#fallen angel: character study/about

[pcrfumebcttles]

Allison is a kitchen witch, but most of her provisions (what I'm calling magic food made by kitchen witches) are either just straight up soul food or they look like this.

[hollow-port]

once you're stripped clean, what's at your core?

flightless bird

the thought of your found family is what motivates you in your own little world. you touch the clouds, and the soil gives way under your footprints… this is utopia. if you were to erase one thing, it would be your memory. experience is important, but ignorance is bliss. identity, in heaven, should give way to happiness. you'd give anything just to sit by the swings and eat ice cream, but this isn't that kind of world. you have to get up and wash the dirt off of your scraped knees. i think you have an escapism problem.

[pcrfumebcttles]

@rcseteaparty

What if you loved me so much it literally undoomed me haha jk unless

[catncore]

What type of villain are you?

No Moral Compass

You are cold, analytical, and you strive to be as objective as a person of flesh and blood can be. Either don't understand the concepts of good and evil, or you understand it perfectly and think it's a load of bull. Some may call you selfish, some may call you unfeeling, but you're just doing what you believe will yield the best results, plain and simple. Why bother with petty ideals of right or wrong when you can do what will actively help those you give a fuck about? Your goals may be selfish or noble or anything in between, but you will not let anyone make you feel like garbage for going after them. You couldn't care less about what people brand you as. You just care about getting shit done by any means necessary.

[pcrfumebcttles]

When she smokes, she breathes out aurora borealis.

[sixosix]

aether (one of the) main character(s) in hit game genshin impact hits on you.

thank u sm for beta reading @mitsies i love u and your silly comments and insightful suggestions on googledocs, wc 700, NO ONE IS ACTUALLY DEAD

“Holy—Archons!”

Anyone would be surprised if a body materialized from thin air right in front of you, lifeless like a doll. You stare at the body, thoughts racing as fast as your heartbeat, and all the while, the man with sun threads as hair lay eerily still on the ground, eyes fluttered shut.

The man is terrifyingly beautiful, like a fallen star. A limp and unmoving fallen star, that is. Your jaw extends to the ground, terrified and—mystified? Immediately, your instincts scream at you to perform emergency measures, but—

A pixie comes barreling in from somewhere, tears running down her cheeks as she zeroes in on the presumably dead body.

“Was he your friend?” you ask quietly, mourning on her behalf. Were they siblings? The way she’s slapping his face around seems so.

“He’s not dead!” the little pixie exclaims, sniffling and shaking the apparently not-dead body.

You stare at her, perplexed. “Then why are you crying?”

“Because Paimon had to go through that trial challenge alone!”

“The what?”

Paimon huffs, slamming her tiny fists on the man’s bare waist. It seems to not even have left a mark on his skin. “You wake him up. Paimon’s upset at him.”

It’s hard to say no when tears are rolling down her face. Obediently, you poke around the man’s shut eyes, and it snaps open.

You flinch back. He blinks blearily.

“Are you okay?” You study his face, looking for any signs of a newly born zombie, but his face looks flushed and as healthy as any living human being. His eyes are bright and gold as they stare back at you.

“I’m in heaven,” he says. “Celestia has done it. I’m seeing angels, and I’m in heaven.”

Angels? Celestia?

Paimon tackles his face, shaking his shoulders and crying. “You’re not dead, dummy! How dare you leave Paimon in Dragonspine! All alone, Aether!”

“Oh,” Aether says, sounding almost disappointed. “Then…?”

“You’re not dead,” you agree with Paimon, because evidence lies before you despite the initial fright. However, his comment about angels has you a little flustered. “Um, what happened?”

“Ah,” Aether laughs sheepishly, rubbing the nape of his neck. “I failed the trial, and it respawned me back here. Which is weird—I haven’t been in Bubu Pharmacy for ages!”

“I’m sorry?”

Aether jumps to his feet, startling you enough to fall on your ass. He grins down at you and offers a hand. “At least I got to meet you,” he says, pulling you up from the grass. You stumble from his strength; he catches you easily, and you bump against his chest. “Or—not meet you yet. What’s your name?”

You can’t believe the previously perished fallen star is now hitting on you. “I’m… Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeats, smiling broadly. “I’ll remember that.”

You hope that your face doesn’t betray the warmth you feel fluttering under your skin.

Aether sighs, casting a glance at the ground he was previously lying on. “Sorry you had to see that. That was probably very disturbing and decidedly not flattering for me.”

You can’t help but laugh. Aether beams. “Does that happen often?”

