#WHATEVER THEY OFFER YOU. DON’T FEED THE PLANTS!!!

[lazycranberrydoodles]

the audreys have a girls night in

[zorosdimples]

DUSK, RESPLENDENT

pairing ⟢ astarion x gn!reader

warnings ⟢ minors: please do not interact! i will block you. not sexually explicit, but highly suggestive… smut-lite! descriptions of blood, blood sucking, bite marks, scars, etc. this occurs after astarion first feeds from tav. reader has breasts and a vagina and is called “beautiful” once (i swiped a line from the game).

word count ⟢ 1208

notes ⟢ this particular scenario has been rotting my brain since september. my first official bg3 fic—please enjoy!

It’s impossible to miss the heat of his crimson gaze scorching your flesh.

You’ve felt it ever since the night you discovered his secret: that quiet evening when the stars shined as silent sentinels, the embers of the campfire danced into ash, and the ghost of a breath roused you. You offered Astarion your neck—swanlike, untouched, vital—prey allowing predator a taste of divinity as he buried his glistening fangs into your skin. Agony bled into a hazy euphoria as the vampire fed on your lifeblood. You barely had enough stamina to push him off (lest he leave you drained and lifeless), rivulets of you the color of his irises running from his gums to his chin, dripping onto the forest floor.

Many moons have since passed, though your mind always revisits the feeling of his weight atop yours, the strength of his jaw, the vitality in his sated stare. The sun starts its golden descent as you bathe in a creek by camp. You scrub your skin with vigor, almost without care as you seek to shed layers of sweat, grime, and gore. The midsummer air is stifling and the cicadas play their shrill song, but the chilly caress of the water makes you giddy.

It takes no small effort, but once your hair and body are stripped bare (clean enough), you remain in the water and watch pinks and oranges and yellows bleed and bloom across the wide sky. Some may say that resting for even a moment in a situation like yours—with a mindflayer parasite in your brain—is to accept death. But if you were to die at this very moment, surrounded by beauty? You couldn’t dream of a more peaceful end.

You feel your visitor’s presence before you see or hear him. It starts as an itch at your nape, nagging and unsettling—insistent. “Enjoying the view?” The playful lilt of Astarion's smooth voice never fails to set your nerves alight.

As you turn to face him, the water laps at your collarbone. You spy the pale elf along the bank, donning only his breeches. Cheeky bastard. “I could ask you the same,” you quip.

“I am indeed.” Lithe fingers tease the waistband of his pants. “But I can't help but feel as though something is missing.”

Walking a few steps toward the shore, you reveal more flesh, water skimming the top of your breasts. “It wouldn’t happen to be a rogue vampire, would it?”

“And if it is?”

“He should join.”

You sink beneath the creek’s surface, allowing him some privacy and urging your face to cool down. When you plant your feet on the silty ground and stand up, you rub crystalline droplets from your eyes and blink a few times before your companion comes into focus.

“Hello, beautiful,” he greets with a smirk before approaching you, dexterous fingers grasping and pulling at the fat around your hips. “I can't help but feel as though you’ve been avoiding me.”

Without thinking, your fingers weave through Astarion's moonbeam hair, gently tugging on the curls. The elf pulls you closer with a pleased hum. “Whatever gave you that impression?” you ask.

“Don’t play coy; I haven't so much as gotten a breath alone with you.” His gaze softens; you see a flash of vulnerability, but all too soon, it disappears. “Do you…regret this?” A chilly thumb grazes the puckered scar on your neck. The featherlight touch plucks a shudder from you, your spine bowing—strung for him.

“Quite the opposite,” you admit. Your attention flits down to his lips. Maker, you know they would feel divine dancing with your own, slipping down to carry the tune across your flesh, skating lower and lower until—

“So,” he says, palms sweeping up your arms and the slope of your shoulders until they rest on either side of your neck. He strokes the delicate flesh, his touch unhurried yet charged; restless. “You wouldn’t begrudge me another taste, hm?”

Perhaps you should be embarrassed by how eagerly you want this to happen, how many times you’ve envisioned him tasting your blood again—and perhaps tasting something more (such thoughts have fueled many solitary searches for pleasure within the canvas walls of your tent). But living in the dusky shadows of near-certain death has made you hopelessly brazen.

You lean in, petal-soft lips grazing one of his pointed ears. “It’s yours for the taking.”

Astarion’s irises darken at your words, pools of congealed blood. He drops his head and presses a lingering, open-mouthed kiss to your scar, his molten breath warming your body, melding you to his touch.

He bares his fangs and bites you, piercing the puffy tissue, a satisfied groan rumbling his throat and resonating in your veins. The pain is dizzying but dulls quickly, the jarring sensation of knife-sharp incisors tearing your flesh carried away by the flow of the creek. Fuzzy pleasure soon clouds your mind. The sloppy lap of the elf’s tongue against your wound is all you can discern; you want to feel him everywhere.

The vampire’s moans shudder deep within his chest and reverberate through your body from where you’re connected, vibrating lower until they settle in your core. A delicious pressure rocks against your belly and seems to relish the softness. It feels like he gluts for an eternity—like this is all you know—housed within a single, precious breath.

When Astarion surfaces, fangs retracting, you stumble in his embrace, coming down from your high. The ache of want remains as you rest your forehead against his freckled shoulder, and morphs into need as your vision clears. His eyes are unfocused, crazed with bloodlust; you’ve never seen them so red, glowing like moonlit wine. His chin is slick with ichor, and—absentmindedly or not, it’s impossible to tell—his tongue darts out to mop up some of the remnants of your sweetness.

One, two, three heaves of your chests pass before you crash together with a swiftness that betrays desperation, errant waves succumbing to the tide.

You never liked the tang of your blood until you tasted it on Astarion’s silken lips. It’s…cloying. The syrupy copper overwhelms your senses as the elf smears a claret gash across your mouth. He drunkenly sucks on your tongue, fangs nicking the muscle, urging you to give him more. Your fingers twist and twirl the pearly down that covers his chest as he squeezes your ass, pulling you so close that not even a whisper could get between you. You’re engulfed in a heady fire, one that can’t be put out by the cool water around you—especially as the vampire’s cock nestles between your clenched thighs, bumping against your clit.

A crashing sound in the surrounding forest interrupts your shared bliss. The moon ascended and the stars awoke while you were wrapped up in one another. Lightning bugs glimmer and flit through the dark woods, and you know that you both need to leave. Supper will be soon; any absences will be noticed. But before he pulls away, Astarion places a prim kiss on your lips.

“Meet me by the campfire after everyone else has fallen asleep,” he whispers against your cheek.

Your heart trills as you watch him disappear into the night—excited for the adventure to come.

[theemissuniverse]

“WHEN THEY SEE YOUR SCARS” MK MALE CHARACTERS PART 2

SUMMARY : title is self explanatory

WARNINGS : If you made it this far, obviously big triggering warning with sh

MASTERLIST 1 , MASTERLIST 2

MORTAL KOMBAT 1 CHARACTERS

Kung Lao

He is mad. Not at you but at himself. How could he not have seen the signs before? Did he make you do this? He doesn’t waste any time. He gently takes your arm and brings you closer to him while staring at your scars. “What is this?”

You felt your world ending when he saw your scars. You immediately tried to take your arm back. “Nothing.” Kung Lao wouldn’t let you go. “It’s not nothing. Are you hurting yourself?” When you don’t respond, Kung Lao forces you to look at him. “Answer me.”

He sees you start to cry. He sighs and pulls you into a hug, kissing all over your face. “I don’t mean to be so harsh, baby. I just love you so much.”

Kenshi Takahashi

He is stunned to say the least. Never would he had thought you were doing it. Never. He doesn’t really know how to go about the situation at all. He feels he’s not qualified for this.

But he loves you. He loves you so much that it hurts. While you’re lying in bed, Kenshi will kiss all over your body. From your face to your neck to your chest. From your chest, to your stomach and then to your arms.

He then hovers over you. His hand is placed on where your scars are at. “I love you.” He plants a very sweet kiss on your lips. He’s afraid if he stops kissing you, you’ll disappear. “I will help you. I promise.”

Syzoth

He is not familiar with self harm so he’s very confused by the marks. “What happened there?” You quickly covered the marks with your sleeve and let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Sparring accident.”

Syzoth knows that you’re lying. He can always tell but why would you be lying? It just didn’t make any sense to him. Later, he sees your scars on your thighs. It started to click to him because you didn’t want to have intimacy with him anymore and only wanted to give him oral.

He kisses your cheek and places his hand on your thighs. “Why are you doing that?” It’s a stupid question but he genuinely doesn’t understand. When you start crying, he pulls you into a hug and doesn’t let go.

MORTAL KOMBAT 11 CHARACTERS

Kabal

He doesn’t know what to say. There are no words that he can offer. Especially he knew that whatever he said, you still would most likely feel the same.

Kabal just stares at them. Like he’s frozen in time. He doesn’t know how to go about it in the slightest. You notice his staring and quickly tried to cover up the scars that remained on your arm.

He won’t let you. He stops you with his hand and keeps staring at them. It’s pure and utter silence. A pin could be heard if it was dropped. Instead, he brings you into a hug and holds you tight offering no words. Just actions.

Erron Black

He’s seen this a million times. Not from you but from other people. In his line of work, a lot of people did it but he had never thought you’d be the one to do it. (He shouldn’t ever thought that.)

Even though Erron has seen this before, he absolutely doesn’t know how to go about it. He’s having a hard time trying to formulate words to not make him sound like an asshole. “Don’t do that.” It’s a stupid statement but he genuinely doesn’t know how to go about it.

