#natural ruby raw

[rajiyagemjeweles]

28.00Cts Ruby FreeForm, Pink Color Ruby, 100% Natural Ruby Beautiful Amazing Freeform 15 Pieces Making Jewelry, Freeform Lot , 6mm to 15mm..

Price - 34.00 US$

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Shipping worldwide available.

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Custom orders also accept making jewelry and gemstones comment mine & Pm me.

https://www.etsy.com/in-en/listing/1491631723/2800cts-ruby-freeform-pink-color-ruby?click_key=63431dfd72be5b4e49235b87822dfc5c5ed43047%3A1491631723&click_sum=825ccd7b&ref=shop_home_active_2&pro=1&frs=1

[lindagoesmushrooming]

Scarlet Elf Cups (Sarcoscypha coccinea) and Ruby Elf Cups (Sarcoscypha austriaca) (indistinguishable without microscopy) are one of the few Spring mushrooms that are also edible. They have a mild taste (when overcooked, can become flavourless). They can be gently pan-fried in a little oil/ butter or used in a stew, and they make a nice addition to pasta and rice dishes, or fried eggs.

If you're out looking for them, Elf Cups enjoy wet, muddy places (often close to a stream), and they grow on fallen twigs, rotting wood, under dead leaves but can be easily spotted because of their bright red color.

[screampied]

You know what's hot? Missionary with Geto and he needs to get a better angle so he reaches down and pulls your knee up over his hip!!

☆ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, missionary, praise, size kinks, p spanking, bręeding, manhandling, mdni.

geto’s voice was deep but his strokes was even deeper.

you’re trying your hardest not to choke on each gargled whimper and whine that desperately clogs near the back of your throat. he’s got you underneath him as both naturally polished bodies rutted against each other in sync. “mng- you always know how ‘ta fit me, baby,” he groans, feeling the whetted edges of your nails creating a clawing path down his back. he’s inside you fully, steadying his rickety hips as he’s pounding into your precious, precious cunt. you’re moaning at each fervid hit - slam, after slam, after slam, and geto could already feel your ankles rubbing down his torso. “hah- always such a pretty nice fit, can’t neglect this . . sweet spot, mmh- noope.”

“f- fuck, suguruuu,” your shaky babbles sob away from your lips, flickering your eyes back at each clashing smack of his snapping hips. geto has such ruthless vigor too. his body grinds into yours as the tense muscles that lived in his back sexily flexed at his strenuous thrusts. geto hums, peering as your palms suddenly cover your face.

“mhm- don’t hide, i wanna see my girl,” he huskily prowls, grabbing your wrists while still unapologetically churning through your convulsing insides. geto’s enormous stretch makes itself known to your pussy constantly. “her too- actuallyyy,” and you moaned, feeling geto’s slender fingers snake their way up your thigh. an open hand lifts your jouncing leg, slightly bringing your knee to hook around his hip.

“she’s so wet, think she wants a… hah- different angle. fuuuuck- there we go. atta baby.”

from all sides, geto’s body was crying with sweat, and each of his shoulder blades that flexed continued to accelerate after each powerful hit. geto’s cock was big, forever and always stretching past the gripping tight ring of your entrance that preciously hugged him so tight.

he’s dragging himself in ‘n out, zigzagging his ruby tip through each part of your pussy until it squelched out the syllables of his first and last name. you were just so responsive, and you’re whimpering once he maintains a firm grasp against your bent knee with a single hand.

“fuck- mhm, sugu- ah,” and it only takes a few long seconds before he’s piercing into your sloppy wet core. each time geto’s hips sharply pop forward between your wobbly thighs, you let off cute mewls of the only thing your mind could even register for you to speak out - his name.

he’s just riiiight there, massaging the pearl of your clit with his tip until your brain loses a few screws. “mngh-” you’d whine, your sounds growing a bit muffled.

“keep this pretty knee up for me,” geto whispers, clouds of hitched hot breath falling against your skin. geto’s body sloppily presses itself into you, skipping sleazy fingertips up the slope of your thigh.

the angle gets even deeper… and with just the perfect amount of degree of his hips arching further, geto could hear his weighty base slopping loudly inside after every sticky pap. the crown of your knee remains bent and geto then makes your entire leg wrap around his slim torso.

“mmph-” he’d prevent a guttural grunt from parting way from his raspy lungs. the bed repeatedly roared countless of times with creaks that sounded like it was in utter, distress.

the bed base was poorly aged, nagging the more geto’s rugged hips drove into your famished cunt. your body’s arch was so pretty, and the upturned tip of his nose abruptly buried into your shoulder. as you’re whimpering until your chords grow raw, geto snickers once he felt your weak legs gradually starting to flop down. “hah- ‘m even holding your leg ‘n you’re still sooo damn… lazy.”

“s- suguru,” you’d moan out his name, trying to count each wet thrust in your head. it’s so loud that each slap! of fleshy wet skin rings through each of your twitching ears.

another thing that twitched though, was your cunt.

geto aligns his bulbous tip against the drooling entrance of your clit before smearing it all around with kisses. he’s so precise, rocking into your body while digging his fingertips into your feverish flesh. “ ‘m gonna fuckin’ -ah, cum.”

geto groans, his tone shifting to sound more sonorous with the dangerous pitch, and that’s when he sneaks an open palm between your thighs. miles and miles of your juices tear down the cracked arc of your legs, and he starts to smear it all up before his hand re-locates it’s way back toward your sopping pussy.

oh, you were just leaking like a faucet, and it seemed like after he lifted your leg for a better angle, you were even wetter than you were before.

“haah- me too, ‘m so close, sweet thing. fuck, she’s bein’ a bit mean today.. isn’t that right?” he hoarsely mutters, giving the center part of your entrance a nice, wet whack.

a bit of your slick splatters across his palm and geto hums, bringing his hand up to his mouth to lick the treacly mess. “mhm, she just can’t help but be so damn wet it seems. tryin’ s- so hard to drown me, huh.”

geto’s buried balls deep, six feet under at most, like a coffin.

your eyes were already shamefully bulging out of their enlarged sockets as your jaw hung agape. “u- ugh,” you’d claw a hand down his back, feeling your teeth shatter at the brief hot pangs of skin against skin. he’s making sure to tap his swollen head against that tender nub of yours, rendering you speechless.

you nearly blind yourself with your own eyes, the constant hysterical flapping of each lash making you whimper. soooo deep -

the force of geto’s stuttering hips had such a rhythm that your entire body felt the shock of his thrusts. a dewy tear of sweat dribbles down your curved spine and you’re just wailing for him to keep hitting that same spot.

“f.. fuck,” geto grunts, sliding a hand near your hip. each swallowing second he spends inside you, he could feel you clenching all around him. his tip’s an angry beat red, and he’s taking his cautious time to shower your needy clit with a plethora of kisses. “ ‘m cummin, baby. keep this knee back, let’s give you another . . hah- good fillin.’”

both build of orgasms were just as intense, so much so that it almost felt dreamlike..

he’s pulling his hips back and forth, putting his mouth over yours to playfully suck in your shallow breaths. the dripping tip of geto’s tongue slips into your mouth, and he could feel each muscle in his thighs squeeeeeze with longing anticipation.

“s- sugu!” you’d squeal, whining as your slick tongue ends up tangling with his. your heart’s never raced more quickly, and he’s starting to nibble on your upper, quickening lip while darkened eyes slowly look up at you.

once geto cums, it’s a thick batch - it’s creamy, flooding into you with such quickness that you’re left not only wordless but breathless too.

his cock’s blushing tip was oh-so-tender, reddening each time it batters its way inside of your creaming pussy. every concluding slosh that exited from between your thighs had you gasping for air like a fish out of water, and you were shivering once your release arrived at the same time as his..

as his heavy thighs merely crushed against your hot skin, geto felt your entire body that lay underneath him grow limp. black overgrown tresses glued against his forehead as a bubbly, white ring started to form around his milked-out base.

geto shields a grunt into your neck, feeling his parched seed ooze out of your puffed cunt. it’s so filthy that it even starts trickling its way down the valley of your pried pretty thighs.

“mhm- good girl,” and he’s just casually talking over your inaudible whimpers, bringing a thumb toward your spit-glossed lips. you’re still shaking, gnawing at the bars of your enclosure before he licks the bottom of your poked-out lip. “shhh- atta girl, i know. riiiide it out baby, there we fuckin’ go.”

geto collapses onto your chest, all limp sticking against each other like paste as you’re both covered in such slimy messes before you heave in a single breath. “s- suguru, mng-”

“yeah, sweet girl. my thoughts exactly,” he phews jokingly, trying to get over his orgasmic high as he’s still pumping a never-ending load of cum inside of you. geto kisses the top of your head before his hands leisurely push your knees up toward your chest. “heyy,” he breathlessly coos, watching as you let off a bundle of more sweet, defeated whines. “think you can go a little deeper?”

and you moaned, feeling geto’s chiseled pecs gently slump against your chest. with your knees up toward your jiggling breasts, he gives your runny pussy one final soft spank.

“hah- lets see if these weak legs can handle a good mating press, hm, big girl?”

[heartfullofleeches]

thoughts

brie would go feral over virgin lust demon darling having like, a demonic form, preferably with big honkers

Yan "Delivery Boy" + Virgin Lust Demon Reader

[Very brief body horror]

-

"So.... A demon, huh?"

Friends tells friends everything. Their fears, their hopes, their secrets. That's how things play out in the movies, anyway. It's hard keeping up with people reaching out a branch of friendship when you seldomly have the stamina to keep up with them or even pick up their calls.

"Yeah! My mom was a demon and my dad's a regular old human.... Or- was it the other way around? I haven't talked to either of them in forever."

As skeptical as anyone would be in his position, Brie felt there had to be a pinch of veracity to your proclamation. Cuteness like yours wasn't a natural feat. His stomach was still raw with the flutters of anxiety retailing the night he showed up on your doorstep to be met with that clueless, charitable smile of yours.

"Oh, yeah?" Brie challenges with a small smirk. "Well if you're a demon, you should probably know what I do to your pizzas before I hand them over to you.

Brie's hands promptly fly over his mouth, every aspect of himself screaming at him for almost letting his own little secret slip through the cracks. Luck being on his side, you merely laugh off off his statement as you spring up from your place on the couch.

"You'd better not be stealing any of my toppings! I pay good money for every slice... Least I used to before all those vouchers you gave me... I can show you if you really don't believe me... I trust you, Brie."

Brie melts into the couch cushions, vulnerability and trust in your eyes welding him in place as you apprehensively fiddle with the sleeve of your shirt - awaiting his answer.

"O..okay." He stammers, tongue tied as the ceiling lights perfectly illuminate every one of your features that keeps him awake at night. "Sure, I guess... Show me."

"Great!" Kicking off your shoes, your limbs grow stagnant as your eyes roll back in their sockets - veins branching outward cross the whites of your scleras till they are reduced to a milky ruby hue. Your fingertips elongate, skin merging with the keratin of your nails as they sharpen into razor points.

Sickening cracks and pops can be heard as the bones of your spine snap to make room for more. Breaths piercing and ragged, your chest swells with each draw of air you pull in - testing the resilience of your formly loose fitting tee shirt as your bust ballons to your noticeable uptake in size.

Rolling your now forked tongue over flat teeth, your toothy grin still holds that realm of innocence as you gaze down at Brie.

