#wee while teehee

[overboss]

your honour she is the cutest

[clancycatears]

ρєт ηαмє нєα∂¢αησηѕ — WITH TASK FORCE 141 + ALEJANDRO

JOHN PRICE

John is a classic man when it comes to his pet names. Knowing him, he’s defaulting to honey/hun or love, while also sneaking in some Mr./Mrs. Price. (Bonus points if you’re not married yet, which, how would that be possible? This man’s putting a ring on it as soon as he deems you’re the one.)

“Nearly forgot th’ eggs, hun, lemme grab ‘em.”

While I think those are the usual, I think John would also use darling or sweetheart, albeit the least out of the bunch.

“Get some rest, darlin’, I’ll take care ‘f it, yeah?”

SIMON RILEY

Simon may seem like the last person who’d want to give his sweet lover pet names, but he’s actually the total opposite! His favorite for you would have to be the classic love. It’s short, sweet, and displays his affection for you in all the right ways.

“You forgot t’ tie your shoes, luv, let me.”

Though I’d say he sticks to love for the most part, I don’t see why he wouldn’t use birdie once in a while, though! Perhaps sneak some dearie or dove/dovie in there, too.

“I’s just a pug in’a Christmas sweater, dearie, why th’ tears?”

JOHN MACTAVISH

Johnny is a chronic pet name user, no doubt about it. Any chance he gets, he’s hardly using your name, and instead referring to you by terms of endearment that he knows would bring a smile to your face. I’d say he uses sillier pet names, too. Like his favorite thing to call you is probably snookums. It’s weird in all the right ways. Oh, and he definitely makes sneaks a little “schnookums” to give it a little flair.

“Ooo, look’eh this, snookums, gots all yer faverite colors!”

Some other li’l pet names to note are pidge (short for pigeon) or, of course, the classic lassie/laddie. Though, if we wanna go basic with Johnny (even though he’s far from that), I think he’d use lovie once in a while, too.

“Oh, c’mon, pidge! Jus’ one wee cinnamon bun!”

KYLE GARRICK

Much like Johnny, Kyle is a chronic pet name user. But rather than just a pet name or two, he’s going all out. I’m talking lovie, sweetheart (See: Sweet Pet Names), baby, sugar, beautiful/handsome, literally any pet name you can think of, Kyle’s using it. (But I digress, I’m biased when I say he uses “sweet” pet names a lot more!)

“S’okay, sweet’art, tomorrow’s gonna be a better day.”

Though I should note that he also likes to sneak a li’l my [your name] or something similar with a little shortened version of your name! Or honestly, couple it with the pet names I already added, like my baby or my lovie. (For example: Sophie = My Soph)

“There’s my baby. Got a li’l bed-head goin’ on there.”

ALEJANDRO VARGAS

Our dear Alejandro uses Spanish pet names all the way. Of course, we have to include the classic cariño (darling)! It’s adorable, definitely meant for long-term lovers (because there’s no such thing as short-term with Alejandro), and it even gets my heart pumping more than it should, teehee.

“Welcome home, cariño. ¿Cómo estuvo su día, hm?” (Welcome home, darling. How was your day, hm?)

And much like Johnny and Kyle, he has a whole list of pet names he uses for you. Though I think out of everyone on his list, he uses your actual name the least. I’d say he also uses durazno (peach), estrellita (little star), and mi vida (my life) or mi amor (my love)!

“Would you like some parmesan with that, mi amor?”

[sashiavi]

Idk if you’ve discussed this hybrid yet but!!! Imagine Harvest mouse farmer 🥺🫶 ( both bc harvest mice are adorable and the joke is too on the nose not to use… harvest… farmer… teehee )

Sweet lil thing, a wee bit skittish, but surprisingly efficient for the small stature

And imagine the possibilities with larger/ predatorial species hybrids among the town 👀🫡🤭

( this is only a lil biased bc i love to hc my farmer as a cute lil mouse hybrid teehee)

I WANT TO BE A CUTE LIL MOUSE SO BAD YOU HAVE NO IDEA-

Not quite smut but lots of teasing and touches of dubious consent

The Mouse!Hybrid Farmer~ You're just a skittish thing, big ears twitching in a constant manner, hearing, listening, a habitual quirk. So quiet, petite in presence, like the saying goes, easily jostling Pierre at the counter of the store or casing a yelp to chirp from Sam who'd gotten lost in his own world.

Ahh but you're so sweet; Gifting out bouquets of flowers to those around - A Harvest mouse and flowers, it simply made sense for you to grow an abundance of your own - Yoba.. If only you'd known the traditions of the Valley a little sooner...

It's easy to become a target for the more.. Predatorial species that lived in the town.

Teases and bullying words thrown at you from Cat!Sebastian or Haley, playful threats to watch out.. You know a cat loves to chase.

The rake of Haley's nails sends a shiver down your spine - Practically claws, though pretty and manicured, the way she strokes her fingers over your big, rounded ears in a teasing pet has bells ringing in your head. Her body language; the tilt of her head, keen twitch on her lip, the soft pur that ripples up her throat screamed 'danger' - And yet your meek-willed self couldn't help but freeze under her.

You could have expected Sebastian to play some sort of mean trick on you - Brushing against your body as you fumbled with a pool cue, lengthy fingers encapsulating your hands to guide you to victory. Purrs rumble from his throat, head bumping a nuzzle while his hips give a soft grind. God- He was practically scenting you, greedily marking up his newfound territory, playing with his food.

Gosh.. Don't even start on the others-

Puppies are excitable. They get right into your space, sniffing and nosing with curiosity, licking all slobbery when they're all too happy, making a fool out of you and themselves.

Puppy!Sam wasn't an exception - The wag of his tail was a red flag because all too soon you had an eager retriever right in your personal space, quite literally barreling into you. Instincts fire on both sides; Wincing a freeze, wanting to shrink yourself into nothing while the pup huffed a rush of sniffs, practically salivating for Yoba-Knows whatever reason. Puppies were dense, such a position completely compromising, downward dog over your fallen self, practically pinning you to the ground!

Or the chocolate-lab incarnate of Alex- Playing with you all too rough, practically tossing you around with an easy knock to your body. It was as if he was playing fetch with himself, chasing after you on the beach, taking you down into the sand with a bounding snatch, tail wagging up a storm behind him. It felt like you were his personal little chew-toy; all squeaky and chirpy,

Ohhh but nothing compares to the big and scary Bear.

Yoba, you were sure you'd fit right in the palm of his paw of a hand. Simply standing near him had tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, nervousness showing in the stressed flick of your tail and the careful twitch of your ears. How did you get here?? Sat on Bear!Shane's lap, his thick arms encircled your body, easily trapping you down, as if you were some stuffed teddy toy while he snored away in a beer induced nap. You can only squeak pitiful peeps, no amount of squirming freeing you as if you were stuck in a sticky glue-trap.

Yeah.. I want this lmaoo

[solbaby7]

I know that the bar is swamped, but if you find the time and have the liquor, could I please have a neat Manhattan with a salt rim?

(Idk how to say this but like, submissive neat? If you're alright with that)

lololol “if you’re alr with that” babe, i’m foaming at the fucking mouth for it. this is gonna be a wee bit more than a blurb lemme tell u.

not edited teehee

[ “don’t make me put you on a leash” + smut + sub!az ]

-> BLURB BAR <-

Usually, you don’t mind needy.

The grabby hands pawing at your thighs. Kisses that linger on your neck, nose tracing the curve of your shoulder. Hushed words crooned into your ear to distract from the way eager fingers graze at the stitching of expensive lingerie.

It was his reprieve.

Azriel’s favorite way to unwind after spending his days as the dutiful spymaster. With you, he gets to lay down his weapons. Turns off the killer instinct that never seems to comprehend the meaning of a break. Hangs up the battle worn leathers that eats, sleeps, and breathes the contours of Azriel’s body.

