#i think the pictures are self explanatory...

[submattsmxmmy]

ᯓ⋆˚✿ stepbro!chris nsfw alphabet

ᯓ⋆˚✿ A - Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Chris wouldn't be caught dead being clingy or needy for your attention after sex. He becomes rather avoidant after, not wanting you to think that he's there for anything more than that.

However, when you really need it, he'll cuddle with you until the two of you fall asleep. Although he acts like it's the biggest inconvenience in the world, he does really like these moments - spooning you with his legs tangled in yours, your warm body pressing against his, and the rhythmic sound of your breath lulling him to sleep.

ᯓ⋆˚✿ B - Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Chris' favorite body part of his own is his arms, more specifically his biceps. He loves wearing tank tops and cut off shirts around you to show them off.

His favorite body part of yours is your neck. He loves marking it up with his teeth and wrapping his fingers around it.

ᯓ⋆˚✿ C - Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Chris loves cumming anywhere - your ass, your thighs, your tits, your stomach, in your mouth, but he especially loves cumming on and in your pussy - especially since you're on the pill, but his favorite place to cum is on your pretty face. He can't get enough of the way you look up at him, smiling after he finishes on your gorgeous features, his pearly white fluids glistening on your perfect skin.

ᯓ⋆˚✿ D - Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Chris occasionally steals your lingerie to jack off into, and he's been doing it since before the two of you ever did anything sexual together. He always washes it and puts it back after he's finished busting all over it while he pictures it draped over your body. You've never caught him or noticed any of it missing, so he's decided to keep it to himself.

You secretly wish you'd come home and stumble upon Chris jerking off. You love the idea of watching him bust all over his hand while you're peeping on him.

ᯓ⋆˚✿ E - Eating you out (how do they like to do it?)

Chris loves going down on you. He loves the way you taste, the way you squirm under his tongue, and the way you moan his name when he closes his lips down around your clit and sucks on it with the perfect pressure. He sees eating pussy as an art form, and he's always dying to creatively express himself through it.

ᯓ⋆˚✿ F - Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Chris' favorite position is definitely doggystyle. He can't get enough of the way you arch your back when he pulls on your hair. He loves staring at your ass, watching it jiggle and slapping it hard, making you yelp and leaving behind red handprints on your plush skin. A close second favorite of his is when you're down on your knees with his cock tucked behind your plump lips.

For you, your favorite is missionary, or just any position that gives you the opportunity to gaze into his perfect blue eyes. There's something about the way Chris looks at you while he's choking you that makes you cum harder than any other position.

ᯓ⋆˚✿ G - Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Chris will definitely crack a few dark jokes here and there, but despite this, his demeanor during sex is rather serious, and if you try to joke around with him in a way that he doesn't find witty or clever, it would definitely ruin the mood for him.

"Oh, y'think you're funny? Shut the fuck up and take my cock, ya little slut."

ᯓ⋆˚✿ H - Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Chris keeps it all natural, occasionally trimming when his hair gets out of control, but for the most part, he just leaves it be.

He prefers when you do the same, and he'll sometimes ask you to put off wax appointments because he just has a little bit of a thing for body hair.

ᯓ⋆˚✿ I - Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Chris wouldn't use the word romantic to describe the way he has sex, but he is passionate.

You, however, have seen his romantic side. Despite how rough and unhinged Chris is when he's fucking you, there's something about the way he holds you, touches you, kisses you, and looks at you that you would describe as extremely romantic.

ᯓ⋆˚✿ J - Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Chris loves jerking off when you're not home for him to use. He loves looking at nude pictures you've sent him and using your satin lingerie as fuel for his dirty fantasies he has about you.

He often finds himself in your shared bathroom, one hand gripping the edge of the counter and the other hand using your panties to jerk off as he stares down at his phone, eyes glued to the various pictures of your tits, your ass, and your pretty pussy. He loves running his thumb over his tip, and he can't help himself from moaning your name while he does this, pretending it's your mouth in place of his hand.

ᯓ⋆˚✿ K - Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Chris has nearly every kink under the sun, but his big ones are when you call him daddy, when you cry and beg for him during sex, and when he fucks you so hard that you go dumb on his cock.

"Oh, Chris - I- F-fuck," you stumble over your words, struggling to get a coherent sentence out in between moans. "What's the matter, pretty girl? Did daddy fuck you so hard that it scrambled your brain?" He coos in response, relishing in how simple it is for you to forget your train of thought while he's railing you.

ᯓ⋆˚✿ L - Location (favorite places to do the do)

Chris loves fucking you everywhere in the house. He loves fucking you over the arm of the couch, on the kitchen counter, on the dining room table - anywhere he can get his hands on you that's out in the open where your parents could walk in on you at any given moment.

When they're home, though, he likes to keep it just a bit more private - fucking you into your mattress or his, railing you in the shower, or bending you over the bathroom counter and making you look into his eyes in the mirror while he takes you from behind.

You prefer having sex with him in his car over all other places, mostly because he drives you out to the mountains or the forest. You can be as loud as you want, and the risk of the two of you getting caught there is much lower than if the two of you were home.

ᯓ⋆˚✿ M - Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

What turns Chris on the most is your desperation. You begging for his tongue, his fingers, his cock, or begging him to let you finish is like music to his ears.

"P-please, Chris. So close. Can't take any more teasing," you insist, knuckles turning white as you grip the sheets beneath you, tears pricking the corners of your eyes and rolling down your cheeks as you wince in pleasure.

"So desperate for it, aren't ya?" He purrs, a smile curling on his lips as he takes in the sight. "That's it, pretty girl. Keep cryin' for me."

ᯓ⋆˚✿ N - No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Chris would never let you dominate him under normal circumstances. It would have to be a special occasion, or you'd have to blackmail him into it. Despite the fact that he's curious about it and secretly wants to see your dominant side, he'd never tell you that.

There are only two things you'd never do - anal and giving a footjob. (Chris has asked for both.)

ᯓ⋆˚✿ O - Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Chris loves giving you head. He's incredibly good at it, and he knows it. That's part of why he likes it to so much. He knows exactly how to flick his tongue in a way that makes you squeeze your thighs around his head and tug on his hair.

Even more than giving head, Chris loves receiving it. It's his favorite thing ever. Especially when he's in control. He loves looking into your teary-eyed expression while he's ramming his tip into the back of your throat over and over, his fingers threading themselves into your hair as he forces you to swallow more of him.

"Fuck. Such a good little slut for me. We both know you can take more, and we both know you're dyin' for it, aren't ya?"

ᯓ⋆˚✿ P - Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

The only time Chris is slow and sensual is when he's teasing the fuck out of you or edging you. At first, he's soft, his movements controlled and methodical, but once he builds to the hard, fast, and rough, he can't do anything else. Luckily for him, his relentless and unwavering pace is perfect for you.

ᯓ⋆˚✿ Q - Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Chris loves the quickies you guys have, considering that most of the time, you have to be quick about it, so the two of you don't get caught. However, you both appreciate it when you get to take your time and aren't in a rush.

ᯓ⋆˚✿ R - Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Chris' motto is 'high risk, high reward.'

He'll try almost anything once, and the more adrenaline he gets from sex, the better. He especially loves having sex in risky places where the probability of being caught or walked in on is higher.

Along the lines of risky sex, he loves BDSM positions and practices that are dangerous if you don't know what you're doing. Thankfully, Chris does know what he's doing, and he'd never put your safety at risk, but he loves choking you until you pass out and hog tying you when you've misbehaved.

ᯓ⋆˚✿ S - Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Chris can last for nearly an hour if he needs to, but he can also finish in under a few minutes. It depends on the situation and how long it takes you to finish first.

He can go multiple rounds, thanks to his high sex drive and all the time he spends playing basketball and working out. He'll fuck you as many times as you need, and he won't stop until you're shaking.

ᯓ⋆˚✿ T - Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Chris doesn't own any toys of his own, but he does like using your toys on you. He knows which vibrator is your favorite, and he loves bringing it into the bedroom to tease you with it and heighten the experience.

The only thing Chris wouldn't be down with is you having a toy that's bigger than he is. He'd certainly take it as an insult.

"What? My eight inches isn't good enough for you? Greedy fuckin' girl." He definitely wouldn't let you keep it.

