#enjoy my self-indulgency in this practically-OC

[msbigredmachine]

40 Days & 40 Nights (Roman Reigns)

When Roman and Naima commit to abstaining from sex for Lent, they think it’ll be a test of willpower. What they don’t anticipate is just how torturous it will be. The Tribal Chief has always been a man of discipline, but resisting Naima? That might just be his toughest challenge yet.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/Black fem OC

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: I've been enjoying writing about these two a little too much, thank you for indulging me 😁

This is based off characters from my multi-chapter Roman fic, Finding Angel.

Day 0: The Agreement

Roman’s tour bus hums softly beneath them, rolling steadily down the highway. It’s late, and they’re curled up together on the leather couch, the glow from the TV illuminating their faces. Naima’s sinfully long legs are draped across his lap, his fingers lazily plucking at her gold anklet.

She sighs, stretching against him like a cat. “Babe?”

“Hmm?”

“You ever do Lent properly before?”

Roman lifts a brow. “Like, actually giving something up?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He thinks for a moment, rubbing at his beard. “Not really. I mean, I’d try. No cheesecake, no cussing...Never lasted the whole forty days though.” He smirks. “What about you?”

Naima nods. “I have. Back when I used to go to church regularly. But since we’re together now…” She tilts her head, eyeing him with mischief. “We should do something big. A challenge.”

Roman chuckles, giving her calf a squeeze. “Yeah? Like what?”

She purses her lips, watching his hand creep up her thigh. “No sex.”

Roman’s fingers freeze. His entire body goes still. “What?”

Naima grins. “Forty days. Forty nights. No sex.”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head like she’s just spoken in tongues. “Woman, you play too damn much.”

“I’m serious.” She bites her lip, trying not to laugh at his expression; eyes narrowed, lips slightly parted, like he’s just been blindsided. “Lent is supposed to be about self-discipline, sacrifice. If we gon’ do it, might as well go all in and shit.”

He leans back, arms folding over his chest as he casts her a skeptical look. “Define all in.”

Naima ticks the rules off on her fingers. “No sex. No self-gratification. No porn. No nudes.”

Roman blinks. His nostrils flare. “No self-gratification?” His voice pitches higher like he’s in actual distress.

She nods, giggling at the absolute betrayal written all over his face.

“I ain’t built for shit like that,” he mutters, rubbing a hand down his face. “I mean, I got discipline, yeah…But not when it comes to you, baby.”

“Well, big guy,” she sing-songs, smirking, “guess you’ll just have to suffer like the rest of us mere mortals.”

He stares at her like she’s the devil herself, then exhales long and heavy, rubbing his temples. “Five and a half weeks. No fucking, I can’t jack off…” He stops himself, looking genuinely faint.

Naima doubles over laughing, tears in her eyes. “Five and a half weeks, Tribal Chief. You got this.”

Roman leans his head back against the couch, eyes narrowing. “You enjoyin’ this way too much. You really wanna test me like this?”

“Think about it though. We practice some restraint, get closer spiritually…”

He rolls his eyes. “You tryna get closer spiritually, or you just tryna watch me die a slow painful death?”

“You are not going to die,” she assures him, reaching out to toy with the beard on his chin. “Besides, you travel a lot, so it’s not like we’d be up under each other every day. That makes it easier.”

Roman tilts his head, considering. “Mmm, true. But that just means when we do see each other, it’s gonna be torture.”

Naima chuckles, dragging a slow finger up his chest. “I got willpower, baby. Question is, do you?”

Roman stares at her for a long moment, rolling the thought around in his head. Then he exhales, heavy and resigned. “You know what? Fuck it,” he says, full of confidence, his arrogance flaring. “I’m the Tribal Chief. Discipline is what I do.” He sighs again, but this time, his glare lands on her. “Fine. No sex.”

Naima smiles wide, and then holds out her pinky. “Shake on it?”

He hooks his pinky with hers, locking eyes. “Done.” Suddenly, he yanks her closer, their noses nearly touching. “But trust me when I say, you gon’ regret this, mamas.” His hand slides into her loose crop top, closing over the swell of her breast.

Naima shudders but keeps her cool, smirking as she pulls him on top of her. They might as well get one in before the chaos starts. “Not as much as you will.”

Day 3: The Distance Helps…Sort Of

So far, so good.

Roman is away for Smackdown, and Naima finds his absence manageable. No lingering touches, no heat radiating from his massive frame, no low, gravelly voice in her ear making promises he always keeps. They’ve kept their distance, FaceTiming only briefly before bed.

“You surviving, baby?” she queries, smirking at his grumpy expression.

“Barely.” He shifts under the covers, shirtless, looking way too fine for his own good. “Not gonna lie, I almost gave up today.”

“Oh?”

“This chick at the gym had the exact same perfume you wear.” He groans. “I damn near followed her like a lost puppy before I realized what the fuck I was doing.”

Naima bursts out laughing. “You’re hopeless.”

Roman glares. “Shut up. How you doin’?”

She shrugs, examining her nails. “Fine.”

His eyes narrow. “That’s it?”

She grins. “Told you I got more self-control than you.”

“For now,” Roman grumbles.

Naima laughs. Her man is hilarious even without trying. “Go to sleep, big man. You got work tomorrow.”

He exhales, rolling onto his side. “Text me when you wake up.”

“Of course, big daddy.”

Deathly silence. Then, “Don't call me that right now.”

“Oops. Sorry.”

Day 7: The Real Struggle Begins

Tonight, Roman is home.

And it’s bad.

Naima planned a chill night; dinner, a movie, nothing crazy. But it doesn’t take long at all before the energy shifts.

He’s fresh out the shower, grey sweatpants worn low on his hips, torso bare, hair damp and loose over his shoulders.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greets, baritone voice like sin.

Naima swallows hard. This is gonna be hell.

She forces a smirk. “Hey, handsome.”

They keep it cool for most of the night. But then, of course, Roman has to test her. They’re on her sectional, his huge arm slung around her waist, and Naima is very aware of the way his fingers keep flexing against her hip.

“Stop that,” she mumbles.

“Stop what?”

“You know what.”

Roman smirks, adjusting his grip, his fingers grazing the bare skin just above her shorts. “I don’t know what you talkin’ about.”

Naima tenses. “Roman.”

“Hm?” His eyes are closed, but he’s smirking.

She narrows her eyes, grabs a pillow and smacks him in the face, startling him enough to sit upright. “Quit playin’ with me!”

He chuckles, removing his hand from her body. “I ain’t even do nothin’!”

“You’re a fucking menace,” she grumbles, getting to her feet. “Can you behave so we can watch this movie in peace?”

Roman sighs dramatically, pulling her to sit on his lap. “Fine. Sit down, girl.”

The movie plays, but neither is watching, not with the way she shifts on his lap, just slightly. Naima swears she feels his breath hitch with every slight movement she makes.

“Damn,” he mutters under his breath.

Naima smirks. “Problem, baby?”

Roman glares at her. “Shut up.”

Naima moves off him, sitting beside him instead. “Maybe you should go take another shower.”

He clenches his jaw. “You evil as hell.”

She winks. “Thirty-three days to go, baby.”

Roman leans in, close enough that she can feel his breath on her lips. “You sure you don’t wanna call it quits?”

Naima squares her shoulders, defiant. “I’m good. Are you sure?”

His jaw clenches, eyes darkening. “I ain’t no quitter, baby.”

They sit there, staring at each other, tension thick enough to slice with a knife.

He groans tiredly, running a hand down his face. “We really fucked up agreeing to this, huh?”

She giggles despite herself. “Yeah. Yeah, we did.”

Day 11: Personal Problem

Naima leans against the kitchen counter in Roman’s Miami penthouse, idly scrolling through her phone as his deep, tired voice rumbles through the speaker. He’s calling from his hotel room in Chicago, exhaustion laced through his words, but his tone still holds that familiar warmth.

“Baby girl,” he drawls, low and thick, “You know you ain’t playin’ fair, right?”

She smirks, taking a slow sip of her tea. “What I do now?”

“You know what you did,” he grumbles. “Postin’ them damn pictures on IG, wearin’…hell, barely wearin’…that lil’ ass lingerie set, talkin’ ‘bout ‘work.’” His voice drops into a rough murmur. “What kinda sick game you playin’, huh?”

Naima bites her lip, failing to hold back a giggle. “It was for work,” she insists, though she’s well aware of the hell she’s putting him through.

“Yeah, well, you workin’ my last damn nerve,” he mutters. “Ain’t had a decent night’s sleep since Ash Wednesday.” His sigh is deep and frustrated. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this.”

Naima tilts her head, feigning innocence. “You mean to tell me the big, bad Tribal Chief can’t handle a little discipline?”

He exhales sharply, and she can picture the way he’s rubbing his hand down his face, exasperated. “Discipline? Baby, I’m beyond strugglin’,” he admits, voice dipping into that deep, rich tone that always does things to her. “You don’t know what it’s like, wakin’ up every damn morning, hard as a rock and you can’t do shit about it.”

Naima hums, a slow, knowing smile tugging at her lips, glad to know she’s not the only one that’s sexually frustrated. Still, she needs to keep up the facade. “Sounds like a personal problem to me,” she gloats.

“A personal problem?” Roman scoffs, and she hears rustling on the other end, like he’s pacing. “You the problem! Walkin’ ‘round my house in them little tank tops, no bra. Sittin’ in my lap whenever you feel like it. And don’t even get me started on them massages—”

“I was just being nice. Your muscles were tense,” she teases, far from innocent.

“You were torturin’ me, baby.” His voice is damn near a growl now. “And don’t act like you ain’t strugglin’, too. I know you miss this dick.”

Naima exhales through her nose, tapping her nails against the counter. She does. She really does. But she’s too stubborn to admit it just yet.

“Mmm.” She leans in closer to her phone. “I don’t know, big guy. I think I’m doin’ just fine.”

Roman lets out a long, suffering groan. “You gon’ stop playin’ with me, or what?”

Naima hums, all faux innocence. “Who’s playin’?”

He exhales sharply, like he’s this close to losing it. “You know who.”

She grins, sipping her tea like she’s completely unbothered. “Well, if it’s that bad, you could always tap out.”

His pride bristles instantly. “Hell nah!”

“Then I guess we’re both just gonna suffer.”

A heavy silence lingers between them, thick with tension neither one wants to break. Finally, Roman clicks his tongue.

“Yeah, a’ight. Keep that same energy when I finally get my hands on you.”

Day 17: Praying For Strength

Naima thought she had this under control.

The first week had been easy enough, a test of willpower she could handle. The second week? A little more difficult, especially when Roman was home, lounging around shirtless, brushing past her on purpose, throwing that look her way.

But now? Now she’s positively struggling.

She’s curled up on her sister Adara’s couch, aimlessly scrolling through Instagram while Julien plays his video game, trying to keep her mind off how pent-up she feels. Coupled with the fact that she also gave up smoking weed for Lent, every little thing these days irritates her, every touch of fabric against her skin feels like too much. She’s restless, annoyed, and horny.

And then, just to make things worse, Roman decides to be an absolute menace.

Her phone buzzes with a DM notification, and when she opens it, her heart damn near stops.

It’s a selfie of him at the gym, shirtless, sweat slicking his chest and arms, making every muscle pop under the harsh overhead lights. His damp hair hangs loose around his face, a few strands sticking to his forehead, and the way his gym shorts sit low on his hips is just—

She stares at the picture for a solid ten seconds, mouth dry. Then the caption pops up:

Praying for strength.