That’s when you turn to him, confused. “Do what?” “You know what.” It clicks for you that he’s talking about your scars. You start to cry and Erron brings you in a hug. “I know, darling.”

Nightwolf

He’s having a panic attack about it. His lover hurting themself? He couldn’t bare the thought of it but he knew this wasn’t about him. It was about you.

Nightwolf knows that if he goes about it the wrong way then he’ll scare you off. He’s just afraid that the way he picks will make you feel even worse than you already do.

He makes sure you have a great day. Getting you whatever you want, feeding you, massaging you, the whole nine yards. And then when you’re in your best mood, he brings it up. “I know about your scars.” It’s as if time has stopped for you. You just sit there, quiet. Nightwolf leans in and kisses you. “I love you. I need you to know that.”

[phfenomena]

❝soon you’ll get better. ❞ william h. bonney x f!reader

| A/N- just imagine billy taking care of you when you’re sick <33 he’d be so sweet i’ll literally cry

| WARNINGS- sickness, talk of death,

william h. bonney x reader fluff

your throat burned when you attempted a deep breath, and your nose felt like you were breathing through a wall. your body temperature was too hot but you felt entirely contrary to that. as you lay shivering and complaining in your mind of the pure unbridled annoyance you feel that out of all people you got sick.

billy had stepped out almost an hour ago saying he needed to grab some more things for you, but you couldn’t care less about what he thought you needed. you just needed him.

he comes in clumsily setting each bag and box of food you apparently needed. you slightly smile at the sound of things falling and his boots quickly moving around the wooden floor. you hear boxes and cans opening, and him swearing after he touches the boiling pot on accident.

you laid there on your side phasing in and out of consciousness as you wait for billy to be done with whatever he thought was important. you hear his boots approaching you and you lift your head up. he squats next to the bed and shows you his creation.

“it’s a potato and carrot soup, my ma used to make it when i got sick as a young’n. it’s like magic, just helps you recover real quick. the doctor said you’ve got a common cold, and i’d like to keep it common.” he brushes hair out of her eyes and sets his hand on your head. “i don’t know what i’d do without you, darling. sickness has taken away everyone from me and i won’t let it take you too. i’d go to the ends of the earth if there was an instant cure.” his eyes were soft and his eyebrows were furrowed. he laid a gentle kiss against your forehead.

you began to slowly sit up and let billy feed you small spoonfuls of the ‘magic’ soup. his gaze never leaving your face and his eyebrows never relaxing. you begin to feel guilty because he was doing something important, he wanted you to get better so he made you soup. a true gentleman. you thought.

“thank you, it’s really good.” you manage to croak out before he shushes you and comfortingly rubs his hand over your back. “save your voice, angel. it’s not good to be talkin’ in your condition.” you nod and continue eating the soup when his hand offers it.

“i ran into jesse when i was at the store, he said this colds been a real problem lately. most of the towns got it but it hasn’t taken anyone away yet, and you’re the strongest person here so i’m sure you’ll be alright, doll.” he sounded like he was comforting himself more than you but nevertheless you still nod and offer a small smile to him.

the next morning after a restless night full of billy holding you close, not caring if he got sick, you open your eyes and momentarily forget you were even sick the previous day. feeling alert and not freezing, you sat up and stretched. billy instantly following suit and eyeing you over. “how you feeling, angel?” his worried gaze studying every bit of you. “i feel fine, billy. stop worrying so much. stress isn’t good for you.” you quietly say, not used to talking, as you rub your thumbs over his furrowed eyebrows smoothing them out.

he chuckles and you’ve never been happier to see his smile. “cant help it when it comes to you, and i did tell you the soup was magic, did i not?” he says quickly forgetting the tender moment and instantly wanting his gratification. you narrow your eyes and look unamused. “yes billy. you did. i’ll have to make it for you the next time you get sick, you don’t get sick very often but i’ll have it on stand by.”

you come inside after wiping your boots off and heaving heavily from the heat. you were outside picking weeds and planting carrots and potatoes in the garden from the soup leftovers. there billy lay on the bed, groaning.

“i’m so damn cold and my head hurts. what’s wrong with my throat it feels so itchy.” he complains in an almost whining tone. you laugh as you approach him and press the back of your hand to his forehead.

“well, cowboy. you’re sick. seems you’ve contracted that common cold you talked about, get under the blankets and i’ll make the soup.” he dramatically turns over and looks at you with a grumpy facial expression. “this is your fault.” you hum and pat his head before stepping into the kitchen, laughing at how dramatic he is.

[ghost-bxrd]

OK, so you have implied in your previous Fae Dick posts that animals and trees can communicate with him in some fashion. Does that mean that Fae Dick could somehow get a heads up that Jason is crawling out of his grave? Could Fae Dick get to a resurrected Jason faster then the league would?

Ooo, good point!

I’d go with yes, yes Dick would notice. Also I don’t think he’d allow Bruce to bury Jason anywhere but the manor grounds, so that would help.

When Jason wakes up in his grave the entirety of the Wayne estate would startle out of its grief stricken slumber, as imbued as it is with Dick’s fae magic. As such, I think the soil and the roots would also aid Jason in breaking free of his grave, severely reducing whatever brain damage he may suffer from a lack of oxygen.

Meanwhile Dick, who’s out in the streets as Nightwing, would definitely feel a sense of alarm and urgency from his home and immediately turn around to check it out.

And this find Jason right as he pulls himself from the ground.

(Dick doesn’t question it. He’s fae. And questioning miracles is the best way to unmake them and he’d rather sleep in an iron bed than give Jason up again.)

Tim and Bruce would probably suspect that Dick dabbled in some kind of necromancy for a while. Not that Dick does anything to dissuade them of that notion, he’s too busy hissing and spitting at anybody stupid enough to approach Jason without his express permission and feeding him healing plants and roots the forest readily offers to him. 🌳✨

(The manor grounds love Jason ok)

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

Can I just please request anything Rafe x pogue!reader x Barry preferably smut

you got me down on my knees

pairing(s): bf!rafe cameron x gf!pogue!fem!reader x dealer!barry

warnings: smut, sharing, oral (m receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, pet names, degrading kink, nipple play, praise kink

summary: after being late on a payment, rafe makes a big offer to his dealer.

authors note: thank you so much for the request, love! i hope you enjoy :)

not edited

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

“no rafe,” you said firmly. “i don’t have the money you need, and even if i did, i wouldn’t lend it to you so you can feed your drug addiction.”

“baby, you know i’m good for it though,” he basically begged.

you shook your head. “you’re not understanding, rafe. i don’t have the amount of money you need.”

“look, barry’s been on my ass lately, ok? i need to pay him back, like, yesterday or he’ll cut off my supply,” he said lowly.

you just rolled your eyes instead. “i don’t have anything for you, rafe.”

he groaned and pulled out his phone. his fingers moved fast against the screen before a loud notification sounded through the room. “lets go,” he ordered.

“what?” you asking in confusion. “go where?”

he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “can you just trust me for once, sweetheart? go get in the car.”

————

“you wasn’t lying, country club. you got a real pretty little thing,” barry said as he walked outside of his trailer.

rafe smiled, his hand on your lower back as he pushed you forward with him. “i’m telling you, man. you gotta have a little more faith in me.”

“what’s going on?” you asked rafe, stopping to look up at him.

his hands came up to cradle the sides of your face. “you trust me?” you nodded. “then listen to me and do whatever i say.”

“what’s happening?” you asked, growing more scared as you looked up at him with big pleading eyes.

he kissed your forehead and turned his head to look at barry. “you’re gonna help me repay him.”

“what?” you felt your heart drop. “what do you mean? how am i supposed to do that?”

his hand returned to your lower back and began to guide you to the entrance of his trailer. “you’re gonna show him a good time, baby.”

you shook your head frantically, planting your feet. “no. no, i don’t even know him. why would i do that?”

“hey hey hey, you’re fine, sweetheart. you’re gonna be fine. he won’t hurt you. and i’ll be right here with you,” he said reassuringly. somehow, it didn’t make it any better.

“don’t worry, hun, i don’t bite,” barry said with a smile.

you didn’t like this. you didn’t like the idea of being with anyone other than rafe.

“hey, it’s ok, baby,” he spoke, a gentle kiss pressing to your lips after. “we’re gonna treat you good. i promise.”

barry stepped aside and held the trailer door open. “we’ll take real good care of you.”

you let your body loosen a little more. you knew rafe would never intentionally hurt you and god knows he’d never, ever let anyone else lay a finger on you with the thought of hurting you.

you let him guide you into the living room and almost immediately, his lips were on yours and his hands were holding your waist in a vice like grip. he pushed you down onto the couch. “take it all off,” he ordered.

you felt both of their eyes burning holes through you and you slowly stripped out of your clothes and let them fall to the floor. rafe stalked towards you before his lips were attacking your neck. “you can touch her, man,” your boyfriend mumbled against your skin.

barry jumped at the opportunity, his mouth taking in your nipple while his hand toyed with the other. you bit your lip to suppress the moan begging to escape, thighs clenching together at the feeling they were giving you.

suddenly barry’s hand was trailing between your thighs and to your cunt, running up your slit before slowly sliding his middle finger in. your eyes shut tight and your head tipped back, giving rafe better access as his friend began to move it inside you.