But, with you? With you, he doesn’t bother about trivial things like power or strength. He relinquishes his title, shuns his duties, turns his back on honor and responsibility in favor of sinking down on his knees and turning all that over to you.

And usually, you don’t mind.

But the day had been especially stressful; never-ending and the open mouthed kisses trailing up the soft flesh of your inner thigh wasn’t loosening the tight knots embedded along your shoulderblades. “Knock it off.” You grumble softly, an achy spine hunched over glossy wood while weary eyes struggle to decipher the words written on parchment. Knuckles rub against your eyelids, toes nudging at the neat taper of his waist to push him off.

The gentle correction does no good for an impatient pet and Azriel only listens for but a second.

He tries again, going a different route when applying pecks to prettily pedicured toes. A palm curls around your ankle, fingers digging into your soles until a groan of approval rips free from your throat without permission.

Just like that, the damage is already done.

One sound becoming the equivalent of throwing him a bone. “That’s—that’s actually…really nice, Az.”

The praise satiates a need within him, urging him to keep it up, to try harder—to do things that had you gasping and yelping and screaming out raving reviews. It becomes an addiction; fueling an obsession that teases the fine line between devotion and fixation.

Every touch is annoyingly controlled, a soldiers training bleeding into the bedroom when giving his all on a task. He strives to be the best when coaxing knots coiled deep within the muscle of stiff calves, swiftly distracting from the way he suckles marks into the softness of supple thighs. “Feels good?”

“Mmhm,” The grip on your pen wavers, loosens, then falls altogether when Az urges his shadows through your hair; phantom fingers applying generous pressure to your scalp until lids flutter closed and your back slumps fully into your chair. “Just what I needed.”

It’s like adding gasoline to a fire.

You forget yourself when indulging yourself in its warmth; ignoring now flames grow when stoked—how they burn when life is breathed into it. How it eats and eats; singeing and charring, wringing out the life from the air and replacing it with soot.

By time you realize the damage, Azriel’s too far gone. Already high on the kerosene you splash at him and happily huffing in the fumes. “Can make you feel better.” Curious massaging morphs into outright groping, his hands eating at whatever he can hold as his tongue follows behind to lick up the crumbs. “Please, let me taste?”

You should say no.

He doesn’t exactly deserve it. Touching without permission. Refusing to sit still. Begging for treats instead of waiting patiently like good boys should. Whining when you weakly start pushing him back. Growling when you attempt to close your legs.

They’re all red flags—behaviors that warrant correction and yet you ignore them all when Azriel looks up at you with those eyes.

Like vats of honey in the sunlight, absolutely oozing with sticky sweet submission; staring up at you like you were an angel gifted from the heavens.

You suppose the day had been long.

And even gods praise their most dutiful servants.

Teeth bite into the fat of your cheek as feet neatly perch at the edge of your seat, knees parting open as you give into selfish desire. “Fine.” He’s all but drooling before you can get the word out, staring at the skin bared to him. You glisten under faelight, ego inflating when you catch the way Azriel ogles the thin slip of cotton separating you from his prize. “Only a little though. Have to make sure you save room for dinner.”

Dinner be damned for the only feast Azriel craved was between your thighs and he wastes no time digging in once given the go ahead.

His tongue paints a trail up the seam of your pussy and the harsh line of your shoulders finally eases. Two fingers spread you open while the slick muscle circles the rim of your entrance and that rigid knot in your spine finally knows peace.

Satisfaction melts your discipline down more than acceptable, that much becomes apparent when Azriel’s muffled moans shift into sloppy grunts. His nose is all but buried in your cunt, arousal shiny on his lips and dripping down the curve of his chin.

It doesn’t take long for it to get sloppy. Spit sliding down the cleft of your ass, smearing along inner thighs and on the seat cushion below. But you forget to care when you notice the flush of Az’s cheeks, the shallow heave of his chest as the need to coax those wrecked sounds from your mouth outweighed the need to breathe. “Hey,” You huff out, peering down at him, stomach fluttering when he only burrows himself deeper, tongue fucking into a drooling hole. “You need to come up for air.”

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.

Common sense and rationality left itself at the door, tossed away intentionally out of sight so he has a reason to keep eating and eating and eating.

This time you don’t melt under the pleasure, thighs clenching around his head, smushing his cheeks as you ban access to your fountain of youth. “The mouth on you is pure sin, might almost make up for the fact that you’re a shit listener.” He’s a right mess, cheeks red and lips swollen. One hand furiously stroking at a desperate prick. His mouth opens to complain—maybe to beg, but your thighs only squeeze tighter, teeth digging into the soft part of his cheeks in gentle correction. “By the cauldron, I’ll leash you.”

It only stokes his fire, fresh logs added to keep the inferno from flickering away; abdomen flexing as his body reacts to the threat.

Please, please, please! Azriel’s eyes scream.

You should say no.

Though, restraint had never really been your strong suit.

“If you’re so willing to rob yourself of air for the sake of a cunt, then I suppose we’ll just have to see how long you can hold your breath.”

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — TREVOR ZEGRAS x f!reader (established); JAMIE DRYSDALE x reader; MASON MCTAVISH x reader; trevor x jamie x mason wc — 2.2k synopsis — what better gift on your friends to bestow than the gift that keeps on giving?

note — happy valentine's day, my lovelies!! as my gift to you, i've decided to release whatever the hell this is from the archive <3 i randomly dropped this on patreon post-ficmas '24 because, per usual, i was possessed by the ghost of perpetual horniness! we know it'll happen again, so just know i am totally down to write a follow-up if there's any interest teehee! oh, and to the anons who requested some jd + tz content after the trade (rip), i hope this satisfies the craving!! (and you don't mind masey being thrown in the mix)

and with that... i’ll see myself out 🚶‍♀️

specific content warnings under the cut.

cw — everyone’s a lil bi because why not, trevor is boyfriend of the year, mason and jamie bickering over whose turn it is to munch, tz + reader are switchy and mason + jamie are bratty and subby, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), accidental edging, trevor being a cocky menace and stirring the pot, and a wee bit of a cliff-hanger bc i'm incapable of controlling myself :-) oh, and the current pet name fixation of the week! + trevor calling himself daddy (once) while being condescending to all parties lolz

“—stop getting in my way.”

"or what?"

silence.

then, an exasperated groan.

“i wouldn’t need to be in the way if you were doing it right.”

the long, drawn-out sigh you hear sounds far away, like an echo from somewhere out in the distance, but you know it's coming from behind you—directly behind you.

your boyfriend abandons the soft curves of your chest, which you vehemently protest with a petulant mewl, to massage the tension building between his eyes; if he’d known this would turn into such a headache, he never would’ve suggested this.

“clock’s running, boys. if you wanna waste your very limited time between my girl’s pretty legs bickering with each other, be my guest.”

jamie and mason exchange a glare, united in their distaste for their friend’s tone and attitude in spite of their sudden animosity toward one another.

a pretty girl could do that to a friend group.

only, you haven’t come between the trio in the way one might assume. you might’ve been the catalyst in jamie and mason’s current strife, sure, but that's where your meddling begins and ends. no, you’ve come between them in more of a physical sense, at the behest of your boyfriend and their best friend.

trevor zegras veered toward possessive—territorial, even—most days, but, tonight, he’s feeling strangely generous. it is the season of giving, after all. however, his kindness hardly felt like a gift anymore. the gesture lost its luster soon after the silky ribbon was untied and discarded... and the bitching began. charity work would be a more apt descriptor, in his humble opinion.

he’s expecting an edible arrangement from the ladies of orange county in the near future.

but if anyone deserves some compensation, it's most definitely you, and trevor has just the shiny something in mind. what was originally intended to be the crown jewel of your holiday gifts will now function as a “thank you letting my friends use you as a practice dummy” token of appreciation.

