard to be entirely polite. “ah, um, yes. perhaps that’s for the best.” simon leads the customer away and you step up beside price to thank him. he looks deadly serious when he turns to face you “any time love.” his stern blue stare softens slightly and you’re sure you catch his gaze flicker to your mouth briefly before he clears his throat and turns away “c’mon then. back to the returns desk with you.”. 

- -

AN: i have very much hidden from customers in the warehouse and behind the paint desk at B&Q. don’t be like reader (or me) and hide in the goods-in area, you will get shouted at for it. 

translation for johnny’s scots: “pitin’ the hems oan” = putting the hems on, meaning to put something in order or to restrain something/someone.

[yearning-for-autumn]

Eris NSFW Alphabet

A/N: Ok, this is very self-indulgent...leave in the comments who you would like next! Also any other headcanons you have for Eris. I literally live for comments.

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

Eris loves aftercare because A. deep down he’s an exhausted mother hen and B. he’s touch starved. Basically it’s more for him than it is for you. Just let him fuss over you and he’ll be happy. After a particularly intense session, he has a deep need to know you are ok, that you feel safe and cared for. He can’t bear the thought of you not feeling like the princess you are, and if you ever experience subdrop he would absolutely panic and be very much not chill about it.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Eris is fond of his hands, he has long fingers (wink wink). He likes to compare his hands with yours to see the size difference. 

On you, Eris is a tits guy through and through. He’s never really grown out of the teenage obsession, and thinks any and all boobs are great. Small boobs, perfect to hold. Big boobs, perfect to fuck. All boobs are good to suck on. I’m not going to say anything about Mummy issues but I’m sure you can catch my drift. 

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

On the subject of tits, Eris loves to cum on them. There’s something about claiming you with his seed that gets him worked up. Whenever he cums anywhere on your body you know you’re about to go for round two, he can’t help it. 

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

Eris has this fantasy of dressing you up in a collar and having you act like his little pet all day. He keeps this under wraps and probably always will unless you’re down to clown. But there’s something that gets him so worked up about the thought of having you down on all fours, a collar with a tag that says his name on it, lapping at his thighs for a taste of his cock whilst he coos, talking about how sweet you are, what a cute puppy…yeah…

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I think Eris is probably quite experienced. He had an adventurous youth, behind his fathers back of course, and he definitely knows how to fuck you right. When he’s finally free of his father though, and is able to have a proper relationship with someone he loves, I can imagine him getting nervous that he’s not experienced enough with anything long term, but this is his inner critic talking, I don’t think you would be complaining.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Eris wants you on your knees, whether that’s all-fours, on the floor, riding him, etc. He’s a big big fan of reverse cowgirl because he can watch his cock driving into you in exquisite detail, and he can pull out and paint the small of your back with his cum so easily. 

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

Eris isn’t really a goofy guy, his humour is more dry and sarcastic which doesn’t translate great to sex. He tends to be pretty serious, and the only humour involved is one sided, with him amusing himself, degrading and teasing you (but let’s be honest, you love it).

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

The carpet matches the drapes, 100 percent. He has a happy trail down his perfect v-line and keeps things well-groomed, he’s a male that values his appearance. 

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

Eris doesn’t really go in for romance, he swings one of two ways, hard dom or super soft dom. Depending on his (and your) mood, he can be an arrogant, degrading ass, or sweet and gentle yet teasing. He’s very good at reading your mood and always knows exactly how to play things, this man is an expert in body language. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Eris prefers if you’re the one getting him off, honestly he would ask for a handjob everyday if he could (he probably does). But if either of you are away, he’s not exactly going to not masturbate to the memories of you, cock drunk and drooling as he fists your hair and takes you in his chair right in front of the window so all of Autumn can see. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

DDLG - When you’re both in a certain mood, I think Eris likes to baby you a lot. He wants to look after you, in the small things as well as during sex. He loves it when you act all shy and innocent, it only makes him want you more.

Innocence - More on that topic, I feel like Eris has a bit of a virginity kink. He would definitely want to be the one to take your virginity if possible, and if not don’t worry because he’s down to role-play. 

Pet-play - Eris wants to own you. He wants a collar around your neck, and he wants you to obey his every command. He also thinks you look absolutely adorable with little puppy ears clipped into your hair, it makes him want to absolutely ruin you. Call him Master, better yet call him your King.

This is going to come up later as well, but I don’t think Eris would want to switch with anyone other than someone he was extremely comfortable with, so before you he would have never tried it. That being said, he does have a bit of a Mummy kink (yes im british sorry) and I think he would be down to explore this, but he’s definitely more comfortable in the dominant role. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Eris is a bit of a fan of public sex but only when you are involved. He doesn’t really want to put himself in a compromising position, but he’s more than happy to show you off. More than anything he wants people to see your submission to him, not necessarily sexual, but imagine sitting next to him in a meeting and all of a sudden you’re pulled onto his lap so that he can kiss your neck whilst listening to some boring courtier.

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

You. You get him going. Because he’s horny. No but he’s sooo turned on if you sink to your knees, bat your eyelashes, ask him if you can make him feel good. He’s so going to cum all over your face. 

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

Eris likes to degrade you, but if he ever gets comfortable enough to sub for you he can and will cry if you try it. Don’t degrade him. His self-esteem is on the ground as it is, there’s no need for that. 

He also doesn’t really want to do anything involving feet, I just have a silly headcanon that he really dislikes them. Like it’s bordering on a phobia for him. He hates seeing them. Who knows why, I definitely don’t and I just made it up. 

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

This man can make shoving his cock in your mouth feel like he’s the one giving you a treat. Like is it really giving, no, but do you appreciate it, yes.

