#ooh my nails are long so i might try my hand at this

[epickiya722]

Okay, I can't believe I've been tricked by nude nail polish...

This whole time I thought Wyatt had claws like how Willa does... no! He has nail art that gives off the look of claws!

That's nail art, I know nail art when I see nail art!

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Date Night

Joel Miller x F!Reader

based on this lovely ask. I've added some zest and a lil smut that came out of nowhere cuz why not. Mommy and Daddy are horny when they're alone.

Warnings: unprotected sex, brief breeding kink, car sex, semi-public sex, descriptions of reader's body related to pregnancy

18+ONLY

- - - -

Joel’s been waiting for this night for over a year now. It really shouldn’t take this long to get a date night alone again with the wife after giving birth, but lord knows the Miller family girls were inseparable the minute Sarah let out her first cry into the big world. 

You’ve been the ever attentive Momma, and Joel couldn’t have been more ecstatic to have the perfect trifecta.

But oh my god he needs a minute alone with you again. You wanted to be with Sarah 24/7 and vice versa. And since the little bean turned 3, she’s become more clingy than ever possible. 

Not tonight. He’s made the perfect reservation, had Tommy clear his schedule to babysit for weeks now, and even picked up a gorgeous necklace and matching earrings to compliment adults-only night out. The kids (being Sarah and adult-Tommy) can have their own fun. Joel needs his wife tonight.

“And she gets 30 minutes of TV max okay? Then you have to read her—one second Joel—one of her books, she might pick it out herself, please be patient, she’s gonna keep switching it on you but that’s ok, and then—oh don’t forget her blanket is in the dryer so its extra warm—oOH and Tommy—“

“He’s got, honey,” Joel tuts. Tommy has been approved for babysitting duty before. He trusts him (as far as the neighbor can see into the house not being burned down).

You and Joel are standing in the kitchen, ready to sneak out the back door while Sarah is dancing to the little trolls on the television in her own world.

“Okay,” you whisper. Joel holds the door open as you hesitantly look back. “I”m just gonna give her a quick kiss--“

He looks his arm into yours and hoists you back. “No! She won’t let you go. She’ll be fine. C’mon.”

Joel and you tip toe out and round the garden to the front door with giggles, trying not to stumble over the long grass and patchy holes in the yard.

You’re almost to the car parked in the driveway when you hear screaming from inside, followed by the door opening and a midget Sarah running towards you with a red, tear-stricken face as Tommy is shouting “Hey get back here bug!”

“Mama!” She smashes her face into your dress and wraps her arm around your legs. Her little body trembles with sobs.

“Sarah, Mama’s here, it’s okay.” You pout and crouch down and hug her, cooing away her baby tears. 

Joel makes eye contact with Tommy who’s standing at the front door with an apologetic look. He shakes his head: mission failed. But he’s not giving in so easily.

The toddler sniffles and wipes her cheeks with puffy fists. She grabs your hand and leads you back inside the house, and Joel follows behind.

You sit and watch tv with her for a few minutes but she starts to look sleepy. Joel nudges you again, and you slide off the sofa carefully as can be. This time, you don’t even make it to the door before you feel a strong grip tugging at your dress.

Twice more over the next 40 minutes, Sarah comes screaming towards you, refusing to let you go.

Joel’s given up on the reservation and just hopes the two of you can snag a bar spot at this point.

“I’m sorry, she just keep slipping—“

“She’s got so much fat,” Joel grumbles as you plant fat kisses on her head and sway her side to side in your arms, “There’s no way she just ‘slips’. Just hold her down, Tommy!”

Sarah is glued to your leg, crying as you once again try to leave the house with Joel.

“No!nonononoNONONONONO!” She wails, bitty nails digging into your calf.

Joel gives Tommy a look just as Sarah is rubbing her face on your dress. "SARAH,” he shouts with a stern booming voice. His thick finger points down at her authoritatively. She hiccups, startled, and listens:

"Daddy and Mommy are LEAVING. Do you understand me?"

Her lips wobbles, eyes scrunching into a terrible fit before screeching at the top of her lungs in tears and going to hold you tighter. 

Before she reaches you, Tommy scoops her up by the belly and slings her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes at the same time Joel hoists you over his and takes you to the truck. 

Joel has to drag you to the car as you watch Sarah's teary red face and outstretched arm yelling for you dramatically from Tommy's shoulder before he closes the front door on her.

You sit in the passenger seat timidly. Joel angrily slams the door before rounding towards the driver side.

“Finally,” he grumbles, putting his seatbelt on and turning the ignition.

You sniffle a bit, looking at the window solemnly.

“You’re not crying, are ya?” He asks hesitantly.

“No!” You cry.

He grinds his jaw but continues to put the car in reverse. His warm hand pats along your thigh as you wipe the almost tears from your eyes. You refuse to let your makeup get ruined.

“It’s gonna be fine, Christ, Mama.”

You nod and cross your arms, thinking about your baby girl and her sad tears the entire ride.