Naima snorts, her face heating as she quickly types back:

Your instigating ass not praying hard enough, apparently.

His response is immediate:

Cuz God sent me you, with your fine ass. Ain’t no strength left, mamas.

She presses her lips together, squeezing her thighs absentmindedly as her thumbs hover over the keyboard. She debates how petty she wants to be; how much she’s willing to let him know he’s getting to her.

Finally, she types:

Don’t tempt me unless you’re ready to start over from day 1.

The three little dots appear immediately. Then—

Admit it, then.

She frowns, typing back: 🤨Admit what?

That you goin through it, too.

Naima sucks her teeth, rolling her eyes.

Boy, please 🙄

Roman sends her something else, a video this time.

The screen opens to a slow pan down his freshly showered body, steam still curling in the background. Droplets of water slide down his chest, over the deep ridges of his abs, the camera lingering on where the towel hangs dangerously low on his hips…low enough to tempt, but not enough to see.

She chokes on air.

Day 26: Transferred Aggression

“Yo, big man, you good?” Jimmy asks, eyeing Roman warily as he powers through another set, aggressively throwing weights around like they personally disrespected his whole bloodline.

Roman shoots him a glare, chest heaving. “Why the fuck you askin’ me dumbass questions?”

“Cuz you look like you ready to kill somebody,” Jimmy says, crossing his arms, a knowing smirk on his face. “Or maybe you just need to get laid.”

Roman growls low in his throat. “I don’t need your commentary right now, Uce.”

Jey strolls over, sipping a protein shake like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Damn, what’s wrong with you?”

Jimmy chortles unashamedly, reveling in his big cousin’s self-inflicted suffering. “Lent got him in a chokehold. He can’t fuck Naima.”

Jey lets out a long whistle. “Shiiiiit. No pussy for forty days? You better than me, Uce.”

Both twins burst into laughter while Roman flips them off, his jaw clenching. “Fuck off. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jimmy chuckles, shaking his head. “If you say so, big man.”

Day 34: Devil’s Advocate

Naima lies on her couch, staring at the ceiling like it personally offended her, when Brandy flops down beside her, loud as ever, smacking on her bubblegum.

“So, let me get this straight,��� Brandy says, ticking off on her fingers. “No fucking?”

Naima closes her eyes, exhaling slowly. “Nope.”

Brandy leans in. “No jacking off?”

Her eye twitches. “No.”

Brandy whistles. “No head, no fingers, no rubbin’ up on him just a little?”

“Brandy.”

“For a whole month? Damn, your pussy dry yet?”

Naima groans, dragging a pillow over her face. “Brandy, please.”

But Brandy just grins, kicking her feet up on the coffee table. “Girl, you a damn saint. If that man looked at me the way he looks at you, I’d be sinnin’ daily.”

Naima peeks out from under the pillow, her voice a desperate whine. “It’s been hell, girl. Pure hell.”

Brandy cackles, clearly enjoying her best friend’s peril. “And big man? How he holdin’ up?”

“About as well as you’d expect.”

“So, not well at all?”

“Not even a little bit.”

Brandy throws her head back laughing. “Makes sense. Man been lookin’ like he ready to fight God and everybody else. Bet his ass counting down the days like it’s Christmas.”

Naima groans louder, pressing the pillow to her chest. “So am I.” She tosses her phone onto the couch. “I swear, Brandy, I been having the filthiest dreams. I wake up ready to—”

Brandy’s hands fly up. “Aht, aht! Don’t finish that sentence, nasty ass.” But she’s grinning, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know what’s funny, though?”

Naima eyes her warily. “What?”

Brandy leans in, voice dropping to a devilish whisper. “Y’all act holy for forty days, but once that clock strikes twelve, I know y’all gon’ be fuckin’ like demons.”

Naima snorts, shaking her head. “Girl, shut up.”

Brandy just laughs harder. “You know I’m right!” Then she perks up suddenly. “Matter fact, hold on, I got somethin’ for you.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out...

Naima sits up immediately. “No!”

Brandy grins, holding up the little pink Rose like it’s a trophy. “Come on. Just say the word, big man don’t even gotta know—”

“I said NO!”

Day 40: The Countdown Begins

Roman glares at the ceiling of his Atlanta condo, fists clenched at his sides. His jaw ticks as he glances at the time. 11:00 PM. One more hour. One more.

Meanwhile, across town, Naima is stretched out in bed, her fingers drumming restlessly against her bare thigh. She exhales sharply, shifting. Almost there.

Her phone buzzes.

Roman: You up?

She smirks, typing back.

Naima: You countin down the minutes too, big guy?

His response is instant.

Roman: Mamas, I been countin’ down since this morning.

She bites her lip, glancing at the time. 11:33 PM. 

Naima: Be at my place by 12:01.

She can almost taste the threat in his single, solitary reply:

Bet.

Easter Sunday: Fireworks

By the time the clock strikes midnight, Roman is already at Naima’s door, a look of pure determination in his eyes.

“Baby!” she exclaims, her laughter quickly fading at the look in his eyes as he drops his overnight bag and pulls her into his arms.

“We made it, baby,” he murmurs, his mouth already on her neck. “Forty days. Now get your ass in that bedroom before I lose my damn mind.”

Naima smirks, tugging him by the waistband of his sweats. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Safe to say, now that Lent is over, neither of them wants to waste another second.

Roman barely lets Naima close the bedroom door before he has her pinned against it, his hands gripping her hips with a possessive urgency. Their mouths collide in a kiss so fierce, it feels like they’re trying to make up for all forty days and nights in one moment.

“You don’t know how fuckin’ bad I’ve needed you,” Roman growls, his voice gravelly, lips dragging down her neck. His hands roam freely now, gripping her ass, which is bare underneath his old t-shirt that she’s wearing, and pulling her flush against him to feel just how much he’s missed her, straining through his sweatpants.

Naima drags her palms down his broad back, her hips rolling against him as a breathless gasp escapes her when his tongue sweeps against her bottom lip. “Forty days was too damn long, Ro,” she murmurs, her voice trembling with need.

“And whose fault was that?”

A flush creeps up her skin. “Mine. I’m sorry, daddy.”

His laugh is low, dark, and full of promise. “Oh, you about to be real sorry in a minute. Get over here.” He lifts her like she weighs nothing, carrying her to the bed. The second her back hits the mattress, their hands are everywhere; his sliding up her thighs, pushing her t-shirt over her head, hers making quick work of his own clothes. They both pause for a moment, just to take each other in, their eyes dark with want.

“Damn,” he murmurs, shaking his head as he kneels between her legs. “I almost forgot how sexy you are.”

Naima smirks, though her breath is already uneven. “Boy, you better stop talkin’ and-”

Her words cut off with a sharp gasp as Roman shoves her long legs down against the mattress, pressing her knees toward her chest until her feet touch the headboard. He folds her up effortlessly, pinning her in place, his grip firm as he holds her there, helpless, open, completely at his mercy. Then he sinks that big ol’ cock into her and starts moving right away, each thrust deep and deliberate, carving into her like he’s staking his claim.

Naima has missed it. Too much.

Every second of restraint they’ve suffered through, snaps with every snap of his hips, unleashing something raw, hungry, and unrelenting. Their bodies crash together in a fevered rhythm, each movement rougher, needier than the last. Her toes curl, fingers clawing at his back as he drives his dick in and out of her, hitting deep, hard, like he’s making up for every excruciating second they had to wait.

“Holy fuck, baby,” Roman groans, pressing his forehead against hers, his breath ragged. “You so fuckin’ wet.”

Indeed, the filthy, sloshy sounds of her arousal mix with her breathless cries of pleasure, filling the room, feeding the OTC’s hunger. He groans, drunk off it, off her, and buries his dick to the hilt, rolling his hips, bottoming her out. The way her pussy squeezes around him makes his head drop back, a low moan rumbling from his chest. He hears Naima’s sharp inhale, watches her eyes flutter and roll back…devastated in the best way.

Then he switches it up, pounding into her hard, fast, desperate, before slowing again, grinding deep, making her take every inch. There’s no gentleness at all; it’s rough, it’s passionate, it’s desperate, and both are too horny to want it any other way.

Naima clings to him, watching with glazed, unfocused, elated eyes as Roman grips her thighs tight, his fingers digging into her flesh as he drills his entire length into her, fast and relentless. “Yessss…ohmygod, Ro, fuck me. Give it to me!”

“Unnh, fuck,” he growls, his baritone voice gruff and primal as he obliges. Pleasure zips through him from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes. The bed frame rocks perilously beneath them, the headboard cracking the wall in time with his ruthless, manic pace. 

Naima is lost, her moans shattering into breathless, incoherent whimpers as her orgasm crashes over her with brute force, made doubly intense from weeks without this feeling, from holding out only to come undone like this; hard, relentless, overwhelming. Her back arches, her legs tremble in his hands as wave after wave overtakes her, each one hitting just as forcefully as Roman keeps pounding her into the mattress, near ecstasy himself. 

“Shit, I’m comin’…Oh sh-” His massive body goes stock still as he throbs inside her, pulsing, pouring, fluids and tension draining out of him. Somehow, his grip on her remains unyielding as he holds her in place, making sure she takes every last drop of his cum.

Seconds later, without warning, the bed gives out beneath them with a loud crack, collapsing onto the floor.

For a moment, they lie there in stunned silence, panting and tangled in each other’s arms. Then Naima bursts into laughter, her body shaking with amusement.

“Oh my god, you broke the damn bed!” she wheezes, tears of laughter streaming down her face.

Roman looks down at her, still catching his breath, then at the splintered bed frame beneath them. A sheepish grin tugs at his lips. “My bad.”

Naima smacks his chest, shaking her head. “You’re paying for a new one, big guy.”

He chuckles, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Done. Long as I get to do this again.”

A wicked gleam flashes in her eyes as she smoothly and carefully flips them over, draping herself over him. “Oh, but we are doing this again,” she purrs, leaning down to slip her tongue into his mouth for a deep kiss before slithering down his body. Her soft lips and warm tongue leave a scorching trail over his skin, her intent clear.

Roman watches through hooded eyes, his breath hitching when her hand wraps around his shaft, stroking him slow and deliberate. “Again?” he rasps, though there’s no real question in his tone, just anticipation.

“Mm-hmm,” she hums, kitten-licking the tip before taking him in, her voice sinful. “Missed you, big daddy.”

Roman’s head drops back against the ruined bed frame, his fists clenching in her hair as his eyes roll back.

“Missed you too, mamas…”

THE END...for now.

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[venusincleo]

𝒱𝑒𝓃𝓊𝓈.

 𝙾𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚅𝚎𝚗𝚞𝚜♀︎🥀

Warnings: MDNI • Explicit • Terry Richmond x Black!OC [Self Insert], completely self-indulgent, fluff, flirting, teasing and more...

Summary: After a long, draining week, Terry and Cleopatra spoil each other for Valentine's Day the only way they know how; love languages and love making.

Word Count: 3.6k ❣ 

A/N: Hey y'all! 𝙾𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚅𝚎𝚗𝚞𝚜 will be the name of my oneshots (or two shots 🤭) as a collection, so I thought it was only right to be inspired by thee Venus Day itself, Valentine's Day. A couple days late, but always on time 🌚 I hope you enjoy this one 🫶🏾❤️

✧ Part Two ✧

Full Playlist for  𝙾𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚅𝚎𝚗𝚞𝚜.