Good thing he doesn't know about your nine-inch suction cup dildo you have hiding in your drawer!... or does he?

ᯓ⋆˚✿ U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Chris is the ultimate tease. He always keeps you guessing about his next move. He loves bringing you right to the edge over and over again, and he's not opposed to just not letting you finish at all if he didn't like your attitude that day.

ᯓ⋆˚✿ V - Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

If the two of you are trying to be quiet, Chris will definitely hold back a bit, keeping his noises to a minimum, just grunts here and there accompanied with a lot of low volume dirty talk.

However, if there's no reason to be quiet, he doesn't hold back. His sounds are loud, guttural, and almost animalistic. He'll growl, moan, and won't worry about the volume of his dirty talk.

You, on the other hand, have a hard time staying quiet regardless of the circumstances. Chris loves this because it gives him an excuse to clamp his hand down over your mouth when your parents are home. "C'mon, sis. You don't want your daddy hearin' your pretty pussy gettin' ruined, do you? Shhh. Stay quiet, then."

ᯓ⋆˚✿ W - Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Chris is incredibly jealous. If he even thinks you're looking at another man or another man is looking at you, he'll become possessive very quickly.

Typically, when Chris is in relationships or even just hooking up with a girl, he likes to let everyone around know that she belongs to him. Especially when he notices other men checking her out, he likes to establish dominance. He'll pull her close, kiss her, and wrap his arms around her waist, and it kills him that he can't do that with you.

ᯓ⋆˚✿ X - X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Chris is packing, and he knows it. He loves it when you tell him it's too big or when it takes you a moment to adjust to his size.

"Too big, hmm?" He coos with a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face as he pushes it in just a bit deeper. "C'mon. We both know you can take it all."

ᯓ⋆˚✿ Y - Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High. Incredibly high. It really doesn't take much to turn him on. At any given moment, Chris is ready to go, and your sex drive is about the same.

ᯓ⋆˚✿ Z - Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It doesn't take long for Chris to fall asleep after. Usually by the time he's done fucking you, he went so hard, so rough, and so fast that he's exhausted.

You, on the other hand, especially if Chris falls asleep in your bed, you'll spend a little while watching him sleep. Not in a creepy way, but more so in an endearing way. Chris has caught you a few times, drifting in and out of consciousness, his eyes fluttering open to catch yours studying his gorgeous facial features.

"What are you lookin' at, creep?" He's jokingly asked you before, but he actually does find it sweet that you like looking at him so much. It strokes his ego that you find him so attractive.

[passionwillow]

Could we get a nsfw alphabet for Frankie?👉👈

YES YES WE CAN

Frank Langdon - NSFW Alphabet

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

He'll always clean you up and cuddle, but he usually needs a minute. He likes to bask in the afterglow, steady his breathing and hold you before getting up. A lot of time its a little rushed, only because he wants to just lay down and hold you.

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

He likes his hands. They save lives, they're skilled, and the way you react under his touch.. It drives him insane.

He loves your hips!!! He loves holding them!!! And using them to tug you closer on his cock UGH. Just grabbing at the flesh, holding for dear life.

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

He loves seeing it in your mouth or on your face. He usually likes finishing inside, but something about seeing your pretty face painted with it, or seeing you swallow it..

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

He loves being submissive for you! Letting you run the show, seeing the light in your eyes and your excited grin gives him a thrill. Order him around, call him a good boy.

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

He knows what he's doing. Whether that's experience or human anatomy knowledge, he's confident in his abilities. He knows where to touch you, how to curl his fingers or thrust just right to get you crying out.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

RIDE HIM. He loves seeing you on top, getting to just kiss and bite at your tits. If you aren't confident, he's happy to guide you and help or go for missionary.

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

Usually serious. He's focused and locked in on you, pleasuring you, but if something humorous happens he'll laugh. You guys trip, clothes won't come off, etc..

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

It's dark and thick, just like his hair. He keeps it maintained and under control, even shaving a little bit to help.

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

Usually pretty romantic! He isn't opposed to dirty talk or getting a little rough though, so it all depends on the mood.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Maybe a concerning amount. He can't help himself, he thinks about you nonstop. He's a little obsessed. So he's always sneaking off to receive himself, sending you pictures to taking videos.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He wouldn't mind being pegged. Part of him is nervous and part of him SERIOUSLY wants to try it. Otherwise, it's kind of the usual. Spanking, tying you up, a little choking.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bedroom, on call room, back of the car, literally he doesn't care. Just let him slip inside you (he begs for it you can't convince me otherwise).

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

You breathed. You looked at him, you smiled, you laughed. Literally everything gets him going. Just give him an excise, honestly.

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

Anything with piss, feces, vomit, or anything that could seriously hurt you. He has his limits, even if it's something you'd try. He can't imagine harming you.

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

A MUNCH. Desperate at anytime to taste you. Sit on his face and just let him feast. He could go at it for hours if you'd let him. When it comes to him, he'd never turn down. blowjob. If you don't really want to, cool with him. But seeing you on your knees gagging and choking on him? Ugh.

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

He can go whatever you like. He can pound into you and fuck you senseless or the his sweet time and draw it out. He's happy with whatever, he just follows the mood.

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

Lovessss them. He looks forward to pulling you into an empty room and pinning you to the wall, or finding an empty bed and taking you in an on call room. He's always mumbling and whining into your neck about how he'll be quick, just needs you for a second.

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

He'll experiment to a degree, and he loves the thrill of getting caught. Someone seeing you moan around his cock, or clinging to his shoulders as he pounds you.

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

Easily 2-3 before he needs a break. He just gets so revved up and high off of you, he doesn't even notice that his won body is telling him to stop.

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

YES YES YES. Vibrators are his favorite. Pressing one to your clit and watching you squirm and cry out, or losing his damn mind when you use it on his cock. Handcuffs, gags, blindfolds. He enjoys all of it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can't tease you for long because he cracks in no time. And he gets so whiny and pouty when you tease him! Tugging at your clothes, begging for just a minute with you.

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

SO loud. So whiny and needy and he doesn't know how to be quiet. You usually have to cover his mouth when he goes at it with you at work because he's so blissed out.

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

Claw the hell out of him. He loves seeing the marks your nails leave, the red streaks on his back.

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

A good 5 inches, average thickness. Not super huge or anything but more than enough to get the job done.

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

HELLO??? Always horny. Always needy. Always desperate nad tugging you into an empty room or hall.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He passes out. Arm around you, weight half on you, face in your chest. He's out like a light.

[viperbunnies]

Want to snoop around Oz's phone? Check it out here!

(Took some inspo from @.ephemii ‘s socmed au, and some of the snapshots were inspired from @.Nova_1810 on the alphabet app)

[likeathunderoverflow]

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

mood board of decor I firmly believe exists in the Curtis home

[mengyan]

pei sijing get behind me. your moral code is too unyielding your values are too straightforward your speech is too candid your protection is too loyal your love is too self-sacrificial your heart is buried too deep and the darkness and overwhelming loneliness that rests on your shoulders and the haunted look in your eyes is too close to consuming you. they’ll kill you

[napstabl00k]

Ragatha and Lila from @burrotello's boxing au. It was supposed to be a comp of au ragathas, but i got too distracted with just these two, so take them as you will

[spinnysocks]

finally made one of these again! :)

this was so funny to make, i missed doing these. i had so many thoughts so i'll put them in the tags as usual hehe

bonus :3

[domilomi]

Stole mya’s idea hiii👋👋👋

[idlingsomewhere]

holy smokes + hyperfixated + are you ok 🫡

I find these off pintrest.

Which moot am I guys?????????

[solxamber]

Lease and Let Die || Lilia Vanrouge

You needed a roommate. You got Lilia Vanrouge. He’s upside down on your ceiling, burns every meal, might be immortal—and weirdly? He’s perfect.

You’ve hit rock bottom. Not the dramatic, movie kind—no, this is the quiet, pathetic kind where your roommate runs off to “find themselves” in a polycule commune and leaves you with the full rent and a fridge that smells like betrayal.

