#and it feels like in -24 c

[cooler-luckysandcat]

I love it here

[bread-is-my-life]

Winter stainmight, winter stainmight! ❄️

Plus a comic

A silly headcanon of mine that is 100% canon/j is that Stain always has some spare pair of gloves with him ONLY because Toshi always forgets his 😭 I think after a while it will just become an ordinary thing for them. Just a small moment of Stain caring for Toshi hehehfd :3

[evanescentdawn]

AHAHAH I totally was gonna do something for Lucifer ship month. I didn’t end finishing this one sadly. sharing a fav bit. well. it shares fav with another part. it was really fun n interesting to write this ^^

Saburouta walks further into the dim hallway, door creeking close behind him and further encapsulating him into the dark. There is barely any brightness to make out the place but there's no need. It's a bare hallway. Just him now, and the walls surrounding him. It seems to go on forever. Saburouta knows it doesn't though.

He walks. The echoes of footsteps fill the hallway, keeping him company in the almost-dark.

He reaches the end of the hallway, stepping into another place. A large room that feels exceedingly larger than life too. Just as empty, but more well-lit despite the contining lack of source. Saburouta smiles. He soon comes to a stop at middle, the echoes of his footsteps ceasing. He's in complete silence now.

Just him and this room.

[stabknives]

Picrew easy with him because he's all concepts to me

[tagapagsalaysay]

Only guy crazy enough to drink a milkshake when there's a shear line

[dreamybasil]

(Olive seems to become more comfortable around Basil)

Don't worry, we're not gonna hurt them or anything. I hate violence after all, same as Ash. But...

They have committed a lot of crimes that most certainly would get them at least a life sentence without parole.

I think that's fitting. After all, they put Ash through over two years of literal torture. Life in prison seems nice compared to that.

They deserve far worse than a life sentence, but...

I want to be better than them.

"Yeah.. violence won't fit.." "But to be honest, I would kind of like to put them through the same torture through which Ash went through.. And probably for more than 2 years."

[faaun]

ok i came up w reasons for why i am currently the way i am

[wannabepapa]

it's several days past but i'm a year older and still have yet to have a cuddle party it's unfair

[magdeleinas]

I'm not an expert on this at all but like if the weather app says it's 24°c and feels like 32°c but my physical car that is outside physically taking the temperature and it says 33°c then maybe it's not 24°c maybe it's actually 33°c

[jeansdoll]

thinking about caleb who loves seeing you on top of him. you’re riding him just like he taught you to, tits bouncing in his face, perky nipples begging to be licked and sucked. hands find themselves pressed on his chest, nails digging into his soft skin that form little red crescents. your face twists in pleasure, eyes barely staying open while your mouth remains in it’s ‘o’ shape as you feel his cock reach so deep with every drop of your hips.

he watches you with hooded eyes, admiring how breathtaking you look getting yourself off on his cock — using him. every roll of your hips has his name slipping through your lips, tangled with incoherent words and sinful whines he could listen to 24/7 and not get tired of.

and what caleb loves the most is when you start to struggle. when your legs threaten to give out, and movements grow weak and slow. your breathing turns heavy, and before you know it, you slump against his chest, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. his hands remain at your hips, tightening his grip to keep you right there.

“tired, pipsqueak?”

your breath slows and you nod weakly, face nestled in the crook of his neck, missing the smirk plastered across his face. and instead of flipping you over, letting you lie down on the bed, you feel the sudden buck of his hips, filling you up once again, forcing out a gasp from you. catching you off guard by the intensity.

you barely have time to process it before caleb’s thrusting into you at a relentless pace, giving you no time to catch your breath. you’re a mess, moaning anything possible right next to his ear, each sound spurring him on to fuck you harder, deeper.

“c-caleb ‘s too much”

your body burns, toes curling, that tight feeling within you ready to snap. his grip slides down your body, hands squeezing the plump flesh of your ass, holding you at just the right angle so every thrust hits that same spot, over and over.

“you… wanted to ride me, so fucking take it.”

a/n - kinda need caleb to be real 😇

꩜ masterlist !

[captainfairygodmother]

It's that time of the year again where the UK temporarily moves to be along the Equator

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

The Rain is Especially Loud Tonight

Synopsis: The Prefect gets hurt due to Crowley's negligence.

TW: Injury, Stitches, Medical Stuff, Prefect gets caught under a collapsed Ramshackle

Part 1 (here), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10 (coming soon), . . .

Tick Tick Tick Tick

The room would be completely silent were it not for the ticking of the clock on the wall.

The environment was more comfortable than your usual medical setting, but it still felt cold in a way.