• • •

𝑰𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏. The calling, the arrangements, the corrections, the decorations, the romance. He had waited a long time to express such passion. To let the lucky woman he would once call his own be showered in his riches, given all that he had; time, love, affection, attention, money and more.

There wasn’t a doubt in Terry’s mind that Cleopatra was a woman of many facets. She loved intellect in a man and expected that he’d be able to carry a conversation, that he was creatively inclined in some way and that his morals were right. And of course, those were things she brought to the table as well.

She didn’t let any of her standards or expectations fall to chance; she told it like it was, and expected those around her to tell her what it wasn’t. What they couldn’t give or, what they didn’t have the capacity to hold.

Terry seldom did any of that.

He allowed himself to be a sanctuary, a holding place for whenever she felt a way. And when he absolutely couldn’t hold it, he let her know swiftly, and gently. No room for any false interpretations.

This did wonders for their union. And so, when she told him that this week had been one of the most draining yet and it was just Thursday, he didn’t hesitate to make the holiday weekend something that she wouldn’t forget.

Valentine’s Day on a Venus Ruled Day. How fitting. And especially in a year emboldened by red.

A day so perfect, he called into her job and requested a vacation day for her ahead of time.

On February 14th, she woke up to a lovely text, and a voice message from her thoughtful man.

“Good morning baby-girl, and Happy Valentine’s Day. I know you’re probably tired, so don’t worry about going to work today, I called out for you. I know you don’t believe me, so gon’ head and check if you want.” His voice was laced with the hint of a chuckle, and she couldn’t help but to smile at the sound.

“In about 12 minutes, your favorite will be at your door. I want you to enjoy your breakfast, and then check your texts to see what other steps you need to take to find your gifts. I love you, baby. I’ll see you soon.”

Sure enough, she let the pad of her thumb lead her to her company’s payroll system and she logged in with FaceID to speed up her process. When she finally got to where she would input her numbers on her timesheet, all of the options were grayed out, and a message was displayed to her in highlighted letters.

Enjoy your day off!

In a near frantic swipe of her thumb to get back to their text thread she typed up a quick response.

good morning Papa, Happy Valentine’s Day!🥰♥️ thank you for calling out for me today 🥹 i appreciate you🫶🏾

After that, she practically jumped out of bed, on her way to her bathroom to get herself together. Once she freshened up, and was ready to begin her day, she made her way out of her room just in time. A quick knock made way for her footsteps to lead her to her front door and she opened the dense wood to see a brown paper bag that was folded along the top.

Cleo picked up the bag, and walked back into her apartment, stopping in her tracks as she realized the unmentioned gift that she completely missed, when she had walked to the door. On her dining table sat a large bouquet of fresh white roses, and a singular red rose in the middle. As she stepped closer to them, she bent down to take in a breath of their soft floral scent.

“Aww.” She cooed, bringing her hands to her chest to hold her heart. She hadn’t even seen the brink of what he’d planned and her eyes were watering by the second. With open hands to fan away the tears that threatened to fall, she took a deep breath, realizing just how much weight Terry had taken off her shoulders with getting her boss to give her the day off.

Working as the only receptionist in a doctor’s office, proved to be a more daunting task than she originally thought.

When she finally sat down to eat her food, she was gladly met with a still steaming plate. Spicy, turkey breakfast patties sat neatly beside some scrambled eggs, and southern breakfast potatoes. A smile rose to her face as she prepared to dig in, and she absentmindedly perused her social media feeds to entertain her while she ate.

Following the thorough nourishment that her most requested breakfast brought her, Cleopatra made sure to check her texts again to see what Terry needed her to do next.

i hope your food was good 🫶🏽  now, i need you to get dressed and go to this nail salon. they’ll tell you what i got for you♥️ Pretty Nails Salon 📍

Without a second thought, Cleo was speed walking to her bathroom, and quickly stripping off her clothes. Excitedly, she turned the knobs for cold and hot water to create her perfect mixture before she turned to grab her shower cap. As the hot water began to steam up her bathroom, Cleo turned on her favorite R&B mix and jumped in the shower hearing Chris Brown serenade her through her phone speaker.

Slowly, she lathered her wash cloth with her soap and took her time as she scrubbed along her limbs. As she moved to each body part, she thought of Terry and what he must be doing. She couldn’t imagine that he had to work today, with all that he seemed to have planned, so she hoped that he was taking as good care of himself as he was her.

Of course, she had her own gifts laid out for him, and she was looking forward to seeing the smile that would rise when he experienced them.

• • •

Terry closed his car door as he looked down at his phone, checking for Cleo’s response. It was going on an hour since he sent her second set of instructions, and he wanted to be sure that she was going through the steps as he planned. Within the next minute, those small three dots arose on his screen and then, her reply.

thank you so much for the breakfast and the flowers baby 🥹  i love you ♥️ omw to the nail salon right now! can’t wait to see you later😘

He smiled widely as he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and reacted to her texts, sending a quick ‘me neither 🤞🏽’ before he locked his phone. Stuffing the device into his pocket, he stepped onto the curb in front of his barbershop and reached for the door. He was instantly met with low chatter and the slightly buzzing audio of the small television in the shop.

“We’ been waiting for you, T.” Terry’s barber Leno calls toward the door.

“Why y’all waiting for me?” His deep voice vibrates with laughter as it seems he was walking into the middle of something.

“Just listen.” His barber begins as he swings his chair in Terry’s direction for him to take a seat. “You went all out for ya’ lady for Valentine’s Day right?” Terry scoffs to himself and nods his head as he takes a seat in the barber chair and Leno walks over to his station to grab a cape for him.

“Hell yeah.”

“See?! That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” Leno replies, making a point to the other man in the conversation.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s different. From all the shit T be sayin’ his lady does for him, she’ on wife timing. My girl? Her ass don’t wanna do nothing. That shit gotta be reciprocated, for real.”

Leno smacks his teeth as he shakes his head, snapping the cape around Terry’s neck before he adjusts his tools in their sanitizing solution.

“D’you believe this shit, T?” The large man’s shoulders shake with laughter as he realizes he was made out to be the voice of reason, and then he shrugs, not completely sure of what to say.

“I don’t know man. It’s definitely about reciprocation but, if you feeling like she not doing enough for you, maybe y’all should have a conversation.” Leno sighed in slight defeat that Terry wasn’t completely taking his side, but deep down, he knew he was right.

“I guess. Y’all just not built like me… that’s why I had my lady for fifty’leven years.” Terry finds himself scoffing at the ebonics turn of phrase, and then his mind began to wander to the little black box that sat on his dresser at home. It was time.

• • •

“Thank you!” Cleo charmed as her satisfied smile beamed on her face. She handed the small asian woman a twenty dollar bill that she just happened to have in her wallet, and the fair skinned woman smiled just as big as her.

“You’re welcome! See you later.” Surely enough, the beautiful brown-skinned woman shuffled out of the salon with her fresh gel pedicure safe in her Uggs, and her glossy, almond french tips gleaming in the silver winter sun. Terry had paid for her eyebrows, manicure and pedicure in a package that came with a complimentary glass or two of wine. And by the way Cleo just couldn’t stop looking at her nails, it was safe to say that Terry was outdoing himself this V-Day.

As she got settled in her car, and right as she put on her seatbelt, her phone began to vibrate with a new call. When she reached her hand to the titanium and glass, she saw the name of the man she anticipated the most.

“Hi, baby!” Her voice nearly sang into the phone speaker and Terry instantly smiled.

“How you doing, baby-girl?” Cleo almost lost her train of thought at the sound of his dreamy tone.

“I’m great, thank you for my giftsssss. I’ve really been enjoying my day so far.” She widens her eyes just a little as she gives him a sweet, coy look through her screen.

“Without me?” He half-jokes, getting into his own car as he continues their conversation. Cleopatra tilts her head slightly as if to say ‘of course not’.

“No, Papa. With all the things you’ve taken care of, you’ve been with me all day.” A hint of a red fills his cheeks but he doesn’t even think to look away from her.

“Good, that’s what I like to hear.” He takes a beat to just admire her through his screen, and his eyes basically turn into hearts as he notices the crisp lines of her rounded arch brows, which really brought out her naturally long eyelashes.

“You so damn fine, baby. Show me your nails.” Like clockwork, Cleo raises her free hand in the camera and shows off her pretty yet classic french set. As unfiltered thoughts cloud Terry’s mind at the sight of the pink and white manicure, he holds his tongue while he mentally gets ahold of himself and then he licks over his lips.

“Can’t wait to see them on me tonight.” His voice deepens just slightly as he flirts with his woman, and she pulls her hand from in front of her camera to look at him fully.

“Mhmm, I know you can’t. I have a little surprise for you later, too.”

“Speaking of surprises, I heard somebody paid for my haircut and got a beard grooming add-on…” Cleo giggles and covers her face for a moment before leaning into the camera for a clearer view.

“Show meee…” She drags her words out as she peers on, watching as Terry centers himself in the screen and runs a hand over his head. His pouty, lion-esc face is relaxed as he gazes into the camera, and Cleo can feel her core begin to call for him.

“You look so good, Papa. Y’know I had to take care of my favorite seat.” She flirts, causing a wide smile to raise on Terry’s face yet again, showcasing his pearly whites.

“Aw, I got him blushing now!” His woman jokes, and all he can do is laugh at her.

“Alright, alright.” He begins to shake his head, rubbing his large hand over his neatly kept facial hair.

“We got a reservation to make so, gon’ home and see what else I got for you. I’ll see you in like,” He swipes down on his phone to show his lock screen and sees the time is 11:32 p.m. “Two hours. I love you, baby-doll.” Cleo pouts playfully at his endearing nickname for her, and bats her eyelashes softly.

“I love you too, baby. I’ll see you soon.”

The ride home was quick, filled with the constant thought of what the rest of the day may have to offer. She had no clue what this next gift could be, but she hoped it wasn’t too hard to find.

After a long shower, where she luxuriated through her cleansing, Cleopatra took her time moisturizing her skin, including some after shower oil atop her normal lotions. She sprayed her favorite perfume over the oil while it still glistened, and made sure to rub it into her skin to make her scent last longer. Mixing Dolcé by Dolcé with less expensive perfumes to add just a little touch of exclusivity to her favorite notes, she felt she smelled like heaven.

Purposeful steps led her to her walk in closet, where she moved hangers back and forth in search of the perfect dress to wear. I should’ve bought something new. She thought, as she pushed all of her clothes to one side, revealing a dress that she didn’t remember buying. Once she grabbed the hanger that it rested on within her closet, she held it out in front of her to try and jog her memory. Hm…this does not look familiar.

She continued to search the dress until the thick paper tag was all that she hadn’t looked at, and then she saw a note.

𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓋𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈. 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝓈𝑒𝓍𝓎 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓉𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂 𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓁𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒. ♡

Scoffing lightly at her perfectly placed gift, she turned to the other side of her closet and her eyes instantly darted to the shoes that Terry mentioned in his note. She cursed herself for not having worn heels in so long. It’s like riding a bike…right?

Grabbing the heels by the ankle strap, she brought them into her room along with the dress. Then, she ventured back into her closet for her undergarments. After putting on a soft lace thong for some coverage under her sheer black stockings and a matching lace bustier, Cleo slipped her dress on and stepped in front of her mirror.

She adjusted her breasts in the top of the dress and straightened out the fabric, liking the way the dress fit over her thicker frame. When she finally slipped her feet into her heels and fastened the buckles around her ankles, she gave herself a full look in the mirror, turning to see her other angles.

“Okay, Terry the stylist.” She joked to herself.