“When I get a little rusty, yeah.” He tilts his head, looking at you up and down, then around your surroundings. “Do you work here? I haven’t seen you around before.”

“Just recently.” You gesture vaguely to the side, feeling a little shy. “If you don’t see me hanging around, it’s probably because I’m always loitering the docks to watch out for exhausted tourists.”

Aether’s smile turns sly. “Nurse me back to health, would you?”

But then Paimon starts tugging on his ear and away from you, a relief for your racing heart. “Enough flirting! You can come back here after you unlock that precious chest!”

“Ow, ow, okay,” Aether laughs, hesitating, before letting you slip from his hold. He takes a few steps back, his smile as blinding as stars seconds away from exploding. “The docks, right? I’ll see you soon!”

By 'soon,' you hope he doesn't mean he'll attempt to die again immediately, but you figure you'll find out eventually. You glance around to see if anyone is watching, then decide to take a stroll around the docks for reasons no one should know.

i cant believe mitzi's first aether fic is THIS i feel so ashamed lmfao, but TY FOR READING!!!!! <3

[pcrfumebcttles]

@rcseteaparty

its always gay if its with a dragon

[star-wrote]

Pretty Little Distraction

ao3 link

Characters: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader | Early Seasons

Summary: After boring yourself while researching lore, you decide Sam needs a well-deserved break.

Warnings: SMUT, reader wears a slip dress and thigh highs, cussing, oral (fem! receiving), dirty talk (but it’s nice bc Sammy), P in V, slight breeding k!nk, dean interrupts, allusions to aftercare, established relationship

A/N: okay so sam winchester LOVES thigh highs. if you have any sam winchester requests, ideas, or even thoughts feel free to send them in! i’m completely obsessed with him at the moment! <3

Word Count: 2079

18+

(lace divider from @strangergraphics )

Researching lore was fun at first; cracking open the books and the laptops, diving headfirst into the realm of mythology and folklore, and even the crappy vending machine snack breaks. However, after three hours of nonstop eyestrain, it became downright boring.

“Saaaam,” you whined as you shut your laptop harder than you should’ve, “I need to do something else, I’m going insane.”

Sam didn’t look up from his laptop, used to your usual begging for a break. He knows that you have a different stamina than he does when it comes to research. He’s been doing it his whole life, not to mention the hours of studying in college.

You let out an exaggerated sigh at his lack of attention, which earned you an annoyed glance from your boyfriend sitting across the rickety motel table. When his gaze returned to the apparently very important information on his laptop, you abruptly stood up, cracked your back, and flopped face down onto the bed you shared with Sam.

Remembering two hours ago, when Dean clocked out of research after only an hour, you thought about how unfair it was that he got to go out and have fun at the local bar while you and Sam were stuck doing more research in the motel room. You and Sam deserved to have fun too! Especially Sam, who has been more stressed on this case than usual due to the high amount of deaths. If you haven’t found a solution yet, you probably weren’t going to find one tonight.

You lifted your head from the cheap comforter as an idea popped into your head. Quickly, you grabbed your bag and headed for the bathroom without even a glance from Sam.

After five minutes of putting your outfit on, you looked in the mirror. Your body was hugged with a short, cream colored slip dress. A knitted pair of thigh highs with lace trim adorned your legs. It wasn’t over the top lingerie, but that’s exactly why Sam found it sexy.

A shiver ran through you as you recalled the last time you wore thigh highs in bed with Sam. You were about to take them off with the rest of your clothes, but he had caught your hand and begged you to keep them on. He spent an eternity between your thighs that night, the lace trim tickling his skin in the most perfect way.

You took a deep breath and exited the bathroom, leaving your insecurities behind you. Sam was right where you left him, sitting in the wooden chair that was way past its expiration date. Except this time, his eyes immediately find you standing in the doorway like it was some kind of picture frame.

His lips part as he trails his vision down your body, stopping on your thighs and the lace that appears at the top of your knee. You smile as you slowly walk over to him and stand between his legs that automatically widen for you.

“I must’ve fallen asleep,” he says as he leans into your palm that cups his cheek, “I’m dreaming.”

You giggle as you pinch his cheek and whisper, “Nope, wide awake.”

He smiles in response and runs his hands down your waist to your hips.

“Then maybe I died and went to heaven since I’m seeing an angel.”

Rolling your eyes, you pull him in for a kiss. He breathes out through his nose as he cups the back of your head. You pull back from his lips and kiss his nose.

“You needed a break, I had to pull you away.”