-

At the restaurant, Joel managed to get a table despite the hostess grumbling about their lateness. He’s pleased, finally having you to himself, no child at the hip to worry about, just the two of you again like it all started.

He sips his wine and admires the view: you really put forth the effort tonight, your hair blown out and beautifully full, makeup neutral yet with a sexy hint of red lipstick, and the earrings and necklace compliment your looks perfectly.

Not to mention the boner he’s getting from seeing you in such a dress as if you were back in your 20s again.

"You look so beautiful," he says quietly with a smile.

"Yup sure do,” you say curtly, sipping your water quickly and then twiddling the button at the time on the phone.

He grunts disapprovingly. “Can you really not just relax—“

"We've never been apart from her this long!"

"Yes we have. When we both work. She goes to daycare. Tommy has baby sat her before."

"Mmmhgmmgmfmdmdddfgfggrrhrhrr but she--"

“She needs to learn to self sooth on her own. She’s FINE.” He reiterates. Joel refuses for this night, this one night in a very very long time, to be about Sarah! “What about us?"

You pause and look up from your anxious state, turning to a worried, perplexed one instead. “What do you mean? We're fine, aren't we?" You ask hesitantly, and he absolutely catches the wobble in your voice.

"Yes…! Oh honey, no I didn’t mean it like that. I mean... well…  I never get to see just you anymore."

Your eyes soften with remorse and heartfelt appreciation. “That's what happened when you have children, Joel."

"I know I know, and I love her to death, but Jesus I love you too! I loved you first and I miss just having you to myself sometimes too. I feel like I’m competing with her over you.”

You nod in agreement. “I’m sorry. I know I get so worked up. If she had a sister, it'd be so much easier on her.”

“How are we supposed to give her a sister if I can't get 5 seconds alone with you?" 

You hide the little grin on your face just as he dips to catch it with a satisfied smirk. “If that were the case, you would have taken me to a hotel tonight. Not dinner.”

Joel contemplates with wide eyes of realization at his mistaker of venue. “We can get this to-go right now. Can get to the holiday inn in 10 minutes, and I’m sure they got a room for the next few hours—“

You kick his shin and laugh. 

He can’t stop smiling with you. You’re finally relaxed now, and just as radiant as the first day he met you. Same when he married you, and every day you were glowing during the pregnancy. The only moment that beat it was when he saw you first hold your newborn in your arms.

“I can’t stop staring at you,” he admits. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

You bite the inside of your lip and check your phone again for the time. Butterflies kick up in your stomach and nestle somewhere south that has your your thighs clenching together. Throwing your hand up in the air to signal the waiter: “Can I get a to-go for this? We have somewhere to be, right now.”

-

You couldn’t manage to wait for the drive to the hotel. Forcing Joel to pull over on the side of some empty backroad, crawling into his lap and stripping his jacket just as you grind your panty-clad core into his slacked-bulge. 

“Fuck, oh my god,” he groans, pulling you flush against him and kissing you deeply. Both your hands are busy trying to undo the other’s clothes—his fingers working to unzip your dress, revealing your smooth back, breasts on display for groping. At the same time you nimbly fight each of his buttons to push your palms against his broad chest. Fighting to suck in air between each forceful kiss. Entangled in one another like horny teenagers.

“I miss this,” he hums against your cheek just as you reposition your underwear to the side with one hand, fisting his cock out of his slacks with the other. His hands glide over your ass, patting your cheek once, ruffling the slit in your dress.

“Me too,” you snicker, finally settling his tip at your entrance. “I miss being able to straddle you without a belly,” you add quickly, and he almost laughs were it not for the synchronous moan you both let out as you sink down on his length fully.

Your eyes flutter, but a gentle grasp of your jaw pulls your face just an inch from his. “I want you to watch me,” he groans. “Watch me make love to you.” Your lips hover over his plump ones as you begin to slowly rock up and down along his massive cock. “That’s it, that’s my wife. So good f’me.”

You nod, whimpering softly. Each little hump pushes his tip deeper, nudging your g-spot effortlessly.

“So full,” you whine.

“You take it so good, baby. Always have.” His arms wrap securely around your hips as you grind on one another. He really was made for you. Your walls always fit like a glove around him, just tight enough to make him nearly blow his load each time were it not for an extreme amount of effort to avoid it. Every change to your body since having Sarah has only made his lips and hands hungrier to feel, the new dips and curves, soft plush areas just begging to be grasped by him. He wants it, wants you and so much more.

“Joel,” you warn, keening with little high pitched etches caught in your throat. “M’gonna cum.”

“Me too,” he rasps. “Gonna do it inside. You gonna take it?”

You nod, tears of euphoria welling in your eyes as you whimper.

“Gonna put another baby in ya? Right fuckin’ here, in my truck behind a restaurant? That how you want it? Dirty dirty girl, holy fuck—“

You gasp, your entire boy trembling against him as you cum. He captures your lips before you let out your moan, walls contracting around him until he feels his lower tummy snap. Balls twitching, he grunts into your mouth as he spills his generous seed deep into your womb. It’s so much, so pent up, so drawn out. 