“guess we also need to teach you to share,” you huff, exhausted from the accidental edging and frustrated by trevor's shifted attention.

the worst part is that you don’t think they’re perceptive enough (or have enough experience with a woman’s body, even) to see the agony, the by-product of their inadvertent torture, smeared plainly across your dazed and dewy face. your boyfriend's best friends have unintentionally dragged you to the brink of insanity, and you're reluctantly hanging on by a fragile thread.

said boyfriend's lips caress your temple. “can’t say i blame them. with you freshly unwrapped—just out of the box—and all... i wouldn't know how to share you, either.”

eager is a nice way of putting the boys' behavior thus far, but selfish is a more befitting adjective for their uncoordinated fervor.

two interesting things to note since you were spread wide—presented—to your boyfriend’s closest friends and collegues. the first being that while jamie is enthralled by the way you clench around his lithe fingers, mason favors his mouth; and second, trevor’s harder than a rock from showering his friends with the same domineering aura usually reserved for you in the privacy of your shared bedroom.

(or, the backseat of his car. the abandoned lifeguard tower beside the pier and, on occasion, the recently refurbished dressing room.)

mason also enjoys spitting on your sensitive bits more than he’s comfortable with, the apprehension bright in his eyes. but, watching the run-off of his saliva and your syrupy arousal drip onto jamie’s fingers before both are shoved into your heat is too distracting to pay any mind to the internal chaos of unearthing a new and unforeseen kink.

what jamie lacks in skill and experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm. for all his bashfulness, jamie drysdale is not shy about finger-fucking.

momentarily sat on his haunches, mason watches with feverish intent as his friend curls your toes with the simple curl of his marriage and middle, his pinky and pointer fingers splayed wide to keep his eye on the prize, sight unimpeded by plush, silky distractions.

no bells and whistles, just diligence.

soon, watching ceases to satiate the burly man and mason slips his own thumb into the mix. with his lips or his tongue—or his fingers, it now seems—mason mctavish is obsessed with your clit.

trevor shoots him a knowing wink; that's his favorite part, too. never do you make prettier sounds than when you’re having that special, highly-responsive bundle tended to. fingers, tongue, trevor's thigh... it doesn't matter, you fall apart all the same.

mason nudges jamie to one side and, much to your surprise, he goes without a fight this time, still stroking you closer and closer to the summit.

with his greater access, mason leans down. his nose splits duties with his thumb as he places wet, open-mouth kisses on your inner thighs, mons pubis, and, finally, the coveted pearl throbbing for affection. his mouth wraps around the little bud before pausing. he looks up for approval.

from trevor.

with the dip of his chin and a peck to your balmy cheek, your boyfriend encourages his best friend to suck on his girlfriend's clit.

mason needs no further coaxing. he alternates between suction and kitten-licks; his tongue was beginning to feel left out. all the while, jamie’s devoted fingers keep you pleasantly teetering on the end.

it's amazing the difference time and a little scolding can make.

“i think you’re enjoying this a little too much, bunny.”

“—m’sorry,” you whimper.

his warm, familiar chuckle fills your ear as he strokes your cheek. “i’m only teasing. you know how much i love watching you get all worked up. and, this way, i get to sit back and enjoy the view while they do all the dirty work.”

your eyes roll back, and his amusement grows louder.

“maybe, we’ll do this again? i wonder how fast they could get you off when they already know how the tricks.”

a raw, guttural sound claws past your lips.

trevor growls into your neck between love-bites. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you, greedy girl? is my mouth not enough for you—y’need my friends’ too? such a slutty little bunny i have..."

"no—only want y-you."

it comes out in a few, demure hiccups, the clarity of your protest impeded by those and the frantic shaking of your head.

your boyfriend can't help but twist your mind when you're like this, too weak and preoccupied by pleasure to give him any lip. his brat's gone sweet, fully subdued. and now he can have a little fun.

“—i know, i know. no need to get all worked up over nothing, silly girl. but it wouldn't matter much if you did, though, right?" the hand cradling your chin moves your head in agreement; he knows you're too far gone—too fucked out, to function. "no, it wouldn't because daddy doesn't share his toys. he needs you all to himself."

in this moment, you aren't sure if trevor loves or loathes you.

“lost your voice, bunny? you’re strangely quiet for a slut i know is close. i can hear it, and i know you can too. we all know you're fucking soaked. go on, don't be shy. i think their good behavior has earned them some praise, hm? doin' so good at following my directions—almost as obedient as you are, pretty thing. be sweet, then you can cum all you want."

his words, coupled with the overstimulation between your bent and parted knees, send your brain down a cloudy, all-consuming spiral. too overwhelmed by the boys kneeling at your altar, you can hardly string together cohesive thoughts, let alone speak adequate praise for their efforts.

...as if trevor expected anything out of your mouth other than garbled, pathetic mumbling anyway.

not to mention, jamie found the spot that makes you see stars on the ceiling as his best friend was busy whispering filth into your ear, and he's been bullying it with his deft fingers—three of them now, buried down to the knuckle. he gives it a short, purposeful rub just to show off his treasure.

you shriek and buck your hips into mason's waiting mouth. as his head dips back down to nestle against you, the angle of jamie's fingers changes and your vision blurs just a tad.

trevor's amusement thunders in your ears as he keeps you from shying away from the new sensation, an arm looped around your waist keeping you tight to his bare chest. and good thing, too, seeing as mason's tongue slips in between jamie's fingers not a second later.

they're right and truly pleasuring you now, and you can't wait a second more.

you surrender.

and, as promised, you show them what real moans sound like from a woman—not that fake shit they subject you and trevor to through the walls on a semi-regular basis.

the sounds of you ripping at the seams spur them on, and it's starting to get difficult to discern who's to blame for the puddle beneath you. this are sloppier and more obscene than ever, and you're loving every single second of it, you almost feel like this is your gift and not theirs.

—which is why you nearly write it off as a trick of a pleasure-drunk mind.

you feel it against your sopping, swollen folds before they notice it themselves; in electing to run their tongues up and down the same path at the same time, their mouths mingled along the way—and continue to do so. the delicious, foreign sensation of their mouths tangled in a clandestine dance buys your silence. and easily.

sooner or later, they’d realize and your fun would mostly likely cease—they've never given any indication of feeling either way—and you weren’t about to speed the process along, especially not when you have the pearly gates in sight.

trevor's won't call attention to it either because he's enjoying it as much as you are. maybe more. he's twitching like crazy against the small of your back, and each time jamie and mason convene between your knees, his hips shamelessly rut into you softness like a feral dog.

he nudges you, warm lips against your cheek. "look."

giving your head a downward tilt, his firm hand directs your attention to the object of his—your boyfriend isn't the only one seeking respite by way of aimless grinding.

mason and jamie have their hips flush to your bed, their burning, sweat-stained cheeks glued to your inner thighs, one slightly scratchier than the other—the best of both worlds. their eyes are nearly black with lust. their frantic movements are more pleasure-seeking than precise, driving into the wrinkled sheets with just one thing in mind.

you've never seen anything quite like it before, and your body reacts in kind.

naturally, trevor sees the signs before anyone. he knows your body best, something he takes great pride in. you'd wager he knows more about what makes you tick than even you do. he's put in enough hours, that's for sure.

trevor doesn't bother disgusting the desire weighing on his voice, "beg."

your lips part as if on cue. your boyfriend (selfishly) indulges your pitiful little whines and repetitive pleas—he'll never pass up an opportunity to rub his handiwork in envious faces—but, eventually, he cuts you off before you get too far into the bit.

"—not you, silly bunny. them."

aghast, mason rips his mouth away and you whine at the sudden loss. jamie strokes your walls sympathetically.

"you're joking."