Running on three hours of sleep, gas station muffins, and a caffeine tolerance that borders on war crime, you post the most honest roommate ad you can manage:

“Please, just pay rent on time and don’t leave knives in the sink. Or summoning circles. I’m tired.”

Five minutes later, your phone pings.

“I’ve never missed rent, my knives are ceremonial, and I haven’t summoned a proper demon in decades. When do I move in? —L.V.”

You blink at your phone. You reread the message. You decide it’s probably fine.

Twenty-four hours later, Lilia Vanrouge shows up at your door.

He’s wearing a leather jacket, eyeliner sharp enough to cut glass, and a smile like he knows exactly how you’re going to die—and thinks it’s kind of cute.

“You must be my new roommate!” he chirps, setting down a suitcase that audibly hums.

You nod slowly, brain buffering. “Are you... bringing more stuff?”

“Oh, no,” he says, cheerfully. “Just this. And the coffin.”

“The what—”

But he’s already inside, complimenting your curtains and asking where the nearest leyline convergence is.

You stare blankly. Somewhere in the apartment, the Wi-Fi cuts out.

You have no idea what the hell you just signed up for.

But at least he promised that he does his own dishes.

It started off sweet. Really, it did.

You had late evening classes three times a week and by the time you trudged across campus toward home, the only light came from flickering streetlamps and your phone screen at 3% battery.

One night, as you packed your things into your bag, Lilia appeared beside you like a helpful poltergeist.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said cheerfully, slinging your bag over his shoulder before you could argue.

Your first reaction? Touched. Emotional. Betrayed by your own sentimentality. Because nobody had ever said anything that nice to you on this hell-washed campus. Not your professors, not your classmates, not even your overpriced coffee machine, which had begun growling whenever you approached.

You looked at him with stars in your eyes and said, “That’s… really kind. Thank you.”

He shrugged, the picture of casual coolness, if casual coolness was wearing a floor-length black cloak and bat earrings. “The darkness listens better when I’m near.”

And that was when the stars in your eyes shriveled and died.

You blinked. “I’m sorry, the what?”

“The darkness,” he said, like this was self-explanatory. “It whispers sometimes. And when I’m around, it’s polite about it.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Reopened it. “And… that’s supposed to be comforting?”

“It means I’ll hear if anything wants to drag you into an abyss. I can bargain with those.” He beamed at you. “Some of them owe me favors.”

You stared at the sidewalk as you walked. You were no longer sure if this was a sweet gesture or a prelude to demonic possession.

At one point, a crow landed on a lamppost and screamed. Lilia tilted his head and murmured something in a language you didn’t know, and the crow just nodded and flew away.

You weren’t sure if you should feel safer.

“Lilia,” you said cautiously, “do I need to be worried?”

He laughed, delighted. “Oh, no! You’re not a threat to the veil between realms. Not yet.”

You did not like the word yet. Not one bit.

Still… you made it home. Your front door was mysteriously unlocked (Lilia claimed the house “let him in”), the kitchen light had fixed itself, and your dying plant had perked up. So maybe walking home with your roommate wasn’t the worst idea in the world.

You just had to make peace with the fact that the shadows sometimes waved at him.

And that he waved back.

You were dying. There was no other way to describe it.

The dining table was a battlefield: open textbooks stacked like defensive walls, notes scattered like fallen soldiers, and a graveyard of empty mugs bearing silent witness to your descent into academic hell. Your eye twitched. The caffeine was doing nothing. You were 84% sure your soul had left your body three hours ago. The only thing keeping your bones upright was spite.

“I swear to every cruel god out there,” you muttered, “if I don’t pass this exam, I’m just gonna lay down in the student union and let the crushing weight of debt take me.”

From the couch—where he had been laying upside down like an actual bat for the past twenty minutes—Lilia made a thoughtful noise.

“Do you require reinforcements? A siege beast, perhaps? I have a minor distraction spell that summons a screaming goat—”

“I need silence,” you hissed, snapping your highlighter in half with the ferocity of a person pushed beyond reason.

“Oh,” he said, far too delighted. “Say no more.”

He snapped his fingers.

There was a pop and then—nothing. Utter, blissful, terrifying silence. You blinked. The world was muffled in a sparkling purple haze. It was like someone had wrapped your brain in a pillow and told all your problems to go wait outside.

You got two pages of notes done before the smell hit you.

Burnt.

Burning.

Popcorn?

You looked up just in time to see a column of smoke trailing lazily from the kitchen.

You screamed. You didn’t hear it.

Lilia waved at you cheerfully from inside the fire alarm’s muted chaos.

You were too tired to cry and too caffeinated to blink. The popcorn was ruined, the fire alarm had only just stopped shrieking, and Lilia was poking at the charred remains in the microwave like it was a curious new species.

"I thought I had it set to two minutes," he said cheerfully, as if the kitchen wasn’t filled with smoke and the smell of scorched sadness.

“You set it to twenty,” you croaked, pointing accusingly at the still-blinking numbers. “Twenty minutes, Lilia.”

“Ah. So that’s what the little zeroes were for.” He turned around, beaming like a deranged warlock. “Good news is—I know just the thing to cheer you up.”

“No,” you said immediately. “Lilia, no.”

But it was already too late. He clapped his hands once, a ripple of eldritch magic shimmered through the air, and with a flash of light and a small puff of brimstone, something appeared.

Stanley, the goat.

He stood in the middle of your scorched kitchen. Just… stood there. He had little beady eyes, unimpressed with this plane of existence. A single bell jingled around his neck like it was mocking you personally.

And then he screamed.

It was the sound of every due date you’d missed, every essay you’d written at 3 a.m., every existential panic you’d had at the grocery store over the rising price of cheese. It was a scream that echoed through your soul and possibly opened a portal to another realm for a second.

Stanley screamed again. Lilia clapped, delighted.

“He’s motivated troops into battle before,” he said proudly. “And one time, a wedding.”

You stared at the ceiling. “I am going to be arrested. They’re going to cite you as the reason and the judge will nod solemnly because they’ll get it.”

Stanley climbed onto the counter and knocked over your last mug of coffee.

Lilia looked at you with the serene calm of someone who has caused kingdoms to fall. “Would you like me to summon Stanley’s cousin? Her name is Beatrice.”

You sank to the floor. “I just wanted popcorn.”

Stanley screamed.

It starts innocently. A Tuesday. You’re behind on three assignments, your laundry smells like something died in it (possibly your GPA), and Lilia is humming in the kitchen while making (very burnt) eggs in a suspiciously perfect spiral. Nothing unusual.

Until you open your history textbook.

You're scanning for bullet points—just enough to fake engagement during tomorrow’s class—and then you see it.

The name.

Lilia Vanrouge. Underlined. Bolded. In a war tactics section titled "Unconventional Victory: The Northern Siege and the General Who Outsmarted Death."

There’s even a sketched portrait. It’s him. Smirking like he knows something you don’t. Which is probably true.

You sit there for a moment, staring at the page, then at the kitchen doorway. Then back at the page.

Then you scream.

Lilia pokes his head in. “What’s wrong? Ghost in the textbook?”

“You’re in the textbook!” you shout, holding it up like it might exorcise him.

He blinks at it, tilts his head. “Oh. That one. I told them not to use that portrait, it’s terribly outdated. My cheekbones are much sharper now.”

“YOU’RE A WAR GENERAL.”

He grins. “Was. Ages ago. The title’s more of a... dusty old accessory now.”

You pace. “I’ve been yelling at you about buying sugary cereal for weeks.”

“You called me a ‘coward of capitalism.’” He sounds fond. “It was very compelling.”

“I made you split a bag of off-brand marshmallows with me because I couldn’t afford dinner.”

He beams. “It was charming! Very wartime spirit of you.”

You throw yourself face-first into your pillow and scream until the pillow gives up.

“I didn’t think you’d care for old titles.”

“I care that you’re in a textbook!”

He sits beside you, offering the plate. “I also invented this egg spiral. There’s a footnote about it in Chapter Seven.”

You consider the egg. You consider your life.

And then you accept the plate. Because apparently you’re living with a retired war general who hoards cereal and hums lullabies in ancient dialects.

And somehow, this still isn’t the weirdest week you’ve had.