It’s the best mind-clearing cure you’ve ever had. 

You collapse forward on him, slouched and panting against his sweaty neck. Your soft lips connect with his collarbone. He pecks your forehead, brushing the hair from your face.

It’s not comfortable at all, scrunched up here in his car. neither of you are nearly as young as the recent activity suggest, but with his strong arms wrapped lovingly around you, the fog blurring the windows and separating the two of you from the rest of the world, you could stay like this forever.

It’s quiet in Joel’s arm. Just the two of you—

His phone buzzes in his pocket and you fish out the device.

12 missed calls from Tommy.

You sit straight up and hit your head on the roof. “Ow!” 

But there’s no time to hurt, not when Tommy’s last text message isa jumbled mess : ‘45ssfgh5 vi w2434467777$$75%refft+..87’ 

“Oh my God! OhmyGod—OHMYGOD— Joel, we need to go home right fucking now! What if they’re incoherent? What if something crashed into the house? What if it’s a fire? What if someone broke in—!”

He wipes his face with both hands. Truth is, he knew his phone was going off all night, but if you weren’t getting any messages, then it couldn’t have been an emergency. It was best to deliberately ignore whatever Tommy, a grown adult, couldn’t figure out on his own.

“Alright alright. We’ll go—“

“HURRY THE FUCK UP!” You scratch, setting into the passenger seat and reaching to turn the keys for him.

He slaps your hand away offensively before tucking his softened, creamy cock back inside his trousers and speeding back home.

Low and behold, as you nearly trip out of the car towards the house (the very intact, not on fire, not broken into, normal looking house just as you left it,) you stumble into the front door to see Tommy passed out on the couch with a drooling Sarah propped up against his shoulder.

Clutched in her tiny hands is Tommy’s massive phone that is the side of her arm, with Joel’s contact open and a half jumbled message of random letters and numbers still half written before she must have fallen asleep.

You sigh heavily.

Joel comes in right after you and chuckles as you catch your breath. You smack him on the shoulder. 

“Probably shouldn’t wake her,” he whispers to you with a peck to the lips. You pout but obey, not wanting to make a scene right as she’s asleep.

He walks over to his younger brother and flicks his forehead.

“M’up!” He mumbles.

“You’re supposed to put her to bed before you fall asleep.” He scoops his sleepy baby into his arms and carries her off to her room, leaving the door cracked.

Joel escorts Tommy out just as you unlatch your earring. You glance back towards her room, the light from the kitchen illuminating a sliver of the bed, and Sarah has somehow miraculously disappeared.

You’re running out after Joel, who’s opening Tommy’s truck door just as you both see something waddling in the dark and getting into the back seat by herself.

“Sarah!” 

The toddler rubs her sleepy eyes but doesn’t respond, just sits quietly in uncle Tommy’s truck with the lap belt pulled over her seat.

Joel, on the other hand, sees the opportunity to get you alone, loud, and spread out in bed all to himself for the rest of the night. “Yes, take her!" He encourages. Tommy grumbles with his hands on his hips.

You shake your head in disbelief and shove past him. “Sarah no! Mommy's home! Let's cuddle—“

"No." She says plainly. "I go to MeeMee now."

"No! You stay with Mommy!" You cry. 

She shakes her head again more defiantly, but her little voice cracks as just mumbles. “You lef me!”

Your heart is cracking in a million pieces, chest aching so badly as water blurs your vision. “I’m sorry! Please I won't do it ever again!"

"No!"

"You're never watching my child again. Thomas!” you seethe at defenseless Tommy.

 Now you and Sarah are crying and hyperventilating in the driveway at 10pm.

"Daddy made me!" You wail like a baby yourself. sounding almost indistinguishable from Sarah now. Fat tears spill down both of your faces, sagged shoulders twitching with each sniffle. 

You and Sarah both huff and wipe your puffy red eyes. 

Finally, Sarah speaks up with her little sobs subsided: “Daddy go to MeeMee and Mommy and RaRa stay home.”

“Deal. Joel, pack your bags,” you say plainly, straightening up and reaching out for Sarah, who gladly accepts you in her arms. 

As you walk with her on your hip back to the house without another word, Tommy glances back in amusement.

And just like that, Joel was #2 again.

-

Joel fluffs the flat pillow on Tommy’s bed. The two of them sharing the full mattress since the younger brother only just moved into his new apartment, not having picked up any other furniture at the moment except for his tiny ass mattress.

"You think this is real funny don't you,” Joel grumbles. He tugs on the blanket and shifts uncomfortably over to his side, facing away.

Tommy chuckles and wipes his face, trying to clear the soreness from his cheeks after laughing all the way home. “Hell yeah. You wanted that, all of it, remember?"

Joel just grins happily, subconsciously twirling the gold band on his ring finger. He checks his phone one last time, the picture of you and Sarah as an infant in his arms smiling up at him. "Yeah. Yeah I do." 

-

 He’s achy and exhausted when comes back home in the early morning. Tommy had kicked him off the bed in his sleep, so the older brother just walked home for 20 minutes.