“fuck,” you whimpered when he added another, your back arching off the couch and you moaned louder when he sped up. “oh. shit. ‘m close,” you mumbled.

if your eyes were open, you’d have seen the look shared between the two boys. they stopped everything and began to move around each other. before you could ask any questions, rafe was manhandling you onto your hands and knees, his tip running through your lips.

barry was now sitting up against the armrest in front of you in nothing but his boxers. “i want you to show barry what your pretty mouth can do while i fuck your greedy little cunt, alright sweetheart? think you can do that for me?” rafe asked almost teasingly. you nodded, almost screaming when he thrusted into your quickly. “c’mon baby, get to work.”

you whimpered when his tip pressed up against your cervix as you pulled barry’s boxers down enough to reveal his cock. you quickly took him into your head, running your thumb over the head to smear the precum then proceeding to kitty lick the head. he groaned and locked eyes with you, watching your every move.

“i know you can do more than that, sweetheart,” rafe taunted.

you cried out at the feeling of him resting against that spongey spot, your legs feeling weak like they were about to give out. you took the head into your mouth and sucked on it, moaning around him when your boyfriend started to fuck you again. “there you go, hun. such a good girl,” barry praised.

you took him deeper into your throat, tears spilling from your cheeks when rafe started to pound into you. “look at you, baby. such a slut for us. suckin’ him off while i fuck you. makin’ us both feel so good.”

barrys hand came to rest at the back of your head, pushing it down and making you gag around him. “fuck, country club. you got a real good one here.”

rafe grinned proudly. “tell me about it.”

[pinkusmaximus]

Like A Champ

MTF!Junker Queen (Odessa “Dez” Stone) x fem!reader

category: EXPLICIT (18+ MDNI I fucking mean it)

tags: first times/something new, blowjobs, facefucking, facesitting/Queening (haha), gagging, choking (on dick), cum, saliva, slight dacryphilia (tears but not crying), trans female character, reader has a pussay and tittays and feminine pet names are used

words: 1,457

notes: i love you anon thank you for feeding my mind, i’ve been so AEUGAHSGEUSGHH when trying to write lately and this fixed me uwu <3 enjoy big woman lovers

“C’mon, since when have you been shy? I’m a big girl, I can take it!”

You lean back against the myriad of pillows behind you, smiling reassuringly as you beckon your partner to you with both hands. Odessa stands at the end of the bed with an incredulous expression, hands on her hips, her sizable cock half-hard as she mulls over your nudity, and your very tempting offer. You watch as she tugs her pretty pierced lips between her teeth, her eyebrows furrowed as she contemplates. 

“Dunno, darlin’. Seems like a recipe for you to choke, or throw up. Maybe both.”

You roll your eyes, hands falling limply to your sides.

“I’ve sucked you off more times than I can count and you’re just now worrying about me choking? The choking I can handle, and to some degree, I like! The potential throwing up is what hand signals are for,” you demonstrate tapping your thigh twice, eyebrows raising in emphasis as you show off your agreed-upon universal wordless signal for back the fuck off, I’m fucking dying here.

She smiles softly as she regards you and your thoughts on the matter at hand. And you were so damn cute, so small, lying there all eager and waiting, her pretty little doll smiling so innocently about wanting to get facefucked until you couldn’t breathe, until drool and slobber dripped uncontrollably from your sweet little mouth, until you were struggling for air and struggling not to gag and clawing at her hips with your nails and—

She blinks hard a few times to clear her thoughts, running a hand back through her recently washed, unstyled hair. God, you temptress. You didn’t even have to do anything to get her imagination running places it shouldn’t. 

“One step at a time, Dez. Why don’t you just come up here and sit on me to start with? See how you feel.”

She grumbles for a moment, taking in again just how tiny you are compared to her. She loves the ability to pick you up and do whatever she wants to you, taking you against the wall, holding you up in her strong arms while she fucks you senseless, easily bending you to whatever position she preferred. But having her on top of you, her weight against your chest and head, was not something that you had ever done before, and it admittedly slightly worried her, even if it made her cock twitch to think about. 

Still, she relents, climbing up on the bed with you and kneeling at your side, where you smile warmly and lovingly trail your fingers along her tan, muscled thigh. You connect the dots amongst a few freckles with your index finger, then your eyes flick up to her face, lips curling up just a little more. You pat your chest, urging her to mount you.

“Hup, hup. Let’s get to work.”

She rolls her eyes and snorts with a half smile, showing off a sharp canine as she carefully swings one thick thigh over your body, firmly planting her knees on either side of your shoulders as her hands grab the headboard, ass resting on your chest. You can tell that she’s doing her best to keep weight off of you, and for now, you won’t complain. Though… being crushed to death by your giant girlfriend sitting on your face would certainly be a highlight of your life, if that’s how it all ended.

Your hands caress the soft skin of her thighs, a pleased hmm behind your lips as her warmth settles into your chest. Odessa brings a hand down to lovingly caress your cheek, thumb brushing the curve just below your eye. 

“Ya look pretty down there, bird,” she says warmly, regarding you from her perch. You looked mighty pleased with yourself, and she couldn’t help but find it positively adorable. How she couldn’t wait to destroy that and leave you an absolute wreck.

“Thank you,” you reply, inching your face up to kiss the tip of her cock, hovering just above your chin. She hums with approval at the sight, arching her hips forward to provide you with further access to her length. Squeezing at her thighs in thanks, you slowly pepper kisses from base to tip on the underside, tongue occasionally flicking out to tease her. 

You smile- god, why were you so fucking cute?- bracing your hands on her thick, muscled thighs before leaning back and opening your pretty little mouth to take the head of her cock inside. Christ, you were just holding it there, gently swirling your warm tongue across the spongy pink flesh and licking up her precum and it already felt so fucking incredible. Your nails gently scratch at her thighs in little circles, giving her tingles up her spine. You make eye contact briefly, winking cutely before finally applying suction and Jesus fucking H. Christ she was seeing stars.

“Fuck, doll,” she groans, hands reaching down to lace into your hair, her nails scratching pleasantly against your scalp. “You’re so good at that, birdy. Such a good fucking girl,” she praises as she slowly cants her hips forwards, guiding her length into you.

You hum in encouragement, the sensation vibrating dully along her length. You feel her hips start bucking, and you do your best to loosen your tongue and throat, preparing to let her use your throat like a glorified cocksleeve. In one quick motion, you send her into shock by completely engulfing her fat length with your throat, your eyes watering as your nose presses into her pubes. You inhale deeply while you’ve got the chance, the scent of her musk making your head and pussy buzz.

“Oh, fuck,” she exclaims, and you can feel her cock twitch against the back of your throat. Her hands grip the back of your head, watching as you swallow up her entire length with such ease and enthusiasm. “I think I gotta marry you, your throat’s so fuckin’ ace—“ She moans as she gains the confidence to start grinding into your face, drool dripping from your chin as she fucks your pretty ruined face.

You moan around her cock as she fucks into your throat, gagging lightly as your nails dig into her flesh. You can feel your thighs getting sticky, slick gushing from your neglected pussy as you stare up at your beautiful girlfriend, her tits bouncing, light glinting off the bar piercings in her hard nipples, the muscles of her stomach tensing tight as she nears her climax. You encourage her with direct eye contact and as much of a moan as you can muster with her cock stuffing your throat, tears starting to stream down one cheek as you choke on her.

“Darlin’,” she chokes out, voice strained, “I’m so fuckin’ close, doll, you’re gonna make me come so hard.” You nod a little, giving her thighs a squeeze in confirmation, her ass bouncing up and down on your tits as her hips start to lose their rhythm. “Here it comes, baby, get ready for my cum—“

She slams her hips so hard into your face it nearly breaks your nose, her cock pressed as deep as it can go, thick globs of cum pouring into your waiting throat. Your pussy throbs, as if missing the load you just took for itself. She lingers there in a daze of pleasure just a little too long, making you tap her twice on the thigh to get her to pull out. When you do, she quickly removes herself, long strands of semen and saliva connecting your mouth and chin to her cock.

“Shit,” she chuckles, staring down at your completely destroyed face, lips red and swollen, tears streaming down your cheeks, cum and spit dripping from your mouth. She gently reaches out a hand, her thumb wiping away the lingering mess as she regards you fondly.

“You are an absolute fuckin’ champ,” she praises, cradling your face in her hands, “and I love ya so goddamn much, dollface.” You smile contentedly, and she leans down to lock her lips with yours, a warm glow filling your body as you accept the praises of your lover. 

“I love you too, Dez,” you reply with a croaky throat, your hand clasping at your neck as you blink in surprise at the sound of your own voice. She laughs wholeheartedly, squeezing your shoulders lovingly. 

“Guess I oughta go get ya somethin’ to help with that,” she chuckles, dismounting from your chest to stand up from the bed and get you a drink. You whistle at the sight of her bare ass, making her turn around and wink at you before disappearing into the hallway to head into the kitchen.

[raineandsky]

Bite at the Hand That Feeds

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

tw: burns, abuse

“Pretty close,” the villain says brightly, “but you’ve done this four times now, and pretty close isn’t close enough. Give me your arm.”

The idea of trying to do anything the villain demands with all of the asshole’s disappointments laid on the hero’s skin is becoming a nightmare. “No.”

“Give me your arm, [Hero], or I’ll take it myself and do it twice.”

Twice the pain. The hero forces his arm out to the villain, his entire body straining to stop him, and with a disinterested hum the villain lays the end of his cigarette on his skin.

“Okay,” the villain says once he lifts the cigarette back to his mouth, relighting its end. “Do it again.”