With a glance at the time, she decided to only do a quick, natural beat; employing concealer more than any other complexion product and accentuating her eyelashes with mascara. A little more blush than needed accounted for the oxidizing affect the elements would have after she set her makeup, and a couple swipes of her reddish-brown Glossier lip-gloss made her lips pop.

Cleopatra gathered her lip-gloss, her keys, her ID and her handheld mirror then put them in her small crossbody purse neatly, pulling the long strap over her right shoulder to hang by her hip. She smoothed out her thick locs in their simple middle part, approving of her look and then made sure she had everything just one last time. Quickly she grabbed the small black box that held Terry’s gifts and she scurried out of her space.

When she finally walked out of her room, she peered at her phone to see she had two minutes to spare. And then, she noticed someone sitting on her couch in total silence.

“Oh-my-God.” She jumped instantly, stepping back and gripping the box in her hand as she processed that the figure was none other than her ex-Marine boyfriend. “Terry! What the fuck?”

He got up from his seat on her couch and stepped towards her, placing his large hands on her hips.

“I’m sorry, babe. I ain’t mean to scare you.” They shared a soft laugh, and then Cleo began to take in his outfit.

He wore her favorite color in the form of a premium black collared shirt that fit him in all the right places, his broad shoulders and biceps shone through the cut of the fabric. The shirt wrapped around his waist in the fashion of an uwagi and there was a black belt tied around him to top it all off. He paired the shirt with some basic black slacks and classic, glossy dress boots.

“You look handsome,” She begins, bringing her free hand to his shoulder to smooth out the structured linen. Then her eyes meet his again. “I love this outfit.” Her eyes lower with words unsaid, and Terry bites his lips at the sight, eyeing her lips.

“And you look,” He took her hand and watched as she stepped back to show him how she dressed up his gift. His eyes dart to her assets, taking in her pretty brown locs, which were parted down the middle just how he liked, her d-cups sitting pretty in the dress he picked, her beautiful, deep copper skin-tone and the way her high-heels elongated her thick legs. “Good enough to eat.”

“I do, huh?” She flirts back arrogantly, and Terry eats it right up, leaning his face down to give her a soft kiss.

“Mhmm.” He hums against her lips, and then she parts her mouth just slightly to welcome him for a deeper lip-lock. As he got deeper into the kiss, Terry brought his hands to the hem of Cleo’s dress, and they wandered further and further up her legs until he squeezed at her ass through her stockings. The young woman let out a breathy moan but pulled away from the kiss quickly, grabbing his chin in her hand tautly.

“Not too fast, baby-boy.” She sassed, letting her eyes flicker between his aquamarine orbs and his thick lips which were now stained with her gloss. “Just wait until tonight.” Her voice comes out in a purr as she closes the space between her lips and Terry’s, and then she gives him a teasingly lingering peck.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.” Cleo steps away from her man who is practically drooling at the thought of another kiss, and holds up the black gift box that would soon belong to him. Terry averted his eyes from the lovely woman in front of him to look at the box and then wrapped both hands around the edge of it.

“What’s in here?” He asked, shocked at the gesture. He knew that Cleo didn’t mind getting him things but he never expected anything, and that allowed him to be surprised every time.

“Open it and see.” Just as she said the words, Terry lifted the lid of the black box to see a silver Gucci watch, and a matching cuban link chain. Before he could even truly take in the gift, he looked back up at his girlfriend in awe.

“Cleo…” He began to shake his head as he couldn’t even find the words to express his gratitude.

“I know you like your watches so, I wanted to add to your collection.” Cleopatra smiles as she watches her man take the timepiece out the round holder she sat it in and look at it up close. The face mimicked a black woodgrain and included the classic interlocking G with Gucci lettering and a small compass.

“I’ma put it on right now.” He gushed, glancing up at Cleo. Holding out her hand to assist Terry’s efforts, she watched as he set the box in her palm and unclasped the watch that he was wearing. Smoothly, he slid it from his wrist and placed it in the holder his new gift came in, before slipping the Gucci timepiece over his hand, seeing the glint of the steel.

As he clasped it tighter on his arm, he realized that it fit perfectly and extended his hand in front of him to look at the gift.

“Baby…This is clean as hell.” Cleo couldn’t help the rise of her cheeks into a closed lip smile as Terry looked at her with such gratitude and pure joy at his gift.

“I’m happy that you like it.” She replied, searching for another dose of dopamine through the genuine smile in her man’s eyes. He gently took the box out of her hand and wrapped his strong arm around her body to pull her in.

“I love it baby, the chain too. Thank you.” This time his hand rested right at the small of her back, his eyes staring directly into hers with pure adoration.

“You’re welcome.” Cleopatra smiled up at him as she brought her hands to either side of his face and then delivered a soft, heartfelt kiss to his lips one last time.

“C’mon,” Terry rasped, “We’ gon be late.”

“You should probably wipe my lip-gloss off first.”

✧ Part Two ✧

• • •

I do not condone any translations, replications or plagiarisms of my original work. Please do not repost as your own. Reblogs and comments/notes welcome. ♥︎

• • •

[sceneemo-bah]

⏤͟͟͞͞ BAH ASK GAME✮

𖤐 by sceneemo-bah 𖤐

︴🌈 - create a pack for an introject type you don't have (eg. Songtive, foodtive, conceptive)

︴🖤 - create a pack based off your bedroom (if you don't have one for whatever reason, create one based off your outfit)

︴👁‍🗨 - create a pack for a source you want someone to request, but no one has yet

︴🎊 - create a pack based off the first oc you ever made (or remember making)

︴🐈‍⬛ - create a pack based off your pet (if you don't have one, create a pack based off a childhood toy)

︴🎀 - create a pack for the first fandom that comes up on your dash

︴👾 - create a pack based off a fandom a friend is in, but you aren't!

︴⭐ - do something completely self indulgent. Don't even try to make it palatable for Tumblr, don't even try to make it match your blog, do WHATEVER YOU WANT

︴🩻 - create a pack based off your favourite item of clothing

︴💫 - create a pack that's the physical embodiment/a conceptive of your blog

Hope you enjoy these! I just felt like making my own ask game! Anyone can do these, but remember to practice reblog karma and maybe specify a level!

[coyle-and-co]

prime assets plus my oc …. rrgggg

i can’t be bothered to color them all rn because coyle nearly gave me an aneurysm trying to draw him 😓!!!! (plus i don’t do chibi or line art very often majority of my art is line-less but i haven’t drawn these goobers before so i wanted to practice)

oc ramble from here on out!!!

is this all self indulgent? yeah but it’s MY blog i do what i want ……😈

His name is Dolly (nickname)! He’s an ex-pop of some variety (no idea if i wanna make him a prime asset or not because i feel like id breach mary sue territory ((im the only person who cares abt that)) and hgh)…he’s mostly mute due to his mask muffling his voice!! the mask has a tube that goes into his mouth and down his throat to basically force him to breathe <\3

He’s VERY clingy and affectionate to the other ex-pops, specifically Coyle, Franco, & Gooseberry. They don’t necessarily return his affections but they can’t do anything but take it, not like they can kill him, though it’s nice sometimes when he’s not trailing behind them like a lost dog

He’s particularly keen on Coyle, not in a romantic sense (or sexual, or anything really) but he sees him as an authority figure only because he was a cop. Coyle enjoys that part but not when he interrupts his “investigations” to grab his arm or something. He tends to hug him from behind which will scare the shit out Coyle if he’s not paying attention, and he will thrash until Dolly either lets go or he gives up lmao 😭

With Franco, they both don’t really know what to make of each other but Dolly thinks he’s adorable (in a murder-y sense HAHA), usually doting on him or trying to coddle him randomly. Which Franco gets a kick out of unless he’s actually trying to do something then he looses his rag a bit at him (and Gooseberry makes him say sorry) ((he won’t))

Gooseberry is Dolly’s FAVORITE, mostly because out of all the prime assets she’s the most receptive towards his physical affection, always accepting his hugs and doesn’t mind that he follows her around. She is after all a “mother”, so to her he’s just a clingy child. However if he breaks anything in the orphanage she will put him on time out 😓

He’s confused by the reagents mostly, he’s not the brightest and has no idea why they run away from him, however he does tend to hurl explosives at people for shits and gigs so maybe that’s why (he won’t put two and two together)

Pitcher, Pusher & the grunts find him more than a little irritating, mostly because he tends to get in the way of them doing their jobs (murdering reagents)

He’s easily stunned and a good brick to the face will knock him flat for a bit, but he all thinks this is a fun little game </3

Dolly’s whole get up is inspired by the one gimp outfit from the unholy night pack, haven’t figured out a lore reason why he’d wear it other than he’s gay i guess, but he does like to cross dress (much to the disgruntlement of Coyle, who has probably hurled a few slurs at him from time to time, Gooseberry just loves to help him dress up and Franco doesn’t care enough about what he’s doing when he’s not babying him, just assumes Dolly’s a pervert)

i loaf him so….i wanna crush him in my palm…like bug

[alicenpai]

🌟 ART SUMMARY 2024 🥂

this was a year where i didnt draw a lot, despite that, i tried to make every drawing count. thank you all for the support in 2024, here's to 2025 ! 🫶

⭐ [read more starts here]

i continued my goals from last year with regards to perfectionism. the tldr is that i strongly feel my perfectionism kept me away from completing as many drawings as i could, and i had to make an effort to just finish drawings no matter how lukewarm I felt about them. especially since i could just edit them a bit afterwards, i've tried to get over the fear of reuploading. 2024 was a strange year, it came and went in the blink of an eye, even more than previous years! life has been stressful, so i've been trying to focus more on myself and taking time off drawing. ironic, although i think i succeeded in that above goal, i expected to get more drawings out of it, but ended up taking more time off drawing anyways. towards the end of the year, i started feeling more burnt out, and drawing became a slow and arduous process. i think part of the reason was because 2024 was my first year doing 5 events - 2 full weekend conventions (anime north and otakuthon), and 3 single day events (bamtori fall aapi market, toronto game expo, bamtori jinglebam market), when in the past 2 years i'd just opt to do 1-2 local cons. it was also my first time doing single day events, which were super chill! although you have to both set up and tear down on the same day, i felt more casual at those events, had more time to chat and look around. back to my point - despite being fun, doing so many events took its toll on me - especially during the colder months of the year, where i wasn't so used to going to events haha! usually i take fall as the time to rejuvenate and recover from summer events, but i couldn't really do that this year. i kept questioning myself, "does this drawing have appeal? will people buy this?" "is my art hireable?" and it's just not a healthy mindset to have. next year i'll try to draw more of what i enjoy and what's on my mind, instead of worrying too much if it's sellable! *feeling like the HAHA YES sickos meme* - 2025 art goals outlined below: - oc zine (aiming for a character guide with some test comics) - character interactions & poses! e.g. dancing, hugs - generally stuff that's more difficult to draw. my art is more illustrative, but sometimes i wished it was more engaging emotionally? like i want people to smile and cry with my characters... - illustrations that challenge me. when i say illusts that challenge me it's pretty abstract - do research and gather inspiration for every illust.. compositions that are difficult/complex and take a while to draft.. strong theme.. it's more for me to understand AHAHAHA. as the years go by you can see my art becoming more unified in theme and self indulgent... i want to keep going, i want to make art that is uniquely mine. less priority: - get used to sketching! truly miss how i used to fill up sketchbooks every year - sticker sheets (this is on the less priority list bc i will probably fulfill this goal regardless) - oc merch (happy with the stickers i made in the last 2 yrs, let's keep going!) - silly things! e.g. 4koma, silly doodles. comedy is an art, it IS a skill you can study and chip away at (e.g. comedians and comedy writers). make sure i take notes on really stand-out jokes i find funny & why

other various things to try and draw more of: - group pictures - animals - layouts and props. i find layouts and anything with hard surfaces difficult to draw, which is why i draw a lot of flowers and fabric LMAO. one thing i gotta do is start by either drawing characters holding props more (easy baby steps!) and/ or start drawing props around them and make my way towards harder things (e.g. practice drawing a character sitting, i'll start by drawing a simple chair, then a table, then objects on that table). this is also one of my weaknesses - draw the ground they're standing on if possible, e.g. characters standing on a grid - vehicles, if i can. i mostly draw stuff from fantasy series where cars don't exist LOL but i'll try...