 It’s not until he sees you and Sarah curled up on his bed together, her little pjs riled up over her fat belly, fist clutched above her head, and you with your protective hand around her hip, nose buried in her hair, breathing so softly in unison, that he can't imagine anything better. He kisses both your heads before walking back towards door.

There’s a little rustle and patter noise behind him, and Joel stops, almost shouting and jumping up when he turns to see little Sarah standing on his heels looking up to him. She points to the bed with very pouty lips and tired yet steamy eyes. Joel takes her hand and she guides him to the bed.

She clutches the side and hoists herself up with all her might before Joel joins in on his vacant side. Two tubby fingers grip his cheeks and pull him to stare directly into her soul a she says clearly: “Don’t ever take Mama away again. You understan me?" With a fat digit pointed inches from his eyeball.

He swallows and nods fearfully: “Yes ma’am". 

Switching on a dime, his babygirl smiles gently and kisses his scruffy cheek. Her little head settles onto his shoulder just as he tucks her between the two of you, curling around her and nuzzling himself into your hair.

He sighs heavily and feels himself falling asleep, his family finally wrapped up into his arms. 

"Daddy," Sarah says after 12 seconds of silence, rubbing her eyes. “Chocwit pancakes."

Your head jolts up and you hazily grumble, “Ooo pancakes yes please! Can you put chocwit chips in them?" 

You fall back onto the pillow, pulling Sarah back into your arms with a content, lazy smile.

He rolls his eyes and crawls out of bed just as Sarah and you cuddle closer together and fall back asleep.

 - - - - 

taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop

[percki]

on my knees

tags: 18+, mature content, MDNI, Gale x reader, f!Tav, 2nd person pronouns, act 3, semi-public sex, porn w/o plot, lap dance, explicit consent, bondage, restraints, dom/sub, switch Gale, oral sex (m! and f! receiving), lap sex, hand jobs, overstimulation, orgasm denial, praise kink

ao3 link

“Urgh.” Rolan stands up, wiping a smear of Lorroakan’s blood off the sleeve of his robes. “Your aasimar friend is… violent.”

“I’m so sorry for the mess, Rolan. We can clean everything up –” You glance around the upper level of the tower, at the holy fire, congealed mud, pasty mixture of water and ash, and a fair amount of blood. At the wizard’s broken body, his face swollen with bruises, his mouth agape, sprawled at the foot of his throne of books. “– Um, but it might take a while.”

Rolan waves one long-nailed hand in your direction, his discolored face grateful – if not a bit exasperated. “Don’t worry about it, my friend. You have already done so much for me – consider my debt forgiven, and all will be well.” You smile at that, watching the tiefling wizard grunt with exertion as he hauls Lorroakan’s body towards the portal. “And, erm – help yourself to any treasures you come across, of course. I’ll be… downstairs…” He pushes the corpse through the shimmering portal, and sends you one last earnest, sharp-toothed smile over his shoulder. “...Burying a body.”

With that, Rolan pushes up the sleeves of his robes (sorcerer’s robes, trimmed in silver, unbefitting for a wizard, but they suit him well nonetheless) and steps through the portal, no doubt bracing himself to break the news to his new employees. ‘Hey, so remember those adventurers that just came in? They killed Lorroakan, violently, and I’m your boss now. Surprise!’ You’re sure the staff at Sorcerous Sundries have endured worse surprises; working for Lorroakan sounds akin to an eternity of torture in the Hells.

Aylin sheathes her sword and crosses over to you, removing her helmet. Her ash-blonde hair spills over her shoulders, and her gold-streaked face glistens with blood and sweat. “I shall be at your camp, if you have need of me,” she declares, and inclines her head in gratitude. “You fought well – as you have before. I remain thankful for your assistance.” Less wordy than usual – Lorroakan’s death must be weighing on her. You don’t blame her.

“Thank you, Dame Aylin,” you say, and bow in respect. She smiles at that, silver eyes gleaming.

“Ooh, wait!” Karlach runs up to you, her arms full of wine bottles – no doubt pilfered from Lorroakan’s hidden stash. The woman has a nose for alcohol – she could find a bottle of Baldur’s Grape blindfolded, disoriented, in the middle of a rainstorm. Shadowheart is close behind, a new cloak slung over her shoulders and a fair amount of gold filling her pockets. “We’ll probably go back to camp, too – Fringe and I have to try all this wine.”

“To make sure it isn’t poisoned,” Shadowheart adds, green eyes twinkling with humor. “You can handle yourselves without us, can’t you?”

You grin. “Save a bottle of Mermaid Whiskey for me.”

“Blech. You can have it all.” Karlach sticks out her split tongue, her smile wide. “See ya!” She bolts through the portal head-first: dangerous, with the amount of alcohol in her arms and the fiery infernal engine in her chest. You hear a distant crash, and wince.

Shadowheart follows close behind, calling, “Save the Tyche Pink!”