The door creaked open and in stepped professor Crewel. "Hey, Pup." His voice lacked its usual stern tone one would hear in the classroom; instead, his voice was gentle and almost hoarse.

The hoarseness was no doubt a result of him screaming at the headmage in a roar you shiver even recalling. He had spent hours tearing into the man for his gross negligence and irresponsibility.

"Pup?" His voice became more worried when you failed to answer.

"Sorry." A meek, rasped voice leaves you throat. Your throat burns with dryness despite the 6 glasses of water you already drank, and it feels like every syllable echoes through your head and causes an intense, throbbing pain. You don't recognize the voice that claws its way out of your throat as your own.

You hear the soft scrape of a chair on the floor next to your bed. "No. Don't apologize, Pup." Rocking your gaze slowly over to him its clear to you, with the way his jaw clenches and unclenches while his eyes search the blanket covering you, that he wants to say something, but isn't sure what.

You slowly rock your head to look forward again. "Everyone's been in such a panic. . .and it's my fault, I-"

The man cuts you off as you choke on your words: "Pup. This is not your fault."

"But-" Your throat feels like its been given a massage with a thousand razor blades. The coughing your attempts to speak cause only make the pain worse.

Crewel quickly grabs another glass of water and holds it up to your lips for you to drink. "But nothing, Pup- Keep those arms down or you'll re-open the wounds. That old building was bound to collapse at some point. We all knew it. If the fault is on anyone it's on us staff. Crowley made you stay there, and we didn't stop him." The glass cup clinks slightly too harshly onto the nightstand as he sets it down.

Silence falls between the two of you.

Tick Tick Tick Tick

The ticking of the clock numbs your thoughts. You force your mind to stop focusing on the pain radiating from every inch of your body and instead listen to the steady ticking of the clock. The only other sound that can be herd is the occasional hurried footsteps outside the door as the other staff do their best to take care of the situation.

Your injuries have already been treated by a specialty team sent from STYX the moment the news got to them. They were the only ones aside from Grim, Leona, and the staff that had seen your mangled form before you were wrapped up like a mummy. You didn't have to ask how bad it was. Seeing Crowley throw up at the sight of you was enough to tell you it was bad.

The STYX team had spent nearly a whole 24 hours stitching you back together like some ragdoll and rearranging the many pieces of you that had been ripped and jostled out of place. If not for them. . .well, you don't want to think about it. If you looked like a mummy on the outside, you were sure that under the bandages you looked like Frankenstein's monster. There really wasn't a single bit of you that got out of that death trap unscathed.

You were kept in the school infirmary instead of being carted off to some high-tech STYX facility only because they needed to operate on you as soon as possible and didn't want to move you too much after the initial procedures. They made do by shipping a ton (literally speaking, more like 3 tons) of medical equipment to the school, most of which was now littered around the infirmary in a rushed yet professional way.

Despite your closeness to your friends, the only people who had come to see you were the staff. It's not that none of your friends wanted to see you, but that they weren't allowed to. The doctor's worried having them in so soon, when they were still full of hysteria from the news, wouldn't be the best idea. They weren't able to text you either as your phone had been crushed in the collapse.

"How's Grim?"

Professor Crewel hums: "Physically, he's pretty unscathed. He just has a few scrapes and bruises. Mentally, he's a bit traumatized."

You supposed that made sense. You didn't remember much, but what you did remember was Grim's voice. He had been returning to the dorm from after school detention when he found the building in shambles on the ground. He called out to you but your lungs were filled with debris and your torso was being crushed by layers of rubble. The dorm ghosts met Grim at the edge of the junk pile that used to be a dorm and confirmed that you were inside and that you needed help. The ghosts talked to you as you laid there, not being able to physically move anything off you themselves. They kept you awake and assured you that Grim was getting help.

Not long later you heard shouting. Two of the ghosts stayed with you while the third went out to meet the staff and fill them in. You were told after the fact that that's about the time they called up Leona to use his unique magic so they could get you out as soon as possible (that was the first time many saw the lion run).

You were blanking in and out of consciousness when they found you, but you remember them finding you. The feeling of the weight of the rubble lessening as it was methodically turned to sand and removed (in order to not end up crushing you with sand instead), the small grains dripping on your face, and eventually, the full force of the pouring rain battering your face as the last of the rubble was removed from above you. You remember Leona's manic eyes turning horrified, Crowley puking, and worst of all, Grim's face.

"STYX sent over a few trauma counselors. There are ones assigned specifically to Leona and Grim as well since they saw some of the worst of it." Crewel finally broke the silence again.