You don’t ask him seriously at first. It’s a joke—half a groan, half a petty fantasy as you drag yourself home from another night class, your arms sore from carrying too many books and your pride bruised from yet another “spirited” discussion with your favorite nemesis: Professor Drywall Brain.

“I swear to the gods, Lilia,” you mutter as you slam the door behind you, “if that man says ‘technically that isn’t historically accurate’ one more time, I’m going to scream in four different languages. Loudly. In his office. While holding a tambourine.”

Lilia, sprawled upside-down on the couch in his usual dramatic corpse pose, peeks open one eye. “Want me to come with you next time?”

You laugh. “God, imagine. You in class with me. You’d eat him alive.”

But the next time your professor interrupts you for the third time in one sentence to cite a source he co-wrote with his own ego, something in you snaps.

Lilia shows up twenty minutes early the next class.

He’s wearing:

• A sparkly lavender Hello Kitty hoodie.

• Black platform boots that make him almost legally too powerful.

• A “#1 Gamer Granddad” hat, slightly crooked.

• A notebook. A very serious notebook. Labeled in bold marker: “HUMAN RITUALS (vol. I)”

You blink. “...This isn’t what I meant when I said ‘scare him.’”

“Too much?” he asks innocently, spinning the hat backwards like this is a very niche sitcom. “I can lose the boots.”

“No. Keep them. I want them burned into his memory.”

He does sit in on class. The professor, clearly confused but trying to be professional, asks who he is.

Lilia doesn’t answer with his name. He just smiles and says, “Observer of mortal wisdom,” and opens his notebook like he’s ready to witness a natural disaster.

Every time the professor says something snide or borderline wrong, Lilia makes a show of scribbling a note with an expression of mild horror. At one point he even raises a hand—a single gloved finger, dainty as sin—and asks if “contradicting published data is part of the mortal learning experience.”

By the end of the class, your professor looks like he’s aged six years.

On the walk home, Lilia loops his arm through yours and hums. “That was very educational. I should attend more.”

“Please don’t,” you whisper, though you’re also grinning. “You’re going to get me expelled.”

“Not if I become the dean first,” he says cheerfully.

You don’t know if he’s joking. You don’t ask.

You just feel very safe walking home that night.

The day your professor emailed your grade, you were still deep in the throes of post-group-project resentment. You hadn’t slept. Your eye had developed a twitch. You’d seen God briefly while editing the final slide deck at 3AM and He told you to log off. You didn’t.

You were still thinking about it. Sitting on the kitchen floor in socks that did not match, eating cold instant ramen with a fork because all the chopsticks had mysteriously disappeared (you suspect Lilia), and rereading your group’s submission like it was a cursed tome. Because somehow, somehow, it was… good?

Like disturbingly good.

It started normal. Blah blah, feudal kingdoms, blah blah, agricultural collapse—but halfway through, it got weirdly intense. The writing shifted from standard student filler to vivid descriptions of battlefield strategy and personal loss. There were diary entries from a dying soldier. Quotes like:

“The horses screamed louder than the men.”

Who wrote that?

You didn’t write that.

Your groupmates definitely didn’t write that—one of them tried to cite Wikipedia by just linking it in the footnotes and calling it a day.

And then you saw it. On the last page, listed under "Additional Resources":

• Blood-Soaked Memoirs, Vol. II

• War and Tea: Reflections of a Veteran General

• Me (I Was There), by L.V.

You stared at the screen.

Then you turned slowly—so slowly—to face the upside-down body perched on your living room ceiling like a decorative gargoyle.

“Lilia,” you said, voice trembling, “did you write my paper?”

He flipped mid-air and landed soundlessly, mug of tea in hand, wearing his fuzzy bat slippers and a shirt that said Don’t Talk To Me Until I’ve Had My Potion.

“Of course I did,” he said cheerfully. “I couldn’t just let you hand in that disaster your groupmates conjured. I’d seen more structure in a battlefield charge made by drunk goblins.”

You blinked. “You used actual war stories.”

“Well, I was there."

“YOU CITED YOURSELF.”

“And they say self-reflection is dead.”

You buried your face in your hands. “I’m going to get expelled for plagiarism from a guy who fought in the Demon Rebellion of 1043.”

He patted your head. “Nonsense. I am the primary source.”

You screamed. The fire alarm went off again. Lilia casually waved away the smoke from your scorched popcorn and floated back to the ceiling.

You got an A+.

You never looked your professor in the eyes again.

The ramen’s cold. You’re sitting on the linoleum like you’ve lost all connection to chairs and dignity. Your laptop screen glows ominously from the counter, blinking with the cheerful menace of “Project Scores Available Now!” and you, a coward, have chosen denial.

It’s not dramatic. It’s survival.

You twirl a limp noodle around your fork and sigh like a Victorian widow. “If I fail this class, I’m going to live in a bog.”

From above, something shifts. A soft creak. You don’t even flinch anymore.

Lilia is upside down on your kitchen ceiling, arms crossed like a sleeping bat, hair dangling like he styled it specifically for zero gravity. His eyes are glowing just slightly in the dim light of the fridge. His entire posture says: I live here. Get used to it.

“You’ll be fine,” he says in that lilting tone of someone who has definitely hexed a registrar before.

You stare at him and jab your fork in his general direction. “Are you here to flirt with me or drink my blood?”

A beat.

“Yes,” he says, all teeth.

You shovel another bite of ramen into your mouth because honestly? Sounds great either way.

He drifts down from the ceiling a moment later, floating like an unsettling balloon and landing in a crouch beside you.

“You know,” he murmurs, peering into your bowl, “when I was in training, we had to fight actual hydras for credit. These grades mean nothing.”

“Yeah, well,” you grumble, “I’m fighting for my life against microwave deadlines and soul-crushing group projects.”

Lilia hums thoughtfully. “Still might be harder than the hydras.”

You blink at him. “...Really?”

“No,” he says sweetly. “But I am proud of you.”

And somehow, the noodles taste a little better after that.

It’s late. The kind of late where everything is quiet, the hum of the fridge is loud, and the streetlights cast long, sleepy shadows through the kitchen window. You’re both where you usually end up—on the floor, cross-legged, surrounded by mismatched mugs and half-eaten snacks, your laptop forgotten somewhere under a throw blanket.

You don’t know why you ask it. Maybe it’s the way he brewed your favorite tea without you asking. Maybe it’s the way he always waits until your shoulders slump before he starts playing that dumb, soothing lo-fi playlist. Maybe it’s just… him.

“Why are you so nice to me?” you ask.

Lilia doesn’t answer right away. He tilts his head, as if tasting the weight of your question in the air. His expression softens—not his usual mischievous grin or teasing smirk, but something quieter. Something old.

“Because,” he says, voice low, “I once led a thousand men into war for less than a kind word.”

He looks at you then, and it feels like the air stills.

“And you give them to me freely.”

“I was never quite friend. Never quite equal. Not really.”

His voice doesn’t change, but your heart lurches anyway.

“But you—” He finally glances down at you, eyes glowing faint in the dark kitchen light. “You argue with me about cereal. You yell at me to do the dishes. You make me playlists.”

He grins, crooked and fond. “You treat me like a person.”

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Not even a joke. Not even a deflection.

You blink too fast. You pretend it’s dust in your eye. You laugh like it’s a silly thing to say, like your throat isn’t tight and your chest isn’t aching in that strange, warm way he always brings.

He doesn’t call you out on it. He just passes you a cookie shaped like a bat and starts humming a song you don’t know but wish you did.

You think you’re in trouble.

You also think you don’t mind.

You burst through the front door like you’ve been launched from a cannon, nearly trip on your own shoes, and absolutely yeet your bag across the living room.

Lilia, as always, is committing war crimes in the kitchen. The smoke alarm gave up trying weeks ago. Today’s offense appears to be something that was probably lasagna and is now definitely a smoldering, unidentifiable cube.

He turns, oven mitts on both hands, looking entirely unbothered. “Oh? What’s got you bouncing around like a forest sprite on sugar?”

You can’t speak. You’re too giddy, too high on disbelief and the distinct buzz of miracle. You just hold up your phone, the grades page glowing like divine scripture.

“I PASSED!” you shout, already halfway into a hop.

He blinks. “All of them?”

