#his purple shirt 😌

[matbarzyy]

[chxrryhansen]

hi baby! wasn’t sure if you did headcannons, but i have one if you do!

clubbing with rafe? sfw and nsfw!

thank u sweetie! — 💞

hi sweetheart! i have no idea how to write headcanons so this is my first attempt🫶🏻 ive also never written sfw or fluff so here we go!

sfw: in my head rafe is the type to never leave your side no matter what, oh you need to pee? he’s there watching you do it so no creeps follow you into the bathroom. you need to throw up? hes outside holding your hair while you puke into a bush.

he never NEVER. lets you pay for your own drinks, your his baby and he takes care of you and buys you everything you want bc thats what daddys like him do😌 and his hand is always covering the top of your drink (hes obviously holding it while you dance, duh)

if you don’t feel like bringing a purse/bag that night he definitely fills his pockets with all your shit, your lip gloss, keys, phone. anything you want, he’s got it.

if you start getting a little too drunk he’s there at your side, holding you upright as you stumble giggling at how uncoordinated you are. “cmon pretty girl, time to go.” or “i think you’ve had enough to drink now, sweetheart.”

when you get home he takes you into the bathroom, brushing your teeth for you as you sit on the toilet seat with your eyes closed. he changes your clothes and takes off your pretty dress, pulling you into a pair of his shorts and one of his shirts, he makes sure to tuck you in and wipe your makeup off with a cloth before applying your skincare and he fetches a glass of water upstairs for you alongside some paracetamol (or aspirin) to make sure you don’t wake up with a killer headache

nsfw: rafe wouldn’t dream of letting you dance alone, even if it means hes standing there like a brick wall, barely even moving his hips while you grind your ass up against him, rubbing on his bulge.

hes soooo protective so he definitely makes sure to stare down every guy in the club with his hand wrapped around your waist, just so they know your his. alongside marking up your neck with love bites before you leave the house, blotches of purple/red marks layered on your skin.

when your teasing grinding gets too much for him hes so quick to pull you into the bathroom, fucking you in one of the stalls. your hands pressed up against the wall, one thick hand around your waist and the other gripping your hair, his hips slamming into your ass from behind.

“dirty fuckin’ girl, letting daddy fuck you right here in public, such a naughty slut.”

“your just so needy and desperate for daddys cock you couldn’t even wait until we got home, huh?”

knowing FINE WELL he was the one who couldn’t wait, your pretty little body driving him crazy. he def gets off on the stares you both get as you leave the bathroom, your hair messy and your makeup running down your cheeks from crying so hard on his cock. a smirk plastered across his face with one hand on your shoulder. the glares from envious men (and women) not slowing his speed one bit as he struts across the crowded club.

[sh1-n0bu]

♡︎ 𝙞 𝙙𝙤 𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ♡︎

anon asked: nobu could you do something with scara and feminization?? thank you!

characters: sub!scaramouche x nb!dom!reader

warnings: edging, overstimulation, praise, dacryphillia, feminization, just scara fucking himself stupid on your cock, as always cock can also mean strap on

notes: i gotchu nonnie, i gotchu😌 also scara is a bit of a yandere here ig??? this came out much more softer than i imagined. as a fellow scara-nation person, SCARA NATION COME GET YALL FOOD🗣

reposting bc tumblr has started a war against someone they can’t beat by deciding to suddenly flag my posts as mature

“aah! aanhg! m-mine. mine mine mine! only mine! n-no one else’s! mine! minemineminemine-gyaah~!”

bouncing on your lap with a cute purple, lace lingerie and stocking on was your sweet boyfriend. eralier today when you had your friend and co-worker drop by your house to drop off some of your work documents, scaramouche saw how awfully close you two seemed. your friend even gave you a hug! so he decide to surprise his loving partner with a gift.

after finishing the documents, you didn’t expect your cute boyfriend to be sitting on the bed with the latest lingerie you bought for him. pink nipples being seen through the bra and his already hard cock poking a bit out of the panties with the stocking hugging his thighs just enough to cause a little pudge, he looked absolutely delicious. throwing himself on you and guiding your bigger hands to roam around his body, scaramouche started grinding himself on your legs.

“aww love what’s this gift for?” kissing the old hickeys and marks on his neck, you gently squeezed his ass. even that little action seemed enough for scaramouche to moan in your ears.

“just-just wanted to make you happy” came in the breathy response of your short lover. he oddly seemed quite desperate today. wearing a cute set, throwing himself on you, selfishly grinding his ass over your thighs. but it’s not like you were against it. if your sweet boyfriend was feeling nice might as well enjoy it.

dragging you to the bed by the collar of your shirt and pushing you down on the bed, he seemed more like himself now. straddling your crotch and grinding himself, scara started mumbling and whining about some stuff about how you’re his and he belongs only to you. how you should only look at him, need no one else but him and something along the lines of it.

and that’s what led to this point. with your sweet kuni fucking himself stupid on your cock.

“[n-nameee]~ please? h-help me! ca-anngh aaGKK! pleasshee~ help me! tired. shoo tired nngk~” whining about how tired he is and how he can’t ride your dick anymore he looked down at your face with a pitiful look and tears running down his cheeks. but you only smiled at him and squeezed his hips, gently making him grind down on you. he sometimes hated how easily in control you are.

“shhh, it’s alright baby boy. you can do it. i know you can. do it like how you always do okay? up and down baby boy. up and down” toying with his cherry red tip with one hand while guiding his hips to meet yours, scaramouche found himself growing more and more desperate. soon enough he came with a loud yell of your name and fell on top of you like a deflated balloon.

“aww you did such a good job darling. surely you don’t mind if we go a few more rounds right?” flipping yourselves over and kissing his cheeks you asked him for his permission. he can get overstimulated a bit too easily at times. nodding and smiling dumbly up at you with hearts in his eyes with a dazed look, this was gonna be a long night.

[gaslysgirl]

I mean... oscar bestfriends to lovers celebrating his first podium? He's always so reserved, he's just got to let it out somehow right? 😌🥰

There’s not enough Piastri smut on here so I’ll do something about it

"Can you zip me up?"

Oscar looked up at the sound of your voice, placing his phone next to himself on the duvet of the bed. His tongue darted out of his mouth to lick his lips as he made his way over, unsure of what he'd find in the bathroom. There was this tension between you two all weekend already, while nothing had changed in your dynamics. You were still his best friend, you still shared hotel rooms, you were still in his garage during all the sessions. Oscar had to admit, something was different. He was on the podium in Suzuka, his first podium in Formula 1. The hug you had wrapped him up in when he came out of the car made him curl his fingers in your shirt, and he never wanted to let go again. His cock had stirred at the "I'm so happy for you, Oscar" you whispered in his ear, a line he had heard a million times after the race, but he only wanted to hear it coming from you.

Of course, you were joining him at the dinner with the team this evening. The weekend had been fantastic, also for the other side of the McLaren garage, as Lando finished P2. "Sure," Oscar replied, finally making his way around the corner of the opened bathroom door, finding you in front of the mirror, swiping some lipstick over your lips. Oscar found his breath stuck in his throat at the sight of your pretty dress, the deep purple material wrapping around you like a second skin. Your hair was draped down your back, hiding your skin that was still exposed by the dress he needed to zip up. You gave him a small smile through the reflection of the mirror as he showed up behind you, still taller than you in the heels you were wearing. Oscar swallowed hard as his fingers brushed over the skin of your lower back, and if he peeked down from this angle, he could see the small lines of the tiny piece of underwear you were wearing.

Shut up, he said to his raging mind and his cock that started to press against the zipper of his jeans. Oscar gathered himself and pulled the zipper up, his other hand carefully moving your hair aside. His eyes flickered to the side of your neck that was perfectly exposed to him. His nose caught a whiff of your perfume. It felt as if the temperature in the room rose by a thousand degrees, taking away all the oxygen in his lungs, pumping the blood faster through his veins, and filling the pit of his stomach with an insatiable hunger. He couldn't be greedy, he already had everything he wanted, a seat in F1, the trophy he scored today, but there was something missing. Oscar's fingers curled around the marble edge of the counter, trapping you in between. He was breathing through his mouth as if he couldn't get enough air otherwise, his eyes had darkened as he looked at you in the reflection of the mirror. You shivered as his nose ran up your neck, lips leaving a featherlight kiss. "Is this okay?" Oscar asked, and you nodded, almost relieved he finally decided to make the move.

You dropped the lipstick on the counter to brace yourself against the counter, feeling his chest against your back, your dress left unzipped. His erection pressed against your ass. "Oscar, we're going to be late," you hum as your eyes flutter closed when his mouth nip at your neck, his tongue warm and wet against your skin. "Do you want to stop?" he breathes, his voice raspy in a way you've never heard before. "No," you reply. You watch in the mirror how his head buries in the nape of your neck again, leaving wet kisses on your shoulder while his hands move to your hips, squeezing through the material of your dress. Oscar's cock stirred when you let out a small whimper, your ass pushed against his erection nearly has him going feral. His face heated up when the straps of your dress slid down your arms, and he pulled the top down to let your tits spill out. Oscar groans at the sight, groping at your tits while his clothed cock grinds against your ass.

Fuck, you're so wet and he barely even touched you. His reservedness always twisted your mind, brought out the imagination of what would happen if he lost his cool, if he couldn't control the hunger he carried deeply inside him. You squeezed your thighs together in anticipation, needing some sort of friction or relief. "Please," you breathed, your hand finding the back of his neck when he planted his mouth on your skin again. Oscar looked up in surprise, nearly wanting to draw back from you, but he didn't as he realized you were desperate for him to touch you, to fuck you, to fill you up. "I didn't want our first time to be like this," Oscar reveals, but he doesn't show any signs he wants to stop as he rides your dress up your waist, nearly exploding at the sight of your little panties that barely covered you up. Our first time? Your mind spun at the fact that he thought about it before, that he imagined what it would be like to be buried deeply inside you and fuck you after a race, either a good one or a bad one.

"I don't care," you reply. "I need you inside me, Oscar," you continue, making his eyebrows furrow together, and his fingers dig harder into your hips, pulling you against him once more as he tries to comprehend how much he needs you too. Oscar finally unclasps his belt and unzips his jeans, pulling them down alongside his underwear. You look at him from over your shoulder, you needed to see if his cock was anything like in your imagination. And God, it was even better. He was thick, the tip a pretty red as he was leaking pre-cum already. You watched in a trance as he stroked himself a couple of times. "I don't have any-..." "I'm on birth control," you cut him off, and you spread your legs a little more. Oscar slid the head of his cock through your pussy, groaning at how wet you were. He cursed under his breath as he slides home, feeling your snug cunt pulling taut around him. Your knees already felt like jelly, but his hands on his hips pulled your ass further back, making you lean on the counter a little more.