The hero carefully poises the dagger in his hand, his entire arm screaming with the motion, and brings it down in a carefully practised sweep. The cushion he’s been tragically gutting tears clean open and flicks its fluffy insides all over the floor.

The villain doesn’t say anything for a long moment. The hero risks a glance back at him; the cigarette hangs loosely from his fingers, smoke wafting in front of his face as he stares blankly at his now barely existent cushion.

“Huh,” he says eventually. “You’re finally getting it.”

“If you want me to protect you, why don’t you just let me use something I’m already good at?”

The villain’s gaze slowly tips back up to the hero. “Are you talking back?”

The cigarette moves purposely in the villain’s hand: a promise, a warning. “No, of course not,” the hero says quickly.

“I hope not. I actually want to have a smoke without having to put you in line every five seconds.”

Being out of line is an exaggeration. Sometimes the villain comes home and the hero thinks he might just be looking for an excuse to take his frustration out on his new toy. There’s no rules with the villain—that alone makes it hard to do what he wants.

The villain sighs. “I can’t be bothered with all this. Put that back.”

The hero can feel his stare boring into his back as he carefully lay the dagger on the shelf. This entire room is a death trap; there’s knives and swords and crossbows all over the place. One wrong move and the room would probably kill you. The agency would blanch at a place as unsafe as this.

The villain doesn’t move when the hero stops at his feet. He’s already one stair up, and he’s using the slight height to his advantage. “Do you want to know something, [Hero]?”

There’s a lot of things about this situation the hero would like to know and probably never will. Whatever this is will probably end in one more burn to add to his collection. “Sure.”

“I never asked for this.” The villain’s sigh is punctuated by a stream of smoke from his lips. “I was surprised to find you in my living room because I never wanted you here.”

The idea that the villain is offering a way out is too obviously a trap. “Sorry. I couldn’t help it.”

“I know,” the villain says, and it’s the closest to remorse he’s ever been. “But [Supervillain] gave me a gift I couldn’t turn down and now I have a whole second person living in my house that I’m meant to keep alive. Plants die fast in this place—I’m amazed you’ve outlasted them.”

Being compared to a plant is not the lowest the hero has been since getting here.

“Anyway.” The villain clears his throat awkwardly, like he’s just realised what he’s said. “You’re the bane of my existence and I’m unfortunately stuck with you until [Supervillain] forgets you exist. Stay in your lane until then and pray that I feel merciful once they stop asking about you.”

The supervillain is in the villain’s hair every time they see him, wanting to know how the ‘training’ is going and whether his guard dog is more dog than guard yet.

The hero prays for that every day and still doesn’t get it. He’s stuck here. Probably forever.