You hear the rush of wings and look over – Aylin is gone, too, a flash of silver in the clear blue sky. You watch her fly, the wind buffeting her white wings – deva-like, altogether unnatural, inhuman, beautiful in an untouchable, deadly, frightening way – as she soars. The sunlight seems to collect around her, like a remnant of her celestial mother’s power lingers, still, even after the heat and rage of battle is done.

“And then there were two.”

Gale’s voice snaps you out of your reverie. You look up, meeting his eyes. Dark brown, deep, gentle, shining with a light all too familiar. He’s standing by the throne of books, his right hand resting on a copy of Folktales of Faerún: The Angelic Aasimar. 

You kneel over the ashes of the water myrmidon, sifting through the remains for treasure. Nothing. “I suppose Rolan will take a while…” You look around the tower once more, keen eyes picking out chests, display cases, bookshelves – anything that could hide a nice new set of robes for Gale, or a dagger for Astarion, or perhaps some armor for Wyll… “Will you cast Feather Fall? I want to look on the lower levels…” You trail off, reading something in Gale’s eyes. His fingers flex on the spine of the book, his shoulders thrown back, his lilac robes fitting his form well. Is he… posing? You smile and straighten, dusting ash off your sleeves, and move to his side, twining your left arm with his right, leaning comfortably against his side. “The Annals are in the vaults,” you say, knowing his primary objective here, halfheartedly attempting to lift his spirits. Thoughts of the Crown are dangerous – you have seen how easily the lure of power can corrupt, a thousand times (with Kagha in the Emerald Grove, with Minthara at the goblin camp, with Ketheric and Gortash and now Lorroakan). But despite your reservations, you know his ambition fuels him, that it drives his fire, that thoughts of greatness and respect do raise his spirits. “We could go down ourselves…”

Gale turns into you, resting his forehead on your shoulder, his beard scratching at your neck. He presses a kiss to your collarbone, and sighs deeply, inhaling your scent – blood and smoke and sweat, and the faintest hints of his cologne lingering on your skin. “I… Not yet,” he says vaguely, and kisses your neck again, deeper this time. Your breath hitches as he trails long, searing kisses up your neck, along the line of your jaw, leading up to your lips.

“Gale…” You whisper, voice low. “I –” He nips at your bottom lip, smiling against your chin, and you can feel your face heat up. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he says devilishly, oak eyes sparkling, looking up at you through thick, dark lashes. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, and you can feel the vibration of his voice against your skin, sending a chill down your spine. “I can’t believe…” He blinks, as if waking from a dream, and cradles your jaw with his hand, straightening to his full height.

You kiss him, this time, tasting blood on his lips, and you stop, examining his face carefully. A bruise is forming at the bridge of his nose, blood tracing a path down the apex of his lips to his chin. You frown, brow creasing in worry. “You’re hurt.”

“Hm?” Gale touches his face gingerly, delicate, careful fingers prodding the quickly-purpling skin. “Oh. Yes. That. It’s quite alright –”

“It’s not alright,” you reply. “Let me heal you.” You take his shoulders in your hands and guide him into a seated position on Lorroakan’s throne, his back reclined against a collection of Ramazith’s annotated tomes. You kneel before him, positioning yourself between his legs, and summon a simple healing incantation, your hand hovering over his nose, the blue glow of the spell reflected in his eyes. “Te curo,” you murmur, and watch as his skin knits itself together, blood drying, swelling fading, the bruise vanishing beneath your fingers. “Better?”

“Better,” he admits, and looks at you with intent in his eyes, his gaze dark and focused on your features. “My love,” he starts, then hesitates. His face turns a delicious shade of pink.

“Yes?” You lean forward, hanging onto his words. He adjusts his legs, his thighs bracketing your shoulders, and you feel the slightest thrill at your compromising position, you in your armor and him in his robes, you kneeling before him like a supplicant at an altar.

“Rolan may not return for some time,” Gale says. “We could…” He stops again, biting his lip.

You guess his meaning immediately – your thoughts are remarkably in-tune. You can’t deny that you hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t wished for… Well. For Gale. Your peaceful nights since arriving in the Lower City have been few and far between, interrupted as they are: by vampires, by nightmares, by Orin’s ministrations. It’s been some time since you and Gale had time to yourselves.

And now, it seems, you have all the time in the world.

“Do you want to?” You question, and his eyes darken, his pupils expanding infinitesimally. You lean forward, cupping his cock with your hand, and smile to feel him already half-hard beneath your touch.

“I – yes,” he breathes, and raises his hand to cast Mage Hand, the incantation on his lips, when you catch him by the wrist, holding him still.

“No magic,” you say breathlessly, and straighten back up to your full height, smiling down at him. “As mortals do, remember?”

Gale watches you intently as you undo the first few buckles of your armor, leather slipping between your fingers. He sits up, reaching out his hands to help –

And you push him back.

“Don’t move,” you warn him, and plant one hand securely on his chest, holding him in place, as you draw a piece of silken fabric out of your pack. You hold it up for him to see, and upon realizing your intention, his eyes widen, pupils expanding impossibly wide. “Do you want this?” You ask, and he confirms with a nod of his head. You narrow your eyes and lean in, your face centimeters away from his, your breath ghosting on his lips. “Say it, please, love.”