Oscar started to rut his hips into yours, groaning at the way you fit so perfectly around him. "Does this make you feel good?" he asked, a genuine question, but the slight innocence on his face and the way his voice rasped made you soak his cock. Oscar was satisfied with the string of moans that escaped you. He gained confidence, reminding himself that it's just you, it's just you two together, the way it has always been and the way it was meant to be. And it felt better than ever. "You're breathtaking, baby," he says as he watches you through the mirror. He watches you fall apart on his cock, his eyes zoning in on the way your mouth falls open and feeds his ego with more of those pretty whimpers. He can't look away from the way your tits bounce with each of his thrusts. "Oscar..." you mutter, knuckles turning white from how hard you curled them around the edge of the counter. "I'm gonna cum," you whine, squeezing around his cock.

One of his hands drops from your hips, snaking around your body and finding your clit. He rubs it with his fingers, moving in lazy circles that shoot the sparkles up your spine. "Tell me again," he breathes. "Shit, I-... I'm gonna cum," you cry out as his cock keeps rubbing against that spongy spot inside your body. He presses you up against the counter to make sure you keep standing up straight. You let your head fall back against his shoulder as you came hot and heavy, goosebumps rising on your skin as his cum fills you up. Oscar pulls out, pulling his jeans back up and reaching for a towel to clean you up. He smooths your dress down your body again, this time zipping you up all the way. You let out a soft laugh as your eyes locked in the mirror. You turn around to face him for the first time, looking at his handsome face and his hair that became slightly messy. "This was a better reward than the trophy," Oscar said. "I believe so," you chuckle, bringing his face down to kiss you properly.

"We need to go," you mutter against his mouth as his hands find your hips again, ready to hoist you up the counter and do it all over again.

"Yo!"

The knocking on the door of Oscar's hotel room followed next, making you break apart. "Stop fucking in the bathroom, I've been waiting for twenty minutes already and I'm hungry!" you both laughed at Lando's voice, and you quickly wiped your lipstick from Oscar's mouth before rushing to get your purse and leave.

[tinfairies]

Would you accept 42 and 44 for Luffy? Because Ik he always has some sort of skin exposed, and I like to imagine that he's lowkey flaunting it because he "earned these marks" ? Idk, up to you 🫰😌

Also, may I be 🦝 anon? Do people still do that?

No Hiding

Monkey D. Luffy x GN!Reader

Casual sex, marking, scratching, hickeys

AN: it's very short I'm sorry

It was no secret that you were fucking the captain. Not like you'd want it to be, but Luffy brags all the time about how much he fucks you to anyone that will listen.

He proudly wears the the hickeys on his neck and scratches on his back. You have to admit that you find it hot when you can see the marks barely being hidden by his open shirt.

It's like reminder that he's yours, not officially, but if anyone else were to get into bed with him, they would see that you were there first.

Luffy's favorite feeling in the world is hammering into your greedy hole while you suck yet another deep purple hickey into his neck.

That boy looks like a dalmatian and he loves it.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Pretty like the sun

Previous part / Next chapter

a/n: the follow up chapter AND This is pretty like the wind series spin offs. This can be read as standalone all you need to know is that Azriel has two adoptive kids with OC - Zofie and Axel. Future stories related to them might include stories specifically decided to Azriel hence why I am taging it as Azriel story too. Don't come at me please. ✨ We have Az pov in this😌

warning: mention of labor, past trauma that's all. I think...

They are of age in this story. Young adults!

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Nyx's POV:

The side lake cabin was where Nyx had taken her. He wasn't sure why that place was the first thing that came to his mind. But it was the furthest place from Velaris and something deep within Nyx screamed that they had to get away. Wrong choices you are making, my boy. Nyx tightened the muscles in his jaw. It was an odd feeling. Having her here was both a relief and a worry.

Zofie was, as Nyx had come to learn, pretty out of it. Most of the time, when her power flared up, she would be left drained and emotionless. Just starting at something ahead of her, till her mind regained enough strength. Nyx still remembered when Rhys brought both her and Axel from the sanctuary. She whined from the pain her body had been in. When Madja and everyone else had left, Nyx had reached up to take her hand. His veins had turned inky black as an overwhelming wave of emotions crashed into him. He had pulled away at first, worried that he had done something wrong, but the frown on Zofie's forehand had eased. It had taken him one look at his palm to know. So he sat there for hours, holding her hand, till his bones ached. Till the light pink sheen returned to her skin.

Nyx had taken her straight to the bathing chamber. With one flick of his wrist, the hot water was pouring out of the installations on the wall. He shrugged his jacket off, not too keen on getting the leather wet. But... Nyx, you're walking on eggshells. But you felt like a cube of ice in his hands. He had tried to keep a conversation going as he flew, but she didn't respond, not even once. So he let her listen to the sound of the wind without any distractions. Now he pushed Zofie backwards carefully. Hands holding her forearms to steady her. The warm water crashed over her. Soaking her hair and body. She let out a deep breath. As if coming up for air. Her hands clasped his biceps. "Nyx," she breathed out, and fuck if it wasn't the prettiest sound. He hated when others called out for him. But not her. He could listen to... Nyx! He carefully brushed some of her black hair away from her face, tilting her head up so he could see her eyes. She blinked up. The black still rimmed the very edges of her golden eyes. "I'm here, Sunny; I've got you," he muttered, bringing her closer to his chest. Zofie's arms snaked around his torso as warm water crashed over them both. Their clothes stuck to their skin. Nyx's shirt cringed to his toned body, leaving very little to the imagination as the white material got translucent. His hands made quick work of Zofie's skirt. Her soaked skirt had to be heavy. So his hands made quick work of the buttons and string before the material hit the floor with a thud. Nyx, for fuck sake... His eyes didn't linger. Well, they did. But only for a moment as her toned legs came into view. Self-induced torture—that's what this was. But he pushed all of his thoughts aside. Letting the water drown it out too.

Neither of them had an idea of how long they stayed there. The room was fogged up and so humid that water was trickling down the walls. Their fingers had grown pruney, and Nyx managed to shift in the meantime, with no wings on display now. Zofie blinked a couple of times, pulling her face back from Nyx's chest. Her findings trailed down his side. Side. She could see the ink covering his ribs. Ink she hasn't seen before... And then the most beautiful golden eyes finally met Nyx's purple ones. "When did you get this?" Zofie's dainty fingers touched the damp material, right where you could just about make out the new tattoo. "Are you checking me out, Zof?" , Nyx teased as his eyes too fell on the new addition. Zofie let out a huff, "I'm not, but..." her eyes didn't leave the somewhat flower-resembling line work. "You used to tell me about things like this." And he did. They talked a lot when they could.

It of course changed a lot when he had to go to the camp so they could train, but... How was he meant to say that he was miserable the second time they had to go back? He was so fed up, and all he could think of was her and Axel had laughed at him and...

"We stole a couple of bottles of wine in the camp and woke up with these," Nyx admitted. Zofie's eyes grew big. "We... Axel and you?", she questioned. Nyx's lips curled upward. Zofie didn't need to hear him say it; she knew that she was right as it was, "Mom would freak out if she knew." Her voice was low as she shook her head. "Hence why you won't say a word," Nyx booed her nose, making Zofie pull back slightly with a scowl. "Are you okay to step out?", Nyx asked softly, his hands still holding her. He watched as Zofie slowly realized where they were. Water. Steam. Her frozen body feels limber. So she simply nodded her head.

They separated to change, but not before Nyx pulled out some of his clothes for Zofie to wear. "We can go back", her soft voice filled the main room of the cabin. This had to be the smallest house his parents owned. All it had was a rather big bathing chamber. A tiny kitchen and the rest of the place was occupied by the bed and huge windows. Nyx said nothing at first as he tossed some more wood into the fire.

"We're not going", his voice was calm and collected. Zofie crossed her arms over her chest and said, "I need to go home. Papa will be mad, and my mom just gave birth; it's not...", she rambled on, clearly getting frustrated by the situation now that her emotions had settled.

"Then why were you by the bank?", Nyx cut in quickly, making the girl in front of him stutter. Her eyes grew wide for a split second before she narrowed them down, "I could ask you the same thing." Here she was. His little flicker. Nyx smirked slightly, "Don't argue with me, darling." Pushing Zofie's buttons was one of his favorite things to do, ever since he learned that he could rile her up enough to make her cheeks heat with crimson he had used it to his advantage. She huffed at the nickname she hated. "Or what? You'll stomp your foot, and your dad will come running," she snarled. That line of frustration took over, but her soft heart was too gentle for this, so the moment the words left her mouth, her palm came up to cover her mouth.

"I'm sorry," Zofie muttered through her fingers. She knew that there were times when the princeling hated his relationship with Rhys. The court. The high lordship had put endless pressure on him while he was left to smile at it all. "My dad has been barking in my head every since I got you here," Nyx admitted as he walked closer to her, "But I ain't bringing you to anyone until you tell me what happened." His tone was soft. It was always soft when he was talking to Zofie. The girl let out a sigh. A deep one. A painful one and Nyx couldn't help but frown.

"Hey, you and I, remember?" The line had been a joke when they were little. The two had plotted to steal the rest of Nyx's birthday cake. It was a ride-or-die kind of deal. But the line stuck. And ever since, it has been Zofie and Nyx. She nodded at his words. But her mother stayed silent - still too exhausted to talk it out.

"Come on, lay down with me," Nyx muttered. He sounded desperate. Zofie shook her head immediately, "We can't. We shouldn't." Nyx knew that she mostly feared his scent mixing with hers. Their parents had lived long enough to catch them if they weren't careful. "Why not, as if I'm going to undress you and kiss you all over?", Nyx muttered with a smirk. Zofie let out a gasp, hitting his chest. "Nyx," she muttered with a chuckle. "I made sure my dad heard that too", he whispered, and Zofie huffed in return. She knew that the high lord's family had mind-to-mind communication. "Nyx, for the love of mother, what sick joy do you have of pissing your uncle off?" She was well aware that both Azriel and Nyx had been snarling at one another for as long as she could remember. But in the past couple of years, it has grown increasingly worse. "Someone needs to keep him on his toes. Uncle Cass and da-Rhys had gone too soft," Nyx shrugged his shoulders as he tugged at Zofie's hand, pulling her closer to the massive bed.