He tries his best to accept this as he follows the villain back upstairs.

~~~

Taglist: @epiclamer @nevermore-ramblings

[seraphimaa]

HAARLEP N*S*F*T ALPHABET

Below cut, of course.

Warnings: somnophilia, unhealthy relationships, danger, brief mentions of noncon

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

This was one of the best parts, for Haarlep. This was the only moment that they could relax and bask in the euphoria of feeding on your body, the maddening hunger gone from their mind. This was also the time that you were, like him, at your most vulnerable. He’d always tend to your needs because he knew that by being a reliable comfort to you at these times, he strengthened the trust you gave to him and it deepened his grip on you. He’d carry you to the bath and clean you up, dress you in a pretty slip and carry you back to bed, whispering sweet nothings to you the whole time. He’d be so gentle and loving because he knew that this was the way to earn your devotion to him.

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

When he is in the form of Raphael I think he actually does kinda like the horns. They make him look powerful. When he wears your form he loves your feet. It’s not weird…well I mean it’s Haarlep so it’s always kind of weird, but he just loves how small they are. It’s different, to him. They are just to delicate and he loves how they curl when he makes you feel good. When it comes to you, I think he loves your mouth. Again, it’s always going to be a little weird but he likes it in an innocent sense too. Your tongue is smooth and unforked - also something fun and new he likes to study and explore. This little mouth was capable of bringing him to the peak of pleasure, but also of making mean but oh so funny jokes, and praising him, and engaging him in amusing and conversation. This little part of you sparked so much chaos! He likes your mouth because it always seems so enjoyable, whatever you decide to use it for.

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

(I want to start by stating one of the saddest lore facts. No Haarlep cum for us womb havers:( the little demon spawn he’d plant in you would most definitely kill you, according to lore, but I will be the first to admit that I’d 100% die happily to demon cum because my breeding kink would always override my self preservation lol).

As above, I want to believe that Haarlep would love to bury himself as deep as he could fit inside of you, pressing against your womb and pumping you full of his seed, desperate to breed you and corrupt your womb with his spawn but assuming you don’t want to die terribly, idk maybe the funky little guy has a potion or spell or something to spare you that future. He’d change to your form and offer to finger and lick it all out after but that would be a risk you’d be willing to make.

If he wasn’t looking to turn you into a doomed vessel for his child, and didn’t have a solution then I think the next best thing would be cumming all over your ass or tits. He liked changing to your form and licking off of you while you squirmed and watched

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

A depraved part of him howls that he has to take your soul and turn you into his pretty doll. He denies it because he knows it’s better to have a long term investment but he can’t deny that the idea of having you living corpse, completely at his mercy and he could do whatever he wanted, go as hard as he wanted to, and you’d never break, drove him wild. You’d make such a submissive, pretty doll for him.

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

I feel like this is kinda obvious for Haarlep at first but remember how long he spent rotting in the boudoir. Extremely experienced but, perhaps, feeling slightly out of practice for a while. If you’d be so kind as to give yourself to him, you’d both thoroughly enjoy the journey of self rediscovery where he reminds himself of what he enjoys and exactly how good he is at it all.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Gods, he loves them all. Each delicious in their own way, and he makes it his mission to fuck you in every position and location he could ever dream of.

His favourite though, is when you ride him, shuddering and locked in his gaze. So long he spent topping Raphael and dedicated to his pleasure that this position holds so much significance to him. He is now the master who can recline back and be worshiped by their doting pet. Although you sit atop him like a queen, you both understand that he is the one in control, so in control of you that here you were, continuing to pleasure him on your own will. Here, he could also study your face and all the interesting ways it moved at each slide of him inside of you.

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

Again, he’ll tailor his behaviour to fit your needs and personality. There’s an intensity there and he views the act of fucking you as the same as laying claim to your wretched little soul but that doesn’t mean he can’t have fun and make you laugh at the same time. Your slow destruction didn’t have to hurt. You would enjoy every second of it.

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

I think he has stubble but it’s a cosmetic choice rather than a lack of grooming. Haarlep is dedicated to nothing other than looking their best and preening.

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

Again, this is when your are most vulnerable and Haarlep would not hesitate to flood you with intimacy and affection, if that’s what you desire. Haarlep will play whatever role you want because all that matters is that you feed his sexual hunger and that it feels good. If this makes you feel happy then he will give it you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Haarlep is almost always getting himself off somehow. When he first took l your form, it was so constant and overwhelming that you had locked yourself in your bathroom for days straight, able to do nothing more than join him desperately in hopes of release and ride the barrage of pleasure. If you were keeping yourself from him for too long, in his humble opinion, he found that if he brought you both to the edge and held you there long enough, you’d always come back to him desperate and feral. He loved you like that.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Somnophilia. Like the ancient incubus history with sleep paralysis and dream control, I think Haarlep would love to probe your mind while you slept, seeping it with his own depraved thoughts and playing with you while you are innocent and unaware.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Everywhere and anywhere. His beautiful and depraved imagination is unmatched in all the realms his words not mine. Don’t worry, though, he will get to them all with you, eventually. His favourite is anywhere where there’s an audience. He loves to show off his treasure, they deserve to be witnessed and admired by all. He also loved the effect it had on you. You got so shy and bashful. It was so cute!

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

Almost anything if he thinks about it enough, let’s be honest. I guess worth mentioning is reluctance, innocence and brattiness. He loved the challenge and he would no doubt be able to tame these things in you.

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

Brutal non-con. Don’t get me wrong, in the right situations, as an incubus he’s depraved enough to see the appeal of anything but as a standard of incubus and succubus culture, this was taboo. If you could not manipulate your prey into submission or at least break their mind with your charm then you didn’t deserve the feast. Incubi were not built for combat.

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

They are all wonderful but I mean, can I just point out the obvious that he would LOVE to use your form and sixty nine you. It was so overwhelming that you’d passed out from the reverberating echos of pleasure the first time so they didn’t do it often but every time they did was like a little present. Breaking you was so fun!

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

Again, he will give you whatever you want. Your pleasure is his pleasure.

Totally up to him? He pin you down, and fuck you into the mattress until you were babbling and drooling.

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

Sex is a gift in any form but they much prefer to take their time with you. Such a delicious little treat should be savoured. The longer your ruin was, the harder the high after would be. He’ll always satisfy you in the end.

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

Hahahahahahahahaha.

Put it this way, he will fuck you anywhere, fuck anything as you and make you fuck anything that either of you want.

He is every monster fuckers dream come true. Want to try centaur cock? He’ll do it for you and you’ll feel everything. Hell and abyss beasts alike, whatever either of your depraved minds dream up and even better, I’m sure his venom would make it possible to let you have a go too!

In all honesty, if you’re ever likely to die by Haarlep’s doing, it would probably be suspended from a cock he had assured you that you could take. Oops!

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

For Haarlep, sex is less of an act and more of a constant state of existence. Rare would it be that one of you isn’t teasing or playing with the other. After you finish, the rest your time is spent, in his perception as simply building up to the next climax when he’d pounce and take you again.

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

Anything that can be stuffed inside of you, or him, humped or stimulate you in any way will no doubt be used against you at some point. He loves being inventive and finding new and exiting things to torture you with!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He will literally bring you to the brink of insanity with his cruel unfairness. He is more than to happy to hold you there for hours, or days, or weeks, his venom able to fuel your cruel torture will unbearable pleasure. Don’t worry, in the end he always makes it worth it and all the tears and screaming will be rewarded with the highest of peaks. You’ll get what you deserve as soon as you earn it his word not mine.

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

He will grunt and growl and hiss like an angry crocodile when you make him feel particularly good. He is, however, far more interested in basking in the noises he brings out of you. He loves to hear you pledging you love and devotion to him.

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

He’s a feral little biter. When he feels good or even just has a little flood of emotion, his go to response is to nip and bite at you. He loves it when you return the favour. It’s normal to be relaxing than chomp. He loves seeing his teeth bruised and dented into your soft skin.

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

I feel like his cock is definitely generous in size. It’s thick, and long and intimidating. It’s the same colour as the rest of him, flushing to a dark purple hue near the tip. I like to think his cock would have sharp, delicate ribbing and texturing around the length that would sting and drag pleasurably inside of you. Probably has an evolutionary purpose of removing another’s seed or something idk. I like to think his demon dick would have a small knot at the base, since they were designed to feed and breed, after all. Like for these headcanons I can’t argue them through lore. I just think it. Because it’s hot. Shoot me.

I like to imagine he’s always on the spectrum of “half mast” to “full mast” always half at alert and ready for more fun.

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

Sorry, but again can I, hahahaahahaha.

He’s the embodiment of lust and sexual hunger. Go figure. Even in innocent moments that depraved beast is always in him and seeking its next meal.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

I think Haarlep spent so much time sleeping before, passing time in the house of Hope, that after you ignited his passion again he rarely slept anymore. He’d like to watch you sleep, though. He liked to play with himself and get you off while you did or just probe himself into your slumbering subconscious, watching what your wandering mind conjured.

[wordbunch]

how the hobbits look after you when you’re sick...

a/n: slightly modified the request by miss @starlady66 so it’s a teeny bit more general. hope y’all like it, let me know about it 💗💗💗 and maybe I’ll do one the other way round, a.k.a. reader looking after them; depends on my time and inspiration... And do you wanna read it👀😁 enjoy 😘

🍃 SAM 🍃

he absolutely goes mother-hen mode and we all knew that already

checks a hundred times if you’re cold, too hot, if your pillows are fluffed perfectly, do you have enough blankets, are you burning up, do you want to eat, drink something?

whatever it is that you need, he’s there

sometimes he even overwhelms you with the questions, but you know he means well and just wants to help

he obviously knows a lot about plants and he knows what tea (or any other herbal thingy) can make you feel at least slightly better

and don’t even get me started on how he makes the most delicious food and wants to feed you all the time so you get healthy and strong again

he can get fussy but he hates it so much when you’re not feeling well

however, you sometimes just want him to keep you company and hold you close - his cuddles are the best, it’s not only his food and drinks that make you feel better

he will cuddle you whenever you ask, he will play with your hair, tell you stories in a quiet, calming voice, whatever helps you relax and take your mind off of pain