"does it sound like i'm joking, mctavish? you're lucky i'm even letting you see her like this, let alone touch what's mine, and it's a fucking privilege to watch her cum. convince me that you've earned it."

you weren't expecting to find it so erotic, the power trevor wields over them. you're no stranger to his persuasive prowess; his commands alone were enough to get you off some nights. but this is different, and markedly so.

watching him command his best friends—his friends, reducing them to docile creatures eager to eat from the palm of his hand with words alone, is what tips you over the edge.

their persistent chorus of compliance is swallowed entirely by your wanton cunt, but that was by design.

trevor always knows what you need.

when the dam in your abdomen fractures alongside your voice, he holds your wrists tight to his bare thighs, preventing you from grounding yourself in either of his friends' messy mops or finding purchase anywhere on his body. he can't have you distracted. he needs you to enjoy every second of it. your full, undivided attention must be on the pampering you're receiving, and the tender care with which his friends provide it.

it's okay if you're too weak—of mind, body or both—to make that happen for yourself. your boyfriend is more than willing to pin you down as you ride out your first high of the night. happy to, really.

on the come down, jamie rubs light, lazy circles over your sore, swollen clit almost apologetically. mason laps up your release because it'd be a crime to waste a drop—trevor made that abundantly clear earlier in the night. once he's drunk you dry, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"i think i could, um, use a bit more practice?" he announces bashfully—as if he didn't just make you squirt into his mouth.

jamie perks up at his side, fingers and lips still shiny. he's savoring the fruit of their labors like a precious delicacy, knowing it could be the last time he gets a taste. dark lashes shy and fluttering, his puppy-dog eyes blink up at you. "me too."

a wicked smirk forms on trevor's face; they see it, you hear it.

"gentlemen, how's your stroke game?"

💌 if you liked it, pls lmk! 💌

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[comfortless]

AHH I was the anon from the Bear!Ko ask ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ I adore it so much like I’m kicking my feet and twirling my hair your ideas are CHEFS KISS AND IM GLAD YOU LIKED THE PROMPTT

Definitely not excited that you’re considering more hybrid stuff.. TEEHEE ʕ •́؈•̀ ₎

BUT YEAH JUST THOUGHT TO DROP SOMETHING NEW CUZ WHY NOT! Maybe Ko being deployed on a mission to some wild terrain, having to camp out on the grounds for a while by himself. Reader taking interest in the behemoth and toying with him until he finds out they’re a fae or nymph

Or a game of hide and seek.. in the dark.. with him.. maybe even a wolf!ko

ONCE AGAIN ID LOVE TO SEE YOU WORK UR MAGIC ON THESE IDEAS (｡♥‿♥｡)

hi, 🧸!! working on something with a lycanthrope Kö at the moment, but this is… well it is something! i adore the idea of König with a cute (insatiable) nymph!! definitely give @cookiepie111’s Drink From The Leche of Sirens a read if you haven’t already. <3

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. fae nonsense (reader is a tree nymph), vague smut.

It isn’t that he ever intended to be here, not really. Simple surveillance, Fender had told him. Any knowing soldier would recognize the equipment that did not even need hands to tend to it, the cameras that should be set and monitored, and yet there were none in place here— just König, a loaded gun, and the stillness of the forest that seemed to stretch ever onward.

There’s been a lapse for the past week, with Kortac’s most adept at retrieving information out seeking just that, off with their radios constantly abuzz and adrenaline running rampant through their veins.

There’s an envy harbored somewhere in the back of his skull, twittering and hissing when he thinks on it too much… shelved for an uncharacteristic mistake to be left here amongst plants and scattered animal sounds, a temporary solace that would be ripped away when something new came through the chain of command; an overabundance of the very things he would care to think less about.

König hasn’t seen another person in days, not out here, tracking a vehicle carrying supposed smuggled weapons. There are no tire tracks, not even air traffic passing above: only gloom, loneliness, and the chill of early spring.

Then the abandoned house, where he takes refuge. It’s dated: the furniture all in various states of disarray, shattered porcelain about the kitchen and vaulted ceilings so high he doesn’t even need to bother with ducking to cross from room to room. It’s old on the exterior, stately, with vines creeping up its walls to reach the warmest height to bloom. Though internally, it is clear the place has not been left to rot for long: no loose boards, no holes in the ceiling or floor, just seemingly preserved somehow, as though time itself had come to still.

He doesn’t mind the daily patrols through the forest, the pensive stalking and creeping to find any hint of what he was after. Even through the night, when sleep forgets to lure him in for warmth and comfort amidst the pollen and silence, the walking never seems to grate on him.

There are lights, often, amongst the trees, faint pulses of glowing white that dissipate the moment his gaze sweeps over them. He’s read the fairytales as a child, even witnessed Conor get so drunk once that he shared his own tales of the ‘wee folk’, but König would feel a fool to believe any of that at face value. Most of his own kind were not interested in him, shying away with laughter or pitying gazes the moment he approached, so why would anything else be drawn to a man who could never quite scrub the blood from his fingernails or keep a conversation from spinning out into silence and uneasy glances?

It’s during one of these nightly walks that he first sees her, a vision bathed beneath the milky glow of the moon, ethereal, yet still nothing short of a proper blessing from the earth. Despite the distance from his path to her own, her body looks soft, bare and gentle. The growing thorns and clusters of ivy do not scrape her, only gently pull aside as she walks, tender and swaying like the petals sprung up from the plants for little fingers ghost over.

He only thinks that, assuredly, he’s lost his mind. The vision fades away when she looks at him, curls her lips into a smile… and then it is all gone. She leaves not a trace, no footprints indented into the soil he knows he had only just watched her tread. The flowers he saw her pull into being have vanished, too. All that remains is a dulled aura of dread, a strange thing that he has not felt in years, if ever at all.

König does not think of the woman until she appears again, during the day amidst the leaves of a sprawling sycamore. She lies against the bark, body resting over a healthy branch where she sleeps in a position so demure it sets his heart ablaze. The breeze caresses her hair, something he wishes to feel beneath his own fingertips; it whistles over her bare skin while the sun bathes her in rays of gold, filtered out through pinprick partings in the leaves, begs, pleads for him to touch. Forbidden fruit, too lofty to touch, too dainty for ash and blood.

He only walks away, carries on with the focus of his mission, reminds himself of every time that he’s sought some semblance of companionship and how those escapades had all simmered down to nothing but taunting echoes for sleepless nights. There was no need for any more ghosts, not even the pretty ones.

With nothing else in sight, he returns to that house where time halts and loses himself to want; swallows dry when he frees himself of his buckle and pulls out his growing erection. A release and an expelling of memory all in one.

He thinks of her, of her graceful walk amidst the darkened woods, of the way she lay, perfectly unscathed and beautiful, unknowing of any thing that plagues him, scatters from his grim expression right down to his very marrow. The imaginings… he would never speak of them, perhaps would only have the information pried from him that he thought of her smile when he spilled himself into his palm, but only if she came to beg for it with a voice he imagines must be tree sticky and sweet like warmed honey. Only if she came for him.

There lies a meadow just past an abrupt opening in the tree line, small and subdued by outstretched branches that curl over the grass and wildflowers still yet to bloom. No chill lingers here, as though summer stretches over the little glade and settles atop it with its warmth, masks even the little pond that does not seem to carry the same frosted panes of ice that the others he had seen do. There is fruit, puny red berries and hefty pears causing their limbs to bend, gently set them down for the earth and all of the animals roaming about to eat.

And he knows he’s stumbled upon her home.

He finds his voice when she peeks at him from behind the trunk, wide-eyed and curious with the softest curl about her lips, playful but tentative.

“Hallo,” he whispers, raising his gloved hand as if to wave, but curling his fingers into his palm instead. He’s horribly uncertain, caught between the alarming thought that he’s dealing with some perturbing nudist or something… else entirely.

“Hello,” she says, almost shy as she unveils herself from behind the tree, takes a step toward him with a tender look in her eyes and a long draw of breath. Sets his nerves at ease with her silent admittance that she, too, at least seemed wary.

König immediately tells her why he’s here, not in full detail, sparing the poor doe the tedium and the confidential bits that would likely only make her head spin, and then… he mentions how he had seen her, how the forest seemed to yield to her whims, her dancing beneath the moon that appeared to shine only for her. He gives her a curious look, undetectable beneath the darkened hood, pleads for her to explain in his own silent sort of way.

“I have seen you too,” she says instead, curling her arms behind her back, pushing out her chest, and… he doesn’t think to ask any further.