"Come on, I don't bite," he said, urging her to follow him. "I can smell your magic on you," Nyx muttered as she climbed in next to him. She had always been a massive cuddle bug. He had always hated it. His mom had smothered him without stopping. Rhys was no better. The older he got, the more suffocating it became. "Is that bad?", Zofie asked, pushing her long black hair over one shoulder. Nyx loved her hair—not just her hair, but...Nyx, composure tactics?

"You're stressed and sad, so you smell like a rotten grape," he breathed out jokingly. Zofie gaped at him. "Oh, fuck you," she huffed, turning to get out of the bed she had only settled in, but Nyx caught her hand with ease. "I'm kidding, Sunny", he breathed out with a chuckle, she didn't fight him on it. "You're so childish...", "I thought you liked your boys wild," Nyx winked at her, making Zofie shake her head.

"Can you at least let your dad know that we are okay so my mom doesn't have to worry?" His lover girl, aways think of others. Nyx tugged her one more time, enough this time for her to settle against his chest. "Believe me, he knows." Nyx was rather surprised as to why Rhys hadn't shown up. It would take him no effort to winnow here. His wards were triggered when Nyx entered the cabin, so the high lord wouldn't even have to spend time wondering where they went.

"When are you going back?", Nyx drew his attention back to the girl when her voice filled the quiet space. He also knew what she meant. Back to the camp. If not for YN going into labor, they wouldn't have been back at all. They still had a week there before the break. "Not sure; family emergencies can earn you a couple of days," he breathed out. The weight of Zofie against his chest felt so soothing. She nodded against his chest. Her eyes were no longer open. Her body slowly eased, and once her last bits of self-restraint began to fade, Nyx felt that overwhelming pinch, and the emotions that slipped past her shields poured right into him. Nyx closed his own eyes, letting the sensation ease. "That will do," Zofie muttered, her hand moving to lay on his side, right over the tattoo she had discovered today. "It'll have to, sunshine. We will have to make it count," Nyx muttered, leaning to press a loving kiss to her forehead before the two drifted off to sleep.

Azriel's POV:

He had been on edge for a while. You had been laboring for the past two days before the baby was finally here. No one had prepared Azriel for the fear that would be eating him alive while he watched you labor. You were a fighter. Always had been, but even you couldn't hide the agony. The white, cotton-like snow fell heavily on the grass outside. Such a calm season for such madness to be unfolding. Never had he thought that he would have a winter baby.

Azriel felt so fulfilled as he held Novie in his arms. A father. He felt so blessed to be in a position where you two could conceive. You both knew your chances of getting pregnant were higher based on the fact that you both had Illyrian blood running through your bodies. At least partly. Hence practically no trouble doing so, and well, the practice weeks, as Azriel loved to call them, hadn't stretched all that far.

Now she was here, and she was perfect. Another perfect girl. Her tiny, black-feathered wings were tucked against her back. She was a perfect mix of you both. Azriel had held her for hours before he made his way downstairs. With you asleep and the baby in Axel's arms, he needed a moment to breathe and eat, considering that he hadn't swallowed a single bite in quite a while. That's when he found his mother with troubled eyes. Cassian was standing there too. The protector within the spymaster stirred. And all hell broke loose when Cassian finally spoke.

"Rhys, I swear to fucking holy mother," Azriel had winnowed straight to the river house. "Pour yourself some scotch," Rhys pushed the glass bottle toward his brother. He would celebrate the birth of his daughter if his first daughter wasn't missing. "Fuck yourself with your scotch," Azriel growled, leaning forward. Rhys held his gaze before bursting into fits of giggles, "Well, aren't you a walking ray of sunshine?"

Azriel growled. He wondered how he would cover up the murder of the high lord if he had to and who would side with him when his last straw would break. "Tell him to bring her back," Azriel pointed a warning finger at Rhys. His nephew had gone too far. Way too far. It was one thing to bump into Zofie. Another thing was to kidnap her. Well, he hadn't kidnapped her exactly, but it was close to it. Semantics.

"Azriel," Rhys breathed out. "They are safe," the high lord said reassuringly. "She's safest with me," Azriel bit back, feeling the anger simmer. Zofie had never done something like this. Hasn't just taken off running. What if she couldn't control her powers? What if something bad had happened? And what had happened to make her do something like this?

"Well, considering that she ran away," like a bull's eye, Rhy's words hit the target. "Don't you give me shit for it," Azriel growled every word in a warning, his wings spreading behind him, and Rhys instantly stood to match him. God, if you were here, you would call them fucking peacocks.

"Yn is asleep; she won't know that Zofie isn't spending a night in the house," Rhys said firmly. And fucking thankfully, you were asleep because there was no way Azriel was going to let you worry about this. This had to be fixed. Fixed before you felt that something seemed off.

"Rhys," Azriel pleaded this time. "Azriel, Nyx will never do anything to hurt her, and you know it," Rhys said in his deep, high-lord tone. No more games; he was just as pissed. "They are too young," Azriel muttered. Yes, they were almost certain the two of them were mates. Rhys had said that he saw the bond flicker a couple of times. But they were too young. This was moving too fast. Zofie had just had her first bleed. No way was Azriel letting that boy toy snatch her off like that. And who even knew if he was serious enough about her?

"They are young, yes, but they are both of age to start exploring," Rhys muttered, "Or are you planning on keeping that poor girl in a cage?" The room died down in a heartbeat. Azriel could see that Rhys regretted the last words as soon as they left his mouth. That topic was always gonna be painful for him. The way you were raised. The way you were hurt was always gonna be painful him. And to know that Rhys. Rhys of all people was referring to him in that way. Suggesting that Azriel was off doing the same thing... "Azriel, I'm", but before Rhys could even start to apologize, Azriel was gone.

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Taglist: @sirenpearldust @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @naturakaashi if you asked to be tagged and I forgot do let me know. ✨🤍

[mooneeswrld]

PARTY CRUSH

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pairings : aged!up!earth42!Miles x fem!reader

warnings : alcohol, start of a smut, twerk, sensual touches (AGED UP MILES)

summary : Miles is secretly the Prowler, you are his best-friend, his girl best-friend. And you know about his secret identity from the beginning. This night, Miles used to join you at a party, he isn’t really attracted by parties but go because you insisted.

a/n : FIRST FANFIC GUYS ! I am literally obsessed with Prowler Miles😌 so hope you like it ✌️

PT.2

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You were in your room, trying some fits for the party. You were on a face time with your best friend too, you actually showed him some fits and he let you know which one was nice. You finished pulling up the straps of your shirt purple dress and go to the field of your camera to show Miles the dress. He was getting ready to do a mission as the Prowler. After this mission he used to join you at the party.

“What ‘bout this ?” you say, turning around to show him. The tight dress shone but not too much. You waited for his answer as he looked at your body. You cleared your throat to let him know you were waiting when he looked up to you across his phone.

“Mmm ? Oh ! The dress is….tight, isn’t she ?” He looked at you questioning with his eyes, you could tell, a lil bothered.

“Yea, that’s pretty in that way, nah ?” You said softly as you looked at your body in the mirror. Questioning if you looked good.

“Yea, well…you look good, ma” he mumbled, bothered. You could tell, something was going on. He looked at you, as you looked at yourself in your mirror before heading back to his business.

“Miles Gonzalo Morales, what’s the matter ?” You sighed as you looked at his face, questioning.

“Can’t you just…wear something above your dress the time I won’t be there ?” He said not facing you, just doing his own business. You looked pissed off he said that.

‘How could he not trust you ?’

You sighed, not ready to allow, so you didn’t responded, you finished your makeup, on your vanity near your phone. He couldn’t see you in the field of the camera. He ad finished his business and is gonna head to the mission. You knew that when he called you

“Listen, (y/n), I trust you, just, take care of yourself till I come. I’ll join you in 1 hour, okay ?” he said softly, yet directive. He was gonna hang up, because he needed to head to his mission right the way

you sighed and appear to the field of the camera to mumble “I’ll take care of myself till you join me, okay” he sighed of relief and waved a lil bye bye that you waved back with a smile

*30 minutes after*

You arrived at the entry of the nightclub and walked in, miles was supposed to be there in 30 minutes. You entered the nightclub, you saw were the dance floor was, were the bar was, were the couches were and surprisingly, the strip bars.

You arrived and walked to the bar, asking for a drink, specially a cocktail, ‘sex on the beach’. You started drinking while analysing every ‘teams’ in the nightclub, you didn’t wanted to go dancing alone, but you did. You started heading to the dance floor after drinking ass dry your drink.

You started doing movements with your body, spinning on yourself and before you knew it was time for Miles to join you. As you danced with random girls. He saw you on the dance floor and smirked then head to the bar to get a drink.

You were actually really drunk and wasn’t always knowing what you were doing. He finished his drink quickly and ask for another before drinking 3 drinks. He then decided to join you, but as he go to the dance floor, the music changed. For a…twerk one…

*put the music on*

It was your favourite song for your sensual dance and Miles knew it. He join you and tap on your shoulder to let you give your attention to him. When you turned around you smiled widely.

“Miles !” You said as you jumped in his arms, a thing you never do between you both. He was taken aback but with the alcohol, he didn’t mind it too much and grabbed your waist, he was actually drunk too. He turned you to have your back on his chest and said in your ear “twerk for me, ma~”

You felt the heat on your face increase and you felt his large hands on your waist. The music chorus came in and you didn’t mind twerking on him, he was actually your secret crush so, if you could let him fall for you, you’ll do it. You then started twerking, your butt rubbing his crotch, as you twerk on him. You did sensual movements like letting your hands slide from your boobs to your thighs while twerking. It was getting him aroused, he knew he was doing shit, she is his best friend ! But he didn’t mind on the moment, seeing you twerking on him was actual heaven. You were actually his secret crush, it’s hard for him to admit it.

As you turned to face him, your hair a bit on your face due to your movements as you looked at him with ‘those eyes’. You did pelvic movement, while having your hands on his torso, you knew what you were doing was shit, he is your best friend !

Before you knew, Miles dragged you off the dance floor to the couches. He tackle you on the wall near a couch and looked at you with hungry eyes. “ma…I can’t take it anymore…~”he said as a revelation, it was like a love reveal. You just looked at his lips before saying the start word. “Take me~” you said sensually. You were both actually conscious of the act that was gonna happen…

*to be continued !*

@mooneeswrld

[popatochisssp]

The Court AU has me DEAD!!! If you’d be willing, what sort of outfits would they wear? I’d love to draw them!