He looks back to his laptop for a second, hesitating only slightly before closing it.

“How could I resist such a pretty little distraction?”

You gasp in fake shock. “You really think I’m pretty?”

His lips quirk up. “The prettiest… now come here.”

He pulls you closer by your waist, and lifts you like a feather for you to straddle his lap. His lips are back on yours in an instant, but not for long as he trails his kisses down to your jaw and to your neck, brushing back your hair for easier access. He gently sucks on your pulse point. Not enough to leave a mark, (though he desperately wants to) but enough to make you let out a small moan at the feeling.

Sam chuckles into your neck at your reaction and starts to rock your hips into the bulge slowly growing in his jeans. You bite into his shoulder and pull on the waves of his hair near his neck. He comes up from your neck and lets out a low groan as he rocks you harder against him.

Suddenly, you hear the chair below you start to squeak in rhythm with your grinding. Before you stop, Sam whispers in your ear, “Ignore it.”

You keep moving your hips, but the squeaking grows louder and the chair starts to sway with each thrust.

“Sam,” you giggle out, “I think we’re going to break this goddamn chair.”

Sam stops moving your hips and lets out another groan, this time an annoyed one. He chuckles as he rests his forehead against your shoulder.

“Fine,” he says as he stands up from the chair with you clutching onto him. “To the bed then.”

He walks the two steps it takes for his long legs to reach the foot of the bed, kisses the top of your head, and then tosses you onto the mattress.

You land with a loud laugh but quickly direct your attention back to Sam, who was taking his shirt off at the end of the bed. He smirks as he sees you bite your lower lip at the sight of his bare upper body. His eyes run down your body, stopping on your thigh highs once again while he unbuckles his belt.

You bend your knees and allow your legs to fall apart, revealing a sight of no panties under your slip dress to Sam. His breathing grows heavier as he zeros in on the new surprise that you just exposed to him.

Once his pants and boxers have joined his shirt on the floor, he kisses your ankle. Then your shin. The little scar on your knee. Multiple kisses up your inner thigh.

He fully lays down on the bed and peels your slip dress up your hips, leaving the small amount of fabric bunched around your waist. He lifts your covered thighs over his broad shoulders; a position all too familiar.

He blows out a cold current of air onto your glistening pussy and you welcome a shudder of anticipation to flow through your body. Hazel eyes that looked more brown in this moment than gold, green, or blue met your own eyes. Those same puppy dog eyes watch you as he licks a stripe up your slit. His eyes close as he tastes you for the first time tonight. It had been too long.

Sam immediately gets to work on eating you out. His hands fiddle with the lace trim of your thigh highs while his tongue laps up the wetness that you produce for him. His eyes stay closed, brows furrowed, and his hips start gently thrusting into the mattress below him, causing you to moan out at the scene unfolding in front of you. All because of you.

Because of you, Sam is almost drowning in between your legs. And because of him, you’re gushing.

Your climax arrives too quickly. It always does with Sam. The feeling of pure sin washes over you as you gasp out Sam’s name with a collection of “thank you’s.” He only stops after your legs relax around his head. He leaves a kiss on your puffy clit and quickly moves up your body to kiss your lips.

“I need to feel you, angel,” Sam breathes out between rushed kisses.

You nod as you whisper out, “Please?”

He smiles against your lips. “So polite.”

You can feel him reach a hand down to his cock, stroking it once before pressing into you.

Sam was always gentle during this moment. He has to know that he’s big. He slowly gives you inch by inch, instructing you to breathe when he gets down to the last few. He lets out a groan as he buries himself fully to the hilt.

He pauses to let you get used to him as he kisses all around your face, ever the sweetheart.

“Don’t think I tell you enough how much I like these.” Sam snaps the lace of the thigh highs against your skin, leaving a pleasant burn.

“I kinda figured it out last time.” You clench around his length at the thought. “You were so hot, Sam. You always are.”

He laughs breathlessly. “You’re getting riled up, baby.”

He slowly pulls his length out, and even more slowly pushes it back in.

“Sam…fuck.” You let out the loudest moan of the night.

“There she is.” He grunts as his thrusts get more forceful.

You wrap your arms around his neck and moan into his ear, begging him to give you more. And of course he does, because it’s Sam. He gives you anything you ask for.

“Fuck, angel. I’m so deep.” Sam brings his hand down to press on your lower stomach, making you moan. “You feel that, baby?”

You could almost cry at the feeling of him so deep inside of you. You wish he would stay inside of you forever. You wish that you could become one.