She’s the loveliest thing that he has ever seen or felt: places herself right into his lap when she guides him down to the grass. There’s sap on her fingertips when she presses them to his lips, curiously grazing them over his mouth as he speaks to her about the forest, a forest he’s already deemed to be her own, obscure princess that she was. She giggles when he dares to lick over each intruding digit, even gives a shaky, soft sigh when he suckles at one.

The nymph whispers things into his ear that he’s never heard before: things about each sprouting plant, of other things that hide away in the shade beneath branches and how they had all seen him too, about the earth and life and softer secrets about her beloved tree. Home and love without ever daring to speak words so simple. She does not ask about the dreadful things he does not think about, only lies back in the grass when he praises her beauty and the lovely notes of her voice.

He thinks for a moment that he should not touch her, should not have her grace wasted on something like him, but she rises up only enough to kiss him through the hood and he finds himself tugged down to tickling blades of grass and his mind finally does quiet.

She cradles him close as he claims her love for his own, steals sap from her lips and follows her sighs to a comforting oblivion. Her hands find his neck, his shoulders to offer gentle touches, tracing patterns like the intricate twisting of vines against his flesh all while he praises their union, her sweetness.

He doesn’t know how long he’s spent with her, the day seems to to stretch on for an eternity with the sun high above, but when he wakes… he is back inside of the old, quiet house, lying in the bed he knows with a certainty that he’s never even touched. Fender’s voice is calling to him over the radio, clipped and demanding for a report, one that proves nothing at all, a barrage of words filled with wonder and bliss with no intel on the mission.

And König isn’t shocked by the leave he’s given once he does return to base the following day. Three weeks time would be just enough to clear his head, regain his focus, pull money from his account to purchase that lonesome old house in the forest. He couldn’t bare the thought of never seeing such an angel again, never hearing the soft chittering of her voice or being blessed with the feeling of her beneath him, intertwined like the vines she so loved.

[irishmammonagenda]

Hello! I hope your requests are open 🧚‍♀️

Can i ask, what brothers' reaction would be on MC who sings something like MSI (you know smth like "son of a bitch! God's like me!") or just alternative rock/punk in general?

Answer only if you're okay with that❤️

Have a great day🏃‍♂️

hihi‼️(i love the amount of emojis u use i can feel ur personality through the screen teehee)

i absoluetley can‼️‼️ also tysm for the new music to listen to (im kind of new to alt rock and punk i only really used to listen to MCR lmao😭)

anyway this was fun to write

grma for the ask <3

Obey Me Brothers React to MC Being a Wee Emo.

DISCLAIMER: emo is used as a word because where im from emo is used to describe nearly any type of alternative fashion bc we're all dumb over here app, also im 2% sure pop punk/poprock is emo music bc i think thats what mcr is, so we're going w/ it ig, the only thing ik abt music is that bars 13-20 in the dambusters themetune has fanfare so if i get any terms wrong lmk 😔✊

WARNINGS: There's a slight slight hint of drinks being spiked in Beel's one. nothing ever happens its just him keeping an eye on your drink at a concert just in case.

LUCIFER

He hears music blasting in the music room in the House of Lamentation.

At first he just sighs, it sounds like the type of music Belphie would listen to when trying to plan out another Anti-Lucifer League. The teenage angst probably helped fuel the seventh born’s desire and motivation to prank him.

He sneaks into the Music room. Technically he just walked in quietly, but you still jumped when you saw him.

"L-Lucifer!! Hiya!!" You say awkwardly, not looking the first born in they eyes. "What's up?" He blinks slowly at you, fighting the urge to place a gloved hand on the bridge of his nose and pinch it in disappointment (and/or second hand embarrassment) "I'm not going to say anything. Just keep it down, MC." He sighs, normally he'd have lectured you. But it reminded him too much of a wolf-cut, guyliner filled past that for the sake of his pride, he did not want to remember.

He wasn't a stranger to musical genres, the man collects records for fuck's sake.

The drums and guitars he can normally get behind. Especially with catchy rhythms.

The lyrics?....they're normally a hit or miss. It really depends on the song.

'God likes me' (MSI) 'Hail Mary, Forgive Me' (PTV) Religious references just kind of ruin some songs for him.

Lucifer spends his time collecting cursed records, but your music taste is a special kind of cursed MC.

Although, he is strangely supportive in his own way.

"MC, Lord Diavolo has gifted me some tickets to concert [small devildom band] is putting on, I thought you would enjoy it."

(Lucifer bought the tickets himself.)

MAMMON

Haha, Emo!

"Yer a wee emo so ye are, MC"

It's not exactly his style of music (the man listens to Kneecap ffs)

BUT!!! He wants to share things with you dammit! Let him listen to your stupid emo music with you!!! He's your first man!!!

He does, however learn how to play guitar so he can play some simple chords while you sing horrible improvised lyrics with horrible improvised chords.

You don't have the heart to tell him that acoustic guitars aren't normally used in Punk/Rock music.

The sound of horribly improvised chord progressions ring out in your bedroom as you and your first man stand back to back, horrible matching messy eyeliner on both of yours and Mammon's eyes as you hold a hairbrush to your mouth and improvise lyrics. That is, if you can even get them out of your mouth before laughing. "Blood in my body! Because I'm aliveeee!!!" You sing off key while Mammon strums the guitar. "Love in my Bugatti! Because The Great Mammon can drive!" You laugh. Mammon whistles while missing out on the fingering of a chord and then pretending it didn't happen.

LEVIATHAN

The first thought in this man's mind is karaoke.

He sends you a playlist of Rocky kinda anime openings that you should totally listen to.

He's the least shocked and weirded out, (not that the others are weirded out)

He really likes your singing voice. It doesn't matter if you're a horrible singer, its you so it makes him happy.

You guys could do a duet? If it wasn't too much for you to sing with a stinky smelly otaku like him :(

"Levi-" You sigh, looking at the Levi shaped lump of seaweed in his aquiriam, the demon's tail twitches through the pile of aquatic plant, showing that he's listening. "Levi... Of course I'd love to do Karaoke with you...You didn't give me a chance to answer before jumping into the tank! C'mon!" It takes Levi a few more minutes before he feels ready to leave his seaweed pile, his face is completely red, but there's a small smile on his face as you set up the karaoke machine.

SATAN

Satan enjoys your music taste.

He likes most if not all human world music because music is so important to culture and he loves learning about human world culture.

What he doesn't like however, is people dropping his name in lyrics for edginess smh.

No MC, no one in Je T'aime is his bitch. Please stop asking.

He also takes you to gigs! Because why not!

The blond haired demon sat in the bar, earning a few looks from the people surrounding them. He stuck out like a sore thumb in his jumper and jeans and the book in his hands in comparision to black denim and leather, chains and sub-cultural clothes that everyone else was wearing. Satan payed it no mind as you came back with the drinks, all decked out in clothing matching the rest of the people in the venue in style. "Hope you weren't waiting long....the lines were long!" Satan takes a drink from your hand and sips it, giving a soft smile, "Not at all."

ASMODEUS

The music is a hit and miss tbh, he prefers the more pop punk kind of thing, leaning more into pop than anything else.

He likes paramore though!

Loves the clothes associated with the genres and subcultures of the music! Adopts some of it into his own style!

(He alters it heavily, but some designs are inspired by the subcultures)

He could be your adorable gorgeous boyfriend and you could be the wee emo gremlin partner!

The opposites attract will look so cute on his Devilgram.

But he geniunely supports you and your interests, he designs and makes clothes for you in the style associated with your music taste.

He even makes you merch of your favourite bands and albums inspired into clothes.

He also does your makeup before you go out to concerts or gigs

Your his emo after all.

You squirm as Asmo runs his fingers along your flushed skin, he laughs as you jerk away. "It's just a brush, it wont hurt you darling!" He laughs, putting more black eyeshadow onto the makeup brush and applying it---or atleast trying to---to your eyelids, biting back teasing comments as you jerk away. You were ticklish god dammit! It wasn't like you were meaning to! It was a natural reflex!