Anon, I had so many tabs open looking up medieval-type fashion and armor, we're talking like 30+, felt super awesome finishing this and closing them all 😌

Anyway--

Sans (Undertale): What’s black and blue and white all over? Why, him of course! His jester’s motley features a black-and-white diamond pattern, offset by bright, rich, royal blue—a mark of his service to the king. He doesn’t wear one of those silly hats, though…because he wears a silly hood instead! Less chance of falling off, you see. When not in costume he tends toward simple tunics, of decent material and often still in blue.

Papyrus (Undertale): Almost never out of full plate armor, even in downtime, he has to dress for the job he wants and that means being a shining metal bastion of knightly glory at all times! …Though he does often remove his helmet and hold it by his sword at his hip, or fasten it to his steed’s side. He’s a very handsome skeleton, it would be cruel to deny the people the chance to see their hero’s face!

Sky (Underswap Sans): Soft blues and yellows, as a squire only lightly armored—greaves and pauldrons, a mail shirt beneath his tunic if he’s expected to go into battle—but he considers even that much armoring to be overkill for what he’s doing. Still, his Captain insists, and it makes his brother feel better, so he takes care protecting himself. He has some nicer finery to wear about court, as a nobleman, but tends simpler for anything that might be dirtied or torn in training.

Paps (Underswap Papyrus): Rich green and earthy browns, his clothing tends to be without ostentation—no embroidery, no gold buckles or buttons, or anything especially elaborate. He may be noble but he’s a scholar and a recluse and prefers not to stand out much. Still, the fabrics of which his clothing is made are always fine, as coarse or stiff materials quite put him off. Mostly cottes—long belted tunics—with the occasional robe over, if it's cold.

Jasper (Underfell Sans): Blacks and browns, sturdy plain clothes which can stand up to considerable wear and tear. Often wears a short diamond-quilted gambeson and some leather armor (vambraces and greaves), but always has a sword belted to his hip and a cloak made of dire-wolf’s fur draped over his shoulders. If ever he should need to acknowledge his denounced family name, he does have some finer clothing stored away somewhere—in red—and a shiny gold signet ring with his family crest on it.

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): Usually in half plate armor, dark metal heavily scratched and scorched, dents meticulously hammered back out. He also wears a tattered red cape about his shoulders that billows quite majestically behind him when he rides or runs into battle. He will occasionally dress down in laced tunics and breeches, still in red and black, fine but not too fine as to raise suspicion about his heritage. Should all that ever come out, he does have a suit of pristine night-black armor he’s been dying to inherit and a silken cape to pin about it with a golden clasp of the family’s crest.

Mal (Swapfell Sans): Mostly black but flaunts his privilege and royal ties with purple accents wherever possible. Brigandine armor with a fine gold-plated gorget and pauldrons and a few other ornamental trappings—he is the Empress’ personal guard and must in some capacity be as elegant. Very fine doublets and tunics for his (rare) downtime, often with gold threading, but not fond of most jewelries.

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): Dark colors and crisp whites, noble yet eccentric, he has a lot of fine doublets and other such court-wear but tends not to actually…wear them. He can mostly be found in loose-fitting cottes, baggy sleeves often penned up by leather armlets to keep them out of his paints. He has a fur-hooded cloak for travel or cold weather, but he rarely leaves his rooms, much less the castle, so he doesn’t don it often.

Slate (Horrortale Sans): Dark browns and off-white cream, simple rough-hewn clothing showing signs of wear and occasionally odd stains. He works in the stables, with animals, and being around animals so much makes it difficult to keep clean. He has a somewhat decent dark blue cloak that he’ll wear into town for errands, or in polite company—it has a hood to conceal the great jagged hole in his head that tends to make the squeamish or timid flinch away from him.

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): Still hasn’t quite shaken the habit to be armored, even when it isn’t necessary, but he’s cut down from full plate to chain mail only, much lighter and easier to move around in—which is vital when hurrying to the training field for an accident, or running to meet a wounded knight at the gates. He wears a simple tabard over his mail, blue with red edging (the Queen’s colors), and keeps a pouch of bandages and other aid supplies belted to his waist instead of a sword.

Ash (Undergloom Sans): The livery of the king’s court, gray and gold, but dyed into fabrics suitable for common folk. He still wears gray when not performing at court, tunics so thickly woven they could pass as a gambeson and often paired with hooded cloaks, but he keeps his golds set aside until needed to keep them in good condition. He takes equal care of his shiny brass sackbut (it’s a horn, with a very funny name but an instrument nonetheless) so it always plays well.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): Off-white and tan linens, loose and breathable for hot work in the kitchens, sleeves rolled up and pinned at the elbows to keep them from getting in the way. Always an apron about his waist, occasionally with food stains after a long day’s work but these he quickly tends to as soon as he’s able. He has nothing in the way of real finery but tries very hard to make sure what he has is clean and presentable.

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): Fine brocaded doublets of rich red and shining gold thread, as a duke and brother to a king, he does have to dress the part a bit. He wears more jewelry, especially rings, but nearly always still has his dire-wolf fur cloak over his shoulders. When called for executions, he dresses down quite a bit, in simple black cloth with only a leather pauldron over one shoulder to help brace the weight of his axe before he swings.

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): Half plate armor essentially at all times, even formal or polite occasions—he’s the owner of a stolen throne and all too aware that it could be stolen from him the same way he got it. His breastplate is scaled and his pauldrons are elaborately spiked, but it’s all black. The only pop of color on him is his crown, the same worn by Asgore and Undyne, gold and sharp, with rubies inlaid.

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): Chain mail over a finely-made kaftan and beneath a traveling cloak, the latter two with signs of wear from a long journey. His head is notably absent of a crown—left behind in the kingdom he fled—but a new one awaits him soon, of flashing silver and blue stone, depicting the phases of the moon. When fully established in his new kingdom, he may begin dressing as a proper king again, draping himself in the blue and silver finery of the land that sheltered him.

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): Browns, greens, and blacks, he wears light leather armor—really just a breastplate and vambraces—and a thick woolen cloak about his shoulders. He has no need of greaves for his shins, legs lost to an accident in the wilderness, but supplanted by magical prosthetics, living blackened wood provided by his land when he called upon it for aid. …Not that he’s fully accepted that it’s his land, keeping his crown of twisting copper and emerald tucked away in a saddlebag instead of on his brow. Maybe someday…

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): Rich purple and verdant green, amidst a sea of black—he favors very fine fabrics with open lacing at the chest. Still not especially fond of jewelry, but wears considerably more decorative leather braces on forearms, shins, and even the occasional full-chest corset. (He has some chronic pain and the extra pressure and support in certain spots helps.) He wears considerably more plain clothes for knight-training purposes and when traveling wears a black cloak with a cowl that comes down over the hole in his face at a point, as the beak of a raven.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): Usually in half plate splint mail armor for his patrols along the wall, but favors rusty oranges, brown and black for the tunics and boots and breeches he wears out of it. Often carries a lantern, and always has tinder in a pouch on his hip. Beside his pouch is a war-horn in case an alert would need to be called, loud enough to make everyone come running if it’s ever sounded.

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): A cavalierly styled courtier, at first having made do with graciously lent clothing and now being able to buy his own in a whole variety of rich colors—yellow, blue, magenta, and on. His aim is to look at home in court, which means he must dress as other courtiers do, so he has doublets and fine tunics and many, many fashionable capelets with embroidery and stylish pins, as well as a few equally chic plumed hats. The other courtiers look to him now for the latest fashion trends and he couldn’t be happier.

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): A bit more subdued in style than his brother…though only a bit. He favors black frocks, almost as a cleric would wear, but beneath them, elegant doublets in greens and yellows as vibrant as anything his twin wears, with fine silver filigree work in his buckles and pins and clasps. He’s the pinnacle of restrained class and taste and it’s no wonder at all that the king should respect him so highly if his care in thought is as his care in appearance.

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans): Deep, dark black from head to toe, most prominently a long hooded cloak with two eye-lights glowing in the darkness. He always wears gloves and never lets his hood down, as he’s not especially fond of his metal bones and doesn’t really wish to be seen. It’s difficult to see in the daytime, but at night he’s trailed by faint wisps of ghostly light in all colors of the rainbow, such a strange sight that many a drunkard who’s seen him has poured out their bottle presuming they’d had quite a bit too much.

PapAIrus (Transcendtale Papyrus): Full plate armor, of course, but as he’s now some sort of spectral entity, it (and he!) glows and is slightly see-through. Being ghostly has washed out his colors quite thoroughly which is unfortunate—mostly all white with hints of silvery blue—but on the up-side he seems able to change his appearance some by will alone, donning or discarding his helmet at will, manifesting a majestic cape for himself out of the ether, and so on. It seems a fair enough trade to him!

Xanth (Ascendswap Sans): A man at court now, he’s donned an eye-patch and abandoned the trappings of prospective knighthood, fully embraced courtier fashion…if a bit ‘eccentrically.’ He favors bright yellows and spring greens, flowing garments of fine cloth layered beneath and over leather vambraces, gorget, and tasset. All these are elaborately, intricately designed and certainly make the similarly intricate gold jewelry (with multicolored gems) that he wears at wrist and neck stand out, but it’s hardly in fashion… Still, the mystic’s thinking is often inscrutable.

Piper (Ascendswap Papyrus): Unlike his brother, very fashionable and eye-catching, in rich amaranths and brilliant turquoises, with even the occasional lavender. He has many fine embroidered doublets, threaded liberally with gold, and wears many pieces of gold jewelry as well—necklaces, bracelets, pins, and brooches. When showing the birds of the crown at court or bidding them on a royal hunt, he wears the livery of the crown-proper—royal purple and gold—and always has a thick leather falconer’s glove on his left hand.

Carmine (Underfell Fruition Sans): What’s black and white and red all over? Well, newspapers haven’t been invented yet, so it’s him, of course! He’s no jester so he hasn’t a motley to wear to work, but he is a performer and does dress in the livery of the king, which is red and black. The material is a bit finer than he’s used to, but being that he’s no longer wearing rags and rotting in a hole, he’s quite pleased with it and doesn’t mind the bright colors that help him attract the eyes of many comely nobles at court. Off-duty, he sticks to loose, somewhat open tunics—red still very much preferred.