The hand that was pressing on your belly goes lower and starts circling your sensitive clit. Your hands grab handfuls of the bedsheets under you as Sam gives you more and more pleasure with every passing second.

Sam’s other hand pulls down the loose strap of your slip dress and kisses the newly exposed skin of your collarbone area. He pulls the dress down even further to free your nipple, which he swiftly licked and then took into his mouth.

You brought a hand to his head and pulled back on his hair, directing his mouth to yours for a sloppy kiss. The pace of his thrusts quickened, causing the bed to squeak on its four wooden legs and hit the wall every so often. The sound didn’t even register to either of you who were so lost in each other.

“M’ close, baby,” Sam grunts out, his accent growing thicker. “M’ gonna cum deep inside of you, honey.”

You moaned at his words. “Please, Sammy. Need you to fill me up.”

Those words caused Sam to bury himself deep inside of you, let out the lowest groans, and release in your tight walls.

The feeling of his hot cum shooting into you triggered your second and final orgasm of the night. This time, you press your lips to Sam’s again; more panting into each other’s mouths than a kiss.

Sam falls into your arms, and you welcome the weight of the giant man on top of you. You comb your fingers through his hair as his thumb traces circles into your hips. You both soak in the feeling of complete love for each other.

Suddenly, the door opens as a drunk Dean walks in with his hand over his eyes. “Jeez you guys, I’ve been waiting for ten minutes. Could hear you from down the hall.”

You burst out laughing as Sam yells at Dean to get out.

Dean turns around and pulls the door shut as he yells over his shoulder, “Get dressed so I can sleep, you freaks!”

You giggle at the bitch face that Sam couldn’t hide. Your thumbs automatically gravitate to his face to smooth out the grumpy lines between his eyebrows.

“Every time!” You say, referring to Dean interrupting your post-sex cuddles.

Sam smiles. “Maybe we should put a sock on the door next time.”

You giggle and give an alternative solution, “Or, a sign that says if the bed’s rockin’ don’t come knockin’ jerk.”

Sam smiles and gets up from you, putting his hand out for you to grab. “Come on, let’s get dressed.”

“Sam, I don’t think I can walk.” You take his hand anyway, just to hold it.

He wastes no time in picking you up bridal style and carrying you to the bathroom where your bag still sat. “I’ll take care of you.”

You were sure he could see the cartoon heart eyes that you made for him.

“You always do.”

[kingcael]

Follow up question about Downfall piece-

Can you take us through how you developed the composition? This question extends a bit to the Calamity piece (and other non-CR pieces).

How do you approach a very structured composition while maintaining the organic shapes that make up the forms?

and

How do you balance and maintain character personalities when (theoretically) you have so many choices dictated by composition?

For both the Calamity and Downfall pieces the key to the composition was firstly character relationship, and then character personality afterwards. Knowing the way the characters interact informs the placement of them in a multi person composition like this.

In the Calamity piece, it’s littered with all kinds of parallel and perpendicular lines in the composition to show both the unification of the Ring of Brass, and then the internal conflicts that arise. Laerryn and Loquatious’ relationship is one of my fav part of this one, with Loquatious emulating a fallen angel, a Fey in love with a mortal, and Laerryn looking forward with ambition while still reaching back to his heart.

In the Downfall piece there’s less obvious alignment since their relationships were much more tumultuous, but with a lot more interaction between them, the Arch Heart is the most detached as I felt his perceptions were the most isolated among the family. Trist holding both Ayden and the Emissary in a motherly way is one of my favourite parts. In this one I tried to make them more merged together, the Calamity piece has the characters more separate and realised, where the Downfall piece has them more fused together with less obvious edges.

In terms of this type of character and composition study, it really speaks to my natural inclination of art, I’ve been told before my subjects are static and frozen but my shadows are alive, and I’ve pretty much leaned into it, freezing the interactions into a single image to observe while have subtle nods to personalities of character. When doing a big piece with the characters frozen and representing themselves to the fullest degree, even the slightest change like a hand on a shoulder or the tilt of the head can inform a lot about the character while also strengthening the composition.

In bare bones composition terms I do love the triangle, especially for these big group shots, I also try to not have any characters head be exactly at the same height as another’s, unless they’re completely aligned in thoughts, which is why Trist and Ayden are so close. I also do a lot of eye tracking checks, like taking special care to notice what path my eyes take and if it remains consistent upon every viewing, zooming out is very good for this. I control the eye tracking in a fairly apparent way, face to arm to hand/object is usually the path, notably Nydas’ sword in the Calamity picture leads directly from his conflict with Zerxus to Laerryn, and her hand leads to Loquatious.