[iamespecter]

I think it's time you realize how much people appreciate you bud (gender neutral). you've got roleplay blogs, OCs, and fanfics for your AUs. not to mention the fan arts coming out. your practically a staple to the amazing digital circus community💖

I have one of the worst cases of Impostor Syndrome ever known to humanity I'm sorry for that </3

I dunno, everything still feels surreal to me regardless; it's just the fact that what I did that was so self-indulgent, you don't even recognize who the characters are in canon unless mentioned by name? But people still.... liked it?

That's like, if someone baked a world-class pie, but then I saw that pie and said, "I'm going to make a tart based on that awesome pie, but with some added ingredients!!!", and then it turns out that the tart is enjoyed by a small portion of the town 😭

It's probably a bad analogy, but I hope it gets my point as to how it feels for me when people say that what I do is a bit influential, because up to this day I still struggle to fully comprehend it. But I am honored regardless

[heartfullofleeches]

I NEED TO SPREAD PROPAGANDA ABOUT MY BLOROBOS (your oc's XD)

What would the poly gang (baron Maddox Alasdair) and dea do if reader had a particularly painful period? (← totally not self-indulgent)

(↑lie)

Baron

Doesn't know a thing about periods, but mate is in pain = I must drop everything to do what I can to eradicate their suffering.

With a quick crash course, Baron is in even more awe of you. "Every single month?!? Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?!"

His arms are your throne- If the moment doesn't unsettle you further, Baron will carry you wherever you need to go if you absolutely have to get out of bed.

Dude's practically a living heating pad already so snuggles are a must if you're up for it. Compliments and horn rubs make his skin nice and toasty.

Maddox

Offers you their hoodie first and foremost. It's big on them and comfy, like a good comfort blanket should be.

Tries to distract you from your pain- They'll raid the medicine cabinet for whatever pain relief is available and would work best for you, and while they're kicking in Mad would create a little pillow palace for you in bed or on the couch. Whichever works best.

Plays videos games with you or if those aren't up your alley/sitting up right makes things worse for you - sets up a mini theater wherever you're located with snacks, blankets and of course shows/movies for you both to binge.

Alasdair

Angel mom. Knows you're suffering even before you tell anyone. Really pushes the mommy status by monitoring your diet since certain foods can make cramps worse. Will get off your case if you press him, but if you're fine with the arrangements he'll prepare you meals that are both safe and foods you enjoy.

Did his research before coming to earth and likely has products tucked away for occasions such as this. Heating pads, pain medicine-

Will happily lend his wings if you need a softer place to rest your head. May also take the advantage to read you some of the books he's gotten into lately.

Dea

Funnily enough, they're like a perfect combination of all three.

Wraps you up in their robes which feels like the safest material known to man. Stresses themselves to the point of feeling faint if you choose to walk around on your own, but respects your decision if you decide to.

Dea's tears actually cure most ailments mortals may face. Understands drinking their tears might not be the most pleasant experience for you so they'll cook/bake them into something you enjoy.

"Here you are, my grace. I hope you enjoy-"

Still dotes on you for days after you're feeling better because they love you and want you to be 100% at all times (except for moments when you can't)

[doubledeadstudio]

Hello, happy holidaysヾ(＾∇＾) I apologize for this being a long question but I've been thinking for a long time and I really have to ask if you would ask the RH crew (Mars, Abel and Fleur too if that's okay) for book and/or movie recommendations, what would they give ? If it's not a spoiler, what media inspired their depiction, if any? I want to practice English so I find new things I like, and I hope my words make meaning when I use translation. Have a happy holiday (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡

Happy Holidays! This is so sweet. Good luck on your language journey.

Recommendations:

Crux Hertz - The Ritual (2017) or Bones and All (2022) (movie), Siddharta by Hermann Hesse or No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai (books)

Black Lumaban - Mad Max: Fury Road (movie), The Conquest of Bread by Peter Kropotkin (book)

Vincenzo Fontana - Possession (1981) (movie), The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde or Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov (book)

Florentin Blanchett - The Substance (2024) or Dead Ringers (1988) (movie), Stiff by Mary Roach (book)

Abel Valencia - American Psycho (2000) or Wolf of Wall Street (2013), no books because he's stupid but I will give a TV show... Desperate Housewives

Inspirations:

So, the thing about this is really complicated because I'm an avid art fan and I consume all sorts of media, from books to movies to tv shows and music. Generally, I get a concept then my brain starts piecing things together. (Crux is the hardest to explain because he originally started off as the child of two of me and my husband's oldest OCs... and he became a whole separate beast on his own.)

But I can give characters that really remind me of them!

Crux - Sans (Undertale), Gojo (JJK), Loki (Marvel), Shawn Spencer (Psych) (This is the worst list of all time), also Markus (Red Embrace:Hollywood), and Lee (Bones and All). Hozier and Will Wood remind me of his aesthetic.

Black - Guts (Berserk), Lio Fotia (Promare), Fenris (Dragon Age), Warren Peace (Sky High), Bigby (Wolf Among Us), Juri (Utena). For music, grandson has his vibes.

Vincenzo - Lestat (Interview with a Vampire), Orin (Baldur's Gate 3), Gilbert (Kaze to Ki no Uta), Mahito (JJK), Alois Trancy (Black Butler), Ryo Asuka (Devilman Crybaby). His storyline was largely inspired by HP Lovecraft's Dreams of Witch House. For music, near everything by Emilie Autumn and Mindless Self Indulgence.

Abel - Ashley (The Boys), Rhys (Tales from the Borderlands), Nathan (Life is Strange). (I won't lie, a huge part of him is directly inspired to parody Right Wing pundits lolol) For music, no lie, Laufey and Lana del Rey, LMAO.