Tank (Underfell Fruition Papyrus): Laced linen shirts, not especially loosely fitting due to his largeness in the chest and shoulders but he hasn’t burst any seams in awhile so the measurements must be somewhat correct. He’s fond of white and a true connoisseur of red, all shades from dark to very light. He keeps an array of small carpentry tools—hammers, chisels, things for measuring—in a roll on his hip, a dedicated apprentice to the core.

Vi (Swapfell Fruition Sans): All black, pourpoint armor beneath fine silk doublets but almost disappointingly plain otherwise—no embroidery, no ornament, or stitched pattern, or brocade. Over this he wears a cloak, equally fine and with at least some ostentation, a bit of silver stitched decoration that matches the intimidatingly clawed silver gauntlet he wears upon his left hand—a symbol of his wealth, if not his status. These flashy items are for matters of court only, as he has a much more nondescript hooded cloak and less identifiable sharp implement which he uses for matters of stealth and misdeeds when it is important that he not be recognized.

Hunter (Swapfell Frution Papyrus): A prince in princely attire…mostly. He happily flaunts the color purple but proudly wears it with the black of his old family name, and drapes himself in silk tunics, fine (mostly decorative) pauldrons, capes and capelets. He tends to show off a bit more of his chest than seems appropriate for a man of his station, and seems to wear his elegant silver jewelry in ways such that the eye is drawn there, and…other places, but few question the whims of royalty. His pewter crown is heavy and inelegant and he’s talked much with his brother about how angry people would be if he had it melted and recast into something more stylish.

Kohl (Descendtale Sans): Plain, rough tunics, in black and dark brown. He wears a heavy fur-lined gabardine as it gets quite cold in the dungeons, though it’s uncertain where he managed to get such a nice garment. He keeps a knife on his belt, large and jagged-toothed, and though he hasn’t had need to use it yet, the threat of it tends to keep most prisoners from attempting to bring him harm.

Bram (Descendtale Papyrus): He’s traded in his full plate armor for a comfortably fit leather jerkin, accompanied by matching gauntlets to protect his hands and torso (inasmuch as they need protection, without flesh) from the thorns he trims back every day. He mostly wears black and white and brown, all things closely fit to his body, less they snag overmuch and need to be replaced too often. His clothing is simple but well-suited to his work, and he wears it nicely.

[melon-cream-enmu]

Finally, the belphie horse cock smut☺️😌🤏🏻 this evolved very quickly after writing that noncon piece, so it went from just generic smut to loving relationship plans, family talk, and gentle breeding. He ya go

The only sound that could be heard throughout the attic was breathing. And the occasional whine.

Door magically and physically locked, but not sound proofed, and certainly not blocking your scent from escaping and teasing the remaining 6 brothers in the house.

Every nerve in your body seemed to be humming, buzzing in response to Belphies every sinful groan.

His cock gliding up and down your folds agonizingly slow but still deliciously stimulating. Big hand gently splayed upon your stomach, thumb occasionally stroking lovingly at your skin.

His other had a hold on your thigh, pressing it back down to the bed whenever your legs would try to close around him. His hips rocked slowly against you with seemingly natural steady control, rhythm consistent, never wavering.

You both knew his cock wasn’t made for a human body, you wondered how it was made for any body at all. It’s length was abnormal, same thickness throughout. The base was dark grey, almost black, shifting to a dark violet at its mid point. It’s head was fairly flat, slightly flared. The first thing you could think to compare his sex to was that of a horse.

The first time you two were intimate was daunting, everyone has the thought ‘this won’t fit’ at some point in their life, but then you really were concerned it wouldn’t. He’d spent quite some time prepping you, making you cum so many times that your hole was eagerly wide and waiting.

He’d done the same now, and every time since then, always using lube as well, whether it truly be needed or not.

Belphie hoists your thighs further up onto his and the tip of his cock brushes your clit.

“Belphie please!” You whine from behind your hands. He chuckles above you while his hand steadies his cock against your lips.

“Hey, look at me (y/n)…”

Your fingers slowly part and your eyes land on his face, only making out his smirk before they close. Belphies ever so gently easing his cock into you, flat, thick tip always a challenge to take at the start. He waits for your permission to move further once the tip is in, though hes swaying his hips side to side. Your hands paw at his torso for his shirt before grasping the fabric in slightly shaky hands. You give a breathless nod and Belphie adjusts his position before slowly easing more of his cock into your heat.

Once he passes a certain point he can feel you cream on his cock, opting to slowly pull back, and he admires the ring of white along the dark purple of his cock. He finds himself wondering if he’ll ever get to see that on the black base of it, but focuses on you for now. Your chest rises and falls out of any specific rhythm and Belphie leans down when you tug on his shirt. His hair tickles your cheek as you press your lips to his with a pleasured sob. His cold hand comes to rest on your stomach, a wordless sign you’d both agreed upon, and you nod fervently.

He watches almost hypnotized as you greedily take his cock as his hips rock, gentle like the moonlight streaming in through the attic window. He rest a hand on your ribs as he he leans down to truly kiss you. The soft wet sounds of your lips closing and parting before greeting the others again have him smiling in genuine happiness. He never thought he could have something like this, not in his entire lifetime, as long as that may be.

He had hated you, but whether it be you or just humans in general he never knew, and refused to find out. You were too good, too caring and sweet, too much like Lilith, and what did that get her but a gruesome end. How could you be allowed to live a life so kind with no repercussions. Life isn’t fair to those who are kind.

He shouldn’t have treated you so coldly.

He rubs your nose with his as you both pant, skin searing hot against each other while he thinks about how this started…

You were kind to him, even after he’d killed you. And when he was made to play nice, you were gentle with him, giving him chance after chance to do better, being stern with him when he upset you but never holding any of it against him. Said it was normal for someone who’d been forced into seclusion to lash out at the first sign of interactive contact.

And whether he’d truly hated it at the time or not, he fell in love with you.

Your nails lightly scritch through his hair behind his ears almost like he were a dog, pulling him from his thoughts, but he leans into it nonetheless. A hand hooks behind your knee and presses it as close to your chest as possible without putting too much strain on you and his next thrust bumps your cervix so completely that it knocks the air from your lungs.

Your hands pull as hard as they can, a pitiful amount due to the state of pure bliss you’re in, on his shoulders. Belphie falls to his forearms to brace himself as he nears his end. And if your cries of his name were any indication you were at your end as well. Belphie shivered at the thought of cumming in you. Every other time he’d pull out and stroke himself before he came on you, but this time, he wanted nothing more than to cum in you.

And it seemed you wanted the same. Legs wrapped around him, soft pleas falling from your lips, leaning into every toe curling touch.

“Belphie…” your soft voice calls to him. “I cant leave you all again, I won’t go. I can’t say goodbye to your family.” Belphie kisses your temple and nuzzles his nose into your hair, breathing in your scent. He can feel your hands shake as they cradle the back of his head.

“I won’t…I won’t let anything take my family, and that means you, (y/n). We all think of you as family…” he hesitates, unsure of his next words, “and I can make you truly…if you’ll let me.”

You knew what he was asking. You’d never thought about babies or family or even marriage but you wanted it all with him.

Tears pool at your eyes and you nod fervently as a happy smile graces your lips. His gentle thrusts speed up, still being mindful not to push you too hard. Seeing that look on your face, the tears forming almost creating sparkles in your eyes, and he can’t hold out much longer. Belphies forehead presses to yours and his hand shakily takes yours from behind his neck to intertwine your fingers. The consistent nudge of his cock at your cervix had your heart and walks fluttering. Belphie shudders when you cum again, your heat even warming around him as he can’t stop his own climax.

It’s such a filling feeling, feeling abnormally sticky all over inside, warm and sated. Like a craving had finally been tended to, and you feel no less full when Belphie pulls out many minutes later. He gently pulls your sore body to lay slightly on top of his while rubbing any part of you he can reach, hoping to soothe as much pain as he can. He warms as your tired arms wrap as tightly as you can around him. He chuckles softly when you try to bury your face in his chest.

He heard your breathing change ever so slightly and steels his nerves for what you’re about to say, assuming the worst.

“Belphie? I love you.”

[marimayscarlett]

I BEG!!! SHOW ME THE BEST RICHARD DAD ATTIRE PLEASE AND THANKS 🥵

Hi! Sure thing 🫡 Here goes the best of:

Richard's dad looks 101

Richard has different signature styles in his dad attire closet, all kind of similar and yet unique.

We have the typical beanie and shirt combo:

A must-have clothing item completing the 'comfy dad look' is the beloved and frequently worn track pants, preferably from Adidas.

Furthermore we have the iconic shirt and longsleeve combo or just a longsleeve (which I personally like best regarding the dad attire):

Again we see the loyalty to the track pants 👌🏼

While we're in the long sleeve department, no dad list is complete without his pink hoodie collection, for example this one (from Comme des Garçons):

This also represents another vital dad item for Richard: The red cap. Concerning his dad look, this also has to be mentioned. Despised by many, loved by few, absolutely adored by him for whatever reason, but as long he's happy with it, so am I 🫡 Another comfy dad outfit including said cap:

An adorable thing about Richard and quite frankly pretty sustainable is that he really keeps on wearing the same clothes for years, he definitely has his favourites. Very dad-like and I highly support this 🙏

Like the purple star shirt and the 'Dead Kennedys' shirt:

The 'Legends' shirt (he even has that one in two colours):

Or the white "Comfort Italia" long sleeve he must have in his closet for years on this point (absolutely love this one):

Another dad look, not seen that often but very fitting for him, is this one with the polo shirt. I think he looks so handsome in it:

Rather comfy and cuddly dad looks are the ones including sweat jackets (preferably with beanie):

And last but not least, maybe not what you call a real 'dad' look, but I will never get tired of mentioning my absolute favourite dad-ish out and about look of him. Him in a beanie and parka, absolute heart eyes when I see him like this:

So I hope there's something to your taste in this post, Richard is a wonderful example of dad attire which can be quite endearing 😌

[ronearoundblindly]

Hi Ro😌❤️

comfort character ask：🛁？

A Nice Relaxing Bath, a Curtis Everett x reader fic

Summary: Your roommate's brother crashes at the apartment while he works in the area.

Pertinent info: not on a train! I went very overboard on the idea that Curtis is the sweetest man on the planet, and I am not ashamed.

Warning: this, uh, it got steamy. Literally. Smut-adjacent. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. Minors, there is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist instead, but this one is not for you. WC 2.1k

“I’m fine.”