Haha I do go on

[rroseselavyyy]

daylight - myg

pairing: yoongi x female reader

warnings: suggestive content, hints of smut

a/n: this fic is based on a reeeeeaaally sweet request I received a long time ago :( I literally have zero motivation to write, but I thought I could at least edit and then post something that has been rotting in my drafts 😩

"I'm coming!" You had just stepped out of the shower and get into your fluffy pyjamas when you heard the sound of your doorbell, running to the door with quick steps as you dried your hair with a slightly damp towel.

You opened the door slightly to see who it was, and when you realized it was none other than the love of your life you'd been deliberately avoiding for two weeks, you couldn't help but stare at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

It was weeks after you had a huge fight over something silly, leading to the events of your leaving him behind in your shared apartment, so you couldn't believe your eyes when he stood in your doorway with a bouquet of your favourite flowers.

He looked at you with those feline eyes and you could swear that a thousand stars burst open in your swelling chest, it was almost impossible not to be filled with joy at the fact that he was here to see you.

He placed a hand on your waist and pressed his lips to yours before you could say anything, for once the yellow roses became symbols of passion rather than farewell, like the burning heat that radiated from your bodies. His lips moved over yours in a way that said how much he missed you, manoeuvring you into your apartment by holding your waist and making you step back.

"What's gotten into you?" Eyes half-closed, you whispered against his lips as he pressed your body against the wooden door after closing it. "I missed you."

You tucked a sweaty hair behind his ear, your chest rising and falling against his as he studied your face with eyes as dark as the night sky. "Sex won't solve our problems, you know that, right?"

He giggled sweetly in your ear before pressing his lips to your cheek. "Is that all you can think about when it comes to me, doll? No wonder we can't even communicate our problems."

"You're practically pinning me to the door, you dumb fuck. What am I supposed to think?"

He said nothing and you, and you, never able to resist your burning desire for him, surrendered to his chaste kiss with an insatiable hunger. He swept you off your feet and wrapped his arms around your waist as you stood on your tiptoes. The long forgotten petals of the roses he had bought for you traced your footsteps as you held them loosely behind his neck with trembling hands and let him take you to your bedroom.

That's how he ended up in your bed that night. Soft and sweaty, like the perfect teddy bear to wrap your arms around.

He watched your eyebrows knit together as you muttered something against the pillow where your hair was shamelessly sprawled. As usual, you were arguing with the characters from the novel you had recently read, a tradition you had picked up even before you were still with him.

You never knew this trait of yours, that you were talking in your sleep, it was never even mentioned. Still, he knew it like the back of his hand. He knew it like the rhythm of your heartbeat which he had learnt after long nights of holding you in his arms, chasing away the nightmares.

Once upon a time, you were the reason he wanted to stop time until the sun came up. He loved to hear the secrets you kept, how you hated your professor, how you wanted to tear his hair out.

As his eyes traced the rose-tinted patterns from your neck to the soft flesh of your belly, the memory of last night's events brought a smile to his lips, a smile that brought a sky full of stars into his irises with genuine happiness.

He could never have fallen more in love with you as you lay there like an angel, the faint daylight coming through the curtains painting you in glitter like a second layer on your skin.

It was the moment he knew he needed you to the end of time, wrapped in his bedsheets, with his ring shining on your delicate finger.

[musical-shit-show]

electric touch

Pairing: Adam (Hazbin Hotel) x Sinner!Reader

Inspiration: My own silly idea but also Prompts #70 (“are you actually trying to seduce me right now?”) and #86 (“they don’t need to know.”) from Prompt List 2

Warnings: Cursing, mutual pining, Adam is still kind of an asshole (duh), suggestive dialogue

Word Count: 1,363

Author’s Note: I just really wanted the mental picture of Adam in some rocker eyeliner, so I wrote it. That’s about it, just being very normal about this character :3 If anyone has seen any fanart of Adam with eyeliner, my DMs are always open. As always check out my Masterlist, About Me page, or Prompt Lists if you’d like to submit an ask! Happy reading! :)

“What’s that?”

You scoffed at the fallen angel lounging lazily on your bed, watching you intently as you went through your makeup routine.

You had just grabbed an eyeliner pencil, and were in the middle of smudging the smokey kohl onto your eyelids when Adam interrupted you.

“What, you didn’t have eyeliner in heaven?” you smirked, looking at him through the mirror on your vanity. Even in such a relaxed state, he still kept that stupid mask on.