"Well?"

Brie jumps as something heavy hits the floor - twin tails swishing back and forth in anticipation. Horror should have been the prominent force driving through him. Fear and terror is what he should have felt. Those were the emotions a coward would experience in this moment, and as a man who branded himself spineless for being unable to express his love to you in a normal and sane way perhaps he was braver than initially believed.

"titties...."

Cocking your head to one side, confusion takes the forefront of your expression. As your hair falls over your face, small, nubby horns can be seen at the bases of your temples.

"Did you say something, Brie?"

"H-huh?! Me?? Course not. You're probably just hearing the ceiling fan." He certainly didn't mention your chest- Nor was he seconds away from spilling into a feverish tangent about how desperately he wanted your massive breasts in his face, and preferably his mouth. That'd be crazy-

Brie peals out of his jacket as if it were on fire, balling and shoving it between his thighs as he laughs - shepherding his eyes anywhere but the dip in your shirt.

"Whew- Man, it's chilly in here! I should've worn longer pants! Hahaha-"

"I can bring you some blankets?"

"No thanks, I'm good! You're super cute by the way! Even more so in this form. Your tits- Fuck! Tails! R-really caught my eye."

[fromthelakes]

Jealousy, Regret, Reconciliation

Pairing: Regina Mills x fem!reader

Warnings: none?

Word Count: 2k

Summary: In the midst of a lively evening at Granny’s Diner, Regina Mills becomes increasingly agitated by a misinterpreted situation between her secret lover (you) and Ruby, sparking a heated argument. The night brings a storm of emotions, keeping both you and Regina awake, haunted by the recent conflict.

A/N: Heyy, this is my first ever fanfiction and I honestly don’t know how to feel about it. I just wanted to try writing a jealousy fic of Regina because… why not? Also I’m not sure how to tag this because, again, I’m very new to writing fanfiction. Anyways feel free to leave any advice or criticism on how I could improve my writing (please be nice though, because I am sensitive af lmaoo). Oh, and the classic "english isn't my first language" applies to this

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The atmosphere at Granny's Diner was as vibrant as ever, filled with its customary chatter and laughter. Regina Mills sat in the corner booth, seemingly focused on her drink. Yet, her gaze intermittently drifted towards you, engrossed in what seemed like an innocent conversation with Ruby Lucas, your laughters blending in with the diner’s ambiance.

Despite the celebration for a milestone achieved in Storybrooke, Regina's attention remained elsewhere. She noticed the way Ruby's gaze lingered on you, and a flicker of unease sparked within her. Though typically composed, Regina couldn’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy seeing Ruby direct playful banter at you.

Regina had always been protective, especially of you. The two of you had been friends for years, your bond growing stronger as time passed. Recently, however, your relationship had shifted, blossoming into something deeper and more intimate. You and Regina had been secretly dating for several months now, relishing the clandestine nature of your romance, keeping it hidden from the prying eyes of Storybrooke's inhabitants.

As the evening progressed, Regina found it increasingly challenging to ignore the growing jealousy that had taken root within her. Each playful exchange between you and Ruby fueled the flames of her simmering frustration, her jaw clenching with suppressed emotions.

Inwardly seething, Regina took a deliberate sip of her drink, a facade of composure masking the turmoil raging within her. The cool liquid did little to quell the storm of emotions churning beneath the surface as she maintained a poised exterior, concealing the inner conflict brewing within her.

As Ruby leaned closer to you—a gesture Regina interpreted as flirtatious—her jaw clenched further, the surge of jealousy nearly escalating. Her grip on her drink tightened, the glass threatening to shatter under the pressure of her clenched fingers. She had to look away, fearing that her emotions would betray her in front of everyone.

Ruby's laughter crescendoed, a sound that grated against Regina's frayed nerves. Each interaction between you and Ruby felt like a dagger twisting in her chest. Regina's mind raced with irrational thoughts and deep-buried fears. The ache in her chest had morphed into simmering anger, a blend of jealousy and frustration.

Eventually, the tension proved too much to bear. Regina abruptly rose from her seat, the sharp clicks of her stilettos echoing across the wooden floor of the diner, drawing your attention. Your eyes met hers, capturing a glimpse of something raw and untamed within Regina’s usually composed expression before she stormed out of the diner, her sole focus on escaping the suffocating atmosphere.

You watched her leave, a furrow forming on your brow, a mixture of confusion and concern evident. Sensing the tension that had soured the once cheerful atmosphere, you quickly excused yourself from Ruby's company.

Outside the diner, the cool night air failed to offer any relief as Regina briskly walked down the sidewalk, the echo of her heels punctuating the silent night with each determined step. The weight of unresolved emotions hung heavy in the air, evident in her gait and tense posture.

“Regina!” you called out, your voice cutting through the stillness of the night. Regina hesitated for a moment, the rhythmic click of her heels faltering before she continued walking, determined to distance herself from the scene that had stirred up a storm of emotions in her.

Desperate to bridge the growing distance between you, you quickened your pace, the echo of your own heels resonating as you tried to catch up to her. “Regina, please!” you called out again, the urgency evident in your voice.

Regina slowed down, hesitating for a fleeting moment before reluctantly turning to face you. Despite the distance, the streetlights illuminated the conflict etched on her features, a blend of hurt and frustration.

As you finally caught up to her, you were slightly taken aback by the look on her face. "What's wrong?" you questioned, worry lacing your voice.

"What's wrong?" Regina scoffed, her eyes flashing with suppressed frustration. "Can you not see it? How you entertain every flirtatious remark from Ruby as if it's some kind of game?"

Your brows furrowed into a puzzled expression. "Regina, Ruby and I are just friends." you defended, a hint of frustration creeping into your tone.

Regina's facade cracked, her voice rising with pent-up emotions. "Friends? Can't you see how she looks at you? How you laugh at her jokes and bask in her attention?

"I don't know what you're talking about," you retorted, a surge of defensiveness colouring your voice. "Ruby is just a friend, and you know that."

"Don't play ignorant!" Regina's words cut through the air like a knife. "I saw the way Ruby practically threw herself at you, and you seemed all too eager to indulge her!"

Confusion swept over you. "Indulge her? Ruby was just being friendly!"

"You don't see it, do you?" Regina's voice wavered between anger and hurt. "I've watched the way she looks at you, and it's not just harmless banter!"

Caught between Regina's piercing gaze and the unexpected accusation, you felt a surge of frustration rise within you. "Regina, it wasn't like that! Ruby and I were just having a conversation—"

"You can't be that naive!" Regina cut in, her frustration boiling over. "She was flirting with you right in front of me!"

You let out a scoff of disbelief. “Are you serious, Regina?” you questioned, eyebrows raising in astonishment. “Are you actually suggesting that? Or are you just fucking jealous?” you shot back, your disbelief now mixed with irritation.

Regina’s eyes widened, her initial frustration giving way to a mix of surprise and indignation. “Jealous?” she snapped back, letting out a breathless chuckle. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just pointing out the obvious.” Her words carried a sharp edge, her frustration still palpable.

“You’re overreacting!" you retorted, anger and hurt evident in your voice. "Sorry I didn't realise I needed your permission to talk to someone!"

The words hung heavily in the air, each sentence fueling the fiery argument. Regina's jaw clenched, her emotions unravelling with each passing second. "This isn't about me. It's about you and your constant need for attention from others!"

Her words cut deep, and you felt a surge of frustration mingled with hurt pride. "Is that what you really think?” you questioned, the words coming out with a mixture of hurt and astonishment.

Regina’s gaze hardened, the tension palpable in the charged air between you. “It’s not about what I think, it’s what I’ve seen.” she retorted sharply, her voice tinged with a mixture of exasperation and lingering hurt.

You stared at her, a lump forming in your throat. The air around you seemed to disappear, making you feel suffocated. “After everything—” you paused, struggling to contain the tumultuous emotions threatening to spill over. “Do you not trust me?” you whispered, tears threatening well up in your eyes as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

Before Regina could say anything, you turned away and stormed off, leaving her standing there in the chilly autumn night. Regina watched you disappear behind a corner before she let out a frustrated groan. 

Regina got into her car, slamming the door shut with an echoing thud and driving away. Both of you retreated to your respective homes, leaving the echoes of the heated argument haunting the empty streets of Storybrooke.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the night settled in Storybrooke, both you and Regina sequestered in your separate residents, enveloped in the lingering aftermath of the argument. The thunderstorm raging outside seemed to match the intensity of emotions both you and Regina were experiencing, leaving you both unable to sleep.

Regina sat by the window of her dimly lit bedroom, the occasional lightning illuminating the shadows that danced on the walls. Her mind was a chaotic whirlwind, replaying the argument with you over and over again. Frustration mingled with regret as she pondered her rash actions. She knew her emotions had gotten the better of her, unleashing a torrent of pent-up feelings she had desperately tried to conceal.

Regina continued watching raindrops race down the glass pane, mirroring the tears she had refused to shed. Her thoughts drifted back to the moment she had stormed out of Granny’s Diner, her heart aching with the realisation that she might have irreversibly damaged something precious with her outburst.

Meanwhile, you sat in your own dwelling, the distant thunder echoing the turmoil in your mind. The argument replayed in your thoughts like a broken record. Confusion and frustration gripped you as you pondered the misunderstanding that had spiralled out of control.

Despite your best efforts to push the heated exchange aside, you couldn’t shake off the unease that lingered. Regina’s words cut deep, leaving wounds of misunderstanding and hurt. You hadn't anticipated this level of conflict, especially with someone as close as Regina.

As the night wore on, the storm showed no signs of relenting, as if mirroring the unresolved tension between you and Regina. Each raindrop that splattered against the windowpanes seemed to echo the unspoken words and emotions that lingered between you.

In a sudden surge of determination, Regina couldn’t let things remain this way. She couldn’t shake off the unsettling feeling of discord that had settled between you two. Despite the pouring rain outside, Regina made a decision.

Grabbing her coat, Regina dashed out into the storm, the raindrops pelting against her skin. She hurried through the deserted streets of Storybrooke, the only sounds being the rhythmic drumming of the rain and the occasional distant rumble of thunder. Each step towards your house felt heavier than the last, fueled by the urgency to clear the air and mend what felt irreparably broken.

Lost in your thoughts, you were startled by the sharp knock echoing through your home, interrupting the solitary brooding. You hesitated, puzzled by the unexpected visitor in the midst of such a storm. As you approached the door, the knock came again, more urgent this time.

Opening the door, you were taken aback by the sight before you—Regina stood there drenched, rainwater streaming down her face, making her usually impeccable appearance dishevelled.

"Regina, what—?" Your words were cut short as Regina closed the gap between you in an instant, her hands softly cupping your face and her lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss.

Your initial shock quickly gave way to a surge of warmth as you reciprocated the kiss. Despite the storm raging outside, this moment felt oddly serene—the only thing that mattered was the feeling of her lips against yours.

Regina pulled back slightly, her eyes searching yours, a mix of apology and vulnerability reflected in their depths. “I’m so sorry.” she murmured, the words tinged with sincerity. “I didn’t mean for things to escalate earlier. I just...”

Regina’s lips parted, but no words escaped. You reached out, gently brushing a rain-soaked strand of hair from her face. Your gaze held a silent understanding, an unspoken acknowledgment of the tangled emotions that had led to this moment.