You nod, borderline feral. “All of them. Even Philosophy, which I wrote the final paper on the wrong philosopher. The wrong century, even!”

Lilia sets down the scorched tray. “Ah. So the blessings worked.”

You freeze. Narrow your eyes. “What blessings?”

He smiles innocently. “Who’s to say? Perhaps the stars aligned. Perhaps the registrar owes me a favor. Perhaps I made a quiet appeal to an ancient power.”

“You hexed my finals.”

“I charmed your finals.”

You don’t care. You really, really don’t care. The stress is finally gone. Your body is light, your soul is free, and for the first time since this bizarre roommate-summoning-covenant began, you feel at ease.

So you cross the room in a few strides, grin so wide it nearly splits your face, and kiss him.

It’s impulsive. Honest. Stupid. Exactly right.

He hums, surprised but pleased, and kisses you back—tasting faintly of burned tomato sauce and centuries of mischief.

You pull away breathless, blinking. “I mean—uh—thank you?”

He chuckles, touching your cheek with one (still oven-mitted) hand. “You’re welcome, dearest.”

The lasagna is absolutely inedible, but you eat it anyway.

With him, even burnt food tastes like victory.

The kitchen floor is cold, the overhead light is buzzing ominously, and there’s a suspiciously damp dish towel under your back, but you’re too tired to care. Finals are over. The semester’s been crushed beneath your heel like a can of off-brand energy drink. Lilia’s lying beside you, arms folded behind his head, legs kicked up like he’s cloud-gazing instead of staring at the slightly water-stained ceiling.

There’s a half-eaten sleeve of cookies on your chest. You’re not sure who put it there. You’ve been eating them slowly, like a grazing animal trying to forget it exists.

You sigh. He sighs louder, out of sheer competition. You elbow him, he laughs. The fridge hums like it’s sharing in the moment.

Then, because it feels right—or at least stupid in the exact right way—you turn your head and say, “Hey, Lilia. Wanna get married?”

There’s a beat. Maybe two.

“Yup,” he says, cheerful as anything. “Let’s do it. Right now? I can carve the rings. I’ve got bone.”

You blink.

He smiles.

You blink again. “I was joking.”

“I wasn’t.”

Silence.

“Wait—bone?”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “What, you think I don’t have crafting materials?”

You stare at him. He stares right back, unblinking, until you crack up so hard the cookie sleeve falls off your chest and crumbles into sad little crumbs on the tile.

“Gods, you’re insane,” you wheeze, wiping your eyes.

He grins, fangs showing. “Only for you, spouse.”

You cover your face, but you're smiling like an idiot. Because even if he's joking—and you're not entirely sure he is—there’s a warmth in your chest that doesn’t feel like just cookie crumbs and post-finals exhaustion.

You’re doomed. You’re in love. And apparently, you’re engaged now.

Masterlist

"someone save me from this university" - me as i wrote this. (also was written very very high on caffeine and stress so i'm sorry for the extreme chaos)

[menagerofmischief]

nsfw alphabet -> ln4

main masterlist / navigation

nsfw alphabet (a-z)

lando norris x reader

a/n: another request from the request graveyard. I see you guys, I promise I'll try to get to all of them!

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

Lando is a clinger! He doesn't really wanna move, preferring to stay down and cuddle, twisting his body into your own and staying cozy from your warmth. If he has to move he will, but best believe some part of his skin will be touching your at all times. He's also big on sharing baths together afterward with you leaning back into him.

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

Boobs! He loves your boobs and if he could he would never take his hands off of them. Loves to cuddle with his hands up your shirt and just holding your boobs.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

Has no preference whatsoever. He likes anything, filling you up, cumming in your mouth, on your stomach/ass/back/tits. He's down for all of it and will always let out a little groan as he takes in the sight.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

He gets hard watching you do domestic things around your shared apartment. You're leaning down to put dishes into the dishwasher, boner! Reaching into the washing machine to pull out a lost sock? Boner! Vacuuming the new rug? Boner!

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

He's pretty experienced and knows what he's doing. Uses his experience to drive you absolutely wild.

F= Favorite position

Doesn't really have a favorite but enjoys positions where he can grab your boobs easily. Loves cowgirl because your tits are bouncing in his face, it's his own personal slice of heaven.

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

Sometimes when you're having soft/slower sex he'll randomly burst into giggles. Other than that he's pretty good at giving what the situation requires.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

He keeps it pretty neat, trimmed all the way down but doesn't completely shave it off. If you had different preferences he'd be up to trying and when it comes to you he doesn't mind anything as long as you're comfortable.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

He can swing either way but I do think that he leans a bit forward to romantic and wanting you to experience every touch deeply and feel everything. However if it was a bad day, get ready because he can and will absolutely go rough.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

Prefers you touching him rather than him touching himself but when you're not there or he's away, he'll be jacking off like a boy in puberty, always having your picture up on his phone or calling you to hear your voice.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

Lives for your praise! Call him a good boy and he'll be a puddle on the floor. Also loves sucking on your nipples, whether it's during the intercourse or just cuddling with his mouth attached to your tit.

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

Absolutely up for getting down and dirty anywhere but loves to do it in your apartment. Any surface/room will do.

M= Motivation (what gets them going)

You! End of story. One look of you and oh, where did his pants go?

N= No (something they won't do)

I think he's pretty much down to trying anything you're interested into but wouldn't want to do anything that could seriously hurt you.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

He loves tasting you almost as much as he loves when you're sucking him off so his absolute favorite is 69, where he can get the best of both worlds. Absolutely knows what he's doing and would eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

P= Pace (do they prefer it slow or fast)

Pretty good at reading the mood and following what you want. Want it faster, he's pounding you into the mattress so fast your head is spinning. Prefer is slow, he'll make sure you feel every inch and drag.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer quickies or taking their time)

Prefers to take his time and go for multiple rounds, but if either of you is feeling needy he'll absolutely pull you into the first corner and go for a quickie.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

He's up for experimenting and is pretty much down to try anything at least once. The most important thing for him is that you're both feeling comfortable.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go)

He can go multiple rounds at a time. Give him a second to catch his breath and he's already hard and leaking again, aching to get back into you.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

Has a whole drawer filled with all different sorts of toys and enjoys using them to bring you pleasure. Likes to keep a vibrator pressed to your clit while he fucks you or eats you out.

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

He likes to tease but can't follow thought with it to the end because he has a weak spot for you and wants to give you all the love.

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

Absolute whore! Whines, moans, grunts, anything and everything. From making you beg, to him begging himself. Doesn't shut up.

W= Wild card (random headcannon of any sort)

After Hungary '24 he railed you against the wall of his driver's room that shared with Oscar's, making you scream his name in an attempt to annoy his teammate.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in those pants)

He's packing, we all know it. Did you see the ridiculous amount of photos where his bulge is shown? Pretty sure someone said he's made it onto a Twitter (catch me dead calling it X) page called 'famous bulges'

Y= Yearning (sex drive)

The meter broke from how high it went ;) He wants you, all the time, everywhere, no questions asked. Can go whenever you want, for as long as you want.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

Depends on the situation but I think yes, or at least moderately quick. Especially if you're staying right in bed and cuddling, he's dozing off quick and letting out soft snores (yes, I think he snores, sue me).

[adimilkys]

Sylus NSFW alphabet

(MDNI, 18+, Sylus x fem!reader)

a - aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Sylus may be rough during sex, but he’s a sweetheart after. Taking care of you, getting a bath ready. If your muscles are too sore he’ll massage your body, making sure you feel as comfortable as possible. He’ll cuddle you up, never leaving you alone to feel like a toy.

He makes sure to always ask if you’re alright, your comfort is the most important part for him.

“Did I go too rough, sweetie?”

“Do you want me to be more gentle, kitten?”

you always tell him no, you love it how rough he is but he always makes sure to ask.

b - body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also theirs partners)

He doesn’t really have a favorite body part of his, but his favorite your body part? Everything. He loves your body equally.