He shook his head, “Why would we need makeup in a place where everyone’s fuckin’ perfect and poised 24/7?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you accepted the answer. Made sense, anyways. From what you heard from Charlie, Heaven probably looked like a dream come true. Why would anyone need to alter their appearance in a place like that?

Turning back to the task at hand, you jumped slightly when Adam appeared behind you, his face incredibly close to your own. He was studying you intently, his digital eyes flickering over your expression.

“Ugh, what is with you, dude?”

His eyes narrowed, lips forming into a tight line. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was…thinking. Which is not an activity Adam seemed to engage in, especially before speaking.

“It looks…good.” he muttered, feeling his face getting warm under his mask, “I guess I never really noticed it before.” You quirked an eyebrow, a small smile flashing across your face.

Ever since he turned up on the hotel’s doorstep practically begging for help from the Princess of Hell, Adam had decided to latch himself on to you. For what reason, you didn’t know; it didn’t particularly matter since any attempts to rid yourself of him were completely fruitless.

He was definitely an asshole, but he could be mildly amusing from time to time.

“Do you…do you want me to put some on you?”

He blinked stupidly. “I’m not gay, toots,” he deadpanned, “Despite what that little spider twink downstairs thinks—”

“No, no that’s not what I meant,” you cut in, trying to stifle your laughter at his remark, “But makeup transcends sexuality.” He scoffed, letting his insecurity wash over him.

Adam would never admit it you or Charlie or anyone else at the hotel, but being here made him feel less alone than he ever felt in Heaven.

Up there, he was practically ignored, even treated as a nuisance by the seraphim and other higher ups. Which he was, but that was beside the point.

He was already ashamed of himself for asking Lucifer’s brat of all people for help, but he had nowhere else to turn and felt completely alone. Except when he was with you.

Although you were a sinner too, you didn’t judge him as harshly as the others. Hell, you were able to stand up to him, even reason with him when he was particularly crabby.

It scared him, though he’d never let you know that. He’d rather get stabbed through the chest again than be vulnerable.

Standing up, you gestured to the edge of the bed, encouraging Adam to sit down again. He hesitated for a moment, not willing to trust you fully.

“You know,” you drawled, “some of the greatest rockers on Earth wear eyeliner. And looks sexy as fuck doing it.”

Adam’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity.

“And,” you added, “A lot of ladies are actually into it. I swear.” He blew a raspberry in dismissal, still not fully convinced. He decided to humor you anyway; he had nothing better to do.

“Ugh, fine,” he whined, “You’re lucky I’m bored, sugartits.” He plopped onto your bed, faltering slightly when removing his mask; you rarely saw him without it, and were struck by how, well, human he looked.

You couldn’t dwell on his appearance for long; you needed entertainment for the evening and didn’t want to wait for him to change his mind. With the pencil in hand, you swiftly went to work on his minor makeover.

You were close. Dangerously close, Adam thought to himself. So close that he was almost pissed that his eyes were closed so he couldn’t get a good look down your shirt.

He could feel your soft breath on his face, the almost imperceptible noises you were making while concentrating intently on shaping his new look. He almost flinched when your hand gripped the side of his face gently, tilting it up slightly to give you a better angle to complete your work.

Your fingers tingled on his skin, silence filling the space in a way that was new to Adam; he usually reveled in sucking the air out of any room he was in, but he was now focused so keenly on the steadiness of your breathing and the looming presence of your body so, so close to his.

Fuck.

He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, and for the first time in his very long existence, Adam actually tried to hide his arousal from you. “Almost done,” you muttered, examining the canvas of his eyelids closely.

You couldn’t help but notice that even though he was fallen, Adam still retained rather…angelic features. Perfect skin, tousled brown hair, annoyingly long eyelashes. You tried to not gaze at him for too long, but with his eyes currently closed, you couldn’t help but stare.

“Ah, okay, open up,” you said, feeling a quiver arise in your throat. He blinked, bright gold eyes accentuated perfectly by the dark liner.

Satan help you. He looked hot.

You realized you were still leaning incredibly close to his face, and before you could stumble backwards, Adam flashed a mischievous smile. “Damn babe, I must look pretty good if you’re giving me ‘fuck me’ eyes.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Shhhh,” he stood up, pressing his finger to your lips. Your attraction to him was quickly replaced with annoyance, even with him looking like a rockstar you might’ve had a crush on when you were still living.

You pushed his hand away, your stomach twisting. Leave it to Adam to ruin an actual good moment between the two of you.

“Are you actually trying to seduce me right now?”