BEELZEBUB

He likes it.

but not because he enjoys the music persay. Don't get him wrong he can listen to it and enjoy it but he wouldn't normally seek it out.

He likes it because you and Belphie like it, and the style reminds him of the both of you.

In terms of rock music he likes the more slow ballady types. Belphie normally listens to them when he has trouble falling asleep.

Very supportive.

If you're ever in the Mosh Pit in a concert, Beel will go with you, you're just so tiny and people can push you about! (You're tiny to him. So yes MC, his point still stands.)

Taking that back, if you're at a concert, Beel's probably with you. Unless you're with another brother, Even then, Beel's probably going to come.

Bro is like your own bodyguard.

Reports to Lucifer when at concerts and makes sure you're not taking any illegal substances, you don't know what's in them MC!

He makes sure nothing is put in your drink either.

He just wants to keep you safe :(

Beel had been staring at the cup in your hands back and forth for a while now, you smile and offer it up to him. "Want a sip, Beelie? You've been staring at my drink a lot" You practically shout over the music. You weren't in the mosh pit, and though you stood a good distance away, the music was still loud. Beel shakes his head, pointing to his pint and smiling his closed eye smile, "No thanks, MC. I'm just making sure you're staying hydrated and don't need refills." He says truthfully, though that truth isn't whole. You grin, "Aww...that's so sweet!" Turning your attention away from him and back to the stage, Beel wraps an arm around your waist. Eyes alert and wary when someone so much as walked past, or a crowd member got a little too close while dancing. He was overprotective and cautious. But you deserved to be safe.

BELPHEGOR

Give him back his albums what the actual fuck.

Look just because he takes your life it doesn't mean you get to take his music taste.

Wowwww. Petty.

Fine, you can borrow his limited edition special cut vinyls.

What? Lucifer's not the only one with a record collection.

He did not get this idea from Lucifer, No you Liar.

He did.

Belphie listens to rock ballads to get to sleep when he has trouble sleeping and when he wants to.

Sometimes when you nap together he puts some on.

It's kind of like a white noise machine.

Will go to concerts with you and Beel, but has to have slept for atleast 2 whole days leading up to it so people don't think he's passed out in the crowd.

Mention any similarites about his little music vinyl collections to Lucifer's cursed record selections he will not let you borrow any for atleast 3 days.

Long before Eve bit the apple and the brother's wings turnt black, a small boy with indigo hair wakes up from a nap, pouty lips wobbling when he realises his twin is nowhere to be found. Belphie sniffles, but doesn't break into tears. He's a big boy now! Big boys don't cry when they miss their twins! Beel was probably out on a walk with Michael and Lilith in her stroller! He'd come back! But still, Belphie's bottom lip trembled, eyes watering, the little boy didn't like being seperated from his twin! He was about to cry when he heard loud music coming from a room down the hall. More curious than anything, Belphie gets off of his bed, and (taking his teddy bear with him) walks down the hall following the sound. Though his walk was more of a waddle with his tiny legs. He'd never heard anything like it before! When Beel got back he could tell him about his discovery! Soon enough he reaches a slightly cracked open door and the music is super loud here. This must be it! Waddling into the room, Belphie could see a figure laying spread eagle on one of the beds. Half of the room decorated in colour with one bed and the half of the room with the person laying on the bed was almost completely in black with a bunch of posters on the walls. Most importantly, on the floor lay a box with a spinny thing spinning that seemed to be playing the sounds! Belphie held his teddy in one hand and lifted up the thing that was running across the big black circle. Immediately the sound stopped and the figure sat up, with layered dark shoulder length hair, layered dark black white and red clothes, and enough eyeliner to paint the colourful bright half of the room pitch black. A teen Lucifer looks down at Belphie with a sour expression, upset his mope session had been interrupted. "What are you doing here?" He asks the small indigo-haired angel. Belphie looks up at him with wide, sparkling eyes before pointing to the record player. "Why's it makin' sound? There's no choir in there...." Lucifer's eyes soften. His mope session about meeting the demon prince, not hating him, and finding him pretty like the human he met down in the human world could wait. "It's a record player, Belphs." The teenager's too emo, the end is nigh, everything sucks, too cool for love and affection persona drops and reveals his softie interior. Lucifer picks up his younger brother and places him on his bed as he takes out the record that was playing in the record player and putting on one that would be much less intimidating for someone as young as Belphie. He sits back onto the bed and the small boy cuddles up to his big brother, ever the affectionate child. As the record plays on Belphie grins up at Lucifer, revealling one missing front tooth. He had lost them early, shortly after Beel's tooth had fallen out. Lucifer grinned too, suppressing a chuckle at how Beel hadn't even realised his tooth was wobbly until he bit into his breakfast and found his tooth lodged into the food. "Luci! I likes this music!" "Do you?" "Mhm!" Lucifer grins, petting his youngest brother's head. "I'll tell you what. For your birthday I'll get you your very own record player and lend you some vinyls, we can even go to the human world and pick some new ones out. I'll show you how to play them when you have them, okay?" "Okay! Thank you Luci!" After a while, the songs change from high energy into ballads, Belphie's eyes grow heavier, as do his big brother's. Belphie curled up into the elder's side, abandoning his teddy bear for grabbing at the fabric of Lucifer's shirt with tiny grubby hands as he nodded off. Lucifer made sure to try not to move, in result of the slow rock ballad music and staying completely still so not to jostle and wake up his youngest brother who would 100% get cranky if woken. Slowly, Lucifer's eyes start to close, and he falls into a soft slumber as well.

And hey, if Michael returned from his walk, and after leaving Beel and Lilith into a play room went to check in on Lucifer and saw that sight; and then proceeded to grin and take multiple photos of said sight from multiple angles to use as blackmail on his little emo twin brother Lucikins on a later occassion, then that was Michael’s business and Michael’s business alone. And Lucifer's business when Michael didn't want to do the dishes when it was his night to do them, of course.

But if you ask, Belphie'll tell you that visiting the human world is what got him interested in that type of music.

Because he's a stinky smelly little liar and should be locked up in an attic.

On a side note he bullies you for being 'emo' :(

Bro is such a hypocrite.

But to be geniune, Belphie loves that he can share his music with you. He's happy you can bond over this with him.

Not that he'd ever outright tell you.

But you can tell in the way he gives you albums and vinyls as gifts, and makes you little playlists of ballads to sleep to. (He's gotten you into the habit smh.)

[littleskeletonprincessss]

Woken Up - SwaggerSouls x Reader

A/N: Smut. MINORS DNI

You weren't the biggest fan of being woken up at the wee hours of the morning, but when it was from having your fiancée's head buried between your legs, you really didn't mind that much.

Swaggers tongue lapped at you thoughtfully, almost like a dog licking it's masters hand. You knew how much he liked being there, it had happened more than once that he was down there for hours, giving you orgasm after orgasm, just enjoying the taste of you.

His brown hair messy from sleep, slightly damp and curly from lying in one spot for too long. It almost looked like when you fingers would tug on it, looking for anything to hold on to during the many times he'd sit you up on the kitchen table, bathroom counter, any and every surface of the house, really, that didn't have anything but a flat surface to dig your fingers into, holding on for dear life while you came all over his face.

His deep brown eyes were shut in ecstasy, giving you the chance to look at how good he looked.

You didn't get long to stare though, because once he noticed you were awake he begins to go faster, tongue going as deep as he could, bringing you to orgasm before kissing all over your sticky thighs, your belly button, up your chest, each nipple, your neck, each cheek, before finally meeting your lips, resting a strong forearm on either side of your head, supporting himself as he easily slips inside of you, beginning to slowly thrust, relishing the feeling of being deep inside you, his thick cock filling you completely, stimulating every inch of your sweet pussy as you kept him warm.