He swallows thickly, eyes locked on yours, and says, his voice a rumble in his chest, “I want you to tie me up.”

You smile, and reward him with a bruising, biting kiss. “Good boy,” you murmur, and relish the way his face reddens, his jaw going slightly slack at the praise. “Lean forward for me?” He acquiesces, already holding his hands behind his back, and you climb up into his lap to twine the silk around his wrists, your touch featherlight and gentle. You test the knot, and smile. Not too tight – but he certainly won’t get any ideas about spellcasting. “Does that feel okay?”

“Yes,” he says into your shoulder, his voice muffled by the layers of your armor. You stand back up and step completely out of your clothes, metal buckles and buttons clinking as your many layers fall to the floor, and then you stand before Gale in your undergarments, your skin rising with goosebumps from the cool air, his eyes roving a path up and down your figure.

You feel a little warm from the intensity of his gaze, but you steel your nerves and continue. You reach out with your senses, using the knowledge of the Weave that Gale taught you of so long ago, and you can feel a soft tinkling at the edge of your perception, the distant sound of music, and you pull it towards you. In one of the pleasure dens far below, a slow, sensual number starts up, and you filter the sound through the available space, filling the tower with music.

Gale’s lips part as he realizes your plan. “Love,” he starts, “I haven’t –”

You feel a twinge of self-doubt, standing there near-nude before a man who is completely clothed. You have no experience with this whatsoever – apart from what you have read and seen – and you’re not sure that Gale loves you enough to forgive you if you make a total ass of yourself. “This is okay, right?” You rush to ask, holding your hands out for his before realizing that he’s still tied. You tuck them behind your back, straightening your posture. “Um – I know this is probably unusual, but, you know, in the Quarta Sune –”

Gale grins, his dimples making a rare appearance, and the sight of it pulls at your heartstrings. “You are perfect,” he promises, lifting his dark eyes up to your face. “This is perfect. Please, keep going.”

The slight rasp of his voice goes straight to your core, and you step forward before you’re entirely conscious of your movements, looping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. He leans into you with a groan, and you can feel his shoulders move, his hands resisting the bindings, and you pull back. “No touching,” you say softly, “right? This is about you.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, his expression adorably resentful, and you laugh and kiss the bridge of his nose.

“Later,” you promise, and with that, you stand up, and turn away from him, facing the windows, the setting sun illuminating your skin. The music restarts, strings amping up, and you sway your hips to the tune, letting instinct take over. One, two, three, you breathe, feeling the rhythm run through you, and as the music crescendos, you drop down onto Gale’s lap, your ass just brushing over his thighs, hoping your undulating body looks sensual rather than spasmodic, and your efforts are rewarded with a delicious, blinding groan from behind you. You turn back around to face him – one, two, three – and lean in close, your scent intoxicating, his body warming your skin, and bracket his legs with your knees, one hand carding through his hair and the other slowly unbuttoning his robes, your knuckles barely brushing the velvet-soft hair on his chest. You slide your hands down the planes of his torso, and then, just as he’s leaning forward, again, anticipating your lips on his –

You step back again, turning, lifting your hands over your head and letting your hair down, smiling to yourself as you peek over your shoulder at his exasperated face. One, two, three. You let your ass ghost over his lap again, closer this time, holding there for a few moments longer than he considers tolerable, and just as his patience goes and his hips buck, you return to your starting position, looking down at him chidingly.

“Please,” he whispers, and you raise your brows, your hands going to the clasp of your bra. He watches, rapt, as you slide the fabric off your breasts and let it fall to the ground atop your discarded armor, your nipples peaking in the cool air. You repeat the motion with your panties, and you’re sure Gale catches sight of the soaked fabric as you toss it aside: his face turns a flattering shade of crimson, his arms straining against his silken ropes.

“How can I deny you?” You say, and with smooth, uninterrupted movements, you slide onto his lap, rocking your hips back and forth, tantalizingly slow, atop him. His robes slip open completely, and you can feel his cock straining against the fabric of his undergarments, barely brushing against the skin of your thighs. Your hands roam along the skin of his chest, thumbs swirling careful circles in the dips of his collarbone and shoulders, your palms warm against his skin. “You’re doing so well,” you praise him, and lean forward to kiss along the line of his clavicle, then slowly up his neck, sucking hard enough to bruise, tasting his sandalwood cologne, his soapy shaving cream, the sweat and salt lingering there, your tongue pulsing against his jaw. “So good for me,” you continue, running your hands through his hair, “you’re perfect, Gale.”

And then, surprising him, you slide off his lap and drop to your knees, slotting your body perfectly in between his legs, and in one swift motion, you free his aching cock from his undergarments and lean forward once more, fitting your lips around the head.