"And you? You and. . .the other teachers were there too. . .and Sam."

"Calm down, Pup. We've all had evaluations done to assess how we're handling it. We'll be fine.

"What about. . ." Your voice trails off, but from the look in your eyes, Crewel can tell what you were about to ask.

"What about the headmage?"

You nod, wincing slightly when the motion disturbs an injury on your neck.

"He's under investigation." Crewel responds after a brief pause. He knew that you surely couldn't be all that fond of the crow, but as you saw it, he was probably also your only ticket home. Crewel looked up to gauge your response, but your face remained neutral.

"And you, Pup? I obviously know you aren't doing particularly well physically right now, but what about mentally?"

"Hm?"

Crewel hesitated, not wanting to dig around in a mental wound and make it worse, "You were. . .under there for a while. I'm sure it must've been. . .scary."

You think for a moment before responding: "Was I really under there that long? It didn't feel like it. . .I think I passed out a few times." Your mumbled words put Crewel at ease in a way. He's not happy that you had been passing out, but he was at least glad that you weren't stuck under there fully conscious and feeling every second tick by as if it were an hour.

"Hmm. I see." Crewel nods. "I ought to let you rest now. A counselor will stop by tomorrow to talk to you about what happened." He stands up as he says this, his knuckles still white from how tightly he'd been gripping the fabric of his pants. "Rest well, Pup."

You simply nod, this time more carefully as to not disturb your wounds, and watch him walk out. When the door closes you swear you hear a choked sob.

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[mini-uzzy]

.

[rafasbride]

愛 ⋮ your nipples are sensitive and lactating .ᐟ

being pregnant had it's pros and cons.

cons are: absolute back pain 24/7, can't reach down, and constantly having weird cravings.

but the pros from rafayel's eyes? it's definitely your tits. before they were already beautiful, but after your first 5 months, they have seemed to grow into something more gorgeous.

he doesn't even deny it when you point out how he ogles your breast with no shame. "stop staring." you'd narrow your eyes at him, but he'd just hum and nod—eyes glued to how your tits fit your dress. "sure, honey."

and he's definitely not shy when he's rock hard from simply watching you change. "damn..." under whispered breath, you didn't catch what he said. turning around, you might as well give him a whiplash from how sinfully attractive he found you and your breast. "huh? you said something?"

"are you... already producing...?" he questions blankly, standing up from the bed as he stalks near your form, hands at the ready.

"what? my—oh!" you're surprised to say the least when your beloved husband cups both tits on his large hands. "rafa! you know how they get..." red blossoms your cheeks, suddenly embarrassed from the attention and the constant squeezing he gives.

by the 5th knead, a single drop of white landed on his hand. a small gasp leaves his throat as he looks at you, a little disheveled. "cutie, please?"

oh you just know what he's asking. his obsession with your chest somehow grew and for the past few weeks he's been requesting, begging to suck on them. rafayel knew they were more sensitive now that you're pregnant and because he's massaging them; so he'd like to have some taste, or two.

"please consider, i'll make you feel good." he look so... dazed, like he's in a trance by simply looking at you. after a few seconds, you just gave him a quiet okay before his mouth is almost devouring your nipples. "aw, fuck! babyyy, c-calm down!"

suckkkkk.

shit, wow. he screamed in his mind.

the first few drops of milk came to take a rest on his tastebuds and he's an absolute goner.

he doesn't know if it's even possible to come by just this, by just sucking your nipples so hard milk comes out—but he just did, and he isn't bashful about it.

"ah fuck... just came, s-so good..." he moans from your spit covered nipple as he moves to the other side. one of his hands grabbed your curled one, guiding you to touch where his dick had leaked his cum. "y-you're such—ah... a pervert..." you whisper to him, but the cocky bastard just gave you a dizzy smile, a few trickle of milk flowing down the side of his mouth.

"keep touching me cutie, i'll give you a proper thank you later..." he moans, feeling your hand give slow strokes to his cock through his sweatpants.

"i-is it good?" stroking his cock and his fluffy hair at the same time probably gave him euphoria, so you heard. his other hand circles your waist as he guides you back to the bed, laying you down.

"more than you think."

all rights reserved, rafasbride 2025

Ი︵𐑼 % dividers from @/cafekitsune

[mrsbarnesblog]

˖˚⊹ the "it" couple

➤ summary: you and Rafe being the hottest couple on the island

➤w/c: 1.3k.