very optimistic, he will cheer you up whenever needed, and he also knows that you have to get better soon under his attentive care

🍃  FRODO 🍃 

he would need a bit of time to notice that something’s a bit off with you, because he’s in his head a lot, but as soon as he figures you’re not at 100%, he basically drags you to bed

will want you to tell him what you want and what you think will help, he’s scared of doing something wrong and accidentally making you feel worse (A BABY)

on the outside he’s being very chill and logical, but on the inside he’s actually super worried, even if it’s a very minor cold, or a headache, or just a little bit of a cough

if he knows elvish, maybe he also knows some elvish healing methods or potions or teas?

if he doesn’t, he would try to dig something up from all the books

that would actually help a lot, or maybe it’s just your mind playing a trick on you since you know how much effort he put into it (BABY)

if you crave any specific food, he’ll make sure to get it or make it, if you want the room to be dark in order to be more comfortable, no problem at all, too!

when you’re feeling a bit better, he would entertain you by playing simple games together, like riddles, or some cards, because he won’t let you out of the house right away, but still knows you’re bored

he cannot wait for you to be all healthy again because he’s stressed

but overall he’s very attentive, very helpful, and you’re thankful for all of it

🍃  PIPPIN 🍃 

well he is pretty much lost, but worried to death, which isn’t a good combination, but it’s all out of love!!!

practically glued to your side all the time, even if it’s nothing serious - anything that is hurting you is serious enough to him (at some point you’re uncertain whether he’s not letting go of your hand because of you, or because of himself)

really appreciates it when you directly tell him what you want and need, because then he can actually go and do it and not feel useless, but he’ll try to be as fast as possible so he can return to you shortly

he’ll try to speak very quietly, almost in a whisper, so as to not startle you or cause you any further discomfort (A BABY)

maybe at some point he will ask Sam or Frodo for advice, and Sam sometimes even offers to bring over some food, because Pippin accidentally burning down the kitchen would just complicate things further

lowkey blames himself, because what if he shouldn’t have suggested going for a night walk, and then you got a cold??

what if he was singing too loudly around the house and gave you a headache??

he’ll ask if he may sit on the bed next to you or lie down with you, and you’re like??? of course???

usually he likes to sleep but he can’t when you’re not feeling good, so he will just stay awake and stroke your hair, or hold your hand as you drift off to sleep

if that is okay with you at the moment, he will ramble on about any random topic or sing any song he knows to distract you from whatever hurts

🍃  MERRY 🍃

no way you’ll get out of bed or lift a single finger as long as you’re sick, and he’s around

he’s brilliant at distracting you, if you’re waiting for your fever to go down, or you’re just cranky because of throat pain, he’s ready to make a full performance just to entertain you

he’ll try to guess what you might need, and then bring you stuff, and even if it’s not something that you needed at the moment, you don’t tell him that

he can quickly make you something to eat, but he also tries to get it done fast and come back to keeping his eyes on you

you need a massage? he’ll be more than happy to provide!

he will cuddle you as much as you want to, even if it means that he’ll catch whatever is making you sick (I guess eventually that just gives him an excuse to be babied later...), he will read to you, or you will read together in bed

but he will be the one holding the book, god forbid that you do anything even potentially physically strenuous

a few times he accidentally took a nap during your cuddle session, and then he felt super bad when he woke up, because he was supposed to be the one looking after you!

but you reassure him that it’s really okay and that he also needs to rest and relax

when you’re sleeping in, he will go and pick up random trinkets or snacks to bring you and cheer you up

[scp-tiggles]

Scp 073

40% ler | 60% lee

As a ler:

Okay so, surprisingly he’s very merciful as a ler, makes sure the lee is okay with tickles, offers aftercare, etc.

Rarely ever uses his own hands to tickle lees, he prefers using plants! As per this au, his withering effect is replaced with chlorokinesis!

While he’s more gentle with tickles, he WILL tease a lee to the hells and back, he cant help it!

“My, is something wrong? You’re awfully giggly!” “Is something funny? Is there something on my face? It’s quite rude to laugh someone, you know..” “Oh, don’t touch this is a spot? Right here? Are you sure? I mean, you’re laughing so much, it seems perfect!” Being his favorite ones.

During breaches, it’s best to stay clear of the garden area where cain resides. As the second those alarms go off, cain will drop whatever He’s doing to join the fun!

Staff wise, his hands are rated E for everyone. Nobody is safe. But anomaly wise, his favorite target is Abel. (Or, scp 076-2!)

As a lee

Firstly, absolutely adores being tickled, and pretty much everyone on site knows this. He’s touch starved damnit!

His laugh too..its the most precious thing, speaking of, if someone ever calls it cute he gets all flustered and starts hiding his face in his hands <3

His worst spots are his belly, ribs, and back. Mainly his belly though.

Now, the feather material on his shirt around his neck isn’t just for show, it’s his own way of tickling himself .

Speaking of, his plants can and WILL wreck him.

Cannot STAND light tickles, folds immediately at the slightest graze over one of his spots.

Feathers are insta death for him oml

The longer he’s been tickled, the squeakier his laugh gets. Almost like a squeaky toy!

Scp 073-2 instances

100% ler | 0% lee

(By the way, the image is only SOME instances. Theres multiple of various entities, including fruits, vegetables, etc)

As lers:

Okay, so as a collective, you’re screwed. Period. These little guys FEED of laughter and show no mercy till they get their fill

Azalea’s, Like to group up and flutter against any skin visible. Mainly necks in an attempt to make a person fall, and then usually let the other plants nearby do the rest of the work.

Snapdragons are a bit more mischievous, will wrap vines around a persons ankles and then pull them into shrubbery, nipping, licking, and nuzzling wherever! Their teeth, of course, don’t hurt. And their ‘heads’ are fuzzy to where its pretty ticklish with nuzzles. And, fun fact, are the only plants that can be distracted by chin scratches!

Lily of the valleys aren’t attached to vines like most of the plants, rather they hop off their vine and run around in search of a victim, hence why they travel in a pair of two or more. Once they do, they climb up the persons legs and get under their shirt, scribbling their tiny hands against the belly and sides, occasionally moving to avoid any attempts at stopping them!

Spider lilies, are a special kind. They’ll entrap a victim in their webs, vines with a sticky sap, and then proceed to crawl over the victim, tickling with the four large feathery petals on its body!

Extra! (For both 073 and 073-2)

The plants adore cain, and more often then not will tickle him if he generally just seems sad and in need of a pick me up.

Cain is classified as a ‘creator’ entity, this is a au feature (that i’d love to explain more if asked!).

Cain and Abel USED to share the cell, but got separated for two reasons, one, abel and him loved teaming up when wrecking staff, and two, the plants loved to wreck abel. (The first reason is the main one, but since they kept targetting abel, d-class experiments rarely worked.)

The plants, while laughter is their main source of food, can also photosynthesize and “eat” sugar water!

Cain, much like 035, doesn’t need laughter to eat. Rather its just a better energy boost for him that sleep cannot always provide.

Some of the plants move their heads rapidly to signify excitement, a move they learned from cain while seeing him stim!

Speaking of, he’s on the spectrum..and is super knowledgeable about literally any plant

You can ask him about the most uncommon, unknown plant in the world and he’ll give you all the information you could ever need.

Cain, has a small crop bed for fruits and vegetables, which he gladly gives to the cafeteria in exchange for flower seeds!

Speaking of flowers, he loves making flower crowns, which he loves to give to staff (and other anomalies)!

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝕬𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖘 IV

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: The Custodes just watching the cat get more attention than him.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams , @egrets-not-regrets.

𝕬𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖘 V

TW // Stalking.

Sitting outside in Marie’s backyard. I tested my shoulder out, taking it out of the cast, and moved my arms slowly around in circles. My nose scrunching up in the sting of soreness. Heating up my shoulder every time I moved my arm upwards. I even had to wait a few seconds to continue and fully complete the rotation.

If only that damned ceiling didn’t crumble beneath my feet, I wouldn’t have fallen on that rusty, steel pole. I wouldn’t be having this problem either.

That Journalist can have a bad day too for making me throw him around while wounded, but he also took an ungodly amount of pictures of me from when I crossed a road to end up in Marie’s backyard. No doubt, going to try and publish that somewhere for some big money for whatever “my story” is worth.

“It looks like you’re doing better.” The wobbly voice of Marie observed, an orange cat meowing at her feet.

Turing my head to look at her. She had a cup of tea in her hand, occasionally taking sips out of it. The smell of dried fruit wafting from the cup. Another tea that I recognized as hibiscus tea.

I bowed my head to her in a ‘good morning,’ relaxing my shoulder for a moment. Picking up my own drink with my other arm from the small, circular glass table off to my side that was full of tiny, potted plants.

“If you like, I would need some help repotting some plants.” Marie offered a daily task, taking another sip from her tea cup. The cat jumping up onto my lap.

I nodded again, sipping my own drink, taking that task because it would mean free cookies. Most of the time anyway. If she didn’t make cookies, or any desert she baked, I was repaying her kindness with anything she needed to get done for the day. Which wasn’t much, honestly.

The daily things she mostly does is tend to her hoard of cats, and her jungle rooms of plants. Both feeding them, and giving them water. Then she goes and puts a tea kettle on the stove so she could have her morning tea.

Her afternoons consisted of a lunch break, and a well deserved nap with the cats in the sunroom with some more tea afterwards, and her nights are tame as she usually just watches an old black, and white film, or reads her old books.

It’s been what? Only three days, and I already know what her daily routine is.

“Hello there, Miss. Garner!” An older man yelled out a greeting. Looking over he had to be in his 60s? 70s? Brown, frizzled hair turning gray with a big, nicely trimmed beard. He was on the more heavyset side of a man with an oval body shape, his body leaning over the white fence Marie had put up to keep the neighbors, and critters out of her “garden palace.” She had named her garden.

“Mr. Benton, good morning.” Marie greeted back, not sounding very thrilled by his appearance.

Looking between the two. They clearly had their differences. Marie was the gardener that loved her fresh fruits, and vegetables, floral smell, and a lover of cats. While Mr. Benton was the mechanic type, lover of tinkering, fixing things, smelling like grease, and oil, and the owner of a wiener dog.

“Daw, don’t be like that Miss. Garner! I was only trying to be nice.” He replied, taking off his blue cap that showed a bald spot on his head. “Say, is your little lady willing to help me for a moment?”

I could-

“Absolutely not! Not with all that filth!” Marie exclaimed, surprising me on how fast she moved to put her tea cup down on the glass table, her hands now on her hips.

“Now, hold on there. It ain’t all filth.” Mr. Benton responded, putting his cap back on his head. Shaking a finger at Marie.

“You got old, rusting cars in your backyard, you make these god awful noises at night when you're in your garage, tools laying about everywhere, don’t make me list any more mister!” Marie listed off, pointing her finger at the man who just looked dazed?

I sipped on my drink, petting the orange cat in my lap as I watched the two argue with each other. Marie spitting details to complain about while Mr. Benton spoke of anything that would get her riled up, purposely.

“Oh! Bugger off will yeah?!” Marie yelled, waving off the old man, turning back to her much needed tea.

“Oh, you love it Miss. Garner!” Mr. Benton laughed, belly shaking with him.

“Just- shoo! Go away!” Marie waved him off again. A tint of pink on her cheeks as she took another sip of her tea to cover it up.

“Alright, alright. I’ll leave you be.” He sighed, finger coming up to his face to get rid of a tear, then waved. “Till next time lady’s!”

Giving him my own little wave, cat mowing in disapproval of the act of waving. I quickly nudged my foot at Marie.

“What?” She asked, still using the tea cup to cover her blush. I gave her an ‘really’ look, eyebrow raising up at her.