“You’re filthy,” you bite back as your roommate’s brother peels off his dingy coat in your living room. “You should take the bath.”

Curtis waves you off weakly. “No need. I’ll shower after you’re done…or in the morning.”

He lays a bed sheet over the couch, dead tired and mentally vacant.

“There won’t be enough hot water.” You had no idea when he’d be coming in. He was supposed to arrive last night but got so delayed he drove in this morning, heading straight to his job site instead of dropping his things off first. That was twelve hours ago.

You’re well aware of how exhausting shifts like that can be from your time at the hospital.

“Then morning it is,” Curtis huffs.

“My couch will smell bad far longer than you will. Please—“ you point to the bathroom, wearing only your towel “—it’s all yours.”

Your guest shakes his head and pulls off his beanie. “I’m serious. I’m too tired.”

You shrug. “I promise you’ll feel like a million bucks after and sleep like a baby.”

Perhaps the smell of lavender wafting from the washroom entices him, or perhaps he finally catches a whiff of himself, but Curtis stands and walks all the way over, stopping a few inches in front of you.

He smirks.

“Promises, promises…” he drawls, side-stepping into the bathroom.

From force of habit, you always quickly shower after a shift, but you weren’t expecting the doorbell to ring or Curtis to announce his arrival. Now that you’ve checked your phone, after sifting through your bag discarded immediately onto the other side of your bed, you see a text from his sister…from half an hour ago, saying he’s on his way.

You can’t very well hand him the towel against your skin currently. You’ll need to get him something fresh.

You throw on a t-shirt and shorts before rummaging in the linen closet for the spares. Just as you’re about to knock on the door to hand them over, you hear grunting and hissing, not from the water. There’s a muttered curse that sounds very pained.

“Curtis?” you call.

He only takes one step, meaning he was not close to the bathtub yet, and cracks open the door. He hides most of his body behind it, except you see his left shoulder. Purple and brown bruises litter the joint.

“Jesus, buddy!” You can’t help it. Against his pale skin, any trauma would look serious.

“It’s fine. Those for me?”

You don’t move.

“Can you even lift that arm, Curtle?”

His nose scrunches in distaste of his childhood nickname, shoving a hand out. “I said it’s fine. You giving me the towels or not?”

Every effort behind every word drains a little more life from Curtis’s eyes and voice. It’s like watching someone scrape the last shrivels of food from a to-go container—pathetic and sad.

You press the linens to your own chest.

“Let me help you.”

“You’re not bathing me,” he scoffs.

“I’m a nurse. Please. It’s not anything I haven’t seen before.”

Curtis glances back inside the bathroom as if searching for answers elsewhere, but when he turns to let his sky-blue eyes meet yours, he neither fights nor flees.

“Hey now,” you soothe. “I’ve lived here two years. I can fake your sister’s tone like you would not believe. Don’t make me use the voice.”

One corner of his mouth ticks up beneath his dark beard.

“Fine, but this was your idea and I’m not getting yelled at later for being a creep, ya hear?”

“Got it,” you nod, closing the door behind you once he lets you in.

He turns around to unbuckle his belt and pull down his bottoms. More and more bruising is visible with every inch exposed, some yellow and old, some nearly bleeding out the surface. There’s a line of dirt and grime along his neck where his shirt blocked the soot. You set the stack of towels on the closed toilet and reach to help him in, avoiding looking by professional default.

This is pretty much exactly what you do all day, but most of your patients would be sponge baths. In fact, Curtis will be easier because he has all his faculties, use of all his limbs, and doesn’t need help washing anything below the waist. He’s just too beat up and tired to lift his arms much.

“Holy fuck, that’s hot.” He winces and curls the dipped toes away from the water again, but once you move to start the tap and add cold, he grips your hand harder. “No, no. Don’t. I’ll get used to it. Just gimme a sec.”

Somehow, spending the time holding a six-foot man upright in the humid, aromatic air is just as relaxing as if you were submerged yourself, so you wait while his toes, feet, ankles, legs, and finally, butt are all acclimated before lathering a washcloth. The loofah would be too harsh across the bruises.

“Back first and then I’ll leave you to soak?”

Curtis doesn’t really answer. He simply leans forward and tilts his head down.

He moans involuntarily when you splash water over the whole area and tenses when you graze his sides.

He’s ticklish, so you poke him only one more time for fun and then start scrubbing at his neck.

As you finish up the broad expanse of his back, though he’s a little skinny considering his frame, you fold over the cloth and hand it to him.

“You wanna get your face?”

He sweeps it back and forth a few times and then splashes. You can see that he’s not clean.

“Fine. I’ll do that, too,” you grumble without real ire and plop forward onto your ass, reaching out both hands once you soap them up.

He holds his eyes closed while you circle over his forehead and cheeks, stares while you scrub into his beard, and laughs when you use the grip of your thumbs to pull him into a joker grin.

That earns you a playful splash. Curtis is still chuckling as he rinses the soap off his face, leaving a fresh hole in the thick layer of bubbles. His eyelashes are so long he has to squish water out of them before he can see you again, then he looks sad as he smiles.

“I’m sorry I stole your bath.”

Worth it, you think. “Can’t steal what’s given freely.”

“Or you could…” Curtis shuffles his hips “…join me?”

“The tub is not that big.”

His eyebrow quirks, intrigued by the challenge. “Bet we can make it fit.”

“That’s what she said,” you burst, grinning.

“Yeah, I didn’t mean…not like that.” He’s so cute when he laughs.

As adorable and tempting as the offer is, you still state the obvious. “Buddy, you’re naked.”

“I can keep my hands to myself. Promise.”

“Promises, promises,” you tsk in retort.

Curtis mountains a pile of bubbles to show how covered you’d still be, laying the washcloth over his lap as a barrier. “Better decide before the water gets too cold.”

You let out a long sigh.

Though you’re clean enough anyway, your legs ache from a long day on your feet, and it would be nice to release that tension from the muscles.

You toss a second washcloth over his face.

“No peaking, bub!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbles, letting the fabric trap in his mouth for emphasis.

It’s comical to order him around—move this leg, that foot can’t be flat, scoot all the way back, etc—but once successfully sandwiched between his thighs you tell him to keep his eyes closed and take away the cloth to use as a kind of tube top.

“Need me to get back here?” he offers.

“Nah,” you say shaking your head, “just wanted the heat on my legs.”

Curtis sinks into the tub and molds himself to the tile wall behind him. “Sure feels good after a long day.”

You two compare the long hours you’ve worked today, the day before, and the day before that, and it turns into a tie for who is the saddest over-achiever.

“You can lean on me,” he whispers. “Come on, relax, honey. You’ve earned it, too.”

So you do.

You tuck your head right beneath Curtis’s chin, the roughness of his beard catching gently in your hair, careful not to put weight directly on his bruises.

You both quickly fall into that almost-dream state, the kind where time doesn’t exist between eye blinks, rising and dipping with his breaths, soaking in more than just the comfort of the bath.

 It feels like hours—or maybe just an instant later—that the water feels just shy of lukewarm. Your fingers are pruney. The bubbles are gone.

Who knows what kicks you out of your peaceful reverie, but Curtis jolts when you do, wrapping his arms around you.

“S—sorry,” he stutters. A few fingers land against your washcloth top and tug reflexively.

You tilt your head to assure him you’re okay only to find his gaze locked farther forward. Your knees are bent to fit in the tub, and with your legs splayed this way, without the cover of bubbles, you’re exposed to him

Curtis stays quiet while you feel his breath hitch beneath your back. His fingers scratch over your belly gently until finally—

“You’re so soft,” he says reverently, gratefully, as if handed a present not on his birthday.

Gently, careful not to hurt him, you turn around.

His eyes are wide and questioning but don’t falter from your attention even when the washcloth topples from your breast. His lips fall apart, waiting for your choice, but all over his features is written how much he wants you.

Has that look ever been there before? Did you simply not notice?

“Sis is gonna be mad,” he mutters, swallowing loudly while you shift to your knees in the water.

You inch closer and closer, mouth brushing his. “Why?” 

“Because,” he confesses, “she told me not to touch you.” 

“When did she tell you that?”

Of course, you want to kiss him, but it’s quite fun to see him almost tremor with anticipation.

Curtis’s eyes find yours. “The day I moved her in.”

His warm breath dances with yours, tongue darting across his bottom lip. 

“Well then…” You lift one leg at a time to coax his together, straddling his lap. “Don’t touch me. Just let me touch you.” 

You’re not sure which movement garners the moan he lets rip through his chest, your mouths finally meeting or you wiggling to get comfy. Both continue. So do the moans.

The tented, sopping washcloth is tossed with a squelch to the floor as he hardens between your thighs, but each second is relished, each ounce of energy pried from your reserves.

The kisses are slow and sweet, long and dragged out like the lazy rocking of your hips.

At first, he really doesn’t touch you, his hands grip and slip along the smooth rim of the tub until you feel his fingers graze your sides. Curtis is trying to tickle you in some sick revenge. It leaves you both smiling even while you take his wrists and force his hold lower. 

“Can’t seem to keep your promises, big guy.” 

“I’m a rebel,” he jokes with a smile, grabbing your ass to help you move, “and this is a good cause.” 

You’re so tired, and this is so perfect. No frantic movements make for a soft tide in the bath water, ebbing and flowing without breaching the ceramic edge, yet it’s enough to build a current strong enough that you both come, mumbling cursing and praises to each other.

“I don’t think you’re any cleaner than when we started,” you say, nuzzling the fading scruff of beard down his throat. As you recover with panting breaths, his cum washes away from his abs, diluted in the residual rhythm of the water. “Maybe a brisk rinse?”

Curtis’s eyes stay shut for most of the short shower.

He lets you lead him around to whatever angle is best and holds you for warmth when the chill gets into your bones briefly. The shock is refreshing though. 

Inside a cocoon of plush towels, his sleepy, happy eyes find yours, and he pulls the wrap tighter around your bodies.

“You kept your promise,” he chuckles. “I do feel like a million bucks, and I absolutely will sleep like a baby.”

You beam in his embrace, soft trapped in strong. 

“My bed is comfier than the couch,” you offer.

Curtis leans more of his weight onto you and sighs. 

“Honey, you’re the comfiest thing anywhere.”

from this game of "Comfort My Characters"

Thank you for asking!

A/N: Uuuuuuuugh, guys, this was difficult to write because I wouldn't stop swooning the entire time. Just let me wash the dirty man. Let me snuggle him in the tub and fall asleep to the sound of bursting bubbles 😭 I can't handle the sweetness!!!