You loved any kind of sex with Swagger. Be it kinky, rushed, rough, a combination of the three; but your favorite was soft, slow, loving sex with him. You hated the term, but really, when you two made love. When you showed each other everything you feel when words weren't enough.

Your hands tangle in his hair again, chest pressed tight against his as you arch your back, moaning into his kiss. Every thrust reached that perfect spot deep inside of you. He'd learned where it was and exactly how to hit it early on in your relationship, and damn was he good at it.

It's not too long before you feel yourself tightening around him, almost against your will, as your dig your fingernails into his bare back, pulling back from the kiss to pant a moan.

"F-F-Fuck-k Swag..."

"Yeah, that's it. That's my girl." He presses another kiss to your lips. "Come for me baby, come on, come on my cock." he breathes, growing closer to his climax as well.

A few sped up thrusts later and you feel his thick seed fill you, bringing you painfully close to finishing. A few more thrusts and you'd be in bliss...

-----------

Jolting awake in a thin sheet of sweat you look over to Swagger, sleeping on his stomach and facing away from you, one arm and leg thrown off the bed as the blanket gathers around his waist.

You don't need to lift the blanket to tell you're a mess downstairs, hot and wet and annoyingly unsatisfied. You knew your fingers and toys wouldn't be able to give you the relief you needed.

Looking back over at Swagger you wondered if he'd need to be woken up. Smiling to yourself you begin to slide underneath the blankets.

A/N Teehee

[hr-twink]

24 for the dialogue prompts?

24. "You're not supposed to be up and about."