But, if you told him to pick one, he’ll say your face. He loves your expressions, the way you pout when you beg him for something, or during sex- the way your mouth hangs open, heavenly sounds leaving it. Your teary eyes, staring up at him- making him even more feral for you. The way your cheeks are flushed with red, tears streaming down them from the pleasure. God, he could cum just from looking at your face.

c - cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

His cum doesn’t really have a taste, it’s neutral and maybe a tad bit salty. He makes sure to eat fruits so you won’t be disgusted with it while his cock is down your throat.

d - dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has a lot, like a lot of your pictures on his phone. After you’re done fucking, and you’re still coming back from your high, he takes a picture of your fucked out face. Of your body that is covered in his marks.

When he’s not home, maybe on a mission. He uses Mephisto to spy on you, when you’re out of the shower, all naked and water dripping down your body. He just loves watching you when you’re oblivious.

e - experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Sylus has never been in a romantic relationship but he did have some flings, yet none of them satisfied him as much as you did.

f - favorite position (this goes without saying)

He has two favorite positions, one of them being fucking you against a wall, more preferably- in the shower. When you can’t do anything but just hold onto him as you’re pressed against the shower wall. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he rearranges your guts, his head resting on your shoulder, sneaking in a few bites and hickeys.

As for the second one, it’s reverse cowgirl, and it has to be in front of a mirror. So you can look at yourself while he pounds into your pussy. The way your breasts bounce, your ass slaps against his thighs and of course, the perfect view of your face in the mirror. Whenever you try looking away he grabs your face and makes sure it stays straight, looking in the mirror. (Also, he loves it when your eyes meet his in the reflection)

g - goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? Etc.)

I think he’s more serious, but he also sneaks in a few teasing jokes in to make you annoyed.

h - hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? Etc.)

He takes care of his body, making sure he’s always well groomed. He doesn’t have a bush, but does have hair down there. He knows how much you love it when he’s fucking you and his pubic hair tickled your clit.

i - intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

He may treat you rough and degrade you in bed, but you know that he loves you. And he makes sure to show it the most when he’s close, and if you even dare to doubt it he shows how much he loves you while fucking you vanilla, when he’s gentle whispering nothing but praises and compliments.

j - jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When you’re away from each other, and he misses you a bit too much- and you’re not available to call he pulls out your pictures and videos (from his dirty secret) and that’s enough to make him cum.

When you’re available to call him tho, it leads to phone sex, hearing your pretty little moans as you finger yourself while he’s stroking his cock, imagining it as your hand.

k - kink (one or more of their kinks)

Oh how he loves punishing you, your pretty ass on his lap while spanks it, making you count, while his other hand is playing with your pussy- and if you lose count he starts all over again.

bondage and blindfold sex, of course not on him (if you try, after a few minutes of teasing him he rips his arms free and destroys you) but on you? Your hands tied up, same with your legs, not able to move while he overstimulates your body. Adding the blindfold to that, making things even more spicier as you never know what his next move will be.

Degradation, he loves calling you a slut for him in bed, knowing it turns you on too. But he knows to never go overboard, again- you being comfortable is his top priority.

l - location (favorite places to do the do)

Shower and bedroom anddd his office

Bending you over his desk in his office, or fucking you on the couch.

Against the shower wall.

But nothing will beat his bedroom, where you can be the most comfortable. No one daring to disturb you both, you can be as loud as you want and after- you can cuddle in his bed without having to move places.

m - motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you’re being a brat, just begging to be punished and ruined.

When you’re angry, you’re yelling at him on how he needs to be more careful or whatever- he’s hard.

Or when you’re both at an event, an auction or just a party, wearing those skimpy dresses. He just can’t wait to rip them off you.

n - no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sharing you, Sylus is possessive. When a man dares to touch you or even flirt with you he’s dead meat, even when you’re giving a bit too much attention to Lucas and Kieran his jealousy strikes (even though he’ll never admit to being jealous). He will never let another man or woman see what he sees.

Pain play, sure he loves spanking you but he will never and I mean if, NEVER hurt you in bed even if you consent for it. Slapping your face? Knife play? no.

non-con, you know about the pictures he takes of you (you’ve caught him in the act and just saw his gallery) and you don’t mind it as you have his pictures as well, but if you’re drunk (even if you beg him) not in the mood or asleep he won’t dare to touch you. He needs your sober and aware consent.

o - oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves eating your pussy, it’s his favorite meal- he could spend the entire night just making you cum from his mouth.

He was never a fan of giving, during his flings he just fucked and nothing more. Until he met you and tried it out- he immediately fell in love and became obsessed.

As for receiving, he loves seeing your mouth full of his dick, not able to fit it all in. Watching your mouth full of his cum before swallowing it. (Tho if you don’t feel comfortable / don’t like it he won’t force you nor even ask for it).

p - pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.)

Sylus is rough, very rough in bed. Pounding into you so hard that you can’t even remember your own name, the only thing leaving your lips are moans of his name, not even able to speak- so fucked out.

His cock torturing your sweet spot and cervix, pulling out orgasm after orgasm out of you.

Thought, if you needed to be held and comforted but still railed- he’ll be slow and sensual but giving you the pleasure that you need, making sure for give you the comfort that you need while making you cum.

q - quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He prefers to take his sweet time with you, making you cum on his tongue a few times, or on his fingers and then his cock.

If you’re both needy, and don’t have a lot of time- he’ll pull you into the bathroom of the place you’re in and fuck you without wasting any time, leaving both of you satisfied for the rest of meeting etc. (Not really, you both want more).

r - risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? Etc.)

He prefers for your fun to be in the private, where he can hear your loud moans instead of you having to be quiet, not to mention his possessive side- if you get caught the person won’t be even able to realize what’s happening before they’re dead, oops.

s - stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Sylus has an INSANE amount of stamina, he can fuck you all day and he won’t be even tired (he probably would do it but you would pass out about 20 times).

He’s the one that does most of the work, when you’re riding him and get tired (he isn’t surprised, he knows how hard it is for you to bounce on his huge cock) he just grabs your hips and starts bouncing you up and down while you scratch his chest, trying to keep balance.

On average, you go for about five rounds, when both of you are tired probably just one. But when he’s frustrated? Good luck because you ain’t surviving.

He can make you cum about two or even three times just on his cock before coming himself.

t - toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He bought a vibrator just for you, he mostly uses it when you’re in a meeting so he can play with you while you struggle to be quiet.

u - unfair (how much they like to tease)

Sylus is like the king of teasing, he can torture you for hours. Can you blame him tho? He just loves seeing you beg for him.

If you’re the one that tries to tease him, it won’t end good for you('r pussy).

v - volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not very vocal, he’ll mostly groan but it’s almost impossible to hear him let out an actual moan (the time you did hear him moan he was so embarrassed he just bit your shoulder to not make anymore noises)

If you want to hear him more than usual tho, you have to go for the neck.

w - wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He doesn’t know it, and disagrees with the idea of having a breeding kink. Knowing damn well he’s trying to pump a kid into you every single night.

Another thing is, he’s not disgusted by period sex. Especially when you’re cramps are bad and he knows giving you an orgasm will help (he read it on the internet).

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

He has a huge dick, about 9 inches that hits all the right spots inside of you.

It’s also thick, like really thick. The first time you both had sex he couldn’t even fit and had to size train you for a few days.

It hurt at first, but as you got used to it, the feeling was amazing. He may have been gifted with a big dick, but he also knows how to use it.

y - yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

If he could, he would spend every single hour of the day fucking you. He’s needy and horny all the time but also busy, which means he can’t fulfill his fantasies every time.

z - zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sylus is a night owl, he doesn’t sleep a lot. After your session, even if you have fallen asleep he’ll clean you up, change the sheets and tuck you in. Maybe he’ll read a book afterwards if he’s not that tired (while holding you) or just cuddle you up and fall asleep.

requests are open, feel free to send some

[helluvapoison]

Could I get Adam, Lute and Lucifer and how they 'court' the reader? Like how birds with court each other, little gifts, wing 'dances', nesting, etc...