➤ warnings: established relationship, mentions of sex, mentions of nude pictures, Rafe is reader's first everything, you're both lovesick

➤ a/n: my obsession with soft and painfully in love Rafe is not curable at this point. but like could you imagine having him all to yourself?? ughhh the things i'd let him do to me😩

masterlist

Everyone knew that there are couples that, at first glance, give you the impression that they just have really good sex. Like, they are so hot and perfectly complement each other, with a certain vibe oozing out of them, especially when they are together. 

You and Rafe were that couple. 

Before you started dating, no one ever considered that two polar opposites like you might even coexist. You were a kook, but still completely different from Rafe and his little gang. You were pretty but more on the quiet side, never showing off or bothering anybody.

Rafe, on the other hand, was mean and sarcastic to everyone and everything. It was a good thing that you put him in his place the first time he talked to you, making it clear that you are not having his shit. And also making Rafe instantly interested and following you like a puppy.

You were annoyingly teasing and flirting with each other, and everyone tried not to get involved in whatever was going on. It was your first experience with a guy, because before that, nobody was really making their shots, or, at least, you never paid enough attention to notice it, choosing to focus on yourself. But with Rafe, it felt fun and so damn easy. 

Your first kiss set everything in its place because you finally gave in to your hidden emotions. It made sense why you were always arguing and pestering each other—you simply craved attention from one another, and it was the easiest way to get it. 

Surprisingly, Rafe’s rough edges softened, especially around you, and he was so affectionate and craved you around him 24/7. Though, knowing that you’ve never been in relationships before, he never pushed you to do anything, just following your pace. 

But after your first time happened in the third month of dating, after the ice melted and your insecurities fully disappeared, Rafe almost got another version of his girlfriend. 

If he thought that you couldn’t be better, then he was wrong. 

He never understood his friends who said that they had to almost beg their girlfriends to have sex, mostly because Rafe had never been in actual relationships before. But it made even less sense for him because you, seemingly, had the same energy and high sex drive as him. 

The first few times may have been slightly awkward with you still learning and trying to understand your own body, but once you got confident, you became unstoppable. 

Whether it was early morning, the middle of the day, or way past your bedtime, you were ready to have sex right away, straddling Rafe's legs or luring him into a kiss while your hands slipped under his pants.  

It was crazy how much you both wanted each other. It was a perfect fucking match to have someone with exactly the same needs. You probably have been bent over every single flat surface in the house, and not a single room was safe from the two of you. He wanted you all to himself, and he could go hours just worshiping your body and fucking you into bliss. 

You were almost glued together, never coming to an event alone. Rafe was so obsessed with the way you looked, with your smell, and with the feeling of your skin on his, so he always had to touch you one way or another. His friends teased him that he was absolutely pussy-whipped for you, and he had never denied it. They also started calling you Mrs. Cameron because you acted like a married couple, and neither of you were against that nickname.

To say more, the idea of that made Rafe so feral for you that he didn’t let you get out of bed the following day. Not that you complained, though.

Rafe loved sneaking out with you. Whenever you two had to visit a gala with your families, he always snatched you from the main room to drag you to the bathroom or another hidden place to have a quickie or to bury his head under your dress because you were too hot to resist. Yeah, maybe other people noticed it, giving you their usual politely awkward smiles, but neither of you care. 

On his birthday, you gave him the best fucking gift, which was a stack of your naked Polaroid pictures. You were really nervous to do that, thinking that Rafe might react differently, but he reminded you once again why he was your perfect match. After looking through the photos several times, he literally attacked you, throwing you back on the bed and giving you the best orgasms of your life. 

Since that day, one of the less explicit pictures of your ass has been placed in his wallet.

You were officially the “it” couple on the island, with everyone either admiring or being jealous of that spark, which never seemed to diminish. Everyone saw the way the Rafe Cameron gave you heart eyes, soft smiles, and gentle kisses. The way he held you close to himself, protecting you, taking care of you, and treating you like a queen.

Some people told you that it was only the excitement of a new relationship, but after a few years of dating, with a promise ring on your finger, it was still there. You still craved each other's touch; you still craved being together whenever it was possible, always going on dates and trips, attending all of Kook’s events, but mostly spending lazy days in your shared house. Sex was even better than before—more passionate, fun, hot, and full of unconditional love.

Despite the gossip on the island, Rafe didn't get “bored” of you. No, over time, he became addicted to you because you felt like home, and there was nothing better than being with you. 

He didn't need any other women. And he still couldn't grasp the idea of cheating. If he had you, then why on earth would he do that? Every time he came home, the best person in the world and the best sex of his life were in that exact location, so he never complained about anything.