“I overreacted.” Regina admitted softly. “I let my insecurities get the better of me. I never meant to hurt you.”

The sincerity in her gaze was undeniable. You could sense the walls she had meticulously built crumbling down, exposing her raw feelings beneath the surface.

You gave her a sympathetic smile before pulling her into a tender embrace. Regina’s arms wrapped around you and her breath hitched slightly as she buried her face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your familiar scent.

"I didn't mean to upset you either." you whispered into her hair. Regina’s embrace tightened slightly as a silent acknowledgment of your words.

You both lingered in the embrace, finding comfort in the closeness that transcended words. However, as if nature had its own timing, a sudden rumble of thunder echoed through the sky, reverberating around you. Regina instinctively pulled away, her eyes widening slightly in realisation.

You glanced towards the downpour outside, the intensity of the storm painting the world in shades of grey. The reminder brought a faint chuckle from both of you, a brief interjection in the midst of the emotional intensity. 

"Come on, I don’t want you to catch a cold." you said softly, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you pulled her inside your home, away from the rain-soaked night. As Regina stepped over the threshold, you closed the door behind her, shutting out the storm and the chaos of the outside world.

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[astra-ravana]

Forging A Blasting Rod

-My personal blasting rod.

A blasting rod is a specialized magickal tool used in witchcraft and ceremonial magick, primarily for baneful workings, commanding spirits, protection, and energy projection. Unlike a traditional wand, which channels and directs energy gently, a blasting rod forcefully projects power, making it a tool of will, authority, and raw energy manipulation. This guide will walk you through selecting materials, crafting, and charging your blasting rod.

Understanding the Purpose of a Blasting Rod

A blasting rod is used in high-energy workings, including:

• Commanding spirits in ceremonial or necromantic magick.

• Cursing and hexing with focused intent.

• Banishing unwanted energies with force.

• Defensive and protective magick, repelling negativity.

• Directing raw power in aggressive spellwork.

It is a tool of action, unlike a regular wand, which can be more neutral or passive in nature.

Choosing Materials

Wood Selection (Powerful & Commanding Woods)

The rod should be strong, sturdy, and hold commanding energy. Some of the best choices include:

• Blackthorn (Prunus spinosa) – The traditional wood for blasting rods, used in baneful magick and spirit work.

• Black Locust (Robinia pseudoacacia) - Another favorite for blasting rods, used in attack/defense magick, blood magick, and baneful magick.

• Ironwood (Ostrya virginiana) - Formidable and strong when dealing with unwanted forces.

• Rowan (Sorbus aucuparia) – Protective and potent against unwanted spirits.

• Oak (Quercus spp.) – A wood of strength and dominance.

• Yew (Taxus baccata) - Symbolic of death and doom, ideal for baneful magick and interacting with the spirits of the dead.

• Holly (Ilex aquifolium) – Often used in aggressive and defensive magick.

• Hawthorn (Crataegus spp.) – Excellent for curses, hexes, and protection against harmful forces.

If possible, gather the wood ethically—from naturally fallen branches rather than cutting from a living tree. Some traditions believe the wood should be taken from a tree struck by lightning for added potency.

Length & Shape

• A blasting rod is usually longer and thicker than a traditional wand, about 12-18 inches.

• It should feel balanced in your hand, not too lightweight or delicate.

Crystal & Metal Enhancements

To amplify its power, consider embedding:

• Opal (especially black) - Amplifies malefic energy.

• Obsidian or black tourmaline – For protection, banishment, and absorbing negativity.

• Quartz (Clear, smoky, or black) – Strengthens and amplifies energy projection.

• Ruby – Focuses your intention onto the target.

• Amethyst - Self destruction, nightmares, paranoia.

• Garnet - Drains energy from the target.

• Sardonyx - Returns negative energy to sender.

• Malachite - Illicits fear and anxiety.

• Meteorite - Used as an amplifier in baneful magick.

• Iron – Binding, commanding, often used in defensive magick.

• Copper - Amplifier, increases power and effect.

Crafting the Blasting Rod

Cleansing – Before crafting, cleanse the wood by smudging it with mugwort, dragon’s blood, or wormwood smoke. Washing it with saltwater or an herbal infusion (rosemary and rue work well).

Shaping – Strip off excess bark (optional) but keep some texture for a rough, commanding grip.

Symbology – Carve runic symbols, sigils, or glyphs into the shaft. Leave one end pointed or tapered for directing energy.

Adding Power Enhancements - Wrap the handle with black leather, red twine, or iron/copper wire to contain and direct energy. Affix a crystal or iron nail at the tip for added force.

Anoint with ritual oils like:

• Dragon’s Blood – Amplifies power, brings destruction.

• Wormwood & Mugwort – Strengthens spiritual command.

• Black Pepper & Sulfur – Adds potency in baneful work.

• Myrrh - Boosts malevolent power.

Charging & Consecrating the Blasting Rod

A blasting rod should be charged under intense conditions to match its purpose. Some methods include:

Consecration Ritual

• Set Sacred Space – Cast a circle or work at a crossroad, cemetery, or dark moon ritual setting.

• Elemental Charging:

• Fire: Pass the rod through flame (candles or bonfire) to awaken its force.

• Earth: Bury it overnight in graveyard dirt, sulfur, or black salt.

• Water: Dip it in storm water, ocean water, or an infusion of baneful herbs.

• Air: Hold it in thick incense smoke (dragon’s blood, myrrh, or mugwort).

• Invocation of Power:

Hold the rod and speak,

"Rod of might, tool of command,

Through storm and flame, by my hand,

Channel power, force of will,

Let no spirit act against my skill."

Charging Under Planetary & Lunar Energy

• Dark Moon – Best for baneful, binding, or spirit work.

• Full Moon – Enhances overall energy projection.

• Tuesday (Mars' Day) – Ideal for charging aggressive or commanding tools.

• Saturn’s Hour – Adds banishing and protective strength.

Using the Blasting Rod in Magick

Now that your glorious rod of blasting is complete, it's time to unleash its power.

Baneful Work (Hexes, Curses, & Banishing)

• Point the rod at a poppet, target’s name paper, or spell jar while chanting.

• Direct energy into curse sigils or spellwork for amplified power.

• Break curses by striking the ground or altar with the rod.

Commanding Spirits & Evocation

• Used in ceremonial magick to bind, summon, or dismiss spirits.

• Strike the ground or altar three times when calling a spirit.

• Use it to trace sigils in the air when working with the dead or the astral.

Protection & Warding

• Point at a door or window while chanting to seal a space.

• Use it to break hexes or disrupt malevolent energy fields.

• Bury near your home’s entrance to create a protective ward.

Final Thoughts & Maintenance

• Recharge it under powerful celestial events (eclipses, storms, or planetary transits).

• Store it separately from gentler tools, preferably wrapped in black cloth.

• Never use it casually – a blasting rod is for intense, serious magick only.

A properly crafted and consecrated blasting rod is a tool of great power and responsibility. It should be treated with respect, as it embodies raw will, force, and command.

[badgersighted]

been playing through TWDG after like 10 years and I decided to draw a really self-serving idea of "what if every child throughout the series made it to Ericsons with Clem"

Duck is not a smart man but he's exceptionally loyal. His lack of wit is countered by his raw strength, despite losing a hand all the way back at the motor inn. At Ericson's he'd probably hang around with the likes of Mitch and Willy. Totally has his dad's hat somewhere.

Becca is the local pain in the ass. Constantly breaching the safe zone and acting primarily in her own interests, few people actually like her but can't deny her capability; she's good to have around in a fight. She's come to respect Clementine's resourcefulness but would never admit it.

Sarah stays firmly within the walls of the school, but that doesn't mean she doesn't pull her own weight. Following in her father's footsteps she's the closest the school has to a doctor now. She'll hang close to Clementine but also gets along with Ruby and Aasim.

Gabe Garcia is the local sadboy. He's not as moody as he was in Richmond, but he's still a little mopey and insists on stepping up. Despite her protests he's very protective of his sister, and still harbors a soft spot for Clementine - so naturally doesn't get along with Louis/Violet.

Mariana Garcia is young but capable, and weirdly well adjusted and mature for her age - she's younger than Gabe but feels like the older sister. After the New Frontier shot her eye out she hasn't been as active in a fight but she'll still insist on pulling her weight while knowing her limits. Gets on with everyone.

James Fairbanks is the oldest known surviving member of his family (unless Sam is still out there) and is brutally protective of his younger brother, Alex. Has a mutual respect with Clem and is very good at setting traps outside the school.

Alex Fairbanks would probably like to fight walkers more but James prefers he'd stick to supply runs and stay on watch. He feels stuck at the kids' table and wants to do more to help, but is at a loss on how to do so.

[stoopidpigeonxx]

OMG OMG I LOVE HOW U WRITE JIMMY!! 💖

can we maybe get some Jimmy nsfw headcannons next? :3

AA THANK YOU!! yes I can! Y'know what I'ma use another NSFW alphabet template! bc I like using these <33 Thanks for ur request nonnie :3

~ROTTEN TO THE CORE- Jimmy NSFW alphabet ~

NSFW UNDER THE CUT. obviously. cw; slight manipulation (if you squint) rough/hard sex, Jimmy is just mean. We know this.

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

Well, this depends to me. It depends on the relationship. If it's some random hookup with some bitch he doesn't know and took home in a drunken daze, he couldn't give less of a fuck. She can take care of herself. He just passes out after cumming, really. But if you're in a relationship with him, a serious one, he cares a little bit more. He's no prince charming or anything, but he'll give a little more of a fuck. He won't clean you up or anything, but he'll hold you and mutter little praises into your ear until you both fall asleep.

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

Obviously, his dick. He's Jimmy. He knows how good he makes you feel. It makes him feel good too, so for him its a pretty good fuckin' organ. For you, your tits. Sure, you're pretty and all that, but watching your tits bounce up and down with his thrusts and covered in his bite marks and hickeys, that's the hottest thing he's ever seen. That and you take his dick; ties in together, yeah?

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

Everywhere, all over. Inside, on your face, in your mouth, on your stomach, he's shooting his load on it. He's an artist at heart.. Nice and thick. He has natural breeder balls or something like that, LMAO. Fuuuuck and him pulling out to jerk off on your tits hnnngh ghgnn..

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

Secretly, he likes bimbos. The idea of you being his dumb little bitch, ditzy and clueless, gets his dick harder than steel. But he knows that's not really a reality since you're a smart girl. But sometimes, he'd just like to fuck you dumb.

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

He's experienced, yeah. He's had a few hookups here and there with chicks he thought were particularly hot. Intimate sex, though? Completely new to him. People are actually supposed to fuck because they like eachother? Who knew?

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Dooooogggyyyy. Loves to bend you over, ass in the air, your hair in one hand and the other pinned at your side to keep you there. Plus, he likes to bury your face in the pillow so that you can scream as loud as you want. How nice!

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

Serious as in solely lust-filled, but occasionally he'll tease. "Yeaah, you like that? Daddy fucking you deep?" "Jimmy, eeewww.." "Pfaha. Kidding, doll."

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

He doesn't really care that much, but he'll trim if it's getting too out of hand. He hates the feeling of his pubes on his hand; it's gross.