“Don’t give me that look!” She groaned, turning her head away. New cherry red blush coating her cheeks.

I see what’s going on here; don’t think I don’t.

“Stop giving me that look!” Marie exclaimed again, desperately trying to hide away from my gaze.

I shook my head at her, scratching the cat behind its ear as I bumped her ankle softly with my shoe again.

“Are you planning to go somewhere?” She suddenly asked, switching the topic. Avoiding the previous topic, for now.

I nodded, my eye trailing over the tree line at the back of the yard. The same heavy, tingling coming back; feeling stronger with each second I stared.

“Do you need anything?” She questioned, finally putting the cup down from her lips. Most likely have drank all of the tea, and calmed down her burning cheeks.

I shook my head ‘no.’ Spotting a flash of gold before it stilled. A blue visor glowing from a darkened area of the tree line. A slight gold shining off of the armored being.

I knew it. The Custodes had followed me here, and this means they must know, that I know. Though, didn’t it have a red visor before? Not blue? Less gold too?

Oh, I was definitely planning on going somewhere now. I wasn’t going to be in the presence of an Custodes. Much less of an Astartes.

[washy0uaway]

Kiss City Pt. 4

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!Reader Word Count: 1.6k Chapter Summary: Movies with our favorite guy to recover, things be heating UP y'all. Series Summary: The thing you expected least on what you swore was a day set out to be cursed by the universe, was Frankie.

Shoot me a message or respond to be added to the tag list :)

Series Masterlist | Part 3

It’s comical really, how the already tiny Apple TV remote somehow grows smaller in his massive hands - one of which is still draped across your abdomen, resting on the bone of your hip. “Shit,” Frankie mutters as he presses the wrong button for a second time. Shifting to your side and propping yourself upwards and facing him, that hand on your waist comes dangerously close to your ass.

“Here,” you offer, resting a much smaller hand on his as your petite fingers press the right buttons, starting the second movie with ease.

It musters a slightly embarrassed “Thanks,” from him as you reach and set the remote back on the table. “Tiny ass remote, not so tiny ass hands,” he explains. Spreading his fingers apart, glancing down at his palm angled slightly toward you as proof.

You can’t be held responsible for moving your palm to meet his. You just wanted to feel him, even if it was under the guise of comparing hand sizes. Even with your longer acrylic nails, Frankie can still bend his knuckles to wrap around the tips of your fingers. The hand on your hip tightens its grip just slightly as he does. It’s not intentional and he doesn’t even notice - but you do.

“Your hands are fucking tiny, hermosa,” he realizes after a slight closed mouth chuckle.

“I’m pretty fucking tiny Frankie, if you hadn’t noticed.” At a solid 5’1 (and only on a good day), he was nearly a whole foot taller than you.

“I had,” he admits. Going out on a limb, he shifts his hand in yours until your fingers are fully intertwined, now resting in his lap. His eyes trail up to meet yours when he adds, “it’s cute.”

You roll your eyes but the blush spreading across your cheeks is not lost on him.

“Whatever you say, Morales. How about some popcorn?” A single eyebrow raised, and Frankie’s not sure how you keep doing this. Each new expression he sees spread across your features draws him in further. He wants to learn you, each expression - take it all in.

“Popcorn would be great, just don’t spoil your appetite. We ARE still ordering tacos.”

“We fucking better be,” you respond as you saunter into the kitchen.

A few moments later, after grabbing a beer from the fridge for Frankie and starting tea for yourself, he hears rustling from your kitchen. Like something is being dragged across the hardwood floor.

Intrigued, he interrupts. Poking his head into your kitchen with a “What the hell are you doing?” He is indeed seeing you drag a barstool across the kitchen toward an open cupboard.

“Top shelf,” you motion with a slight nod of your head in the direction of your pantry, still actively dragging the damn thing. “Can’t reach.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“We’ll I mean,” stopping in your tracks as you’ve reached the edge of the counter, giving him a smirk. One hand on your hip, the other resting on the barstool, you feed his words back to him, “Tall ass cabinets, not so tall ass legs.”

He laughs, but you’re already turning around starting to scale the stool.

Two strides is all it takes before he’s snapping a playful, “nope, absolutely not,” at you, wrapping am arm around your waist and planting your feet on the ground.

Except now, oh no. Now you’re backed against your kitchen counter, Frankie’s body brushing against yours slightly in the commotion.

“You’re ridiculous,” you joke. “I get stuff from the top shelf on that stool all the time.” Fully playing into the situation, just slightly amping up the doe eyes as he looks down, your gazes locking for what feels the millionth time today.

Without breaking eye contact for even a second, he reaches above you and pulls the box of popcorn from its home on the shelf. “Not when I’m around,” he’s stern but soft, coming from a place of .. concern? Caring? You can’t be sure, but my god do you want to find out.

Setting the box beside you, Frankie’s long arms come to cage you in by resting on the counter at your sides. Then, it’s another few seconds that feel like hours. When he looks at you, and I mean really looks at you, it stirs something in you. It’s almost unsettling how strongly you feel for one another already.

His eyes then start tracing each of your features, including the bump on your forehead. He again reaches out to brush a stray hair from your face, but when he breaks the silence again as he does, his voice is different.

“What am I going to do with you?” Deep. Rough. Low. Gravelly. Sexy as fuck, with his signature softness somehow still shining through. Not to mention, his eyes spending another few long seconds looking at your mouth before finding their new found home back on yours.

Your stomach knots and arousal builds as his calloused thumb traces your plush lower lip, your mouth slightly parted. The way his palm cups the side of your neck under the edge of your jaw and his long fingers spread into your hair has you absolutely reeling, heart pounding in your chest.

“I don’t know,” you continue, just barely above a whisper. He’s so close he can feel your breath on his face as you begin to melt beneath him.

Then suddenly, there’s a slight mischievous glint in your eye (absolutely deadly, if you were to ask Frankie). “What did you have in mind?”

That does him in. Entirely. His thumb on your lips is instantly replaced by his own meeting yours.

It’s intoxicating. Insanely intense, but not too rough. Not yet. But that’s when you sneak your tongue out to run it across his bottom lip. It’s quick and delicate, almost as if you’re trying to be sneaky about it.

He’d usually ask permission for a first kiss, and that usually wasn’t with anyone he’d only known a few hours. But my god, Frankie can’t help himself. The hand not spreading across the back of your neck finds salvation on your hip first, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

It’s not there long though. He slips his tongue in your mouth as he wraps his entire arm around the small of your back and his grip on you drives you mad.

You let him know when you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers running through his hair (hat long forgotten on the couch). A small groan escapes your lips, finding its home between his.

Before you’ve even noticed the placement of his hands shifting, he’s lifted you on the countertop to sit with ease. Your legs spread instinctively and his hands squeeze your hips, dragging your clothed core towards his own.

You stay like this for what is probably longer than either of you think. Frankie’s hands are everywhere, running up your thighs and then your sides, sneaking their way under your crop top. His fingers wrap around your rib cage as yours still dance in his hair, pulling slightly when he nips at your lips or finds a ticklish spot on your body.

Coming up for air a few minutes later, he sighs and nuzzles his forehead in the crook of your neck. "I'm not usually like this," he admits before planting a delicate kiss on your collarbone.

"What do you mean?" your nails tracing the back of his neck and into his hair has him on another planet.

"Well, I'm usually more of a gentleman. We just met and I haven't even taken you to dinner yet."

Your pull on his hair brings his head up to face you and you cup his face in your hands. Oh, sweet Frankie.

"I can't say I'm complaining, though. Would you feel better if I let you pay for tacos?" You offer with an eyebrow raised.

"Please," he pleads with wide eyes, before he starts kissing you everywhere but your lips. Pecks on your cheek, nose, jaw, arms wrapping around your waist and holding you close.

"Okay," you concede with a laugh. "If that means I get to keep kissing you, it's a small sacrifice."

Offering his hand to help you off the counter, you purse your lips and speak again. "You know, the popcorn will take a few minutes.." voice trailing off as he realizes what you're insinuating.

Dashing like a madman, he unwraps the popcorn bag and puts it in the microwave, sets the time, and presses start. When he kisses you again, it's hungrier. A new found confidence knowing you want this as much as he does. The way your tongues dance and his hands fit perfectly anywhere they're placed have you wondering. Where has he been hiding? How have I gone my whole life without this?

"Fastest three minutes of my life," you whine between kisses when the microwave beeps.

"You know, we should probably let it cool down before we eat it anyway," he responds, mouth now planting kisses on your neck, nipping ass he goes. "Just to be safe."

More than a minute passes while you're drunk on each other. His hands finding their way under your shirt, just to feel the warmth of the skin on your lower back, kneading like he needs you.

"Frankie," you whisper when you can get a word in. He pulls away for a moment and the look on his face (dazed, in awe of you), gives you all the confidence you need for what you're about to ask.

"Can you have sex with a concussion?"

-----

Tagging @lilipads @harriedandharassed @anoverwhelmingdin @missladym1981

[masqueradingkitsune]

Lore posting! Lore clarification (?)

So the troupe huh? We don’t know a lot about them or their motivations other than “we feed on the embers of dying kingdoms” and what is that even supposed to mean? So here is my take:

Long ago, long before the pale wyrm even was a thought, there were moths and gods. Abundant in numbers they spread across their known world and as they did their culture was created. artisans, tradesmen, merchants, the old world was thriving but it was the few who gave these tribes their purpose. The Seers, those who delved deep into the natural world and returned with the knowledge that they were not alone. This world was inhabited by gods, dubbing “lesser” gods higher beings. Their energy, their power, their light make up this world. Over the years Seers would pop up claiming to commune with these higher beings but most of these higher beings histories were lost to time, whatever disaster wiped out the old world burying stories with bones. We know of three of these old gods who remain. This is the story of one.

Before moths it’s said three beings existed, one of soul, one of life, and one of strength. It took the combination of all three to create this world. Strength took the parts of the planet and pushed them together, molding and creating the world as they desired it to look, making the form of the moths. But it was bare and dead. Life looked at the world strength had made and offered an accord: pouring its own energy into this new planet creating the plants, the creatures, the life of the world. But it was without cause. So then Soul offered her hand, agreeing to bring reason to the devoid world. But rather than strength or life she was careful, choosing who got soul and who didn’t. It was her who chose the moths as the first, granting them wings so that wherever it may be they could follow the light of purpose and innovation. The three looked at their creations and were proud. But the labour left them drained so one by one they began to slumber.

Strength was the last to sleep. You see no god could go against the other physically. But there were ways to undermine them. It approached a being who had secluded themselves from the world. No, they were cast out. Abandoned. Forgotten. Strength reviled itself to them in the shape of an ever beating heart. That is when Strenth offered a deal. The power needed to not just get revenge on those who cast them out but rule the world that rejected them. On one condition. They belonged to strength. And so they agreed, taking on a new name: Sancine. strength was true to their word granting them the ability to harness their own light. Not one to create or better the world but one to raze what needed to be cleansed away. Not just that but the promise that time would never touch them. Lastly, it stripped them of their wings, removing their freedoms in the sky. For they belonged to Strength. So became the first nightmare warlord.

The tribes of old never thought that one might turn against them, they were utterly unprepared. The conquest only took days, slaughtering anyone who stood in their path in the name of strength. Many joined. The few who did not dwindled and decayed, praying to their slumbering gods to save them.