You were his aphrodisiac, and whether you were in full glam, in a bikini on the beach, or in his old t-shirt with messy hair, he couldn’t just keep his hands to himself and not kiss the air out of you. 

He liked how you stayed at home, doing whatever you wanted and treating yourself while he worked. You always greeted him with homemade food, but more importantly, you acted as if you had not seen him in months.

You were waiting on the porch or finishing up in the kitchen, but when you saw him, you ran and jumped into his arms and pulled him into a kiss. It always melted Rafe’s worries and bad mood away, as his shoulders sagged in relief from being in your arms again. 

You always ended up in your bedroom, with you on or under him, while your hands were tugging at each other’s clothes. Rafe knew that it would eventually end up with him finally putting a baby in you—something that more and more flooded his mind—but for the foreseeable future, he first had to officially make you his Mrs. Cameron.

And the red box with the big-ass diamond ring, which was currently sitting in the drawer, was just waiting for the perfect moment.  

[tojisun]

price calling himself daddy 24/7 just to keep you in a certain headspace. even does it when you’re in a mood and he’s sinking to his knees telling his pretty girl to fuck his mouth about it

oh jesus christ this does it for me

john seeing you be so bratty and mean — full of spite and festered resentment because this day had been so shitty — but he just. folds himself before you, sinking to his knees, all starry-eyed and wobbly lips underneath his scruff.

he rubs his thumb on the inside of your thigh, humming, “won’t you, baby?”

your breath hitches, of course it would, and john is still all quiet smiles and rumbling voice and overflowing patience.

“use daddy to get the edge off, yes? ‘cause daddy just wants to see ‘is baby happy, s’all,” he croons, his eyes darkened with his own desire.

and god, john’s got you all jittery and hyper focused on his touch, feeling like the rug’s been ripped from underneath you, leaving you to free-fall into this haze that john’s coaxing you in. he’s leading you to it with such gentle cadence that you slip underneath the fog easily — your trembling hands reach to tug at your shorts, then at your panties, before spreading your legs wider, allowing john to scoot closer until his breath’s tickling your dampening folds.

“come on, sweet’art,” john rumbles, so close to your cunt you’re sure you felt his voice pulse against your core. “hands on daddy’s head; no need t’be shy about it.”

a whimper trickles from your lips, a broken little thing, as you reach forward to fist at his hair, gripping with a trembling hesitance because john may be offering but it’s still so difficult for you to take the lead. to— to use him, as he said.

because john’s this… big man. not quite literally but he has this pull in him that makes you ache, like more than anything, you are just john’s girl. no expectations, no responsibilities; just john’s sweetheart, the one he spoils with such ease and happiness. the one that makes him fold — to his knees, like right now.

the first glide is uncertain, like testing the waters even though john had devoured your cunt time and time again. but still, this was a different voyage — you feel even more exposed like this, holding his own pleasure and his own control in your lither hands. john moans, though, loud and drawn out, like it’s your face on his crotch. and you stutter, battered with your own crashing desires, and john—

he gets it. he feels your twitching fingers and the tension in your muscles because he digs his face deeper, tongue dragging along your folds with gusto, and this, like this, the dam breaks. your veins sing with pleasure, your synapses buzzing as the onslaught of your ecstasy burns through, devouring everything in its wake.

you don’t even notice the way your grip on john’s head had tightened, so focused on using his face to fuck your cunt — sliding him up-down-in-in-more. “daddy, more!”

and john groans, an apex predator’s bellow, before wider hands grip the plush of your thighs so he could fuck his tongue deeper, pushing his face closer, not minding the fact that any more and he could pretty much be smothered by your cunt and your slick—

god, your slick. the most fucking delicious thing he’s ever gulped down. and you’re so wet, dripping down your thighs and into his tongue, filling up his jowls for him to gulp down. to devour.

his precious girl, so delicious. so beautiful. so desperate for daddy.

“gonna-! daddy, m’gonna-!”

john growls, pushing your thighs further apart. his scalp burns with tiny pricks as you tug at his hair but that’s little sacrifice for this prize that’s laying before him, all sweet and needy. cunt weeping for him. only for him.

your squirt makes a mess out of him, but john doesn’t care. he gulps it down, slurping all that slip past his maw because — “baby. m’baby,” john sighs into your pussy. “so good f’r me, sweet’art. so good.”

john chances a glance up your way but you’re not even with him anymore, your gaze faraway.

“aww, sweet thing,” he croons, finally climbing up to mount you. “come on, darlin’. come back to daddy.”

but all you could do is warble a reply, and john can’t help but coo because like this, you’re even sweeter than usual. so precious for him; so precious in your trembling ecstasy.