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

Sometimes, once in a blue moon, he'll fuck you sweetly. Kisses and praising and all that mushy shit. Mostly, though, he's a rough and hard fucker who spits pure filth at you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Listen... He's a perv. He probably has a habit of it. He doesn't do it a ton, but goes for several rounds when he does. Like, til his dick is ruby-red raw and he's shooting blanks. He watches porn most of the time, but maybe he'll get off to you if you cross his mind.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Big on pain. Most of the time, receiving it. Yes, our little rat man is a masochist at heart. Rake your nails down his back, bite his shoulder, he loves it. He'll actually probably ask you to do it. "C'mon, baby, hurt me.. I can take whatever you get me.." Also probably a masochist as well. Not anything like knifes or crazy bondage shit, but he likes choking, hair pulling, smacking, biting, all that.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) He prefers at home because he can get as personal and dirty as he wants, but he has to admit, fucking you in a bathroom stall when he can't take it anymore is pretty damn great. He loves when he has to cover your mouth and cockwarminf you if someone comes in, and only starts fucking you again when they leave.

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

Everything you do. You're the sexiest motherfucker ever in his eyes, and the simplest of acts can get him hard. But the thing that works the most for him is you playing dumb. It kinda ties into his bimbo thing. If you ask questions a lot or pretend not to get his innuendos, he's hard as diamond. You're just so fucking cute, how can he not fuck you?

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

Anything gross. (Which is funny, considering this is Jimmy.) But a big no-no of his is pegging. He absolutely REFUSES to let anything near his ass, even if it's you asking him. He doesn't wanna take anything up there, that's your job.

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

Prefers receiving it. He's a sucker for good head game. Big into face fucking too. But occasionally if he's feeling nice, he'll eat you out. It's once in a while, but when it does happen, he's.. surprisingly good at it. I mean, you've watched him tie a cherry stem with his tongue (yes, I believe he can do that) so he's bound to be pretty good at pussy-eating. And if he's feeling super nice, he'll let you ride his face, as long as he gets some control. (ie, holding your hips to grind you down on his mouth instead of letting you grind yourself.)

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

Hard and fast. That's how he goes. He can't feel as good if it's slow and soft. If it gets too much for you and you're begging him to slow down, though, he'll do it. But he'll always keep a fast stroke game.

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

Honestly, he just cares about getting off. So yeah, i'd say he's big on quickies. He'll have loooong sessions with you if he's particularly pent up and you both have time to do it. But a good and quick fuck on the couch is good enough for him.

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

He can get risky when it comes to location. But nothing that involves new shit. He won't do any crazy ass positions with you that you saw in some book. He's not a damn gymnast.

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

A while. I'd say a few rounds. He's built up stamina from his jack-off sessions. He'll definitely tire you out if he's got the energy to do so. But sometimes, he'll let you ride him while he relaxes.

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

He did back in college, maybe a Fleshlight. But he got rid of it when you came along. Why use it when he had the real thing? He doesn't like using toys on himself, but he wouldn't object to using a vibrator on you!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He's so fucking mean. Like, I feel like we can all agree he's mean. He'll orgasm-denial you and only let you come when you beg him enough. "Aww, you wanna come? You sure? I d'no, I don't think I believe you, baby.."

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

Not a screamer, but a groaner. Very much a groaner. And a dirty talker. And, occasionally, although he hates to admit it, a whimperer. Normally that happens when you suck him off. But they're super quiet and he'll deny it if you call him out.

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

He's actually....nice?!?!? nah, I'm joking, but seriously, I think he could be sweet if he wanted to, and sometimes he is! Maybe it's a longer, less harsh kiss or some sweet praise.

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

Yeaaaah. My favorite part. He's a solid 6.5 inches, not huge (Which is JUST FINE.) but not small. He's circumcised, he's got a happy trail, normal balls ig? I dunno how to describe those, lol.

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

He's not chronically horny, but he is pretty horny a lot of the time. He can normally handle himself because he knows you have limits, but sometimes he just really needs your help.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He won't really. He'll go out, smoke a cigarette, and come back in. If he sees you're asleep, he'll join you.

[midnightshindig]

What about Ruby and Amanda with a kid super reader

Of course being platonic, the reader is only comfortable being around them since they don't know that they're basically adults trapped in a kids body

Which leads to maybe them helping the reader get out of their shell more with the rest of the guardians, and they help mentor them and such, tho they do still have fun with their brutally honest antics

Just thought this would be adorable in a way

Monster Girl, Robot & Child!Superhero!Reader!! (platonic)

euhghghfsgarweip this is SUCH a cute idea omg

side note but it is SO funny to me that Amanda's va was so clearly told to do a childlike voice (within reason) and Rudy's va is just. Some dude. Also. Fascinated by the implication that despite having Rex's vocal cords, even grown up Rudy sounds like Robot and NOT Rex. At all. It's wild I love it

hcs under the cut!!

Rudy is AWFUL with children

I'd say you're around Oliver's age, maybe a smidge older

Definitely no older than 12

And Rudy just can't get a fucking grip

He has a hard time speaking in terms REX would understand, let alone you

But to be fair you're a good deal smarter than Rex, you actually received an education.

Amanda, on the other hand, is pretty good with kids

she seems like the type of person who is a nonchalant aunt

Probably doesn't see her nieces/nephews anymore due to her....condition(?)

So she's super child about things when you start clinging to her during GotG meetings

She's pretty used to handling Rudy's social incompetence, err, more accurately his anxieties and rough-around-the-edge nature

You yourself are a pretty anxious child

Socially, that is

It's a little funny?

Kicking MAJOR ass on the battlefield, but Bulletproof asks what you think about mushrooms on the pizza he's ordering for dinner and you're like "hhhhhhhidunnomushroomssoundfine"

and you're allergic to mushrooms but wtv

Amanda and Rudy are such a unit by the time you join the GotG (around the end of s2, i'd say) that Amanda taking you under her wing means spending ample time with Rudy as well

As hard as it is for him to interact with you on your level, he finds your quietness and curiosity about the world endearing

Amanda will leave to use the restroom and come back to find you staring at Rudy while he does some weird engineering shit, just absolutely awestruck

After long enough you begin to ask question

"Uhm- Rudy..? Why are you connecting those wires like that? I've never seen you do it that way."

"Oh. This method is more efficient for...." blah blah blah blah blah

and you're paying CLOSE attention

The three of you form a tight little unit

lowkey Amanda's having just a great time fucking braiding your hair and talking to Rudy like you're their kid

not like you're THEIR KID but like

They have a responsibility to look out for you

and that's a comfortable kind of weight to carry when you care about someone

and she loves you

isn't that just the best?

Once you've found a home base in Rudy and Amanda, it becomes easier for you to interact with the other guardians

it's slow work, Rex joining you for movies here and there, occasionally Rae will ask you a question about your day or your thoughts on something and you'll choke out a real response

You finally tell everyone you're allergic to mushroom so please can we get just normal pepperoni please

and they do

I hc Amanda is the kind of person to find harmless pranks HILARIOUS

Like she will whoopie cushion your ass and crack up while Rudy explains he tried to stop her

It makes you kinda raw when they go on dates and you're not invited

but surprisingly, it's less scary with them gone than it used to be

you'll be playing video games or crocheting or working out or something and Black Samson will just.... come hang out with you?

Just to have some company

Or Shapesmith will ask you questions about what human childhood is like

which is difficult to answer because you've never experienced NOT being a child

but it's a valuable experience either way

"So.... do you really lose teeth?"

"mhm!! Here look-" You opened your mouth and prodded at an empty space in your teeth with your tongue "This one finally came out after that fight on Monday, it's gonna take a few weeks for the adult one to grow in"

"Thats..... upsetting."

You grinned an awkward smile, full display of your weirdly small teeth

It made Shapesmith grateful he never experienced baby teeth

After becoming closer with you, it starts stressing Rudy out during fights

He KNOWS logically you're capable

but Amanda is right, he's responsible for you by virtue of being "the adult" and more importantly, being your adult

He starts pulling double duty to make protective wear for you

this man over her like "The padding in your knees, elbows, and skull all need to be reinforced, you could sprain your wrist, Y/n!"

"....Rudy I've had my femur snapped in half before...."

Don't remind him

He cried about it, it was so distressing to have to send an empty robot suit to fly you to the GDA hospital

Rudy never cries

but also he's a little proud you remembered what a femur was

Amanda calls you "Kiddo" but for humorous effect, its hilarious coming from her Loud House ass voice

Rudy calls your by your name, but refers to you as "the child" when talking to other people, or even a "young Y/n"

he just talks weird it isn't his fault!!

Amanda won't throw birthday parties for herself

she has a problem letting her life go well

BUT, she thinks they're important for a kid to experience

your first birthday at a Guardian is incredible

the entire HQ is DECKED in decorations

Rae and Rex team up to try and make your favorite food plus a cake

Black Samson is trying to figure out how to hook his Spotify up to the speakers

Zandale is somewhere explaining birthday parties to Shapesmith

Rudy is using empty robots to continue hanging party streamers in the rafters

and Amanda is holding a big box with your gift in it, beaming with pride as she-- solely-- yells

"Surprise!!! Open your gift!!"

She pushes it into your arms as you stumble under the weight of it

Obviously you rip into it, pulling out some vague but emotionally impactful gift

Probably some childish shit like an easy bake oven (but one Rudy tricked out) or a board game you loved or something

Padding the bottom are miscellaneous articles of clothing

You pull them out and marvel at them, but...

"Amanda these are way too big, these are like.... clothes for a teenager or an adult."

Amanda just shrugs casually "yeah, they were mine but... yknow, not like I'm gonna need them anytime soon."

There's a heaviness in the air before Black Samson yells out

"I GOT IT!!"

and music floods the HQ

A few hours later, all birthday rituals were successfully fulfilled

Most of the Guardians have trickled off back to their own lives, leaving you, Rudy, and Amanda on the couch, watching one of your favorite movies

It doesn't matter though, you're passed out curled up against the arm of the couch

Amanda sits next to you, her head leaning onto Rudy on her other side, himself leaning into her as a counterweight

it's an idyllic scene to be certain

what a great birthday ^^

[swordgrace]

Okay I know you've already written "vampire eating out reader who's 'on the rag'" (to quote Paul) BUT... Can we have one with Astarion? 😩

𖣊 pairing — astarion x fem!human!reader.

FORMAT: drabble — requested.

WORD COUNT: 3.5K.

WARNINGS: SMUT! (mdni), period sex, bloodplay, blood drinking, oral sex (f!receiving), cunnilingus, praise kink, hair pulling, fingering (f!receiving), dirty talk, semi-public sex, risk of getting caught, unspoken feelings, astarion gives mad head (I don’t make the rules)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Well, here we are, back to my vampire obsession. I’m so addicted to Baldur’s Gate right now that it’s insane. I had so much fun writing this! This is also my first time writing for Astarion, so feedback is definitely appreciated! I’m hoping to write so much more of him! Thank you all for the support! ❤️

A distant, whistling breeze swept across the tall strands of sungrass, rustling against the threadbare canvas of your tent. It was shoddy lodging at best — certainly not a paradise. Gale and Astarion could afford such luxurious accommodations, but you were left to your own devices. You even envied Lae’zel’s tent, and it wasn’t much better than yours.