Florentin - Griffith (Berserk), Viktor Frankenstein, Dr Herbert West (Re-Animator).

~~~

For Mars:

Hello, Clovis here, creator of Mars! Thank you for the interest! Mars likes classic films with lots of sexuality and violence. Kill Bill, Pulp Fiction, Chicago (he loves a good musical if it isn't too sugary-sweet). He'll go for the stereotypical Dad Movies too as long as he thinks they're suave enough, like James Bond and Indiana Jones. For books, he reads a lot more than you'd think and enjoys being well-read, but let's say A Song of Ice and Fire, because there's political drama and everyone's suffering. (Their misfortune and crushed innocence amuses him.)

Mars is inspired heavily from the Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood depiction of Greed. While not a direct inspiration (I've had the character for years), Sukuna from Jujutsu Kaisen is hilariously similar to him. Vintage mafia movies are where a lot of his aesthetic comes from. If you like crime thrillers, I would highly recommend the television show Fargo for bastard men that you love to hate, are scary as hell, and are darkly comedic. — Clovis @VileFable

[cimmerian1275]

Introduction Masterpost 🌊

SUP there! I'm Cimmerian, and I read copious amounts of novels and draw lots of dragons <3 Both fanart, personal art, whatever piques my interests. I dabble in a little bit of photography and write in my spare time!

Things you might be looking for:

@cimmersphotography (my photography side blog!)

Art Trades? YES!

Am i available for commissions?

Elaboration on my DNI thoughts

My DILLH fan stuff :D

Advice as an artist

TMNT fanfic recs/ones ive read

Boop Sagara's snoot 🫵

Ask about my OCs!

If your just here for the artworks I make C: ->

@cimmersartwork (my arty side blog lol)

#my art / #cimmers art #rottmnt

Comics: -> T-rex arms -> Sylas & Jr shenanigans: Ninjago | n/a -> Jr showing Caden the good timeline: Wb dragons? | Ice-tea | n/a -> Trash can compilation: part 1 | part 2 | -> Coming soon?

Here -> Character Masterpost

Heads up, im hyperfixated on ROTTMNT and anything dragon/gryphon, i ramble about them, i draw about them, i procrastinate about them, they blur together.

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Anyways, hi Tumblr! Im branching out here because I think I live under a rock and I need to socialize and expand my horizons. My account here is probably just for me to indulge in all the fandoms i love, post my fanart somewhere people will enjoy it the way i do and occupy my brain with smth to scroll <3

Aswell as art, I'm slowly fulfilling my hobby of writing >:) I am an absolute bookworm and I have so many ideas I want to put out there and have fun with.

Some other places I inhabit:

DeviantArt

Toyhouse

Art fight I'll definitely be joining in for 2025!

I'm on discord as cimmerian1275, Shellcord 🐢 server <- I practically live there. If you send me a friend req please lmk so i dont mistake you for a bot xD

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I am very much winging the process and using my incredibly inexperienced/nonexistent writing skills, throwing them at a wall and hoping they stick and end up making sense. Goodluck.

My Fics/AUs:

(ROTTMNT) Wait For It AU

Masterpost | Art | Writing

Donnie got double mutated >:) ooOOOOooOo ominous!

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(ROTTMNT) Dragonfruit AU

Masterpost | Art | Writing

DF Raph | DF Donnie | DF Leo | DF Mikey

What if Draxum was a dragon nerd? What if he pulled a 'jurassic park' and brought back dragons from extinction in his effort to create powerful weapons against mankind?

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(ROTTMNT) The TMNT As Oiraons Project ✨ ill find a name for it someday smh

Masterpost | Art | Writing

April | Ruaidhri (Raph) | Morado (Donnie) | Tzaoul (Leo) | Anatolius (Mikey)

Oiraon Art | Original characters in this AU -> Nyad | Sirje

The TMNT (and others from the same universe) as Oiraon's! (Oiraon's are a make-believe Closed Species that just look like gryphons, NOT owned/created by me) Silly gryphons that im very much totally not obsessed with. I did not plan on this happening at all, i accidentally turned Leo into an Oiraon when i was bored and went "Damn this is actually a cool idea, F* it we ball" and decided that ill turn the rest into Oiraon's because i couldnt resist the temptation <3

Yeah, they all (or most) have different names than in the show, partly because id already named Tzaoul, but also to make them fit smoother into the Oiraon universe! I challenged myself to convey their Oiraon version with just looks and vibes alone, i want you to be able to guess who is who without an OG name giving it away >:)

At the moment, Tzaoul/Leo is finished but all secret-y hush-hush because he has exclusive traits that havent been released yet :) and i cant spoil it.

This obscure self indulgent AU lives rent free in my head and i welcome any and all asks, i will word vomit for ages with my ideas n stuff.

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(ROTTMNT) Totally Feline Fine (Ao3)

Masterpost | Art / TFF!Leo | Writing | Reference Sheet

(Only authorized users can view it for the time being) Just a little something that lives in my brain rent free, just a little side project/hobby for when I can't sleep, let's see where this takes me?

Leo dies in the PD and gets reincarnated, the fic: featuring Leo's quarter-life crisis! Speedrunning how to be the yokai equivalent of a cat, and figuring out what the flippity fudge he's supposed to do now?!

(My brain can't think of a good summary yet, but I'll probably go back and update this blob of text when it does)

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(ROTTMNT) Been Looking For The Brightside (Ao3)

Masterpost | Art | Writing

(Only authorized users can view it for the time being) Another ye olde 'Leo was raised separately' fic. Leon hit Draxum with the dad beam, planned shenanigans and worldbuilding, just another little something to entertain myself with writing <3

I have a vague plot and a mushpile of ideas for this, bare with me ;3

[aventurinemybeloved]

Summary: Aventurine wouldn't mind being your personal mannequin forever if it meant having you this close to him

Fem!reader who's a popular fashion designer all throughout the universe, currently just "friends" with aventurine here, more like sugar daddy tho- very self indulgent because I have my oc in mind while writing this lol

"Not that I'm questioning your process when it comes to your craft, but aren't you tired?"

"Hm nope, not at all are you?"

"I've handled far worse than just standing for a few hours, don't mind me friend, continue"

While that wasn't exactly a lie, it has been a couple of hours since Aventurine was made to be a makeshift mannequin for you, this was supposed to be a day to relax and take both your mind off work.

But it seems that inspiration has struck the minute you laid eyes on a particular fabric store that just got a new stock on a handful of interesting designs, without a second thought you rushed in, your companion had looked away for one second and the next he sees that you've already made yourself comfortable shuffling through the many options to choose from.

As he made his way back to your side, the faint sound of you mumbling under your breath could be heard clearer and clearer, while he didn't quite catch all of it, he was able to piece some things, one of which you wishing you had your mannequin back at the boutique right about now.

"Hey, why not use me for a bit?"

While Aventurine obviously isn't a mannequin, he can sure act like one if you need it, and that you did so you agreed without putting much thought into it, making a mental note to make him a little something as thanks.

And now here you two were, in the middle of the store as you try to pin fabric with your hands on Aventurine's body, he expected this to happen after all he's not the type to willingly volunteer for something without it benefiting him in some way, but he was not prepared for how close you'd be.

Practically an inch away from him, chest against his as you maneuver the fabric in your hands all over him trying to come up with a design in mind, his nose catching a whiff of your shampoo as the top of your head was practically in his face, he's mastered the art of keeping a poker face but a couple hours of this, no one can blame the man for cracking as time goes on.

Luckily for him it seems you've finally finished whatever it was you were doing, he can't even remember even though you were talking about it earlier, his mind growing muddled with serotonin.

He managed to snap out of it as you call over a worker to place an order for your chosen items, and of course pay for it, Aventurine beat you to it though handing his card while softly smiling.

"It's on me"

"What? Aventurine I can pay for it myself, there's really no need to-"

"I insist, it's a treat for how much I enjoyed being your little helper"

Just as you were about to contradict him, insisting even more that you should be the one paying since he already helped you, the worker has already swiped his card handing it back to him and walked off to prepare your order.

You could only facepalm, this wasn't the first time that he has thwarted your attempts at paying for your own things, he's done it so many times you've lost count, and while it's a fact that all of it combined wouldn't make a dent in his wallet, you still couldn't hell but feel guilty.

Not for long though as you could feel a hand gently patting your head, peaking up at him you could see a soft smile on his face.

"You know the deal~" he said in a singsong way

You playfully rolled your eyes

"Yeah yeah, Just let me know when you're free and we'll hang out again"

It was weird to you at first how that was the only thing he wanted after spending so much on you, but overtime you've sorta started to understand it, and want it as much as he does as well.

[decafdoodlez]

RenRina NSFW Headcanons/Dynamics

A short list of self-indulgent NSFW headcanons and dynamics for my TPoF OC and Fox, though I think some of these could be applicable to Fox x Reader scenarios. ❤️‍🩹

a/n: I am cringe™️, but I am free (part 2), but a little spicier~🌶️ To be honest, I’ve drawn plenty of NSFW, but I’ve never actually written it, so apologies if anything sounds a little disjointed, this is my first time writing anything remotely raunchy! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

word count: 1.1k

warnings/tags: NSFW | written with AFAB OC x Canon in mind, captive/captor themes, toxic dynamic, power imbalance, age difference (both adults are 25+), just lots of fucking headcanons

Marina was a virgin before meeting Fox. Marina had only ever focused on furthering her career, so relationships and sex (or lack thereof) were very much the lowest on her list of priorities in life. (She would’ve been content e-fucking anime boys for the rest of her life, lmao)

In their second livestream, Fox states that it doesn’t matter to him one way or another if she’s a virgin or just inexperienced, though he can’t help but find it adorable seeing Marina fumble her way through and gagging while giving him a blowjob, or her legs giving out and becoming Jell-O immediately from trying to bounce up and down on his knotted member.

Marina isn’t completely clueless about sex, having played 18+ otome hentai games, but putting what she learns in theory from these games into practice is another story. Fox lavishes in her sweet, sweet ignorance, and ever so “lovingly” teaches her everything he knows to get the two of them to the peak of ecstasy.

Despite being a sadist, Fox isn’t only interested in getting himself off. Fox also derives pleasure from getting Marina off. Seeing her go from the prim and proper picture of untouched innocence into a broken, crying, and filthy whore for him and him alone makes his cock twitch at just the thought of it.

Fox at his core is a versatile switch, enjoying roles as dominant or submissive depending on his partner, but because of Marina’s inexperience and role as “pet,” he performs a dominant top role in the bedroom. Though, he does encourage (force) Marina to top him, just to see her buckle under the pressure of having to perform well enough for him as she grinds her hips against his.

Though he has retired Marina from gore torture streams, he still fucks her on camera occasionally, without going too extreme on her in terms of physical pain with the requests that roll in from the chat. These streams are not as popular as his snuff streams, but they still hold an audience of devoted Fox fans who just enjoy watching their favorite furry DILF fuck pretty and sweet little pets.

Fox is not a tit or ass man, to him, they both have their merits. BUT if he had to choose, his preference is for whichever part of his partner is larger, so in this case, Marina’s breasts are his favorite part of her body.

Speaking of Marina’s breasts, her large nipples are quite sensitive and she gains pleasure from them being teased and toyed with. Fox takes advantage of this fact, and often finds himself suckling on her tits and leaving bleeding marks on her areolas like a leech. >:3

Marina’s bust size is 34F, and Fox will never let her get a reduction. But conversely, he doesn’t need her to get an augmentation either; he likes her big naturals just the way they are.

Fox’s cock is an average length at 5 inches from tip to knot, and 6.25 inches from tip to base. The stretch from his knot is absolutely delicious.

Fox’s pubic hair is a thick white fur that trails down from his navel to the base of his shaft. His fur also cutely runs from his lower back into his ass crack, to around his hole and trailing up to his taint and balls. uwu

Fox’s nicknames for Marina as he fucks her are a far cry from the sweet names he usually purrs out for her. Some of his more raunchy favorites are “Fuck doll,” “breeding bitch,” “fuck bunny,” “cum slut,” and “cocksleeve.” His more standard nicknames are “pet,” “naughty little girl/slut/whore,” “crybaby,” “needy little baby,” “baby/babydoll,” and “my (little) girl/baby.”

Though Fox enjoys fucking as a whole, his favorite position would have to be doggy or prone. (Shocker /s) Having one arm pulled back and her face pressed into the surface she’s being bent over is the most intoxicating position for him. Seeing his cock go in and out of her puffy and slick folds while he has a firm handle on her round and reddened ass as she has no way of escaping him pounding into her drives him animalistic.

Marina’s favorite position is missionary. It’s a bit on the safe side and a more standard position, but it makes her feel loved when Fox looks her in the eyes as he slams his cock into her needy hole and his balls slap against her ass.

Missionary may not be Fox’s favorite position, but he does enjoy how romantic it can be. Plus, he gets to watch her breasts flop around rhythmically as he pounds into her.  

Fucking with Fox can go one of two ways, fast & rough/primal, or soft & slow/passionate. It’s all dependent on how he’s feeling. He’s got beastly and feral qualities for sure, but at his core, he is a bit of a romantic, and likes to display that side of himself on occasion.