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish (sry, you guys are probably sick of being tagged so much, let me know if it's too annoying plz)

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[leakyweep]

Childhood best friends!Corazon/Reader/Doflamingo

Modern AU

Check out the details and masterlist here!

A/N: ahhh i am so happy to be apart of this collab! i hope this fluffy story is a treat for halloween that you’ll absolutely love! and go check out all the other amazing blurbs written by my friends!

Words: 1.0k

No warnings, just some cute fluff 😌

Doflamingo leaned over the counter, face to the mirror as he fixed the eyeliner adorning his lids. He smudged it a little to give it a natural, smoky look and leaned back to take a good gander. He double checked the powder white paint covering his face and neck, making sure it was correctly blended. Even though you and his brother had practically begged on hands and knees to join them in the costume contest, he had “begrudgingly” accepted, rolling his eyes playfully as you two did your victory dance.

Now here he was, throwing on a purple and white baseball outfit dressed as a vampire. Oh, the things he did for the people he loved.

Walking out of the bathroom, he listened for the rustling of clothing or the sound of your voice, being led into your room to find his brother trying his best to fix a long, brown wig onto his head. He greeted him in the mirror, commenting on how he looked just like the dramatic Edward Cullen, earning a mocking chuckle from the taller man.

“Aren’t our characters like, enemies?” Corazon asked through the mirror, finally getting the hairline of the wig lined up just right with his own. He then grabbed the werewolf ears from the halloween store bag, fixing them on his head in the wig. He laughed when he saw how pale his brother was with the makeup. “Oh my God, you look like a mochi ball.”

Doffy just brandished a certain finger at him before approaching him and fixing some hair on the back of the cheap wig. Sure, he had just compared him to a soft, squishy ball of dough with flour all over the outside, but Doffy still wanted to make sure he, his brother, and their best friend looked the best they could. “Yeah, yeah. At least (y/n) also has to wear this pale ass makeup too.” He grumbled the words, but Corazon caught them and chuckled.

“I’m sure they’re going to enjoy the effort.” Cora turned back to the mirror for the finishing touches, standing from his chair and to his brother. “They really needed this.”

And it was true; your life had been filled with more downs than ups lately, and while the boys were there for you night and day, it still hadn’t filled the empty feeling in your chest thinking about the future.

But right now, it was your favorite holiday. You and your two best friends were going to a costume party, and all three of you were going to look just like the characters from Twilight, your favorite comfort movie. You had forced the older of the two brothers to join their movie marathon, and in the end, though he found it a bit cringy and corny – he enjoyed it for the sole purpose that you had shown such interest in making sure he caught every little detail of each movie. It made his cold heart warm a few degrees seeing someone he loved so much happy during a season of sadness.

When you emerged from the closet, a huge smile painted your face. Doffy’s powder-white face mixed with Cora’s cheap wig and dog ears made you double over laughing, your hands on your knees. Though, you were only laughing because you knew you looked just as ridiculous as them; dark circles painted under your eyes, your own face pale with white makeup, wearing an oversized baseball shirt and hat. “Oh my god, we look just like them!”

“You’re a liar and we all know it,” Doffy muttered, hiding the smile plastered on his face. You only headed over to where the two men were standing to engulf them in a tight hug, leaning into them when they wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Corazon laughed at his brother’s words.

“Oh c’mon, they’re right! Don’t I look like Jacob?” The lanky man turned his head only to dramatically swing it back towards you and his brother, giving his best smoulder and exclaiming, “Bella! Where the hell have you been, loca?”

Again, your stomach was hurting from laughing, leaning against Doffy as Cora approached you again. “C’mon, you gotta admit that was spot on.”

You looked up to Doflamingo now, running your fingers through your hair with a frustrated expression, doing your best to sound like Kristen Stewart as you grumbled, “I-I don’t know- Edward-I-“

Now it was Cora’s turn to guffaw, putting a hand on his forehead before exclaiming, “That was amazing!” Doflamingo tried his best to steel his expression, but you both saw the corner of his lips turn upwards ever so slightly.

“I guess it was good.”

You and Cora giggled and tried to convince Doffy to do an Edward impression but got no luck. He only shook his head and smirked, offering to carry the treats you guys made the previous day. Heading into the kitchen, the boys put an arm around you, kissing each of your temples. As if speaking for the both of them, Cora sighed,

“We’re lucky to have such a great best friend like you. You are so important to us.”

After the shit few weeks you had, the words brought tears to your eyes. Not willing to ruin your makeup though, you only sniffed a bit, holding the tears at bay. Doffy was busying himself with the ghost-shaped rice krispies and vampire blood punch, bad with feelings and trying to show that he cared in his own way. You had learned over the years that while Cora was skilled in verbal appreciation, Doffy was a giving person who opted to help physically rather than emotionally.

You gave each of them a peck on the cheek for their love, grabbing the dish of jack-o-lantern cookies and following them to the car. With a group hug, you squeezed them tight before getting in the car. Of course you were going to give them a pep talk.

“No matter what, whether we win or not,” you started, staring daringly into the men’s eyes, “we’re going to have fun with our costumes, show everyone our cute little treats, and most importantly- enjoy our favorite holiday!”

With a nod and a kiss on the cheek from both men, you got in the car, heading to the party while listening to The Nightmare Before Christmas songs and- of course- Spooky Scary Skeletons. While you and Corazon sang along, dancing and giggling, Doffy sat in the driver seat, trying to fight the beaming smile that threatened to take over his features.

[mjfsupremacy]

Today has taught me we need more women in wrestling media period but also because all these dudes are way too okay with like legit violence.

"CM Punk told the truth! This made AEW look like chumps! He barely even touched him! He got fired for this!"

Punk's Version.

1) CM Punk said Jack Perry initiates the conversation and then tells him to "do something about it"

2) Punk says he turns to TK and says "Are you going to do something about this?" And TK throw his hands up and ignores them.

3) Punk says this leads to him having to put Jack in a 'light' headlock to keep in restrained.

Fact.

1) We will never know what was said.

2) What we do know is Punk initiated a conversation. During that conversation, Jack looked uncomfortable but at no point appeared aggressive physically toward Punk.

3) TK was behind the computer closest to the camera and does not appear to be involved in the conversation. Punk does look his way very briefly.

4) After a few moments of conversation, Punk then pushes or punches Jack and attempts to take him to the ground in an incomplete headlock while Jack Perry has his hands up adjusting his hair.

5) Several wrestlers and backstage staff step in to separate. TK's hand can be seen over the monitors that Punk pushes the altercation into resting on Punks shoulder briefly.

6) Jack Perry doesn't strike back.

7) When Punk is dragged back past TK, whose hands are on the monitors, he moves towards his aggressively and appears to be shouting.

8) Chris Hero (in the Red/Purple shirt) gets in between Punk and Kahn and pushes him away with Jerry Lynn.

This made AEW look bad.

It did. But I really didn't see any outcome where they came out of this as a winner.

Yes, he did get fired for this....

he was violent with a coworker no matter how little you think the altercation was, what wrong with you?

No, this did not make CM Punk look good...

Again, what is wrong with you?

- The only person who looked good in this was Hook for his commitment to being an unbothered king.

- Jack Perry didn't deserve to be assaulted at work

- Neither did Tony

- Everyone at AEW deserves an apology

- Let's never talk about that loser again in regards to AEW 😌

[ryuseibutgayer]

𝓘 𝓓𝓸,, 𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝓤𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓟𝓽.2

𝓗𝓸𝔀 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮

𝓒𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓛𝓸𝔀𝓴𝓮𝔂 𝓼𝓾𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓿𝓮, 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓵𝓵

𝓓𝓻𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓷 𝓦𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓣𝓸 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓑𝔂 simply asking by the question on a park walk date and try not to make so big of a deal out of it until after the wedding (🫣). He thought about this for a month or so until he devised a plan he felt was enough.

𝓓𝓻𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓷 𝓘𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝓑𝔂 taking the day off from work for just the two of you. You'll go out to lunch and just take the day to have a prolonged comfortable date and relaxing time together. After dinner at your guys' favorite restaurant, he'll just take you both out for a nice drive. On the boardwalk where you both had your first date and enjoy each other's company in the memories, he'll pop the question. Boom 😌👏

𝓜𝓲𝓽𝓼𝓾𝔂𝓪 𝓦𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓣𝓸 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓑𝔂 making you a wedding dress himself, but that'd require quite a lot of effort to evade your suspicion... there's really no way to sneak that.

𝓜𝓲𝓽𝓼𝓾𝔂𝓪 𝓘𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝓑𝔂 pulling a princess and the pea. He asks if you'll allow him to try and design a nice piece of clothing for you and your birthday, which of course you agree to. The whole time you have to keep asking him if he has a pin stuck in the collar because something back there is just fucking annoying the shit out of you. By the time the work is nearly finished a few weeks later, you're trying it on and you've absolutely had it- you fish around behind your collar and you pull off 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒓??? You turn back to question but oops, did mitsuya drop his pin cushion? No-? Then wh...-? 🙄 oh myyyy oh my goddddd who saw this comiiiing

𝓟𝓪𝓱-𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓷 𝓦𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓣𝓸 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓑𝔂 making a cake for you with the ring in the center. He then remembered "wait then how would they know where the fuckin ring is-?" Didn't really consider you might choke, just moved on.

𝓟𝓪𝓱-𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓷 𝓘𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝓑𝔂 folding a 1,000 paper cranes. Traditionally, 1,000 paper cranes in Japan earns you a wish. The cranes will be in a room stuffed into bouquets, as well as 1,000 roses, as he sweetly and awkwardly stands there holding a bouquet and a ring, pink in the face and stuttering like a buffoon. Give him a second <3 "I- I wish that you'll marry me-!" He tries so hard for you oml

𝓟𝓮𝓱-𝓨𝓪𝓷 𝓦𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓣𝓸 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓑𝔂 coming up with a damn idea. He's had this on his mind. For a year. NO- SINCE HE FLIPPIN MET YA. SO GAH WHY CAN'T HE THINK OF ANYTHING?!...but then he remembers something. You're both about to move into a new apartment! He'll just stuff it with his shirts and find a time to propose sometime over dinner or something soon after you move. Right?