Crackling waves of dulled pain continued to ripple throughout the pit of your stomach, a familiar tightening and seizing of muscles that left you restless. Sometimes, humanity could be a horrible thing — you were a slave to your own basic bodily functions.

Shadowheart had bluntly broached the subject of menstruation with you earlier in the day — offered you rags to keep yourself clean. It was embarrassing, admittedly — you wanted to try and keep it all discreet.

Being underprepared for this scenario left you flustered and embarrassed, but you were thankful for her assistance, wariness aside.

Your newfound band of parasite-toting compatriots were becoming the closest thing to family that you had, but there were some you trusted more than others. You often regarded Shadowheart with a healthy dose of skepticism, but she’d been helpful enough.

Glittering rays of silvery moonlight struck through the worn spots on your tent, pooling across your form as you tossed yet again, hands folding together atop your stomach. The dying embers of the campfire dissipated out of existence — the world was dormant.

Sleep eluded you, replaced by the toils of your monthly blood moon that frustrated you to no end.

Halsin was generous enough to concoct an herbal poultice that was supposed to help, but one swig of the earthen liquid, and you were spitting it right back out into the dirt. Much to your dismay, you would be left to endure your cycle in its raw state, no remedies.

The gentle ambiance of swaying grass and the buzz of nature at dusk served as your atmosphere, accompanied by your deep breaths and occasional stifled groans. You rolled over, form awkwardly contorted on your side in an attempt to find some relief.

Your evening clothes were made of thistledown and spidersilk, far more comfortable than the linen-sewn rags you’d been trekking in for the last few weeks. It was all courtesy of a fashionable Drow you’d met in a village in the Underdark.

Your gaze fixated on the low, dimmed glow of a flickering lantern situated in your quarters, sitting soundly alongside your backpack. Orange light danced within the colorful glass, producing minuscule refractions that became a worthwhile distraction.

A fluttering of cloth tore your attention away from the luminous object, and you directed your gaze toward the agape flap of your tent.

Two glittering rubies peered down at you, sanguine hues dancing with a peculiar sheen amongst a canvas of smooth, marblesque flesh. The black ties of his silken nightshirt were left unkept, sleeves pulled toward the crooks of his pale elbows.

Astarion’s vampirism was something you’d become intimately acquainted with.

Perhaps it wasn’t your brightest move, letting him feed from you — but you had no qualms or regrets. Beneath the facade of allure and arrogance, Astarion wasn’t all bad. In the many moments you’d shared of allowing him to drink, you’d learned more, little by little.

“Astarion,” You exhaled, wondering why he’d come to you at this particular hour. He’d fed not long ago — from a nearby stag, and not you. He was ethereal beneath the moonlight, all lean and akin to a statue, living perfection as he lingered within the entryway of your tent. “Is everything alright?”

A sardonic huff escaped him, followed by a familiar tilt of his head, ivory curls swaying with his movements. “I could ask you the very same, darling.” He mused. “It seems that you cannot sleep.”

You swallowed the lump within your throat, sitting up enough within your bedroll to face him fully. “No,” You didn’t want to shower Astarion with the grisly details of your womanly cycle. It was of little importance. “Halsin’s awful concoction left a bad taste in my mouth.”

Astarion hummed, senses attuned to you — truthfully, he could smell you from across the camp.

That familiar siren’s song of blood echoed his name — your blood, above all. He wasn’t above lecherous thoughts, especially when it came to the likes of you. His solution to your little problem was unorthodox — Astarion wondered if you would be open to it.

“Was it that mess of an elixir that left you restless, or perhaps something else?” The pale Elf inquired, noticing the little flickers of realization settling into your features. “I have quite the keen sense of smell, you know. Your predicament is rather obvious.”

As your lips fell apart, Astarion chuckled — it was a rich sound, deep from within the confines of his chest. Embarrassment rippled through you, spreading like a wildfire throughout your body. Tendrils of heat crept along the back of your neck.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” You mumbled, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “Is it bothering you?” You hadn’t considered that your blood might’ve had an adverse effect on the vampire spawn, but he dismissed your concerns with a simple wave.

Astarion stepped inside, dropping the burlap flap as it fluttered back into place. His flesh was a beautiful shade, encapsulated by the flickering glow of lantern light as he stood before you. “No,” He clicked his tongue. “I do have a solution to your predicament — with my own assistance, of course.”

Confusion settled into your countenance — Astarion wasn’t necessarily shocked by this, either. You were a delicate little human, a sweet, pious creature that he intended to ravish when opportunity presented itself — such as now.

He drank in your innocence, feeding from your piety as if it were your lifeblood. It was easy to charm you, let you slip into his intricately-spun web of seduction, but in reality, he found himself becoming soft on you.

What a horrid thing — soft on you.

Yet, Astarion couldn’t help himself. Your presence was soothing, providing a warmth that even enveloped his own icy heart. You never asked him for anything — you never used him. He wanted you all the more for it, desired to keep you for himself.

“How could you help me with this?” You questioned, assuming that he had some remedy for you that countered Halsin’s. Anything would do — you were becoming desperate for a solution.

Something shifted in Astarion’s eyes — his gaze became hooded, glazed with some indiscernible notion that caused your stomach to swirl with uncertainty. Your breath hitched within your throat when his cold digits swept across your cheek.

“In a way that I know best,” He crooned, thumb gingerly sweeping along the curve of your jawline. “You would lay back and let me taste you.” Astarion’s suggestion struck you as unorthodox and crude — and you nearly gasped at the insinuation of his words.

“You don’t mean it.” You countered, shivering beneath the icy bite of his embrace. Your flesh felt like scorched earth, blistering with a fever that you couldn’t sweat out — and your remedy, your cure — he stood before you like an ethereal god.

Astarion chuckled, head canting to one side. “I do, darling,” He uttered, voice dropping to a delicious octave that seemed to curl around you like a vice, spreading to parts of you that you never thought possible. “It would be mutually beneficial, I assure you.”

A guttural whimper of sheer want coalesced within the depths of your throat, goosebumps dancing across your spine as you contemplated. It felt so intimate — if you were to go through with it, the lines of your relationship with Astarion would be blurred completely.

The desire for relief and for him outweighed logic, and you exhaled, eyes silently pleading with him for his touch. Astarion was enticed — admittedly, he wanted to taste you, bloodied or not.

“If you are worried about the mess, you needn’t trouble yourself, my sweet.” Astarion mused, pearlescent fangs glinting in the low light. “I will take care of you.” Something about his tone made you shudder, wanting nothing more than to give yourself to him — every fiber, every piece.

His growing fondness for you was becoming increasingly difficult to suppress. He hungered for your blood and he yearned for you — a naive human that he initially cared little for. Now, he was enthralled, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“I’ll let you,” You whispered, voice barely above a shrewd whisper as you watched his expression blossom into one of sheer desire. Those crimson hues raked over you, devouring you without action, leaving you a mess, surrendering to him willingly. “Please.”

“How kind of you,” Astarion hummed, sinking onto his knees as his palm spread across the swell of your hip. “I wonder if you taste just as sweet as you look.” His honeyed purr dripped with a warm reassurance, all wrought with want as he eased you down onto your back.

A fire burned within your belly, demanding to be extinguished as you settled down onto the many layers of a tough leather bedroll and feathered blanket. Astarion loomed like a hungering predator as he slipped between your legs, throat hoarse with the sting of thirst.

His cold hands pried at your silken nightshirt, gingerly lifting the fabric towards your chest as it bunched up just beneath your breasts. A wave of cool, brusque night air licked across your stomach, but the sudden presence of Astarion’s lips made you tense up.

He made sure to touch you — caress your supple frame wherever he could. Despite his one-track mind, Astarion wanted to make you feel good. Those practiced digits of his slipped across your ribcage, dragging down toward your abdomen.

“I’ve dreamed of this, coveted this,” He murmured into your flesh, kissing his way toward your weeping cunt. Nimble digits caressed their way to the waistband of your undergarments, tugging them down and away from your body. “Your sweet flesh, your body beneath mine, crying my name from your lips.”

None of this felt real — your head was spinning, mind deliriously dizzy with a newfound desire. You couldn’t discern if his confession was genuine or simply a ploy to subdue you. Truthfully, you didn’t care either way.

Astarion hummed again, nose brushing along the supple skin of your thigh. “Astarion,” You mewled, unable to keep from saying his name. “I—I …” You babbled, savoring the sensation of his mouth on your skin.

You felt his body quiver with a gentle chuckle as he inhaled a gust of your intoxicating scent. It was your distinct perfume intermingled with that of blood — the twang of coppery menses that he intended on consuming.

Even when prone between your thighs, Astarion exuded a rather domineering aura, icy lips peppering a string of kisses against your inner thigh. He wanted nothing more than to bite — indulge himself in your sanguine ichor. The scent between your legs invited him in, instead.

As crimson wept from your core, the vampiric Elf moved forward, skilled tongue languidly dragging across your aching cunt. He shivered when your cruor fell upon his mouth, a taste of your blood that he so desired.

His palms settled themselves atop your plush hips, hooking underneath your legs. He pressed into your flesh, gripping you tightly as he held you firmly in-place. Astarion could feel the visceral, unrestrained way in which your body reacted to him, twitching and shuddering, thighs flexing.

“How delicious,” Astarion purred, voice dropping to a sultry octave. It stroked every recess of your mind, setting your nerves ablaze, making your stomach churn with a wave of butterflies. “My sweetest pet.” He uttered, licking at any drop of scarlet.

Flushed and flustered, arousal pooled between your legs, intermingled with that of your menses. One of your hands haplessly fisted the feather blanket, the other roaming towards that crown of ivory curls. A low, bemused growl tore past his throat when you gripped his tresses.

If anything, it simply encouraged Astarion, whose greed knew no boundaries. He eagerly lapped at your cunt, tongue tracing across your slit. You felt the little twang of relief that he offered, and you were beyond grateful. You felt the desire to reciprocate — if he let you.

It became increasingly difficult to stifle your pleasured mewls and moans, back beginning to arch slightly off of your bedroll. His continued string of lascivious praise and salacious comments made your flesh turn hot, begging for a release of any kind.

The dull burn within his throat was quelled, soothed by your cruor. Astarion was eager, delighting in your pretty noises and the way your body gave into him. He greedily lapped at the sticky menses trickling from your core, lips twitching into a smirk.

His crown of ivory curls felt like Githyanki silk beneath your fingertips, and for a moment, you peered down — you needed to sate your curiosity.

The mere sight of Astarion, coiled and poised like a lithe predator, wedged between your thighs sent you reeling. He could detect your beseeching gaze, and without pause, those vermilion hues flickered to hold your stare.

Instinctively, your body shivered, goosebumps cascading down the length of your spine. You watched in silent reverence as the broad flat of Astarion’s tongue lapped at your cunt, showering your clit in newfound affection. A stray curl fell across his temples — he was beautiful.

A strangled gasp escaped you, and you fell flat once more, fingers seizing up within his tresses. Astarion’s form rumbled with subtle laughter as he keened forward, mouth suckling on that sensitive clutch of nerves. Your reaction was well worth it.

“Astarion,” You cried, thighs rattling like leaves upon a swaying tree. You wanted to thank him over and over again for this — the tight waves of aching pain had subsided. “Gods, I — Feels so good.” A pleasured moan tore past your lips once more.