“O-oh,” he moans, straining to keep still as you take him deeper, your hands tracing patterns on the skin of his thighs, reaching up to his hips, your nails scratching lightly, and then, as you adjust yourself and push him back so as to get more leverage, you wrap one hand around his shaft and devote the other one to palm gently at his balls, still a touch too gentle. “Mmm – more,” he sighs, and you obey, licking a stripe up the underside of his cock and then fitting it back in your mouth, deep enough to brush the back of your throat, pre-cum salty on your tongue. You hollow your cheeks, looking up at him through lowered lashes, and his mouth falls open, releasing the most pleasurable moans and groans, sighs and mewls slipping between his lips, chanted noises that may be words – you catch the sound of your name, and please, and yes, in the chorus of sounds that escape his chest, rising and falling in octave with every swipe of your tongue and bob of your head. “P-please,” he says again, “please, let me –”

You guess his meaning, and reach behind him; the movement sending his cock to the very back of your throat, and his back arches in pleasure; and pull the strings of his bindings, untying his hands. The moment he’s free, he takes your head in his hands, cradling your jaw, and lets his fingers twine in the strands of your hair as you suck with renewed eagerness, sliding back nearly completely only to take him in fully again, the feel of his cock in your mouth dizzying, intoxicating, sending white-hot shivers through your body –

You glance down, and through the haze of pleasure, through the shadows of sunset, through the sweat and slick on your body, you see a flash of blue cupping your cunt, and you can suddenly feel the gentle, not-quite-there brush of the Mage Hand’s fingers against your clit. You war between pleasure and indignation for a moment – and indignation wins. You pull back, Gale’s weeping cock inches away from your mouth but still suspended in midair, and he huffs, putting his hands over his eyes, his pleasure cut short just on the path to climax. “Why did you –”

“No magic,” you repeat, and you can feel the Mage Hand dissolve. Gale peeks out from through his fingers, caught, and not the least bit ashamed. “Do I need to tie you up again? Completely, this time?”

“I –” His cock twitches, beads of precum leaking from the tip, stunning the both of you into silence.

You let a devilish grin slide across your face. “Oh. You want me to tie you up, love? Top to tip, completely trussed up for me?” You pull away from him and reach in your pack for more ribbon. “Red or purple, my sweet?”

Gale manages an arrogant smile, his face still flushed red. “Purple, of course.”

“Good choice,” you grin, and stand, running the ribbons through your hands reverently. “This will only take a minute,” you promise. “Why don’t you take those bothersome clothes off before I get started?”

He does, and you let your eyes run over his figure appreciatively for a minute before going to work. Hands on the ‘arms’ of the throne, the ribbon secured around a stack of encyclopedias. His legs against the respective ‘legs’ of the throne, straining slightly against his bonds. You stand before him, and he angles his hips up slightly, his eyes pleading.

“So cooperative,” you murmur, running your hands gently up his thighs. “So patient. So good.” You lift your hand to your mouth and spit on your fingers, holding eye contact, and he breathes shakily as you wrap your hand around his cock, leaning forward, mouthing kisses along his neck and collarbone. You start slowly, tantalizingly, pumping your hand along his length with a careful, measured speed that makes Gale’s breath hitch in his throat.

“Please – more,” he moans, his lips chasing yours. “Faster.”

You acquiesce, moving quicker, twisting your wrist the way you know that he likes. His breaths come faster, too, a mindless stream of yes and please and more coupled with your name falling from his mouth. You kiss him with bruising intensity, feeling his cock twitch in your fingers, his body straining against his bonds.

He comes with a muffled yell, his eyes rolling completely back in his head, and you kiss him fiercely as his come paints your stomach and thighs where you sit atop him. “Please – gods – please, untie me, let me –”

You smile against his lips and loosen the ribbons, yelping when his arms encircle you with surprising strength, lifting you up by your thighs and laying you out on the tile floor of the tower, the ground cold on your skin, your head canted back as Gale trails kisses down your thighs. “Ah – Gale,” you sigh as his fingers whisper up the inside of your legs, your skin rising with goosebumps. “I can’t –” You try to lift your head, to see where he is and what he’s doing, but your neck won’t cooperate. “What –”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Gale murmurs into your thigh, his hand lifting your leg to his lips, his beard tickling your skin pleasantly. “There’s only so long I can go without magic, my love. I thought –” Here, his tongue slides up to your cunt, tracing around your lips gently, and you moan, your boneless body arching in pleasure. “I thought you might enjoy feeling how I felt. Constrained. At my mercy.” His tongue winds a circle around your clit, and your breaths come faster, your thighs shaking madly. “Do you?”

“Do I – ah – what?”

“Enjoy it,” Gale says into your cunt, and the vibration makes you shudder.

“I – yes, I – please, I want to touch you, I want to –”

“Mmm,” Gale hums, his tongue working careful, restrained circles around your clit, dipping down to taste your slick. “Not yet.”