teehee

~~~

Louisa thinks nothing of it when she shuffles down her own hallway to her own bathroom. She has no reason to; it's her home after all. But like most homes, it has a bit of a pest problem. In this case the pests happen to be human sized and clingy as hell.

"Um...you're not supposed to be up and about!" River phrases it almost like a question, one that he doesn't intend to heed the answer to.

Louisa tries to power on– power might not be the word as she's mostly hunched and leaning against the wall for support. The dozen or so stitches in her side tug with each breath.

"Yes well–I'm also not supposed to piss in my bed now am I?"

Predictably, that get's him all garbled up.

"Yes but–"

She makes it past him to the bathroom and slaps the light on. "What, you want to watch me use the toilet now too? Make sure I don't fall in?" She's channeling her annoyance at her injury, at the fact she got injured in the first place, into River-directed snark. It does wonders for her morale.

He sputters, "No! Of course not–"

Shirley appears behind him, backlit in the hallway. "Pervert."

He turns to her, fighting for his life now. If Louisa didn't have other things to do she'd make popcorn and pull up a chair.

"Ok while you two chat I'm going to have a wee. Ta!" She slips into the bathroom and closes the door before either of them can protest.

[pakangayawa]

oKAY HAPPY PRIDE MONTH FOR REAL THIS TIME!!! For June 1 I give you my 7th grade sillies but they're kinda lesbian propaganda,,,

Yap under the cut about what I can remember about their lore from forever ago and progress SC too!

Meet Apple (green) and Lilith (blue). Theyre the first ocs I've ever made (ish? I had another oc lore from that time but I wasn't that invested in them as much as I was into these two) and their story revolves around a world where men didn't exist‼️

Basically, men went extinct in a distant future and scientists were trying to play god by figuring out a way to alter one's biological sex. Turning XXs into XYs stuff like that yes. Anyways Lilith here is one of those man made creations they were a breakthrough cus they were the first true hermaphrodite. But yah they weren't perfect though, there's a defect where flowers would grow from various parts of their body and those flowers posed a threat to their life since it would grow in clumps in their lungs, their throat, their eyes and it needed to be regularly cleared out. Anyways head scientist/researcher Emily Rosetta who was in charge of Lilith's creation needed to deconstruct them in order to figure out what went wrong and how to improve things.

This meant putting them down, or at least putting them into a deep coma. Lilith didn't mind, they loved Rosetta, but exp 001 Aria (I will attempt to doodle her later since she's also a triple A) could not idly stand by and see her friend meet their doom so she broke Lilith out of containment and urged them to run. Lilith wasn't going to until Aria actually died while holding back security. So yah they escape the lab, and runs into a human girl named Apple and the rest of the story was supposed to be their budding romance and Lilith having to integrate into human society. If it's not obvious already, hanahaki trope. Teehee. Yah I loved that trope when I was a wee one,,,

So uh yeah that's it for them. Happy pride month to bisexuals and their genderfluid boyfriend girlfriends✨

Edit: Here's Aria❤️

[malicemaskman]

ooc: WHOO-WEE things are getting fun around here

Seth vs. Haan, Eve vs. Haan, Behemo vs. Irina, and possibly Puerick starting to mistrust Seth for good... WHOOOOO

also everyone's been out to kill Seth so he may take on a false identity for a while in the future TEEHEE

[riddle-me-ri]

howdyyy! i have a request :] (this if u even do sequels lol)

could you write hcs for The Tetches x dormouse!reader who (during naps) will grab and sleep-cuddle anyone in range if not already pacified with a pillow/plushie to hug??

if not, that's fine!! thanks for reading teehee i love your work /)^3^(\

a/n: asdfh okay but wait no stop…that, that is absolutely adorable and I’ll be more than happy to make that happen for ya! I’m glad you love my work, your tags on the dormouse reader really made my day 🥺💚 and I hope you enjoy this one too! Sorry for the weird title…it was awkward titling this one to fit my banners lol.

The Mad Hatters React to Being Trapped by a Sleepy Reader

Arkhamverse Mad Hatter:

- Jervis is startled at first.

- His first instinct is to detach himself from whatever has him captured.

- However when he sees that he’s wrapped up in your arms–he’s surprised.

- If it were anyone else, Jervis would have rolled his eyes and shrugged the arms away.

- But, it was you…his sweet dormouse.

- While he did find your sleepiness troublesome, he can’t help but find it endearing.

- Especially in this moment, where you were so deep in slumber, you reached out to him and nestled yourself into his side.

- After very little debating, Jervis decides to get comfortable alongside you. A small smile forming on his face that mirrored yours.

BTAS Mad Hatter:

- Jervis usually tries to stay prepared for all your sleeping needs.

- Such as blankets, pillows, or plushies.

- Yet sometimes, like anyone else, he just forgets.

- He never expected you to lean on him one day, however.

- Jervis is instantly a blushing red mess.

- He tries to look around for one of your usual items–to no avail.

- He sighs in defeat, but he relishes in the sweet proximity.

- Jervis will rest his head on top of yours, after pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

TNBA Mad Hatter:

- Wee mad lad is the perfect pillow size.

- Jervis is taken aback at first.

- He’s relieved to see it’s just you that’s got him captured.

- At first, Jervis tries to wiggle and squirm out of your arms–but failed.

- You just end up nuzzling closer into his side, a sleepy content smile on your face.

- The soft look on your face causes Jervis to pause his squirming.

- You truly looked really adorable when you were sleeping, he realized.

- Jervis eventually warms up to the idea of being a human pillow, but only for you, and in private.

Harley Quinn:TAS Mad Hatter:

- He rolls his eyes.

- Unlike a couple other Jervi, he's totally used to this.

- And he pretends to be annoyed.

- Jervis will gently try to shake you or pat you, something to get you to wake up.

- When deep down he actually loves it.

- He loves the warmth of your arms.

- He loves how you cling to him, and how your grip gets stronger if he even remotely tries to get away.

- Jervis ensures that whenever you fall asleep, he'll always be within your arms reach.

Joker’s Asylum Mad Hatter:

- Jervis is stunned at first.

- His heart pounds at the tight embrace.

- The beats get faster when he realizes its you.

- Well, this is quite the predicament.

- He's unsure what to make of it, but he can't say he's uncomfortable.

- You are so peaceful and warm.

- Jervis can easily see why you find it incredibly helpful to sleep with something…

- Perhaps he can talk you into taking naps with him like this from now on.

Secret Six Mad Hatter:

- Jervis literally won't allow you to sleep with anything else but him.

- The only exceptions being your childhood plush that always helped you sleep or a hat he's made for you.

- Like HQ:TAS, he always makes himself within your arms reach, so you can latch onto him.

- He just finds you so incredibly adorable.

- You also make the perfect model for all his little hats he manages to make whilst in your capture.

- Jervis also likes the idea of being the last one you see when you doze off and being the first one you see when you wake up.

- He likes to stick close to you, to protect you while you sleep.

- Jervis just loves to be able to make his dormouse comfortable as they sleep away.

[rotting-ink]

I have wanted to show my MCs from all of your upcoming games! I used your favorite windswept picrew to fit in the universe of your games.

Anyway, from the first to the last - Witch, Royal and Mad Heir.

They're strikingly similar, almost a carbon copies of each other for a reason.

Witch more free, so I used forest/cottagecore aesthetics

Royal... Well Royal. With certain expectations how you should dress and look.

And last, but not least - Mad Heir. While also Royal they wear less jewelry. Bc yk. All the Madness. Too much needles and sharp edges to stab yourself (or other people) with. So only the bare minimum.

I also tried to implement the Slavic traditional clothing aesthetics, but failed miserably. I have disgraced my family. Я больше не славянин (I'm not Slavic anymore)

>> i think they might be distantly related. Ahem. Which they all can be, teehee!

Or something sussy happening in the universe

ANYWAY, I LOVE THEM ALL!! LOOK AT THOSE BIG SAD EYES AND THE WEE SEIR AND THE DARK CIRCLES UNDER THE YES AND AND AND I LOVE THEM ALL!!

[luckycheesefoodie321]

Thinking about how at some point someone determined the standard way of typing a laughing sound was “hahaha” which to be fair is a pretty common vocalisation of mirth.

However, what if we all just laugh like “hahaha” bc that random someone made it so. When started introducing “hohoho” it was like “well that’s just the way Santa laughs we can’t laugh like that”. Then “hehe” became popular particularly when writing online and that came with its own gradually established perceived usage. Not the standard laugh. But when you’re making a wee joke or a sarcastic comment or did or said something mischievous. Or you wanna laugh in a way that sounds sinister or ironic.

“Teehee” is only ever used when meme-ing.

“lol” should’ve remained an acronym to denote laughing but we made it its own word.

Anyway ultimately the point I’m trying to make is One Piece is a pioneer in alternative laugh patterns and we’re all cowards for not following Oda’s lead. Me included. I just feel like if we laid all the laugh patterns from OP on a table, we would find one we enjoy and while it may seem unnatural at first, we would get used to it.

There’s a few that are absolutely forbidden from entering the real world however. You know of whom I speak.

I do want to see someone laugh like Whitebeard tho.

[givemea-dam-break]

i make edits while waiting on the train home from work so enjoy this wee one teehee

@neewtmas @wellgoslowly @skies-of-gray @mirrorballdickinson @so-true-jestie @jesslockwood @waitingforthesunrise @readyafterthesunrise @ethereal-veggie

[leonenjoyer69]

*Inbox Invasion* Free ramble card!! Make it a long one, About literally anything, anything at all, can even switch topics constantly. This is literally just for fun.

LGOWKFLEKVK LET'S GOOO 🗣️🗣️

Okay so, starting off strong, let's go music. Will Wood and the Tapeworms, right? A few weeks ago I listened to both versions of every song twice to find which versions I liked better for when I eventually burned CDs (my car is old af, bbg ain't even got an aux, but also her ass ain't got an engine rn 💀) for the albums.

My verdict for Self-Ish? Literally all the songs are the exact same, except Self-, -Ish (which just sound a wee bit different), and Dr Sunshine is dead (which just has a longer outro in the original).

EVERYTHING IS A LOT THO? Some big differences in some songs. So here's my preferences:

6 up 5 oh- Remaster, the "oh how I know how I go.." Part just sounds better to me

(Bones)- Remaster, the radio/tv talk at the end isn't glitchy and stuff, like the OG

Front Street- Original, I like the snaps (tapping?) Behind the pre-chorus, along with the dialogue clip. But, also, I like how much clearer everything is in the remaster, so I'm kinda torn.

¡Akiado!- Original, I am,,,, not a fan of the extra end part in the remaster

White knuckle Jerk- Original. The background(?) Voices are quieter and sound kinda different. Idk I may be wrong about that tho.

Cover this song- Original. I hate hate HATE Batman will wood growling in my ear, please never make me listen to that version again, it was a genuine jump scare. (EDIT: THE REMASTER JUST PLAYED ON MY SPOTIFY AND??? HE'S NOT BATMAN ANYMORE??? IS MY SPOTIFY BROKEN?? PLZ IK I'M NOT CRAZY)

Thermodynamic Lawyer- Remaster. Not really a fan of the robot voice in the original.

Red Moon- original, his voice seems quieter or more drowned out in the remaster.

Lysergide Daydream- Original, don't remember why, so vibes ig lmao, there's not really a difference between the two

The First Step- Remaster, I think it just sounds a little clearer

Jimmy Mushrooms- either, they're literally the same lmao

Chemical Overreaction- original. WE CAN'T STOP HERE, THIS IS BAT COUNTRY 🗣️🗣️ need I say more?

Everything is a lot- Remaster, so then I don't have to listen to construction noises (or destroy to enjoy in general) 😋😋

So yeah, ig that's my dream Everything is A Lot album.

BUT NOW!! more music! But Chonny Jash this time!! Specifically the Ballad of Dr Jekyll and Bargaining/compromise.

First of all, I love the lyrical differences!! Ballad Jekyll leaning more towards blaming Hyde for everything and being way more self-pitying, while B/G Jekyll seems to have more of a subdued acceptance? Like, Ballad Jekyll is a lot more emotional and bitter, while B/C seems to take more of the responsibility. Also!! I like how in B/C Jekyll seems to be with someone else, while Ballad Jekyll seems to be alone. The contrast between the last lines ("but if it takes Mr Hyde with me, then I'm glad to hang" V.S. "so take my hand, hold it till the end") really does show that bitter self destructiveness vs that sad, duty-driven acceptance. AND LIKE UGHHH JUST THE LYRICS OF B/C IN GENERAL!! I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!

Also, the Mr Hyde Jive? I love Hyde being a silly fellow. Literally just being like "damn, I'm not the villain, smh, lemme go have some fun for you gayboy 🗣️🗣️ (might still ruin lives tho!! I am vice, teehee)"

Yk what? Fuck it, this whole ramble will be music. THE JEKYLL AND HYDE MUSICAL 🗣️🗣️🗣️ I love Anthony Warlow so much, all the Jekyll or Hyde-centric songs are so eoughhhh ughhhhh AHHHH. Favorite songs rn? Board of Governors, His Work and Nothing More, The World Has Gone Insane, This is the Moment, Transformation--I JUST UGHHH I love listening to his screams idk man. also Alive. I also love you, Gabriel John Utterson. His parts are so fun to sing.

BUT!! the absolute hold Board of Governors has on me is insane. Every time I hear the intro begin to play through my tv I look up. I'm literally pavlov dogged to that shit. It's basically a requirement for me to go "THE BOARD OF GOVERNORS OF ST JUDE'S HOSPITAL IS NOW IN SESSION!" every time it plays. I love sassy Jekyll and Stride, it's so funny, like yes!!! The girls are fighting!! The absolute sass of half that cast is crazy. I have every part memorized, I AM the entire cast and recreate it expertly 🗣️🗣️

Anyways, yeah, I love Utterson too, his voice is in my range perfectly, he's literally my bbg. All his parts in How Can I Continue On and His Work and Nothing More? Kdoelvkskfldk I love him I love him. JEKYLL THO? shaking him aggressively (lovingly) I want to chew on him and rip him apart. Warlow's voice for him is so EOUGJDJDKKD ‼️‼️‼️

OKAY THAT'S ALL FOR NOW, TYSM FOR THIS!! ILY, LOYAL SCIENTIST 🗣️🗣️🗣️