A sliver of you feared waking the others, potentially alerting the camp to your nightly accolades. You didn’t want to allow your worry to fester, hips rocking forward when his tongue embraced your cunt once more.

One hand traveled from the curve of your hip to the apex of your thighs, two fingers stroking over your weeping entrance. You gasped, soothed by Astarion’s soft laughter as he lifted his head slightly. “So sensitive.” He purred, lips stained in a glistening layer of crimson. He kissed the inside of your knee.

Heat rolled through you in pleasant waves as pangs of ecstasy gripped you. Seeing Astarion’s bloodied mouth made you shiver, only wanting him to continue, bring you to climax. He sank two digits into your cunt, tongue dutifully returning to lap at your clit.

If you were to perish now, you’d die happy and within the throes of your own ecstasy — with a pale, Elvish deity between your thighs.

You’d wanted him for some time, and to finally drown yourself in his affections — it almost didn’t feel real. The practiced, needy lap of his tongue brought you back to reality, making your hips lurch forward once more. Those digits of his gently pistoned in and out of your cunt, ensuring a level of softness.

Rivulets of your menses coated his fingers, much to his delight. Astarion was relentless, driven in his quest to simultaneously feed and soothe your blood moon pains. His perfectly-timed movements of his fingers worked in-tandem with his mouth, tongue flicking from your clit to your weeping core.

A white-hot pleasure blistered through you, beginning to mount into your encroaching release. Your climax was close, stomach swirling with molten heat, body feeling as if it could simply float away.

“A—Astarion,” You whimpered, desperate to get rid of your nightshirt. The coolness of dusk could not alleviate the pure heat you felt now. A shrill cry left your lips when he withdrew his fingers, simply exchanging them for his tongue as he dragged you closer. “Astarion!”

His name felt like an incantation upon your tongue — it was a sultry, desperate plea for him. The Elf thoroughly reveled in your innocuous cries, wanting to hear you chant his name like a prayer. It felt so genuine, affection intermingled with desire.

Astarion’s gaze lingered on you, chest heaving, flesh glistening with a sheen of perspiration, countenance contorted into sheer ecstasy. There was something rapturous in his eyes — you couldn’t see it, but it was certainly present.

A low hum of approval escaped him when you absentmindedly tugged on his curls again, and he rewarded you with a barrage of his tongue. It was a greedy assault on your cunt as the vampire spawn drank from the source, inhaling a gust of your scent.

“Such a pretty voice, darling,” Astarion uttered, and you soared underneath his reverent praise. You were prepared to burst, body tensing, like a blossom unfurling within the sunlight. “You taste delightful.” He knew what it would do to you — he reveled in it.

You shivered, feeling his nose brush along your thigh as he kissed at the skin there, teeth teasing and grazing along your sensitive flesh. He returned to your core once more, lapping at your oozing cunt with glee — and that seemed to be enough for you.

Everything seemed to spin in circles, head fuzzy and body sinking into sheer bliss. Pleasure washed over you in hot, visceral waves as you were brought to your climax, hips tilting upward as you came.

The coil within your stomach snapped, muscles relaxed — the uncomfortable pain had subsided. Even if the relief would be fleeting, you were beyond grateful to Astarion for assisting you. You came to, flushed and flustered, sitting up enough to see Astarion finishing up.

He emerged from between your legs, tongue languidly lashing across his pearlescent fangs and lips. Speckles of crimson were splattered across his chin, but you nearly collapsed at the sight of him sucking on his fingers.

Whatever mess you made, Astarion had cleaned it all away — he never spilled a drop. “That, ah …” What did you say? “Thank you for doing this, Astarion. I don’t know what else to say.” You confessed.

Astarion chuckled, head canting to one side. “Speechless, are we? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve left someone in such a state.” He crooned, and before he could move to stand, you reached for his arm, coaxing him back.

“Don’t ever feel obligated to do this,” You mumbled, somewhat embarrassed at the sight of your cruor on his chin. Sheepishly, you swiped it away with your thumb — but he caught it. “I feel like I didn’t do anything in return.”

Instead, the pale Elf held your wrist, ruby hues drinking you in, picking you apart. Astarion remained hushed for a moment as he considered his words, lips quirking into an abnormally tender smirk. “You did return the favor, darling. Your blood is tribute enough.”

Your breath hitched within your throat, but you didn’t protest, gaze subtly absorbing his porcelain features. He was gorgeous — you often felt inferior in his presence, shadowed by his timeless beauty. You smiled at him, fingers reaching to squeeze at his hand. The gesture was unexpected for him, but he made no comment.

“Thank you. I do feel better,” You cleared your throat, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “Did you mean what you said, about coveting me and dreaming about this?” For your own peace of mind, you wanted to know where you stood with Astarion.

He should’ve known that you’d ask.

Astarion hummed, neglecting to disclose the truth about how he felt towards you. Part of him was fearful of the implications, of what it could mean — he felt unworthy of you and your piety. “Of course,” He uttered, voice dropping into a more alluring octave. “I would not mind indulging in this again.”

Part of you deflated — intimacy wasn’t the only thing you wanted from Astarion. You wanted his heart. It gave you something to think on, but for now, you were simply content to enjoy his company, lewd or otherwise.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You murmured, visibly sheepish as you glanced back towards your bedroll. “I should try and sleep, I think.” You nearly asked if he wanted to stay with you, but fear and insecurity gripped you in that moment.

“I should hope that your rest is much more productive.” Astarion smirked, pressing a feather-light kiss against your knuckles before rising to his feet. Sharing your bed didn’t seem prudent — for him, it would only make his feelings for you worse.

A soft laugh bubbled forth from your lips before you pulled your clothes back into place, descending onto the feathered blanket. “Goodnight, Astarion.” You exhaled, watching him as he slipped towards the burlap flap of your shoddy tent.

“Rest well, my sweet.” Astarion hummed, and like a shadow, he disappeared into the star-speckled gloom of the night.

[mrsdesade]

Homelander and menophilia 👁️🫦👁️

Hi dear, thanks for your patience! I can happily offer some headcanons about this, I'll try to keep it sfw as possible for not being banned. These headcanons delve into a dark and disturbing aspect of Homelander's character, my fav thing ever to be honest💕

Homelander's bloody passion headcanons

A fetish for the macabre: Homelander has a deep-seated fascination with blood, finding it both beautiful and intoxicating. This fetish often manifests in his romantic relationships. Perhaps he's drawn to the raw, primal nature of blood, seeing it as a symbol of life and death.

Blood-related gifts: He might give his love interest gifts that are related to blood, such as dark red roses, ruby jewelry, or even vials of his own blood.

Blood-written love letters: He might write love letters to his partner, using blood of his enemies as ink. The contrast between the romantic words and the macabre medium would create a disturbingly beautiful effect.

Blood-infused perfumes: He might create a custom perfume using his partner's blood as a key ingredient. The scent would be a constant reminder of them, even when they're not physically present.

Dark fantasies: Homelander has dark fantasies involving blood and dominance. These fantasies often revolve around his partner, and he might subtly hint at them during intimate moments. His fantasies often involve him as a dominant figure, controlling the situation. Blood might symbolize this power dynamic, with him being the one who inflicts and controls the pain.

Bloodplay during intimacy: Physical intimacy with his partner often involves some form of bloodplay, whether it's a small cut or a deeper wound. He finds the sight and smell of blood incredibly arousing. He might engage in more elaborate bloodplay, like using blood as a lubricant. These acts are not just about physical pleasure but about a twisted form of bonding. Blood bath are more than welcomed. As well he might believe that blood has aphrodisiac properties, enhancing his sexual desire and pleasure.

A Perversion of love: For Homelander, love and violence might be intertwined. He might believe that the more extreme his actions, the deeper his love for his partner.

Blood rituals: If you share this interest with him, he might engage in private blood rituals, involving your blood. These rituals could range from simple bloodletting to more complex, almost sacrificial acts.

Blood-Related Nicknames: He might give his partner blood-related nicknames, such as "my crimson queen" or "my scarlet rose.''

Blood-stained keepsakes: Homelander might collect items that have been stained with his partner's blood as a way to keep them close, even when they are apart.

Blood as a bond: He might believe that sharing blood with you creates an unbreakable bond, a connection that goes beyond the physical. This could be a particular way for him to feel loved and accepted. A sick promise of eternal loyalty and devotion.

-------

Thanks again for the request, enjoy! Kisses kisses! 💕

[apiswitchcraft]

altars for nordic gods

keep in mind that altars like these have very little historical backing, and this information is mostly for the use of the modern pagan. also pretty much every god can be honored with offerings of meat, mead, wine, and your own blood.

ODIN

Colors: grey/silver for justice; deep blue, black for magic; red for war

Offerings: nine sacred herbs (chamomile, nettle, fennel, crab apple, mugwort, plantain, watercress, chervil, betony), runes, food for ravens, poetry

Crystals: sodalite, lapis lazuli, amethyst, lepidolite, obsidian, labradorite

Animals: his ravens (Huginn and Muninn), his wolves (Geri and Freki)

THOR

Colors: yellow, white, grey for thunderstorms; red for war; blue for the sky

Offerings: rainwater, hawthorn, oak, garlic, onion, hearty meals

Crystals: fulgarite, blue quartz/calcite, yellow jasper, sodalite, obsidian, hematite

Animals: goats

LOKI

Colors: black, green for mischief; yellow/gold for wealth; red, orange when he is combined with Logi

Offerings: yellow rattle, birch, mistletoe, snake shed, cinnamon, dandelion, coins/money

Crystals: labradorite, jade, malachite, pyrite, citrine, bloodstone, gemstones, serpentine

Animals: birds, horses, snakes, foxes

TYR

Colors: dark blue, silver/grey for justice; red for war

Offerings: holly, mustard seed, bread, oak, ash, good deeds are especially emphasized with Tyr

Crystals: lapis lazuli, sapphire, red jasper, bloodstone, obsidian, hematite

Animals: wolf, dog, bear, eagle

BALDR

Colors: gold/yellow, white for opulence; sky blue, pink for beauty

Offerings: chamomile, daisies, white blossoms, honey, juniper berries, laurel leaves, sunflower

Crystals: sunstone, celestite, selenite, pearl, rose quartz, pyrite, milky quartz

Animals: foal

FRIGG

Colors: blue, silver/grey, white for the moon; yellow/gold for opulence

Offerings: cardamom, allspice, sweet wines, milk, handspun fiber, feathers, moss

Crystals: moonstone, selenite, celestite, pyrite, milky quartz, rose quartz, agates

Animals: falcons, hawks, geese

HELA

Colors: red, orange, black for the underworld; white, grey for the dead

Offerings: white flowers, apples, willow, dark chocolate, coffee beans, mushrooms, clove--leave food until rotten

Crystals: bloodstone, jet, onyx, obsidian, black tourmaline, volcanic stone, red jasper, hematite

Animals: owl, raven, dog, wolf

FREYJA

Colors: red, pink, white for love; green, brown for nature; gold/yellow for her cape; purple, dark blue for magic

Offerings: jasmine, rose, verbena, collecting cat whiskers, honeycomb, fruit, fresh flowers, chocolate

Crystals: amber, petrified wood, agates, garnet/ruby, pyrite, lapis lazuli, rose quartz, emerald, jade, tiger's eye, cat's eye, amethyst

Animals: cats, pigs, horses, falcons

FREYR

Colors: green, brown for nature; yellow/gold for sunshine

Offerings: grain, apples, bread, nuts/seeds, venison, anything phallic, antlers, birch, hawthorn, coins/money

Crystals: green aventurine, agates, petrified wood, jaspers, jade, citrine, zoisite, pyrite

Animals: deer/stag, boar, horse, bee

NJORD

Colors: white, blues for the sea

Offerings: fish, sea salt, shells, beads, tobacco, fishing gear

Crystals: aquamarine, larimar, gemstones, pearls, malachite, sodalite, azurite, iolite

Animals: seabirds, sea mammals

SKADI

Colors: white, light blue for winter; brown for the hunt

Offerings: raw meat, berries, nuts, clear liquors, pelts, antlers

Crystals: milky quartz, bloodstone, blue calcite, chalcedony, jaspers

Animals: arctic fox

[zazter-den]

Cat Bath

Minors Do Not Interact

(Edit)Common Scents Series: Cat Bath, Sweet Tooth.