He is an all-star pussy eater though, he’ll probably eat you out quickly and efficiently as part of foreplay most days to make sure you are thoroughly soaked and open for him. 

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

Eris fucks rough. Let’s be real. He fucks with fire in his veins, I doubt that means slow and romantic. On your anniversary though, he’s going to light candles, and he’s going to drive you absolutely out of your mind, fucking you slow and hard, whispering praise and cruel teasing as he fucks you into the bed.

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

Eris loves a quickie honestly. Oh, he’s got a meeting at 10? Time for a quick fuck. Oh you’re late for work? But you have 15 minutes for a blowjob right? 

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

He is down to experiment, I mean he’s quite kinky really and has experimented in the past, but he’ll be a bit nervous to scare you off or go too far when you’re early in your relationship. He has some trust issues he’s working through, but he really does want to try everything with you.

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

Mmm Eris lasts a long time, and he wants to go multiple rounds. He just has so many positions he wants you in that he can’t just choose one, he has to try a few out right?

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

Eris love love loves to dress you up, i’m talking collar, garters, lingerie. He’s very much into toys, for both of you, and thinks anything that enhances your pleasure is worth it. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s a tease, he’s a degrading tease. ‘Aw baby you like that? Stupid slut, drooling around my cock, does my pretty baby want more? Hm? Well you’re not getting it.’ 

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

I think at first he would stick to dirty talk, and try not to moan too loudly. But after you express your interest he lets go completely. He’s feral, he’s loud and he doesn’t stop talking. You could probably cum from just his words to be honest, he has a filthy mouth. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I think the first time you ever try pegging Eris he cums literally immediately. He won’t let you bring it up ever, and he’s insanely embarrassed by it, but deep down he knows you only care about making him feel good and would never tease him in bad faith. It takes him a little while to try it again though, because our poor baby is repressed. 

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

Eris has such a pretty cock. It curves upwards in just the right way, it’s the prettiest shade of pink at the tip and blushes deep red when he’s needy and desperate. He’s longer than he is thick, and it hits all the right spots.

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

Eris is a horny horny boy, but he’s quite good at hiding it. He tries his best not to overwhelm you with how much he wants you, but realistically you want him just as much, I mean how could you not.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Eris physically cannot fall asleep until you are asleep. He will fuss over you for as long as it takes, and no matter how much his eyes are drooping shut, he needs to know you are tucked up and comfy first.

[bigdumbbambieyes]

Steve stirs from his mid-day nap to the sound of cooking.

The sun’s begun to dip just beyond the California horizon, painting the sky with a sunset, and he sighs with a pout because he knows he’s fucked up his sleep schedule.

Well, maybe. He’s older now, and getting tired by 9pm has become the usual — to the point where he and Billy begin to fall asleep on the couch together while watching Late Night.

As the scent of whatever is being cooked fills the room (it definitely smells like garlic, maybe Billy’s making his favourite pasta), his stomach growls and he knows that his nap is officially over.

He stretches his arms over his head with a sleepy sound as he shuffles into the kitchen, the crackles of hot oil and a wooden spoon stirring are heard just over the gentle sound of the radio above the fridge, where it has been for the last 25 years.

And there, in front of the stove, is his husband, cooking his favourite pasta.

Billy’s humming along with the radio, his hips moving a little, too, and it makes Steve smile.

“Smells good,” he hums, stepping further into the kitchen, watching Billy glance over his shoulder with wide blue eyes.

A smile takes over his handsome face, gently lined from years of smiling and crying and soaking up the sun. His freckles are still stronger than ever, his skin bronzed, various tattoos scattered across his arms beautifully. Steve doesn’t know how he got so lucky.

“Sleeping beauty is finally awake, hm?” Billy teases, motioning him over with a nod of his head, so Steve steps into his husband’s space and leans against his side while Billy wraps his arm around him and peppers the side of his face with kisses.

Billy gives affection so easily now. It’s also a beautiful thing to see, to feel. Steve smiles and turns his head, catching those lips with his own, humming happily.

“Need any help?” He asks, nosing at Billy’s jaw when the blond turns to look down at his cooking again.

“Mm…chop the basil for me?” Billy suggests, and Steve nods, pulling away to help.

He sets their wooden cutting board down and as Billy hands him the fresh leaves, his eyes catch on what looks like a new tattoo, just on the outside of his wrist.

The wrap makes it hard to see, so he asks with a smile, “You got a new one?”

Billy’s wearing that smile he gets whenever he knows something that Steve doesn’t, and he’s just waiting for him to figure it out. He nods and holds his wrist out to him, “Smooth the wrap down.”

Gently, Steve smoothes the pad of his thumb along the tattoo, and his jaw drops as his eyes widen, brown meeting blue immediately.

There, in red cursive ink, is Steve’s name.

“You didn’t!” Steve laughs breathlessly, feeling his cheeks heat in a blush as he looks at it again to confirm that yes, Billy got his name tattooed on a random Monday.

He feels so…giddy.

Like they’re eighteen again and about to run off to the quarry.

“I did,” Billy smirks, so smug and so fond, “Wanted you to always be with me.”

Steve shoots him a playful glare, smiling still, as he teases, “What, wearing our wedding band and taking my last name wasn’t enough?”

Billy laughs at that, grinning as he shakes his head and reaches to pull Steve close again, humming, “No, I’m greedy, baby — you know that. Gotta have you as much as I can.”

There’s butterflies in Steve’s stomach as he chuckles and gives Billy a couple kisses, pouring the overwhelming amount of affection into his husband’s lips and cheek and jaw, which Billy returns eagerly.