𝓟𝓮𝓱-𝓨𝓪𝓷 𝓘𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝓑𝔂 making a giant shit of a mistake. He completely forgot he stuffed the ring box into his suitcase of clothes, and while he went to go bring in the huge boxes of kitchen appliances and such, he asked you to help him throw some clothes out on the bed and that he'd help start sorting clothes once he's done bringing in the rest of the boxes. So this man here waddles in the room nearly about to shit his pants when you say "what's this?", coming in looking like he's about to have a heart attack with his Adidas slides flopping on the floor as the swooshes of cargo shorts and an ugly purple shirt sloppily buttoned up scream from under his panic. This man here snatches it, stutters "uh-" 50 times, then turns around on a knee and proposes to you before 10 in the morning. 💀 Good luck unpacking that.

𝓑𝓪𝓳𝓲 𝓦𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓣𝓸 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓑𝔂 sky diving and proposing when yall land. He's fucking crazy. Nothing more needs to be said.

𝓑𝓪𝓳𝓲 𝓘𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝓑𝔂 taking you to a cat café early in the morning- just before 11. You guys will enjoy a nice and simple late breakfast with pretty nice coffee, and all of a sudden you hear bells chime from a cat play room. You, with your cat lovin ass, gets excited and decides now's about a good time to go play with the kitties before you leave. ₜₕₑᵣₑ'ₛ ₐ fᵤcₖᵢₙg qᵤₑₑₙ cₐₜ-? All of the cats are just like tiny little insignificant fuck nuggets compared to this one grand and gigantic black cat with yellow eyes (Baji specifically adopted a hypoallergenic but fluffy breed from a shop and asked permission to have this set up here at the café- he's gonna ask to name it "Peje K", and yes you're gonna deny it), which has the most insane looking collar. Giant copper bells, beautiful lace, and a cute brooch- except once you pick it up, you're gonna realize it's a little ring. Good luck with all this.

𝓚𝓪𝔃𝓾𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓪 𝓦𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓣𝓸 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓑𝔂 gₑₜₜᵢₙg ₒᵤₜ ₒf ₚᵣᵢₛₒₙ

𝓚𝓪𝔃𝓾𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓪 𝓘𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝓑𝔂 getting the dumbest but oddly enough, most helpful tattoo I've seen yet. He'll hide it from you for about a month (somehow you aren't gonna notice, you do you), it's on his forearm. One day when he shows up to pick you up from work, he'll be wearing a suit (sewn together by Mitsuya) with flowers in hand. He has you take the flowers as he rolls up his sleeve- he's got the ring on his pinkie finger in offering as he shows the tattoo of two vertically stacked hollow boxes, both labeled in clean font off to the left side of each, one saying yes, the other saying no.

[chamaleonsoul]

hi ana <3 could we have your fashion enthusiast thoughts about milan luke pretty please?

Hiiiiiiiii

an opportunity to ramble about two of my favourite topics??? Thank you!! And also another excuse to scroll through my gallery looking at pictures of Luke that make my cry and wonder how i haven't been admitted into a mental institution yet? THANK YOU. Also, i'll do you one better and give you my professional thoughts about it 😌 (i'm still a few months away from graduating but idc!! fashion designers are made not graduated).

Okay sooooo, let's begin in chronological order shall we? First we have, the White Stripped Suit™:

This one is my Favourite visually (<-this will make sense later) for many various reasons. 1) While white is a colour that suits literally everyone, it's one of Luke's star colours since his colour profile is light (light eyes, skin & hair. This means light colours make him stand out [if that were possible, he is the sun in its human embodiment but whatever 🙄]), and I appreciate the person who assembled this outfit together because they knew what they were doing. Also, i have a liking for striped/grid fabrics, so.

2) While the fit is very modern (slim, simple and clean) the combo with the open collar shirt with print on the chest, chain necklaces + chest hair showing😵‍💫💫 make the whole look very 70's and i, a person who loves the sluttiness of that decade, like that very much.

3) I'm a big fan of the signature Luke Hemmings ring set™😵‍💫😵‍💫 + the double charm necklaces😵‍💫 in silver, with matching silver glittery eyeliner???😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 12/10.

This suit gets bonus points bc it's similar to one used by one of my favourite blorbos<333 Louis de Pointe du Lac in Interview with the Vampire (2022).

Overall, it's a simple outfit, but it's leaning towards a statement outfit (because of the almost total-white-look [the shoes break that but it's fine]) and i personally Love that🤍🤍

Then we have outfit #2:

Unfortunately I did not find many pics of this one? Sad bc i can't give it such a detailed analysis, but I can say that I love love love the sharpness dark colours bring to his features. And this black on black pattern/stripes over knitted shirt? Mwah. Once again a very harmonic and cool combination of colours + silver complements (makeup, jewerly) that fit him perfectly!! (And the way the pearls just sit on his neck like that? Absolutely ridiculous).

In spot #3 we have what sent me into cardiac arrest and almost made me throw my phone into the abyss (aka plaid purple outfit):

This one,,,,, this one right here🥲🥲🥲 First of all, it makes me so happy (as a Luke fan, as a designer and as a person) to see he's experimenting with clothes and image and the way he presents himself to the world. This is what modern fashion is made for!!! To help you find a visual representation of who you are!!! And it really makes me so sentimental to see this and remember things like that old tweet where he said he felt weird putting on lip balm and now here he is, daring to do so much more than that, enjoying himself, being happy– it just🥹🥹🥹 I cry.

Solely because of that, this could be my favourite one, but in addition we have:

-The punk touch of it all🖤 that i so love!! Starting with the plaid of course, then the chunky studed shoes with the usual delicate jewerly he uses layered with that industrial chain (and all the rings😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫).

-The loose fit of both the skirt and jacket makes me think he's comfortable experimenting but also not throwing himself head first, which is great!! The jacket is wide enough he can cover himself naturally if he feels the need to, and the long skirt is a safe new territory because it covers almost the same as pants do, and the pleates bring some texture/volume to the fit since he's not wearing a shirt (i feel so dizzy).

-Gorgeous matching hand bag!! I love seeing him with one don't text.

-Makeup is subtle but also matches the whole outfit (boy obviously enjoys an harmonic combo, he's just like me<3).

All that makes this outfit my favourite one because of what i'm getting from it<3 (although visually #1 is still my fave. There's just something about it that scratches my brain the right way).

Moving on to #4

Yet another star colour of his!!! (since his colorimetry is light+cool, blue is His colour). And this particular shade is very, very close to the colour of 2023, we love a superstar🌟 on trend.

This is what i call a standard Luke Hemmings, which means a casual combo of a nice 2 piece suit with a comfy/fun top and boots (can be alternated with tennis shoes). I'm obsessed with his shirt collection🥲

Of course i can't go by this one without making a reference to Miami Vice because come on. It's right there!! This fit is obviously looser and following the oversized trend that came (and that'll stay for a while) with quarantine and the whole 80's<3 revival. I also love me a good italian lapel ngl. So this outfit earns a #3 spot on the list!

And last but not least we've got:

This gorg plaid beige + black shirt combo of which I also didn't find many pics of :/ however, it's safe to assume this was a tank top situation with brown/black shoes to match.

Once again we have a beautiful set of rings that scorch my braincells<3 with a sky blue wristlet i want to steal immediately!! It's so pretty and i wonder what he keeps in his purses besides his phone and maybe some lip product. I don't need sleep, i need answers.

Anyways. While beige usually is considered a warm colour, this one in particular leans towards cool, which stays on line with all i've mentioned before ((:

I also like that the make up is a little more noticeable since the outfit is more subdued. This one is a #4 on the list, which weirdly makes the black jacket outfit last?? Surprising since i'm personally married to black, but whats a girl gonna do

And sooooo, overall i think the outfits are simple, comfortable and kinda classic even, but have a few modern touches that elevate them for the occasion🤍 I love that since I both personally and professionally prefer that mix of styles.

Not gonna apologize for the long ass response bc you brought this unto yourself!! Licherally!! Anyways, thank you for coming by and asking my thoughts, i really appreciate it🤍 (:

[fyodorsmistress]

Hi my favorite little kinky twinky, I'm back again because I have my headcanons, I'm currently writing this instead of analyzing the cultural impact gothic writing, has on our modern literature today. Because ya know unhinged headcanons about a fictional war criminal is so much important than my grades <3

*Fyodor likes to take cold showers, even though he complains about always being cold??

*Fyodor accidentally set his hat on fire...several times (lmao)

Fyodor hates the color beige like so much that he tour up every single beige item of clothing at a store once. (he got away with it.)

Fyodor is allergic to chestnuts

Fyodor didn't know what the omega versus was and asked Dazai randomly what it was, Dazai didn't explain it to him, but he bought a shirt for Fyodor off of Etsy that reads "I'm daddy's omega" He still doesn't understand the reference and wears the shirt.

Fyodor got harassed by Ranpo online for like WEEKS. Neither one of them knew who the other was

Fyodor listened to Mistki one time and hasn't fully recovered since

Fyodor hates whole grain bread

Fyodor wears mismatching socks because he likes to stress Ivan out because he's not "dressed properly"

Fyodor accidentally made mustard gas when he was cleaning his bathroom. (it actually does happen, don't mix chemicals.)

Fyodor thought Atsushi was like 13 for the longest time and still thinks people are lying when they say he's actually 19

Fyodor crashed a random couple's wedding and ended up Djing for them??

Fyodor thought Kenji was homeless and bought him food because he felt just the tiniest bit bad. Kenji is not homeless and just gave him free food LMAO

Fyodor can do long division but if you ask him to do it he's going to literally jump out of a window, he finds it annoying.

DAZAI HC

Dazai accidentally got so drunk he went missing for a whole week and was in Belgium working as a baker.

Dazai did cocaine by accident and ended up having to sign an NDA with the Chinese Government.

Dazai is a certified pre-school teacher

Dazai has hijacked a truck that was caring bandages and stole like a year's supplies worth.

Dazai hates the color purple with a passion, like if he didn't know how to shut up now, he will be ranting for HOURS about the goddamn color.

Dazai actually did try to kill Mori by poisoning his coffee, but Dazai didn't read the label and he gave Mori probiotics.

Dazai met the Queen of England and is now not allowed to Step foot in any territories of the UK.

Dazai has one of the highest scores in pokemon and brags about it to ranpo.

Ranpo gifted Dazai alcohol for his birthday and Dazai still hasn't drank it because he's sentimental like that

Dazai can barely cook himself food so Atsushi often comes over and makes food for Dazai.

Dazai doesn't know how to tie his shoe without the bunny-ear technique, like its the only way he knows how.

Sincerely your one and only NDA with china

-🪱

posting this so i can rb on my REAL blog😌