Synopsis- Barista!Reader comes home smelling like her new coworker Izuku, TigerHybrid!Bakugou decides a bath is in order.

Warnings- Yandere, Dubcon, Feline Anatomy, Choking, Light Knifeplay Claw play, Degradation.

Tags-Aged up(obviously), Hybrid AU, Tiger!Bakugou, Dom!Bakugou, Afab!reader, Sub!Reader. Bath Play, Scentmarking, Creampie.

Word Count- 2K words.

With a low, guttural growl, Bakugou's tail began to sway and twitch behind him. The long, thick appendage moved with a powerful feline grace befitting a regal tiger hybrid.

As Bakugou's sharp gaze fell upon you, he took a step closer with a threatening aura enveloping him. His orange and black swirled ears were flat against his blonde locks. His chiseled jaw clenched tightly as his raging crimson eyes seem to pierce through your soul. There's no doubt that his presence alone could send chills down anyone's spine.

Bakugou's voice dripped with anger as he sneered "Who the fuck touched you, huh? Just let anyone lay their hands on you?" His tone filled with venomous jealousy, his possessiveness over you shining through every word.

His large hand reached out to grab your arm with an iron grip, his long black claws barely grazing your skin, for now. The intensity of his grip causes a a hitch in your breath, his dominance clear as day. "Tell me. now." Bakugou growled, his voice dangerously low. His sharp canines momentarily on display as a warning.

You swallowed hard. Oh, oh this wasn't going to be good.

His territorial jealousy seemed to consume him, and there's no doubt that he won't stop until he has an answer. The scent of pine and yuzu still lingered on your café shirt, a clear indication of the bunny hybrid coworker who had touched you.

"But... but Katsuki, Izuku didn't mean anything by it," you stammered, desperation creeping into your voice. The words coming out of your mouth sound rushed and nervous, "He grabbed my hands only to thank me for training him. It was a gesture of gratitude, nothing more."

Bakugou's grip tightened around your arm, the tip of his dark claws starting to puncture into your flesh, as he hears the name 'Izuku' leave your lips. His crimson eyes looked like smoldering embers, the mere thought of someone else touching you was enough to send a wave of fury surging through his veins. But some shitty prey hybrid holding your hand? A useless rabbit who you were already on first name basis with?

A wicked smirk curled Bakugou's lips as your punishment formed in his mind. With a sadistic glint in his eyes, he released your arm briefly, claws leaving glistening ruby dots. "If it didn't mean anythin', then I guess we'll just have to make sure ya don't reek of his stench," he said, a sinister undertone in his voice.

Not bothering to wait for a response, Bakugou snatched your hand and forcefully guided you toward the bathroom in the back of the apartment. His grip was forceful, almost bruising, as he shoved open the door and tugged you inside.

Bakugou's clothes hit the floor in a haphazard pile, revealing his intimidatingly sculpted physique. His muscular form was accentuated by the defined lines and lean muscles that traversed his body, a testament to his feral strength. His piercing ruby gaze, filled with a mix of raw desire and anger, was fixed your trembling form expectantly. Your clothes soon joined his on the cool tiled floor.

With his usual swagger, Bakugou stepped into the bathtub. His gaze fixated on you, filled with a mixture of hunger and simmering fury. The water settled over his toned body, causing droplets to glisten against his slightly tanned skin. His intimidating cock, stood fully erect and proud, its barbed girth a testament to his animalistic nature. He leaned back against the tub and spreads his legs, making his intentions clear.

With a wicked grin with far too much fang, Bakugou beckoned you towards him, his eyes daring some sort of defiance from you. His tail twitched suddenly, and you swear you almost jumped through the roof

"Get in the fuckin' tub" Bakugou growled, his voice dropping to a low, commanding tone.

As you obediently drew closer to him, Bakugou's large clawed hand shot out, gripping your wrist tightly. With a sudden, forceful motion, he pulled you onto his lap with a splash, causing the water to slosh around the tub and onto the bathroom floor.

Bakugou's grip tightened around your waist as he pulled you forcefully onto his lap, positioning your back against his chiseled chest. The feel of his muscular frame against your soft curves was both intimidating and exhilarating. You wondered if your heart beat was visible with the way it seemed to drum violently against your ribs.

With a punishing hold on your hips, Bakugou bullied his cock into you, thrusting in inch by thick inch. The sensation of being filled by his girthy length always brought a mix of pleasure and discomfort that never failed to elicit a gasp from your lips. The barbed ridges of his dick rippled against the walls of your dripping pussy, and you had to keep from instinctually clamp down on him. Black claws left angry indents on your skin as he started thrust sharply into you.

As the water sloshed and splashed, Bakugou's claws remained unyielding, his possessive hold a reminder of who you belong to. With every thrust, he watched with a predatory gaze as you writhe on his lap. The moans of pleasure being pulled from you echoing in the small space.

"I can't believe you allowed a fucking useless rabbit to touch you," Bakugou snarled in your ear, his voice filled with venom.

Bakugou growled against your neck, his hot breath tracing a path of need and possessiveness. He rubbed his scent onto your sensitive skin, his rugged scruff grazing against your jawline. With each thrust, Bakugou's movements gradually erased the lingering haze of Izuku's pine and yuzu scent from your body. His own dominant scent, a mix of warm cinnamon, earthy browned caramel, and the smoldering scent of embers, overwhelmed your senses. Seeping into your skin, claiming you as his own.

You were caught between the pleasure of Bakugou's relentless assault and your instinct to defend Izuku's friendliness. Still you tried to find your voice, no matter how shaky. "K-Katsuki," you begun to protest weakly, voice tinged with a mix of pleasure and desperation. "Izuku didn't mean any-"

In a black and orange flash, Bakugou's tail wrapped around your throat, his favorite way of shutting you up. The soft fur against your sensitive skin was a sharp contrast to the powerful grip it wielded, protests efficiently choked to a whimper.

As the pressure increased, lightly cutting off airflow, you gasped and whimpered. The minor decrease of oxygen intensified the sensations coursing through your body, making you moan in a mixture of pleasure and desperation. Each sound that escapes your lips only fed the fire burning within Bakugou, driving him to push you further, to exert his control over you completely.

"P-please" You managed to gasp out, your voice barely a whisper. The word hung in the air, almost begging for mercy, a plea to ease the intensity of his possessive onslaught. But deep down, you knew that it was a foolish request. Bakugou's selfish desires and his animalistic nature drive him, and mercy is seldom a part of that equation.

No. Forgiveness is not something Bakugou is known for. Instead, he tightened his grip on your hips, his claws freely dug into your skin, pricking the sensitive surface. His soft blonde hair, normally messy and tousled, now seemed to stand completely on end, giving him a truly feral appearance. With every wild thrust, his tail's grip on your throat tightened and slacked with the rhythm he found.

Bakugou spread his legs wider, seeking leverage as he relentlessly thrust upwards, setting a brutal pace that left you shuddering in pleasure. The sound of combined moans and the splashing of water filled the bathroom, creating an atmosphere of utter debauchery. Each forceful movement made you acutely aware of the prickly barbs that line Bakugou's endowed length, igniting intense sensations deep within your cunt. Under the violently swirling water, your toes curled against the slippery porcelain.

"Ya feel that, dumbass? That's me claiming you, marking you as mine." Bakugou's voice rasps in your ear, a mix of lust and dominance dripping from every word. “This is what you get, you pathetic little slut. You belong to me, and only me. Remember that." With his tail still wrapped firmly around your throat, His words punctuated by his forceful thrusts, each one drove deep with unforgiving vigor.

His hand snaked up your shaking thigh. His sharp obsidian claws grazed the delicate skin, leaving a trail of barely-there scratches in their wake, before reaching the apex he sought. He always knew how to handle you with terrifying precision. the pads of his fingers expertly circled your throbbing clit. The rough texture of his fingertips added a layer of friction that sent you keening.

Bakugou's touch is unapologetically rough, His fingers pinched and rubbed your clit mercilessly, combining pain and pleasure in a wicked synergy. Every grind, every pinch, brought you closer to the edge of ecstasy. With each press of his fingers, he thrusts into you with merciless ferocity.

Your body was a trembling mess in response to Bakugou's touch, the stimulation was sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. You could feel yourself beginning to succumb to the intensity of his ministrations, your walls tightening around his prickly cock. His thick length continued to impale your clenching hole, each thrust sending waves of pleasure cascading through your body.

Your orgasm hit you like a force of nature. Your eyes widened, pupils dilated with a mix of pleasure, fear, and surrender. Your grip tightened on either side of the tub, your knuckles turning white with the overwhelming sensation. The combination of Bakugou's forceful barbed thrusts, the constriction of his tail around your throat, and the merciless stimulation of your clit sent you over the edge. Your moans escaped in muffled gasps and whimpers, partially silenced by the grip of Bakugou's tail. Waves of ecstasy rippled through you, cunt walls clamped down desperately around Bakugou's cock.

Feeling your walls convulsing around him, Bakugou responded with a bestial roar that echoed off the tiled walls. With one final, forceful thrust, he buried himself deep within your quivering pussy. His body tensed, claws lacerating thin red lines on your hips. He released his cum deep inside you with the final snap of his hips, a torrent that seemed to fill you to the brim. It felt like every inch of your being was flooded with the overwhelming heat and intensity of Bakugou's climax. It was hard to catch your breathe as your cunt milked the last of the feral feline's load.

The spicy notes of cinnamon, the rich sweetness of browned caramel, and the smoky hint of embers engulfed you, overpowering any last hints of citrus and pine needles. In this moment, there was only Bakugou, claiming your body and erasing any lingering trace of competition.

Bakugou slowly loosened his tail from around your sore throat, letting it slip away like a snake releasing its prey. The furry appendage, a mesmerizing blend of orange, black, and white, flicked with an air of smug satisfaction.

As the pressure around your throat eased, your exhausted body slumped against Bakugou's sculpted chest, breath still labored. Bakugou wrapped his strong arms possessively around your spent and shaking form. He pulled you closer to him, ensuring your bodies remain connected, bond unbroken in the cooling bath water. His tail swished to-and-fro with a mixture of contentment and territoriality.

With your body now marked by his scratches and filled with his seed, you'll carry his undeniable scent, making it clear to any hybrid foolish enough to come near that you belong to him and him alone.