Despite his age, Fox has better stamina than one could expect for a man pushing 50. He can keep a steady stroke pace, and usually cum twice or three times in a fuck session.

Marina on the other hand taps out quite easily, and whines and cries as she convulses from the overstimulation, while Fox continues to pump in and out of her, chasing his own high.

Fox is not averse to having Marina pass out as he fucks her, but he will smack her face a bit to wake her up if he sees her falling unconscious. He’d just prefer if she’d stay awake as he ruins her. He wants her to remember the feeling of every inch of his cock and how it stretches her out…and unfortunately, “you can’t do that while sleeping, darling.” uwu

Fox gets very excited when hearing Marina’s shrill whimpers and whines. With each mewl that leaves her pretty little lips, his tail thumps harder and faster, and his grip on her supple flesh becomes tighter and rougher.

Fox has taught Marina how to squirt. (Or fucked her well enough to squirt, rather.) The first time she squirted was while he was eating her out, sucking and nibbling on her clit until the last bit of composure inside of her just snapped. After coating his face in her fluids, Marina thoroughly apologized to Fox, thinking she had done something wrong and off-putting by making a mess, ultimately thinking she would be punished for it. However, Fox with a predatory gaze licked his lips then continued to work away to Marina’s sensitive clit, over-stimulating her further to the point of her releasing her juices again and again as she shrieked in the pain derived from the pleasure.

a/n: This list was a bit all over the place, but I feel like I could go on and on, haha. I could certainly do a part two to this! I think I may want to pick a kink and do a one shot for my next writing though. I want to play around with dialogue, hehe. Thank you for reading!~ ❤️‍🩹

[puttersmile]

Crittertember Day 9: In Your AU

Excuse me as I shamelessly self indulge. Double induldge because I'm claiming this as a Crittertember Entry lmao. Day 9! "In Your AU"

This is a pretty loose AU. Pretty much everything I draw could be considered AU because what even is canon for the Smiling Critters? But I like to call this my "Critter Island" AU. (Or CritterCrossing) Simply because I headcanon that they live in a place called Critter Cove Isle. I basically treat it like a playground of ideas inspired by MLP, Animal Crossing and other stuff I like.

The OC is originally from This Post.

I wrote a short story about Kickin and my OC meeting for the first time. If you want then read below!

Self indulgent shipping stuff: First Meeting

It was a blistering summer day, and Sandy Paw Beach  was packed with critters enjoying the sun, surf, and sand. Kickin Chicken was in his element, surrounded by his usual entourage of fans. His athletic prowess, smooth confidence, and laid-back attitude had made him a local celebrity. Today, he was out there impressing everyone with his latest trick—a complicated, gravity-defying flip off the side of the pier into the ocean. 

“Yo, Kickin, that was sick!” one of the critters cheered, clapping him on the back as he stepped out of the water, flipping his wet feathers in an effortlessly cool way. 

“Ye-hah, you nailed it, dude!” another chimed in, eyes wide with admiration.

Kickin smirked, shaking off the water and casually throwing on his sunglasses. 

“Eh, no biggie,” he said, trying to downplay it. “When I was born my mom thought I was a penguin, y’know?”

His group of fans chuckled, hanging onto his every word. As they headed back toward the pier to grab some ice cream, one of the critters in the group glanced over at the lifeguard tower and scoffed.

“Ugh, there she is again,” an otter critter named Mia muttered, nudging her friend. “The weird lifeguard.”

Kickin raised an eyebrow, his attention pulled to where Mia was looking. At the lifeguard tower sat Jersey Shoals, a cow critter, her gaze steady as she surveyed the beach. She was calm and quiet, the wind playing with her short, ocean-swept hair as she sat atop the tower, her lifeguard vest loose around her shoulders.

“What’s weird about her?” Kickin asked, though his tone was still casual. He wasn’t the type to get caught up in gossip, but something about the way Mia said it piqued his curiosity.

“She’s, like, always so quiet and stares off into space,” Mia replied. “Barely talks to anyone, and when she does, it’s like... I dunno, she just acts kinda... different. People say she’s, like, in her own world or something.”

“Yeah,” another critter chimed in. “I heard she’s…excuse the language, a bit slow?  Probably not all there, y’know?”

Kickin shrugged, not particularly interested in the details. “Whatever,” he said, brushing it off as he strutted toward the ice cream stand. “She’s just doing her job.”

But as they passed the tower, Kickin couldn’t help but glance up at Jersey again. There was something different about her, but not in the way his beach pals had been suggesting. She seemed...focused. Like she was tuned into something deeper than the noise around her. She wasn’t gawking at the athletes and body builders on the beach, wasn't trying to impress anyone. She just... was.

Suddenly, as if on cue, a loud shriek broke through the chatter of the beachgoers. Kickin turned his head in time to see a kid flailing in the water, caught by a rough current. The lifeguard tower’s alarm sounded, but Jersey was already in motion.

Without a second’s hesitation, she leapt from the tower, her movements swift and precise. She sprinted toward the water, cutting through the crowd with ease, while the beachgoers began to panic. Kickin watched, caught off guard by the sudden change in pace.

Jersey hit the water with purpose, diving beneath the waves in a practiced motion. The kid had gone under for a moment, but she found him quickly, pulling him to the surface with a strength that surprised everyone watching. With measured, powerful strokes, she swam back to shore, cradling the terrified kid in her arms.

By the time she reached the beach, the crowd had gathered, buzzing with concern and admiration. Jersey laid the kid gently on the sand, checking him over as he coughed up water. 

“You’re okay, kiddo. Just breathe,” she said softly, her voice calm and steady.

The kid’s parents rushed over, thanking Jersey profusely, but she barely acknowledged the attention. Once the child was safe, she simply nodded and made her way back toward the tower, shaking off the water without a word, completely focused on her duties.

Kickin’s groupies watched the whole thing in stunned silence. Mia shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the ground as one of the others nudged her in the side. As if to say “Ahem. You were saying?”

“Well... okay, that was pretty cool, I guess,” she muttered, clearly embarrassed by her earlier comment.

Kickin, however, was still staring at Jersey as she walked back to her post. His sunglasses were pushed up, and for the first time that day, he was speechless. That girl who they had called “weird” had just saved a life without a second thought. No showing off, no need for applause. Just action.

Something stirred in him. She was different, all right—but in a way that made him curious. She wasn’t like the others around him, constantly seeking attention or validation. Jersey Shoals had her own rhythm, and that was something Kickin couldn’t help but admire, even if he didn’t understand it yet.

As Jersey reached the base of the tower, she glanced back, her gaze meeting Kickin’s for just a brief second. She didn’t smile, didn’t wave—just a quiet, steady look that lingered for a moment before she turned away and climbed back up to her station.

Kickin blinked, realizing he had been staring. He quickly composed himself, his usual cocky grin returning. “Alright, y’all go ahead,” he said, waving off his friends. “I’ll catch up in a minute.”

As they headed off toward the ice cream stand, Kickin lingered by the edge of the beach, his eyes drifting back toward the lifeguard tower. Maybe she wasn’t weird. Maybe she was just different. And honestly that was something he found intriguing. 

With one last glance at Jersey, he turned and jogged to catch up with his pals, but his mind kept wandering back to the girl on the tower, wondering about what made her tick.

[askewhammerart]

WAITER!!!!!!!! WAITER!!!!!!!!!!!! MORE SELF INDULGENT GORILLAZ ART!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! anyway very bad oc pre-phase 1 lore below the cut. also sorrgy for poor shading in this the halftone effects took away the detail 💔

tag list @toasty-self-shipping @brutally-loving

(Note: I am super tired while writing this and this is my first time trying to mimic Gorillaz lore insanity through means of writing. bear with me..........)

After the band formed and made a couple of demos/songs, 2D and Murdoc went out to a dingy, underground punk bar named "Palmers" that was in the roughs.

Murdoc knew the place well, having taken multiple trips to the location in his youth to perform with all of the past bands he's formed, and wanted to reflect and bask in how all of his former bandmates were all "chumps" for all leaving or not keeping in contact with him... something along the lines of that, I think.

As 2D and Murdoc sat and talked (more like yelled since there was a lot of shit going on), their conversation was soon interrupted by a flying doc marten being chucked their way. The boot landed in the platter of nachos that they were enjoying, causing a massive spillage of Monterey Jack queso all over the duo. Murdoc was pissed.

Murdoc stood up from his booth to find the culprit who would do such a thing, shouting loudly and trying to pursue a fight before he was soon body slammed by a duo going at each other's throats. The bassist landed flat on top of the table booth, breaking it in two as foodstuffs and splinters flew through the air.

2D opened his mouth in horror and let out a yell at the scene, causing a nacho chip to get lodged in his throat. As chaos ensued, a pale, lanky preteen then entered into the fight. They swung down an old and beaten brass saxophone at one of the duo brawlers, giving them a concussion while the other attempted to take a swing at the saxophone-wielding culprit. Their attempts at self-defense proved faulty, though, as the brass instrument was swung towards their liver, leading them to fall to their knees in the murky pub and puke.

Murdoc still wanted some action despite the two being knocked down and promptly snatched the instrument away from the adrenaline-filled attacker... Though he was immediately shut down in his motivations as he was elbowed in his crotch, letting go of the sax.

The preteen then yanked 2D out of his seat, practically making his soul escape his body as the punk wrapped their arms behind 2D and thrust a wrapped fist inward into his gut. The chip he was choking on was then launched out into the crowd, a gasp of fresh air entering his lungs before he was thrown back down into his seat.

The unknown figure then snatched their saxophone back before running off and jumping onto the main stage where a ska-punk band was playing, their saxophone now blaring throughout the pub as they began a solo lasting for 8 straight minutes, changing through different brass instruments such as a trumpet, a trombone, a French horn, a bugle, a tuba, a sousaphone, etc., etc.; you get the point.

Murdoc, while still pissed, was shocked when he heard the notes play with such strength after just getting out of a fight. He was impressed at the form and precision the kid maintained, and more intrigued by their character once 2D told him about the kid saving his life from the chip. The bassist had to know more about this kid.

After the show, Murdoc hobbled over to the kid packing up their (slightly bloodied) sax and asked for their name. The preteen stuttered for a moment and seemed to panic before revealing their name to be "Van". Despite the previous violent behavior they exhibited, they were soft-spoken and reserved as they talked to the bassist, apologizing for the harm done. Murdoc asked if Van wanted to join his band, to which Van hesitantly said yes after lots and lots of pestering from Murdoc. The rest is history.

[lostgracestories]

Forgiveness

This is purely self-indulgent of one of my OCs and Morgott. This is absolutely filthy. No seriously.

:D anyways, enjoy

wc: 1.5k tw: 18+, Sexual themes, this is my first time posting a full fic like this

“Thou art forgiven… but I wishest for more…”

These were the last words Morgott heard spill from her lips before they were scuffling with each other in their shared bed. Morgott had hurt his precious lover’s feelings when he had waved her away much earlier, deep in work in his study… he had asked for forgiveness when he made it to bed and was met with scolding until his lover had brought her lips to his then challenged him to convince her to forgive him… and so here they were. Elysia gasped as Morgott’s lips dropped down to her neck, pulling skin into his mouth before letting go and kissing the forming hickey. She felt his body shift as he moved above her, his hands holding her hips ever so gently… He was being slow and tender tonight which wasn’t out of the ordinary, however tonight he was forcing himself not to rush through foreplay, practically worshipping her body like she was the erdtree itself. “My king…” Elysia spoke breathlessly as his hands pulled her night dress ever so gently off of her. She reached up to cup his cheeks as he marvelled over her body like he hungered for it– like he was starving. Elysia let out a shaky breath when Morgott’s hands gently explored her exposed skin, moving up to brush a few rough and calloused fingers over her breast. “Thou art so very breath taking…” Morgott huffed out, taking all he could to restrain himself as he leaned down and took a nipple into his mouth, sucking on it hungrily, as if he wished to draw something from her. He removed his mouth with a soft pop and his eyes fell down to her lacey panties… she never wore these… Morgott raised his gaze to Elysia’s face with a slightly cocked brow, silently questioning her clothing as he rested a rough finger under the stretchy and thin band. Elysia shivered when his gazed dropped and held her breath when he looked back at her. She felt choked for a response and yet forced one out through her clouded mind, “I was hoping that my king would lay claim to me tonight…” She looked dazed as she looked upon him, watching his lips curl into a sly grin. “My needy queen…” His voice was a low rumble as he pulled the panties down her legs, no longer caring to take it so slowly “Thou art so eager and here I am… slowly clambering about, where art my manners” He hummed the words in a teasing tone before lowering his face to her thighs, kissing a trail to her cunt before suddenly taking her clit into his mouth. Elysia gasped and tangled her hands into his hair, he had never done this for her, no matter how much she begged of him, he always claimed that a king must have dignity and yet here he was… no doubt in an attempt to draw a reaction from her almost as a punishment for planning this. “H-holy erdtree-” She breathed out as Morgott lapped at her sensitive bud, her legs trembling and threatening to close around his face “M-my king- thou art truly s-spoiling me tonight-” 