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“Not in the slightest,” you lied. He brushed past you, considering his reflection in your vanity mirror.

“Fuck, I do look good,” he mused, getting an eyeful of himself. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. His gaze flitted to you, studying your form. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “Come on, aren’t you the least bit curious about how good this dick would look in that pretty little mouth of yours?

You crossed your arms over your chest, doing your best to act disgusted at that mental picture. “Only in your dreams,” you muttered, hoping the heat traveling up your neck wasn’t visible. Adam stood up to face you again, his mouth curving into a wicked smile. “They don’t need to know,” he purred, his eyes flicking towards the door, referencing the other residents of the hotel. “It can be our little secret.”

His fingers brushed your waist delicately, and you felt your heartbeat quicken as he squeezed the side of your body. He looked hungry, possessive, the dark pigment around his eyes only enhancing the intensity of his glare.

You gulped. You had to come up with an excuse, and quick.

“Charlie’s expecting me,” you croaked, pulling away from his grasp. You cursed yourself for the ache you felt between your legs, “Something about more trust exercises—” you headed toward the door, but Adam grabbed your arm.

He didn’t seem annoyed that you were brushing off his advances; he knew that it was now just a matter of time.

“Sure, sweetheart,” he teased, his grip red hot against your skin, “But teach me how to do this fun little makeup on myself sometime, hm? I like seeing you all hot and bothered.”

You swung open your door, flashing him the finger as you slammed it behind you. It didn’t matter that you were leaving him in your room unattended; you knew you’d be seeing him there later anyways.

Something told you he was going to keep the makeup on until you returned.

------

thanks for reading! as always, like/reblog/comment if you enjoyed :)

[pcrfumebcttles]

@rcseteaparty

screencapping or gifs will never do this scene justice.

[orengejoshi]

do u write fanfics? i need to GOON 💔

damn brother, you just gonna come at me like that? alright I see you

that's a great question tho! I have indeed thought about writing a fic... for years tbh...

but there's a myriad of problems

well first of all I'm not native in english. that is probably noticeable more often than not. I sometimes even use a translator, I always secretly got google/dict.cc open in a second tab. didn't formally learn english, I just snagged it by proxy listening to American Youtubers and reading manga online. that's why I prefer to ramble a bit in public or to my damn self in private areas than live-texting 1 on 1/in groups; bc I can take more time totally judgement-free. you're gonna see me "typing..." for 30 minutes and wonder wtf is taking this mf so long?!

apart from that there's dyslexia. I can't spell one word correctly without swipe-to-type autocorrect. I think all arguments I've gotten into stem from me mistyping, using completely wrong words, messing up the sentence structure etc

my brain is a single dense cloud of fog that'll occasionally split open to drizzle down a bunch of jumbled thoughts that I could turn into barely cohesive words if I'm brave enough and exude copious amounts of energy.

so my linguistic skills are not up to par. my intelligence lies more in... intrapersonal and existential departments.

unsurprisingly I've thus become a visual artist to express myself.

the catch is... that I understand paperhat, I do.

but I can't seem to draw toxic dynamics. my head is just empty about how to depict it. it's like it doesn't come naturally to me. not without going overboard and making a whole comic that I would likely abandon before even reaching the half mark. I've been given these angelic skills along with the curse that I shall only draw joyous, bright scenes.

however if I could write it... now we're talking.

as a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure that most of my ideas are way too dark and sober. people don't know me like that so I'm petrified about the presumably shocked response when and if I did drop smth like that.

I'm not ready for that... I have really severe OCD (that the internet is making way worse with their anxious tendencies to interpret smth sinister into any and all fiction that is not happiness and rainbows. which seems new to me, idk where this mindset to read so deep into shit is suddenly coming from. I was here 2017-19, left for like 3 years and all of a sudden everybody's fallen off their rockers)

writing domestic stuff is too boring for me... there's gotta be gut-wrenching horrors and drama and tragedy and conflict!

none of this would be PG (which is what I assume you're asking for anyway) I'd just write smut with sprinkles of character studies and a pinch of comedy mayhaps, but I used to do that about 10 years ago and it was so bad. the way I describe these scenes comes off very plump and cringe

I... might. dip my toes into it later this year.

I'll drop a few ideas in the tags... maybe 2 ideas. very roughly. without spoilers, just in case.

[temis-de-leon]

Day 21 - Comforting while crying kiss

Characters: Solomon x fem!MC

25 kisses challenge Masterlist

Main Masterlist

CW: college anxiety, memories about bad friends, worried Solomon, established relationship

A/N: not the most relatable because I made it as a continuation for this, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless <3

.