"You're mine. No prey filth should dare lay a finger on you." Bakugou seethed into your ear, breathless voice a dangerous low rumble as you drift off from exhaustion. “The next time this 'Deku' touches what's mine, I'm putting him in the fuckin' ground.”

An original broke artist haiku:

Buy Me a Whiskey

Because You Want Me Tipsy

So I'll Write More Smut

[thisliminalspacedaydreams]

Listen I don’t think reading or writing smut should be something one is ashamed of.

I am pretty sure smut isn’t sexual most of the time anyway (as in, purpose). There is no way so much fucking smut has been written just for sex purposes.

Here are some reasons why I think people read and write smut:

- it’s fun. Sex is a thing +95% of the adult world practices (and sometimes enjoys) and we are only ashamed of it cuz society told us it was a shameful topic. Which makes us naturally

- curious. What do other people think sex is like? Fanfic especially gives us raw, unbetad vision of what sex can be straight from another person’s mind. It can inspire, disgust or arouse, but it’s gonna be a learning experience regardless.

- it’s intimate and if there is one thing our current society lacks by miles it’s intimacy. I think it can be comforting to read about people being intimate.

- it’s funny. Sometimes you read tags or a book blurb like the Ruby Dixon Alien porn thingy and you think “now i gotta know what this is about”. IT IS FUNNY. And writing it can be funny and reading it can be funny and it can be a funny experience actually it doesn’t have to be a sexual one (is it even sexual that often?

- you can work out your kinks in a (relatively) safe space.

- You can work out your trauma.

- You can work out a potential fantasy that you only want in your brain.

- Maybe you want the relationship you worked so hard at building for thousands of words to translate sexually speaking because in a romance that’s sometimes the buildup. And the major action scene is the sex. And it’s just a narrative tool.

None of this is/has to be real.

I am so tired of the narrative that porn is a horny behavior. It really isn’t. It can be, but I would wager it’s less than 30% that is actually horny.

I am ace. I don’t care about sex in my real life at all. But Smut is so fun to me. Writing it or reading it is SO FUN. Sometimes I cackle and sometimes I cringe and sometimes I hide my face and go « ohmygod » and sometimes I think « sweet » and sometimes I—

Do you get it?

Sex isn’t shameful and neither is omegaverse egg dragon implant monster fucking smut.

I would like to drop the weird convinctions people have that smut readers/writers are degenerates. Go touch grass.

(Also yeah data is probably skewed just extrapolate plz)

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

I think for all the discussions we have of "everyone hears the jokes and the piano; after that, they stop listening" surrounding Louis, we tend to still simplify his connection to the piano.

Yes, it's very cute that he sings Clementine a little song when they first meet, and it's very cute that he plays a little prank on her while "tuning" the piano. It's super cute that they carve their initials into the piano and Clementine carves a heart around them. It's mega cute that he names his song he wrote after her when she confesses her feelings. Louis playing Don't Be Afraid at the party is, in my opinion, one of the best moments in all of TFS.

But here's the thing: That piano is Louis' heart.

I don't mean to go all metaphorical on you, but I'm dead serious—the piano is Louis' heart, and when you think about his arc and his romance route with that in mind...?

That piano is his one comfort in a world where the dead walk. It's been with him from the beginning of the outbreak. We know from his backstory that Louis wanted to take singing lessons so he could be a real musician, and his father denying him of that was what set him off to be a "vindictive fuckhead." Louis never got those singing lessons, and it's a very real possibility that Louis taught himself how to play.

Sure, others could've taught him; we know Minerva was musically talented, perhaps she showed him a thing or two. But learning piano, or any instrument, is brutal even with professional guidance. It takes hours of practice until numbness wears fingertips raw; dedication to memorize every key and finger placement to make music pleasing to the ear; self-discipline to keep going through every fumble, every failure, every single cruel thought of self-doubt; intelligence and a creative ear to write his own songs.

And yet, it's severely under-appreciated by everyone. It's annoying. It's distracting. It's unimportant. It's an excuse for Louis to mess around and not do any real work. He doesn't have any actual talent. The music and the piano are brushed off, unheard.

Yet, Louis keeps playing. He keeps singing. He keeps making jokes.

Creating music, the one thing he wanted so badly as a kid that he destroyed his parents marriage, was possibly the greatest comfort he had... a welcome distraction to disassociate from the horror and death happening around him.

It's bittersweet, like a purpling bruise that you can't stop pressing on; it hurts, but there's something else below the pain. The piano is out of tune and it's something that brings him joy... but will always act as a constant reminder of who he was and what he did, why he's at Ericson to begin with.

We first meet him while he's playing; Louis' heart is exposed, but is it really? Is he playing to his true potential? Louis hides behind the mask of a charming, charismatic goof. It's what is expected of him, so he plays a silly song intended to poke and prod at Clementine, to gauge a reaction. That's something we see him do at multiple points in episode one. In fact, we can consider a majority of episode one to be like the song he's playing when we meet him; it's mostly cheery or fast-paced.

Louis is able to soothe AJ with his "alluring" music after the kid bit Ruby is an indication that the two of them will share a bond. Louis is a natural at communicating and bonding with the younger kids [another talent that's overlooked] so it's interesting that he praises AJ for being a natural at piano, as well.

But the song stutters just a bit when Louis and Clementine are in the woods together, though; "There's only one guarantee: this moment. That's the only you got, only thing any of us got. Might as well enjoy it." ...Only for Louis to compose himself and send her away.

It's only when Clementine has a gun in her face, held by Marlon, that the music isn't fun anymore; it's rainfall and thunder and the words "I thought you were more than that" sung through the wind in a melody only Louis can hear.

Then Marlon's dead. The song is over, and reality has arrived.

I've talked at length about Louis in ep2 and his vote in the past. It's one of the most compelling things about Louis' arc and romantic route. It's a tragic mistake driven by trauma and guilt. It's people simultaneously telling him to shut up and telling him to be angrier than he is. Telling him to stop burying his head in the sand when he's never been more aware of everything happening. It's AJ peering up at him with pleading eyes that Louis can't stand to look at. It's Clementine wrapping his heartstrings around her fingers and tugging just enough to hurt, but not break.

Louis missed Clementine. He says as much when Clementine admits she missed him first. I don't even know where to begin with that! I can think of no other way to describe it other than they are half agony, half hope over this... and if you get that reference, you get a gold star. I just- the ache, the tension, the conflicting feelings of finally having a quiet moment to talk but Louis not being ready yet.

Y'know how someone carved "you suck at playing" in the side of the piano? It's something you might not initially notice while playing the game, just as Louis' insecurities aren't apparent at first.. but they're carved in him; never fully healed, still scabbed and bleeding... Until Clementine offers him a bandage.

She won't clean the wound for him, but she'll be there. She'll help him figure out how to do it himself so he can heal. She'll listen to him, not belittle his feelings or pain. She'll make an effort to know his keys and notes and practice playing his song until she understands.

When Clementine chooses him to spend time with him, it's a mirror of their first time meeting... but this time, Louis plays something real: a song he wrote, one that I believe he crafted during the two week time skip... a song he wrote with Clementine on his mind, for better or worse.

If the piano is Louis' heart, he literally asks her to sit there and try to tune it, which ends up being a joke but I say she's already tuned your heart, my guy. It's there before them, changed in the warm candlelight. He plays for her and opens up about how no one actually listens, but Clementine did.

And remember, this is the night of the raid. They don't know it's coming, but they know it'll be soon. Louis understands that he could very well die, so what does he do? He carves his initial into the one thing he's always had, and he asks Clementine to do the same.

I'm sorry, how are we NOT more feral about this? Prior to this scene, the only thing we see carved into the piano, into Louis' heart, is an insult. This thing that Louis cares so deeply about, this instrument that's become so intertwined with who he is... he wants to leave his mark on it just in case he dies. A reminder that it was his and he belonged to it just as much. Something so important, and he asks Clementine to carve herself into his heart where no matter what, they will be immortalized together in this moment.

And when Clementine carves a heart around their initials? Yes, his reaction is very cute and that's great... but she's not ashamed of him, or her feelings for him. She wants everyone who looks upon his heart to know that. She tells him how she feels and Louis is so giddy, and warm, and he names the song after her and I am going to start biting anything that moves, I can't-

Oh, and let's discuss the party scene in episode three, shall we? Y'know, where the heart covered initials are on full display? Where Louis tells the story of why he was sent to Ericson to everyone?

Louis is so... vulnerable. Sincere. Ashamed of what he did. This is the exposed nerve, the one he was so afraid of showing Clementine but there it is... and she doesn't reject him. Sure, she can say it's fucked up if you choose to, but she doesn't break up with him over it.

Also the fact that everyone sitting around him finally listens when he's at his most unshielded only for Tenn to ask him to play Don't Be Afraid for them after...? How do you not see the connection? Are you trying to make me cry? In that moment, Louis' heart was heard and appreciated and beautiful and strong and-

Listen. I am fine. I'm so normal about this. And fine. I'm fine.

But I also have to add that during the walk in episode four, if you let Louis choose what to add to the imaginary house, he picks a brand new piano because he wants a new heart to reflect the confidence and growth Clementine helped him achieve and because he loves her and AJ so much that wants the new heart to not just be his but also theirs and I am so fine with this, okay.

[recareels]

clari oh clari i wanna share this with you so bad bc i just had an idea about mr reca ٩(＾◡＾)۶ (i hope you like it it’s been brewing in my head for a while but idk whether it’s just stupid or not) imagine you are a cabaret singer in a nightclub amongst the galaxy…you’re not just any cabaret singer though, your every night singing is almost akin a theatrical performance with your sugary saccharine voice and elegant seraphic dance moves that enchant even the most stoic person. and every night you see red glinting eyes watch your figure, admiring your almost innate talent for the spotlight. one night after your gig he finds you and speaks with you in the most enchanting voice talking about how “you’re a natural darling. i could see you on all sorts of billboards” (im such a sucker for the hc of him having a transatlantic accent) and you blush and thank him. little do you know he’s got a fat wad of cash ready to pay the owner of your nightclub in exchange for you so he can make you his own little star…

^.^

(and if cash doesn’t work his gonna take you somehow bc god is he so obsessed fascinated by you and definitely wants to put a pretty little star like you on billboards!)

ANONNNNNNNNNNNNNN please this is such a DELICIOUS IDEA!!!!!! i’m shouting at the top of my lungs!!! yes yes yes and there’s something catlike about him, something predatory to him, the way he watches you as if he’s stalking his prey— ruby eyes lazy and lidded as they follow your movements across the stage in slow, smooth sweeps, assessing your strengths and weaknesses, hunting for the opportune moment to strike. the hunger in his eyes is so potent it’s almost tangible; a dense haze that saturates the air around him, that intoxicates anyone who dares to venture a bit too close.

and he’s got that perpetual smirk smeared across his face, caught somewhere between enchanting/charming and sleazy/dangerous, an ambivalent sort of quirk to his lips that simultaneously makes you feel valuable and worthless. his voice is dark and decadent as those compliments spill from his lips, punctuated with an offer he’s sure you can’t refuse. because it isn’t just the money and the fame, the enticing promise of everlasting stardom, but him too—to be his favourite, to be his little masterpiece, raw crude talent taken and honed expertly between his skilled hands, crafted into something that’s almost ethereal, that transcends these realms...birthed by him, owned by him, tethered forever to him.