Also, could I be your 🐌 anon? <3<3<3

Birds of a Feather

Adam, Lute and Lucifer courting you

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Adam ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Peacocking has nothing on The First Man

• His personality is amped up to the highest level when he sees you walk in a room

• (Overcompensation for how fucking nervous you make him)

• Adam gets cocky when he knows he has your attention

• Tossing grapes high in the air and catching them in his mouth, bragging louder than usual about something or the other

• Heaven forbid you laugh at any of his antics, (His smirk is dangerous, “Oh you like that?”) he’ll start singling you out in front of everyone, calling your name before he acts up

• Performances include inviting you to watch his band play and miraculously getting more energy

• Casually tosses guitar picks in your direction— and when he finds out you kept one!? He’s over the moon

• He won’t go out of his way to get you food but he’ll order you something if he goes somewhere

• Adam hates nesting. He doesn’t like being stressed in general and nesting is really fucking stressful!

• The very fact seeing you pricks the urge in him to nest drives him insane

• (AKA, he likes you a lot more than he thought he did!)

• Seeing you in his space does something he doesn’t particularly hate though

• “It’s whatever if you don’t like it.” Adam shrugs

• “No, I think it looks nice! Very you. Tell me about these pictures?”

• He’s fucking done for

˚✧₊⁎ Lute ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Like they have a mind of their own, her wings stretch out and audibly fluff up when she makes eye contact with you

• Mortifying is an understatement

• She picks out trinkets to give to you at first, something small that could be waved off as insignificant

• Later, when Lute realizes her affections are returned, she brings useful offerings or something you offhandedly mentioned needing

• She wishes she could tell you about the exterminations solely to brag

• See how fierce she is, how skilled she is, how good of a protector she could be for you

• Lute will ask you to arm wrestle as a compromise. She gets to hold you hand and show off her strength!

• Nesting was fine, it was the judgment part that drove her up a wall

• Watching your eyes roam over her apartment, deciding whether or not it was good enough for you? Gah!

• “What, uh—“ Lute clears her throat, she’ll hate herself for even asking later, “What do you think?”

• You smile knowingly, something else that makes her absolutely mad, “It’s perfect.”

• Lute beams with pride like she’s won a great victory

˚✧₊⁎ Lucifer ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Never before has he felt the need to actually flaunt.. anything?

• With you it hits him like a fucking train and it’s even harder to supress it

• He’s Lucifer! That’s supposed to be self explanatory, that’s supposed to be enough

• Suddenly he’s checking every mirror on his way to you, making sure he looks better than he feels

• He tries to find other ways to steal your attention or show that he would be a worthy partner

• …But showing off his wings couldn’t hurt, right? He has six after all. If you needed to get to the other side of town he’d be more than happy to fly you over!

• Nothings too good for you! If Lucifer thinks you’ll want or like something, he’s buying it!

• Did you notice he can make things too? He’ll make you something— or fix something for you!

• Quick, break that so he can show you he can fix it!

• Lucifer pulls all the stops trying to prove himself, nesting is no exception… he’s just not great at it

• He starts! However a little after beginning he realizes just how big his mansion is and gets overwhelmed so he closes all the doors and focuses his energy on the only room that matters; his

• “I mainly stay in here,” Lucifer explains while squishing a duck in his fist, watching you explore his room, “I cleaned it up for you! N-Not for you, not for that— I mean not that I’m opposed! I just meant so that you could, uh, see?”

• “I see why you like it, I’d never wanna leave.”

• You’re gonna kill him saying shit like that

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ 🐌 CAN I GIVE YOU A KITH BECAUSE THIS WAS SO FUN!!!!!

[stagtorccio]

teen lottie NSFW alphabet?

i always assume these requests mean pre-crash yall have to specify if you want wilderness or post rescue ... but yes anon

LOTTIE MATTHEWS — NSFW ALPHABET yall already know the rules... template from here! warnings: general kinda crude language, mentions of mania and kleptomania? nothing too insane though

mdni, 18+

A = AFTERCARE (WHAT THEY’RE LIKE AFTER SEX)

deeply emotional. threads her fingers through your hair, tucks close to you. soft murmurs that are usually nonsense pillow-talk, cheek to chest, heart syncing with yours.

loves showering with you after, because she’s got sensory issues and doesn’t like when the good sticky turns to bad sticky… gross!

B = BODY PART (THEIR FAVORITE BODY PART OF THEIRS AND ALSO THEIR PARTNER’S)

on herself, her eyes– loves it if she can just throw you a look and turn you on, loves making eye contact

on you, your thighs– especially wrapped around her waist. but honestly just flash her any skin and she’s trying to drag you to the nearest closet

C = CUM (ANYTHING TO DO WITH CUM, BASICALLY)

total little freak… she’ll smear it across your belly, kiss it off your lips, lick it off her fingers… sometimes she’ll just make it a point to be as messy as possible so you have to help clean her up.

D = DIRTY SECRET (PRETTY SELF EXPLANATORY, A DIRTY SECRET OF THEIRS)

gets off to the idea of being watched, just a little. mirrors, windows, the edge of public places.

sometimes she fingers herself in her walk-in closet imagining someone stumbling in. cums fast as hell. freak. 

E = EXPERIENCE (HOW EXPERIENCED ARE THEY? DO THEY KNOW WHAT THEY’RE DOING?)

more practiced than you’d expect. not in the “tons of partners” way, but she's kinda intuitive. it only takes her a few minutes to get patterns down (and subsequently weaponize them).

F = FAVORITE POSITION (THIS GOES WITHOUT SAYING)

lotus— something about mutual closeness, locked thighs, eye contact, etc etc... likes it when you're tangled up in her lap, likes even more that you have nowhere to go.

G = GOOFY (ARE THEY MORE SERIOUS IN THE MOMENT? ARE THEY HUMOROUS? ETC.)

if she’s like INTO it into it, not very silly. more focused on the task at hand. catch her a few drinks in though? giggling the whoooleee time because she’s having so much fun.

WILL say some absolutely fucknasty shit and then laugh hysterically right after because holy shit I can’t believe I said that. she did in fact say that though and probably meant it

H = HAIR (HOW WELL GROOMED ARE THEY? DOES THE CARPET MATCH THE DRAPES? ETC.)

bare or a neatly trimmed landing strip. keeps it soft because she gets irritated as fuck being itchy (me too, girl).

I = INTIMACY (HOW ARE THEY DURING THE MOMENT? THE ROMANTIC ASPECT)

super intensely intimate. eye contact so deep you feel like she’s trying to soul-suck you. touches like she wants to merge bodies. she wants you to see her and understand her and vice versa.

J = JACK OFF (MASTURBATION HEADCANON)

does it rarely. slowly and trying to enjoy it on good nights, quick and just trying to cum on bad ones

very visual, often picturing the same person over and over again, sometimes imagining she’s not alone in the room or that it’s someone else’s hand instead of her own. it helps to distract from less pleasant thoughts

K = KINK (ONE OR MORE OF THEIR KINKS)

control and power play — loves taking the reins, coaxing surrender. it helps her to feel in control of something. vice versa, she sometimes wants to be the one giving up control so that she doesn’t have to think so hard about everything. sort of like cleaning the slate. factory reset if you will

sensory play — blindfolds, silk restraints, dripping wax… sign her right the fuck up

praise — sad lonely girl who likes when you talk sweet to her. fork found in kitchen. unsurprising. but also specifically saying you’re proud is what does the charm because you know this mf needs validation like plants need water… she will implode

L = LOCATION (FAVORITE PLACES TO DO THE DO)

anywhere that feels aesthetic. she’s got a Thing for aesthetics. forest clearing, the floor of her father’s study with incense burning, bed lit by moonlight slashing through stained glass. wants to make it cinematic (like that one sex scene in mulholland drive, rip Lottie you would’ve loved naked in manhattan)

M = MOTIVATION (WHAT TURNS THEM ON, GETS THEM GOING)

vulnerability. seeing you open up, confess a secret, (and, embarrassingly enough, cry in front of her). it’s her blossoming cult leader instincts kicking in sorry. 

also, unspoken glances across crowded rooms… she will literally drag you to a closet by the back of your shirt like a kitten

N = NO (SOMETHING THEY WOULDN’T DO, TURN OFFS)

anything detached or performative. hate sex? casual hookups with no emotion? not her thing. 

definitely craves connection and using sex to get in someone’s head– not maliciously, just to understand them deeper than she already does

O = ORAL (PREFERENCE IN GIVING OR RECEIVING, SKILL, ETC.)

giving, reverent with it. adores eating someone out slowly, eyes on your face the whole time, dragging her tongue and tasting everything. 

receiving? rides the actual fuck out of your face, like literally almost suffocates you a little. doesn’t pull your hair but does push your head down until you have to tap out to catch your breath. good luck soldier.