Morgott hummed in response, sending vibrations through her sensitive bundle of nerves and drawing a sweet, oh so sweet moan from her lips as the coil in her depths threatened to snap. As he watched her near the edge, he suddenly pulled away and chuckled at the whine he received from the loss of sensation “If thou finds enjoyment in toying with thy king's feelings…” He leaned forward to whisper against her ear “Then thy king shall toy with thy body…” Elysia’s eyes widened at the dirty words slipping past her husband’s lips, something he also refused to do. He was always so afraid to explore with her, afraid he may harm her. Before Elysia could reply she gasped sharply as one of his thick digits forced into her dripping cunt, curling into the sweetest of spots as his mouth explored her neck “D-don’t stop-” She gasped out, trembling. She always marvelled at the mere size of his fingers, sometimes struggling to believe that she ever fit his cock inside of her. Morgott chuckled, breath tickling her neck as it expelled from his nose with the sound, “O’ sweet dove…” he hummed the words in a sultry tone “That is not thy decision to make” before Elysia could protest, he withdrew his finger, earning a frustrated grunt from Elysia who shot him a half hearted glare. She opened her mouth to give him an earful for toying with her and Morgott took advantage to shove two thick digits into her mouth to silence her before suddenly pushing the head of his cock into her cunt, stretching it so beautifully and causing Elysia to throw her head back into the pillow as he withdrew his fingers from her mouth

“B-by the gods!” she cried out, her hands gripping his forearms as he moved closer but dared not to force himself further just yet. He waited for her grip to slightly loosen before he dared to ever so slowly plunge into her, bottoming out with a grunt and deep exhale, his cock twitching inside of her “Thou art impatient…” Morgott mused when Elysia’s hips instinctively rolled into him in search of continuous pleasure. Before allowing her to respond, Morgott pulled his hips back, snatching her lips into his as he snapped back into her with his full length, causing a loud moan to spill out between kisses as he began to keep pace with his hips, eating up every moan that fell off of Elysia’s lips Elysia’s brows furrowed and eyes rolled back as his thrusts became vigorous and steady, pounding his hefty length into her cervix, practically abusing the structure as he continued to swallow every moan she cried out. As if the sensation weren’t enough, the animalistic growls that left his lips made her cunt tighten and pull him in with each thrust. She could feel the coil in her gut tightening oh so sweetly when Morgott’s movements suddenly slowed and the coil began slowly slipping away. She let out a cry of frustration before Morgott suddenly gripped a large clump of her hair in his hand, making her look down at the way her stomach bulged at his size and the way his cock stretched her out past her limits. “Look at thou… swallowing me up so desperately” Morgott’s voice rumbled as the coil in her gut continued to fade “If thou wishest to feel thy release…” he started before pulling her up into his lap by her hair, sitting her over top of him as he sat underneath her “Then beg thy king for mercy” His words were dripping with desperation, as if he desired the sweet sound of her voice, needed it even for his own release. As his hand remained tightly clenched in her hair, he groaned and snapped his hips up into her with each plea, helping to draw her release back out with each thrust. “M-my king!” Elysia gasped between each jolt as his cock drilled up into her “I-I beg of thee! R-relieve me of my high!” she begged, practically crying with desperation to him. As Morgott tensed at her pleas, he felt his own satisfaction drawing out and threatening to spill. He quickly pushed Elysia back down onto her back and mercilessly pounded into her, mind clouded with the sensation as he drew out his own peak. Elysia’s body jumped with the force of each thrust and as the coil in her snapped, she cried out in overstimulation as Morgott forced his knot into her, spilling pools of seed into her womb, his breathing ragged as he snatched her lips in his again. He rode out his high as he rutted into her, the deep grinding drawing extra moans from Elysia as she wrapped her hands in his hair. “M-my king hast been thoroughly forgiven-” she gasped out breathlessly as his rutting slowed and his body relaxed it’s tension, however, his knot remained stuck inside her cunt, still swollen. Morgott brushed his rough hand over her stomach as it bulged just barely with his seed. “Thou art perfect… perhaps handcrafted just for me…” Morgott’s voice was a soft rumble as he lowered himself to cuddle with his beloved, knowing they would need to wait for his knot to relax for him to even consider removing it from her without causing her discomfort. As he lay next to her he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Art thou satisfied, my queen?”

“Perhaps…” Elysia hummed the words out and brought a hand over to stroke down his side as he lay behind her.

“Perhaps? Dost thou need more?” Morgott questioned with a raised brow and was met with a giggle. “O’ good gold heavens, no… I was simply teasing thee, my king-” She gasped when he kissed over a hickey on her neck.

“No?” He hummed at her reaction, a smile tugging at his lips, his sly grin was met with a light smack from his beloved that drew a chuckle from his lips. “I understand, beloved. Rest, so that you may regain your strength by morning…” he whispered softly, marveling as she let out a single sigh before relaxing against him…

Sleep had stolen her away for the night…

[nightcolorz]

okay i swear last from me tonight and no spoilers for show but i need armand happiness can we have some book armand / devils minion headcanons. literally about anything- their relationship, what they like to do, post canon, general armandisms that make me love him So Much?

don’t worry about bothering me I love when u interact with me <33 ok so I have a rlly cringe post canon devils minion head canon that I have been wanting to talk about but it’s rlly cringe and self indulgent 😭💔 but tbh, about as cringe as anything in late book canon so 🤷 I hope u enjoy and it makes u feel better, it’s my go to comfort headcanon

so I think Anne rices canon introduction of “through Science™️ vampires can conceive children with the help of DNA 🧬 , but they will come out as genetic clones, literally like identical twins but they r ur child, and lestat has a canon clone son” is a stroke of unhinged world building genius that is greatly underutilized by the fandom! I also think the vampire chronicles fandom is rlly missing out on some cringe fandom trademarks (like fandom ocs, ridiculous aus, stuff like that) bcus of the lawsuit thing probably. So anyway, I made the change I want to see in the world, and I have a genetic clone fan child oc 🙏. inspired by Armand’s canonically paternal personality and nurturing tendencies and soft spot for children, I like to think that way way post canon (around modern day) Armand and Daniel decide to Start A Family, and go through the process lestat did of conceiving a clone child with a surrogate (through armands dna), and they have a son (clone of Armand) named Ivan (after Armand’s father, I’m sappy) ! 🥰🥰 . It’s so silly I know, but I think having the opportunity to raise a human child and getting to give him and watch him live the mortal life he constantly envies and hoped to be able to provide Benji and Sybelle (before it was stripped from them) would be like, rlly good for Armand, and definitely I could see him in later canon wanting to pursue having a child with Daniel bcus of this unresolved grief. The clone layer, as ridiculous as it is, adds another dimension of sappy bcus not only will Armand get to live out the catharsis of giving a human child the fulfilled human life he never got, he will also get to see *himself*, or an almost too literal embodiment of his inner child, get to experience what he never did, and live that happy and safe childhood that Armand was deprived of. I think watching his son who looks just like him grow up and become a man while Armand is eternally frozen as a teen would be hard for him, but still healing and important.

So in my heart, post canon Armand and Daniel have their shit together enough to healthily (tho imperfectly) raise their clone son Ivan, who lives and dies a mortal. Ivan is the most spoiled child to ever live and he has a lavish playroom that is practically a house, fifty iPads, probably like ten ponies, etc etc. I imagine since he shares so much of Armand’s dna he strongly carry’s a lot of his traits, such as autism and strong hyper fixations. And I like to think he’s a little bit of a brat like Armand was as a child🙏 especially since his other dad Daniel does little to discourage those tendencies 😭. Ivan is a screen addict, a model train addict, and a Wolf Kid. He grows up to be the freakiest, strangest, long haired big bearded 5’6 ginger man at the gay bar. As a toddler Armand dresses him like a tiny fancy little man bcus he won’t have any son of his committing any fashion crimes, but unfortunately for Armand Ivan takes after Dad-niel in the fashion department and by the time he’s able to dress himself he wears wolf themed t-shirts and cargo shorts everyday 💔💔

Daniel is rlly naturally good with kids which is incredibly sexy and romantic to Armand. He’s the fun dad 💀 Armand is a little too strict and a little to over protective bcus of how trauma based I imagine his parenting would be, and daniels laid back, comfy and understanding energy helps level that out. When he’s a teenager Ivan goes through a rebellious emo phase and Armand and Daniel have to spend all of their energy desperately trying to ensure Ivan doesn’t tap into his addiction gene or his strong susceptibility to inheriting his father’s personality disorders 💀. He is very doted on and very loved, he is given more care and attention than any other child would be capable of receiving 😭. Armand is convinced he’s a child genius and will definitely cure cancer and become a world leader, so he tends to parade him around like his prized possession that everyone needs to know is incredibly special during Vampire Family reunions or whatever goes on post canon. ivan is not allowed to interact with Most vampires, except for Uncle Louis, who finds it emotionally difficult to be around children 😭 and Uncle Lestat (only under careful supervision of Uncle Louis), who loves throwing Ivan around like a ragdoll and telling him embarrassing facts about Armand 💀

I hope u like this lol, thank u for the ask!!! <33 u r always welcome to ask me for headcanons or ask for my thoughts, that is my favorite thing. Anyways, for those who r invested, here’s my Ivan art

[uchu-no-bashira]

The Cookout - Gyomei Head!Canon w/OC!Kiana

Authors note: This was a very self-indulgent Head canon that got waaay too long and was too much fun for me. The scenarios could have gone on and on, but I had to stop eventually lmfao. Enjoy, or don't. i know I did! LMFAO. Head Canon beneath the cut.

When they got married, Gyomei had no idea how different his life would be. That isn’t to say that it was in a negative way, but it was definitely something that he wasn’t used to. Needless to say, he was apprehensive about the four day stay at Kiana’s family home; they wanted to celebrate, with a cook-out, of course.

“Is… He crying?” Kiana’s sister would ask when he’s introduced, his prayer beads tightened in one hand while Kiana grips his other hand.

“He is! He’s tearful and sensitive in the best way.” She says, the smile on her face was so large that Gyomei could see it. But something about that grip on his hand, and the happiness in her words, made meeting her family a little more comforting.

Gyomei’s heart crumbles to bits when he feels a firm hand palm his bicep - he could tell from the imperishable grip that it had to be the hand of a father, or at least a very protective older brother.

He wasn’t expecting his height to be so cherished, loved, and made fun of all at the same time. It was a strange experience.

“Damn, Gyomei!"

He's startled when he bumps into a smaller body while walking through the door.

"You know ya ass can’t fit through the door with me!” Kiana’s sibling would giggle before immediately turning to him with a hand on his forearm and stating, “Just playin’.”

Gyomei was absolutely shocked when he was greeted warmly by everyone in the house when he walked in. Normally, it’s a pretty casual thing to say “I’m back” and receive a “Welcome back.” But Kiana’s family was different…

“Tadaima… Ah.” He remembers that none of them speak Japanese, and tears up.

Okaerimas!!” Kiana would shout, causing a few glances from the family.

Imagine his surprise when they took an interest in his language because of that one interaction.

Gyomei wasn’t expecting to feel so welcomed by a group of people that didn’t share the same culture as him. Even more shocked when they all tried to learn things to accommodate him. It was very polite.

Gyomei’s favorite thing is family functions. Something about his Kiana and her family getting together brought him a sense of joy.

“Who this lil’ Asian boy?~” Kiana’s grandma would ask with a lifted brow.

“Nana, this is my husband and his name is Gyomei..” Kiana would respond - respectfully of course. She ain't wanna get slapped in the mouth. Gyomei could sense that this woman was the progenitor, and that title held much weight. Silence was his only option.

“Ooookayy!~ He cute! Tall too! Mhm, and strong! You hit the lottery with this one!! Back in my day he coulda been used to hoe an acre-long field!....” She continues, causing an apologetic Kiana to whisper ‘I’m so sorry, honey.’

Gyomei couldn’t forget the way he was brought to life by the scent of food alone in the mornings. He’d never smelled such a combination of things…

“What are those, love?” He’d ask curiously, mouth practically watering.

“I’ll feed it to you and let you figure it out~” Kiana would whisper - poorly.

“AWWWWWWWW!~”

Gyomei never knew that biscuits and gravy could go so well together, or fish and grits, or chicken and waffles, watermelon with salt or sugar. What a variety of odd combinations to make an amalgamation of wonderful flavors.

“You eat like this at home, Gyo?” Nana would ask, giving him his nth serving of whatever it was he was eating.

“Mm-mm.” He responds, steadily placing more food in his mouth with more grace than anyone else, struggling to keep his demeanor calm as he tries not to shovel food in his mouth like Kiana.

“Kiana! Start feedin’ that baby! He can’t live off scraps!” She scolds with her hands on her hips, brow furrowed and lips curled.

From that point on, every other Sunday, Gyomei would perk up - anticipating his return to a family that showed him hospitality on a level he thought comfortable and familial.

“It’s nice being invited to the cook-out, ain't it babe?

With a blush, Gyomei nods once. He understood that being invited to "The cookout" was more than just the bringing of good food. It was the integration of him into a family that wanted him there.