Studying in the human real again wasn’t something she ever thought would become a reality, especially when she didn’t want to do it at all, but she should’ve learnt long ago that no thing in life was impossible.

Her best friends, if not her only friends, were demons and angels; she was dating King Solomon the Wise. Going back to college should not feel that weird.

And yet.

There she was, sitting on her ankles in a hidden corner under the staircase of the main entrance. The heat of June burned her hair and made her cupid’s bow sweat, but it was the stress of finals what made her feel feverish. Her backpack laid pathetically near her, the zipper opened enough to let her see some crumpled papers full of scribbles and a couple of pens with no caps.

It was draining. Sitting alone at the table, remembering the presence of those who left her behind laughing at her jokes and helping her study, acting like true friends when God knows what they were saying behind her back. The tiles of the floor and the graffiti on the benches remained the same, but the walls were different and the buildings had gone through some serious renovations. What hurt her the most, surprisingly, was the sight of the brand new cafeteria, which now looked like a hospital ward.

MC’s lips trembled at the thought of change and evolution, of coming so far just to return to the same place that made her feel so lonely.

First periods on Mondays, back when she was eighteen, were hectic. The hallways were cold and the elevator was always occupied because a blind guy with his guide dog had to go to the last floor and whoever decided to be stubborn and wait for the elevator to be free was always late to class. One of the coffee machines forever remained out of service and the other one only had one flavour worth paying: hazelnut. MC didn’t even like coffee and still bought a couple of those every now and then.

The blind guy already graduated, she supposed. Both coffee machines worked and they even had other vending machines filling the empty spaces of the hallways. Warm hallways, that is. The Styrofoam cups didn’t smell like hazelnut anymore, but rather something more generic and impersonal.

MC couldn’t recognize the scent and it made her mad. It made her cry. And the foolishness of the situation made her cry even harder.

Her weeping filled the corner she was hiding in and she felt incredibly grateful that the evening classes had already started, but not much time would pass until anyone inside would open the windows in search of any possible breeze.

Determined to not let the damn building see her cry more than necessary, MC grabbed her things and pitifully walked down the street, looking at the flowers with deep yearning like she too wished she was buried underground and left alone to absorb light and look pretty.

Fortunately for her mood, her phone vibrated in her pocket and showed a very familiar name. She tried to swallow tears and clear her voice before answering.

“Is everything okay, MC?”

She’d never fool him.

Solomon sounded extremely worried. The sheer surprise at his reaction made her stop in her tracks to wonder just how much he knew her. Before she could ponder about it too much, however, someone near her called her name.

There he was, sitting on the hood of a car that MC knew wasn’t his. He called her once more to urge her and, thankfully, by the time she reached him the crying had already stopped. Her skin felt sticky with sweat and fallen tears and she felt an incipient headache threatening to break her mind.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah”

She forced herself to swallow, hating the blockage in her nose, and Solomon looked at her in pity, clearly wanting to console without going too far.

“You know you can trust me, right?”

His eyes turned sad and MC felt the familiar sting in the back of her throat. Although her first impulse was to continue denying her pain and leave the whole thing behind, she knew that if she didn’t ask her boyfriend, of all people, to take care of her, then the turmoil would become much worse.

“I do” she assured him, holding his hand in slow movements. He immediately held her back and her eyes watered again “I’m just really tired, you know?”

There, under the sun, where no one was there to see the scene, Solomon opened his arms and sighed when she rushed towards him. MC tried to ignore the tears staining his white coat, hugging him instead to hide from the rest of the world. There was a gentle pressure on top of her head, a soft kiss that made her shoulders relax and lean into him further.

“Do you want to go back home? Take a nap?”

MC didn’t know what home he was talking about, but she didn’t care. Without letting him go, she nodded against his chest and made herself comfortable. Home was wherever as long as he was there with her.

.

.

Taglist: @ourfinalisation  @owlisbuffering  @chizukimp4  @ravenredwine @darkflowerav  @craftysclown @mehkers

[pcrfumebcttles]

After leaving Romeo, Allison decides to get into Alternative music and painting in order to not only cope but rediscover who she is in a healthy way. All of her paint is of course handmade and most of her art is inspired by the rider tarot deck.

Allison also rediscovered her love for playing the violin and gained an interest in more alternative music through Clem.

[pcrfumebcttles]

@deathdvncer

@rcseteaparty

Serial Mom (1994) dir. John Waters