P = PACE (ARE THEY FAST AND ROUGH? SLOW AND SENSUAL? ETC.)

usually slow and sensual. wants to enjoy it and make it last. but when she’s manic or spiraling, she fucks like she’s exorcising literal demons. maybe she is. who knows.

Q = QUICKIE (THEIR OPINIONS ON QUICKIES, HOW OFTEN, ETC.)

will do them, but only if the tension was already there first or it’s a “public” place—bathroom stalls at school, back of a parked car before a party. she finds it more exciting when there’s the chance of getting caught.

R = RISK (ARE THEY GAME TO EXPERIMENT? DO THEY TAKE RISKS? ETC.)

risky. gets off on risk. being forced into a perfect little bubble your entire life has its side effects. nerves heighten everything else and she likes it that way

S = STAMINA (HOW MANY ROUNDS CAN THEY GO FOR? HOW LONG DO THEY LAST?)

two or three rounds MINIMUM, especially if she’s feeling manic. will go until you're limp and breathless then ask if you can go one more… good luck babe

T = TOYS (DO THEY OWN TOYS? DO THEY USE THEM? ON A PARTNER OR THEMSELVES?)

yes, but like, classy about it? keeps a little box under her bed– vibrators, a harness, glass dildos…

uses them more on partners than herself, and also just likes collecting them because she’s a kleptomaniac

U = UNFAIR (HOW MUCH THEY LIKE TO TEASE)

when she feels like it. will absolutely edge you until you’re begging, kiss just below where you need her, keep eye contact while she denies you over and over and over…

and does it all while smiling, telling you how good you’re doing. fuck dude

V = VOLUME (HOW LOUD THEY ARE, WHAT SOUNDS THEY MAKE, ETC.)

whispers, whimpers, ecstatic chanting of different phrases if she’s deep into it. moans are drawn-out and trembling. will stutter out that she loves you while taking three whole fingers, she may be a freak but she isn’t a neglectful one

also the louder you get, the more it turns her on… she loves hearing you lose your composure

W = WILD CARD (A RANDOM HEADCANON FOR THE CHARACTER)

has a small collection of polaroids of herself. you know exactly what type of polaroid. 

X = X-RAY (LET’S SEE WHAT’S GOING ON UNDER THOSE CLOTHES)

slender, subtle curves, surprisingly toned legs, BICEPS.

also sometimes doesn’t wear panties because she likes the freedom

Y = YEARNING (HOW HIGH IS THEIR SEX DRIVE?)

pretends it’s manageable but aches constantly. daydreams in class, zones out while brushing her hair. quiet about it but that doesn’t mean it isn’t noticeable

Z = ZZZ (HOW QUICKLY THEY FALL ASLEEP AFTERWARDS)

falls asleep quickly after because her mind is finally quiet for once 

insists on being big spoon because she likes holding onto you. and she has to have at least one hand under your clothes for that skin to skin, obviously 

if you get up in the middle of the night, she pulls you back. you don’t get out of bed until she does, rip you if you have to go to the bathroom

[valeisaslut]

what is rockstar!ellie and popstar!readers favorite albums or songs to have sex to and is it different the type of sex it is???

(MDNI)

OKAY NONNIE. I SEE YOU BABE.

when you were together, music wasn’t a detail. it wasn’t background noise.

it was ritual.

sex was just another kind of performance—intimate, electric, and scored like a fucking movie scene. you didn’t even have to think about it. one of you would press play without a word, and it would begin. always. every time.

the moan that escaped your lips when Ellie slid her hand between your thighs? framed by a drum kick. the snap of her hips against yours? timed to a bassline. the gasp when you dragged your nails down her back? right on cue with the bridge.

that performer nerve in both of you always acted up. and you both loved it.

ELLIE’S VIBE? hot, cocky, heavy.

she had ZERO shame about putting The Fireflies songs in rotation. if it was about you, even better. she lived for the drama. that smug little smirk would curl across her lips while her voice rasped through the speakers.

"this one’s about that night in Paris," she’d mutter in your ear, teeth grazing the shell as the intro to “Buzz” kicked in. “you remember that balcony?”

yeah. you did. you remembered the cold iron railing digging into your back, the skyline behind your head, ellie’s hand between your thighs, whispering “don’t look down” like it was a fucking dare.

“Rocket Queen” played during the kind of sex that left marks. your own moans melding with the ones in the song. bruises blooming like ink across your skin. her voice low and filthy as she mouthed every lyric into your shoulder. hips snapping right along with the guitar solo. fingers digging into your thighs like she was holding herself in place.

when Deftones came on, she’d slow it down. plant a hand over your throat, lean in close, and keep eye contact like she was testing you. like she wanted to see what broke first—your breath or your pride.

picture "beauty school", "cherry waves" "hearts/wires" and "be quiet and drive".

and when “I Wanna Be Your Dog” (Joan Jett version) hit the speakers? Forget it. you were both done. she fucked you like she meant it. like you were hers. like the lyrics were instructions.

and of course "closer" by nine inch nails and "angel" by massive attack were in the rotation. self explanatory.

but the Joel song incident? PURE DEVASTATION.

you were mid-fuck—her buried deep inside, breath ragged against your chest—when an old acoustic Joel Miller track shuffled on. your moans melded with the first verse.

and you both froze.

"fuck, fuck—turn that off!" she muttered, scrambling across the room half-naked, tripping over her jeans to skip the track.

you were wheezing with laughter. she was not amused.

sex to Ellie’s music meant dominance. bruises. nails in your hips. teeth on your neck. whispering “mine” and "take it" like a threat. pulling your hair just to hear you whimper. keeping rhythm like her body was an instrument and you were the encore.

YOUR VIBE? softer. but no less powerful.

yours was intention. you liked control too—but yours was silk, not chains.

you liked music that made the room feel thick. velvet songs. desperate ones. you liked knowing exactly what a song would do to her before you even pressed play.

"can you put something less loud? maybe not scream in my ear while I’m coming?" you’d huff, straddling her lap, fake annoyed. ellie would grin—“fine. but I’m picking the next one.”

“Do I Wanna Know” and “I Wanna Be Yours” had her unraveling underneath you. "basic as hell", she said, but they always hit. hands tight on your hips, breath caught in her throat as your fingers slipped under her tank top.

“Needed Me” by rihanna was power. your pace slow and unrelenting while riding, holding her jaw in your palm while she begged—really begged—for you to stop teasing.

but “Take Me to Church”?

you’d arch your back like a goddamn divine offering, hips rolling in time with the chorus, sweat glistening down your chest, your hair sticking to your temples. ellie would stop breathing. every single time.

and when your unreleased demos came on? the ones you wrote only for her? soft vocals. bare lyrics. rough mixes that never made it to your team’s ears?

she’d drop to her knees. put her mouth on you like she was starving. and when she came, it was your voice in her ears—only yours.

sex to your music meant never breaking eye contact. tangled hands and tangled limbs. gasps turned into sobs if the moment got too intense. her voice whiny with need, whispering “again, baby, please—just one more”

and then there were the SHUFFLE NIGHTS.

when you both gave up and let the playlist choose chaos.

when The Weeknd transitioned into Metallica and neither of you blinked. when “Wicked Games” came on and you were breathless on the carpet, half-dressed, laughing into her mouth. when she bit your thigh during a Led Zeppelin riff and you accidentally moaned through a Lana verse.

when you came with her guitar solo ringing in your ears and her grin looking downright feral.

those were the best ones. no performance. no power plays. just raw, chaotic, messy, real love.

and now?

It haunts both of you.

you can’t listen to “Do Not Disturb” without flashing back to the way her mouth moved over your stomach like she was worshipping every inch.

she can’t hear “Take Me to Church” without seeing you on top of her, haloed in moonlight, riding her slow like penance.

your unreleased songs?

still on her phone. still in her bones. still hers.