It took centuries for any other to awaken again. But when they did they saw how strength defiled the world they made together. To reclaim their world they went to make their own champions, ones of life and soul. The two fought against Strength and its champion in a long brutal war that threatened to end in the extinction of the moth tribes but in the end life and soul had pushed strength and its champion back to its new capital. There, they sealed away Strength along with its champion taking them out of the physical and into the metaphysical. A realm of dreams. Any under Sancine’s service who remained scattered to the winds. to prevent one god from taking over the world again they sealed away their own champions letting the world recover from the wounds gouged across it.

The remnants, once again rejected by the world were cursed by the gods, they would never be truly welcome anywhere nor would their descendants. They would burn themselves away with the fire they wield. They would be little more than scavengers feeding on the refuse of those they once subjected. A new term would be coined for them. The once nightmare troop became the nightmare troupe. Jesters to be mocked. Eventually they learned to lean into this fact, though they never forgot. And they never forgave. Some say they are looking for ways to return Sancine back to this world to recreate Strength’s dynasty once more.

In modern time the once kin of Strength do not always hold the same respect for him. Some have forgotten him all together. But the moths know the difference between the once Strength worshipers and those who descended from tribes of life and soul. Just look towards the wings.

[izvmimi]

does megara mourn her children still?

cw: horror ie. dark content, minors dni, domestic abuse (including violence towards a child) although nothing explicitly graphic. reader and izuku have an unnamed infant son.

a/n: for @shuwuji's scare me collab! (not me submitting at the last minute, forgive me bb)

Izuku has been strange since his last mission.

You can’t exactly pinpoint why. Izuku at his very core is resilient above all else and this last threat was not the most sinister - really, nothing compared to the trial of his teen years - but ever since he came home beaten and bruised but with that triumphant smile on his face, you can sense a tension in his shoulders and neck that has yet to cease.

Nothing you’ve done for him has changed either. The painstaking care you perform in love, rubbing oil onto his scars, kneading his sore muscles, whispering soothing words that chase away the occasional nightmare…  none of that gentle treatment has been forsaken in the interim. He’s thankful to you as usual, and the matters of daily life have resumed as expected.

And yet something is wrong.

It’s been a week since then - in fact, it is 2pm and Izuku has not yet risen. You feed your infant son alone, thankful that he’s being quiet as a small mercy to his hardworking father. He claps his hands and you smile and give him kisses to his forehead between bites of pureed vegetables. He is round and soft and looks the spitting image of Izuku, harmless and sweet.

Lunchtime ends and your son remains attached to your hip as you briefly tidy up the house. Pillows are fluffed, teething rings are picked up and sterilized, and surfaces are wiped down. You spend the next few hours allowing your child to crawl on soft carpet and explore, while you watch him with one eye and read with another.

Izuku has yet to rise by 5 pm and your son falls into your lap, begging for a nap.

You pass by the master bedroom in the hall and peek inside, finding that Izuku is no longer in bed, a mess of perspiration-soaked sheets taking his place. You can hear a suppressed fit of coughing and see fluorescent light leaking from the closed bathroom door. You don’t call out to him in worry of waking up your slumbering infant, drooling peacefully on your shoulder.

Your child is laid in his crib with tenderness and after tucking him in you make your way to your bedroom to meet your partner. There’s a strange pit in your stomach that forms as you enter the room, an odd miasma that worsens in intensity as you round the corner into the bathroom. He stands there, back turned to you, and staring at the mirror, knuckles white as he grips the edge of the sink. You get the impression he’s been standing there for a while and the marble strains under the pressure of his fingers. Perhaps it mimics his psyche at the moment.

A mental note is made to have it repaired.

“Izuku,” you keep your voice soft. His eyes widen as he hears you call his name and he turns quickly to look at you. The look in his eye is odd, as though he’s not sure he recognizes you; his skin glows with night sweats and he practically trembles, even if his feet are planted firmly on the ground.

“Are you…” your voice trails off. It would be silly if you asked if he was okay. Instead, you step towards him and press the back of your hand to his forehead. You can practically feel his racing pulse in your fingertips, but he’s not feverish. Yet.

“I-I don’t know what’s going on,” he whispers. His hand closes around yours and pulls you off him gently, his eyes closing. “… this headache won’t go away no matter what I do.”

His voice comes out raspy, as if he were parched.

“Do you need some water?”

He shakes his head and you frown. You’ll bring some anyway in case he changes his mind.

“I can call for a doctor’s appointment,” you offer. His eyes open again and he frowns. You can tell he doesn’t believe it will help with whatever ails him but he doesn’t argue with you.

“Okay.”

You decide to leave him for a moment given that he hasn’t yet collapsed, and passing through the bedroom (drawn curtains compound the darkness of the early evening), you hunt for your cell phone. It takes you a moment of hesitation to consider if he should be seen now rather than later while you wait for the hold music to cease, but he looks… stable to say the least.

“What time tomorrow?” a young woman asks on the phone.

“What’s the earliest time you have?”

“How about 8 am-“

Her voice drowns under the sound of your son who is crying all of a sudden.

“C-can you hold on please?” you interrupt the poor scheduler. “I’m so sorry.” You automatically put her on a hold, then walk briskly at first towards the child’s bedroom but soon something compels you to run those last few paces - the cry is strange, louder and more distressed than you’re used to.

And as you turn the corner, you realize why.

“Izuku, what are you doing?!”

You push past him to snatch your crying child who he has raised in the air, a hand unnaturally tight around his midsection. When you arrive, you can see him squirming in his father’s unnatural grip as Izuku stares vacantly into his eyes, green into teary green.

Izuku barely budges as you nearly shove him out of the way and does not let go.

“This thing is the issue.” His voice is unattached and robotic. Your ears ring, part-shock, part-rage, as your son continues to wail.

“W-what the fuck are you talking about!?” You shriek, your swipes at him more and more aggressive as you try to rescue your kid. Izuku side-steps you nearly effortlessly and turns, your son raised much higher and out of your reach, until you’re jumping around him in a manner that looks more and more foolish, the more desperate you become.

“Put him down!” 

The child wails, arms reaching for you now.

“I’m getting rid of it.”

“You’re doing what?” You scream.

Izuku walks slowly, eyes still lowered as if a man possessed, as if he cannot feel the fact that your fists are beating against every part of his body that you can reach. There’s something he murmurs under his breath about noise and evil and a headache he can’t stop and something about a curse he can’t break, and all manners of nonsense as your cries get louder and louder until your voice barely comes out at all, replaced with your sobs.

When you fall in a heap and decide to beg instead, to plead to something still reasonable inside of him, terrified by your baby’s incessant crying, he does stop, pivoting in your direction. Through tear-blurred eyes, you watch him dangle the now unconscious infant upside down as though they were a dirty toy and you rub your hands together in a plea.

“P-please… I don’t know what’s gotten into you… but stop.”

Your eyes follow the child who swings gently like a pendulum, and you are hypnotized. You think you may pass out as well.

“If I get rid of this, it’ll go away. It will be better,” he repeats over and over again as a mantra. You pull at his ankles, a weight that is feather-like to him, and he keeps walking towards the front door, dragging you along. The fact that you are crying means nothing to him, the fact that he holds an infant like a sack of potatoes in his left hand means nothing compared to the throbbing pain behind his right eye. 

A voice repeats in his head with increasingly loud crescendo, nuisance, nuisance, nuisance.

“Annoying,” he murmurs under his breath. 

He looks at you, and you start to resemble the child more and more the longer he holds his gaze.

“The vestiges say I need to get rid of you too.”

[luna-the-bard]

👁️👁️teeny tiny giant infodump about terranian foods

* Skeets has never had chicken noodle soup before Samus made it for her when she was sick

* Terranian cultures have broths and soups, but they’re usually veggie soups with lots of turnip & potato-like veggies/starches. That’s not to say they can’t add meat in them - but there’s only one species of chicken exists around these parts (the Big Blue Dinochicken), so it’s off limits.

Some soups have grain in them, too - mix some potatoes and buckwheat together in poultry/meat broth, add some other vegetables to it like carrots, and maybe even some meatballs if you’re feeling fancy (the ones that are specifically for soup, they’re different), and you have yourself a pot full of nutritious deliciousness.

The broths themselves are usually a lot spicier than one might be used to, and oftentimes have stuff like ginger or seafood-related products like seaweed in them. Those make things a bit more flavorful - since terranians can’t really taste spice, they go for sour or salty tastes when they want to make something less bland.

They also have lots of herbal tea blends, caffeinated and not. Terran tea has to be brewed ice-cold, the temperature of that water being crucial to the leaves releasing the light toxins stored within them, and a cold drink is usually well-appreciated in a warm climate like Te’rra’s.

There’s a kvas-like (carbonated fermented non-alcoholic drink) beverage that can be made at home from concentrate or from scratch. Put it in a big pot/bucket with a lid and let it stand in the shade for a couple days, and you’ll have yourself something nice and refreshing to sip on during the hot day cycle.

* Anyways the chicken noodle soup became an act of care for Skeets, like it becomes for a lot of people that were fed it when they would get sick. Also both Skeets and Samus add diced Swiss cheese to it because it’s delicious and I said so.😒

Terranians have many delicious stew recipes. The most popular ones are beef veggie stews (whatever equivalent to beef Te’rra has to offer, anyway), and several types of shepherd’s pie (which also utilizes terran beef; it’s easier sourced than the elusive poultry).

There is a number of pickled vegetables that are popular on Te’rra, and some pickled fruit, but I personally only care about pickled cucumbers bc those are superior. Also Skeets is mildly allergic to pickled beets.

Preserved fruit is mostly peaches and a crunchy apple-like fruit named grabi (because the shrub it grows on feeds on small animals via grabbing and entangling them in its branches, to prepare for digestion).

Speaking of flora, because the plants are so springy and often dense (aside from nectar flowers/honeyplants, which have a mushy inside - in case of being squished, it feeds the soil and attracts insects with its smell so they can spread the pollen/seeds), a lot of veggie dishes have to be steamed, stewed, slow cooked or sautéed for a long time to prepare them for consumption. This is why cooking in large portions for a crowd of people is so common; it’s just less time-consuming to throw everything into a big pot and make a bunch at once. It gives other terranians more time to dedicate to their own tasks, as they don’t have to prepare meals as often.

This is also why there’s so many stews, and steamed veggies, or veggie blends fried in oil (they’re usually steamed a bit before or during the process, too, to soften the fibers). Skeets likes the fried blends a lot. If she’s eating steamed veggies, she tends to add a lot of salt to them to compensate for the blandness. She loves meat stews, too, even if the meat is just in the sauce. At some point, when her and Samus were visiting a tourist hotspot somewhere outside of Te’rra, they stopped for dinner at a small restaurant. This is how Skeets was introduced to fettuccine bolognese. To this day, this is one of her favorite non-terran dishes; at least a third of her and Samus’s dates now involve going somewhere that serves it (lucky for them, those places aren’t hard to find).

While eating honeyplant nectar is great, its petals and fruit are also often harvested and either eaten raw/with little preparation, or cooked, or preserved/pickled. Raw or slightly cooked, the petals and fruit retain a very nice ✨crunchy✨ texture (crispy crunchy watery like a cucumber on the outside, sweet and sticky like fresh honey on the inside). Preserved, the skin tends to soften a little bit and lose that crunchiness, but the petals become a lot sweeter because of the added sugar.

Also, terran shrimp. Are blue and green. That’s it that’s all I have to say about them👍🏻

Enjoy, @coldgoldlazarus