It’s been less than two minutes, and you’re already shaking, riding high, your eyes unfocused, as Gale takes you apart with his tongue. The painted constellations of the ceiling dance in and out of focus, and your moans echo around the circular tower, a mix of yes and please and Gale falling from your mouth, a reminder of the way you coaxed Gale’s orgasm from him with delicate fingers not five minutes before. “Gale, I – oh, gods, I can’t – please, I want to see you, I –”

The spell breaks, and you lift your head to see Gale’s face completely buried in your cunt, his sweaty hair spread out on your thighs, his eyes closed in ecstasy, and the image is enough to send you over the edge, a scream in your throat, your legs shaking wildly as you come, Gale’s tongue still working at you gently, until the sensation is too much and you kick him softly, signaling get off me, because your vocal cords aren’t working at the moment.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says, and crawls up to kiss you, and you taste yourself on his tongue, salty-sweet and heady. “But we should probably go before Rolan comes back. I suspect we won’t have an opportunity to take advantage of his hospitality again.”

“Gale…” You wind your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, your eyes fluttering shut. “You might have to Dimension Door us out of here. I don’t think my legs will move.”

“I’ll carry you,” he smiles, and helping you stand, he laces his robes back up and aids you in buckling your armor. “Now come. There’s a bath at the Elfsong that’s calling my name.”

You sigh softly, leaning your head into his shoulder, and watch dreamily as he conjures the portal. “Wait – what about the Annals?”

“Oh.” Gale looks down at the lower levels of the tower. “I suppose we’ll have to come back tomorrow.” He looks almost downcast, but then the expression fades, and he’s just Gale again, smiling at you. “Let’s go.”

[gtgbabie0]

hi! you’re one of my favorites writers i was wondering if you could write reader and Leon going furniture shopping for their first house they bought together thank you and have a great day! 😁

- Leon Kennedy x reader

This is so cute!! Thank you for requesting me love!! 💕💕💕

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You knew Leon could be so insanely stubborn at times, but you would’ve never expected him to go this far, every time you even begin to suggest decorating the house Leon only ever responds with, ‘Decorate however you want angel’ and you’re starting to doubt wether or not he even wants to move into a house together.

So you decide to wait until tonight, just as Leon climbed into bed with you to bring up the situation. He could tell something was bothering you by the way you pick at your nails, and the almost nervous look that settles in your eyes, his hand reaches for yours with reassurance.

“You alright sweetness?” He asks, his thumb smoothing over your knuckles as you give him a weak smile.

You nod as you start to play with his slightly gun-calloused fingers, and you take a mental note to pick up more of that hand cream he uses.

“Yeah, yeah I’m alright- I just- can I ask you something?” You tiptoe, really not wanting to jump to any insane conclusions that might hurt him, but you knew from past experience that it’s best to air out your feelings instead of bottling them up.

“Of course, you can,” he tells you shifting to sit closer to you.

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself, “Do you even want to move in together? I mean I just- I don’t know- it feels like you don’t really want this” You sigh, not looking at him scared of the pain that might stain his features.

He frowns a little, “What? Of course I want to move in together, I’ve wanted this for so long” he tells you with a promising tone, “Why did you ask?” It comes out much quieter than he wanted, his voice quivering ever so slightly.

“Whenever I bring up decorating you always seem to just brush it off,” you tell him playing with his fingers.

He goes quiet for a moment, trying to find the right way to say this, “I’m sorry angel— it’s just I want you to decorate it however you like, I mean you’re going to be here more than I am, you know with my job and everything” he confesses, guilt pinching at his heart.

His worries are soon gone as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, “Oh Leon, but this is still your house, our house” you remind him as you pull away slightly pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “I want you to help me decorate our house” you smile, watching the way his eyes glisten with excitement.

“Okay, I think we can do something about that tomorrow,” he says, relishing the way you let out a string of excited squeals.

You press another kiss to his cheek, “Well then, It’s a date Kennedy” you giggle snuggling down next to him, your head resting on his chest as he traces small patterns against your back.

Leon would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t having a good time looking through all the fake furniture displays, the way you ‘Ooh’ and ‘Aww’ at all the different shapes and colours similar to a child in a sweet shop.

You both agreed to take it one room at a time, it would be much easier that way and you both settled on deciding the living room first.

“Ooo, We should get that one” you laugh pointing to the sofa that was an awful shade of green that was displayed.

He looks at you with unpleased eyes, “Absolutely not” he deadpans pulling you away from the ugly velvet cushioned sofa, as you ramble on about how a green sofa would be ‘cool’ but he has none of it.

Leon can hardly believe it, he’s always wanted to move in with you ever since you started to stay over at his apartment, he loves coming home to you, waking up and falling asleep together, and now he gets to do it every day, he couldn't be happier.

“How about this one?” He says, it was a beautiful cream colour with the softest fabric he’s ever felt, and he imagines being curled up on it together watching trash tv, “All snuggled up together, what do you think?” He asks, his hand soothes your hip.

“Mhm, does it come in a darker colour? You spill almost everything” you tease and he scoffs at you playfully.

“When have I ever spelt anything?” He asks with a slight frown.

“Hmm let me see, the one time you spelt my wine and left a stain, then the pasta incident when you were drunk, the pizza you dropped- oh! And-“ he doesn’t let you finish the rest of your rambling, his finger pushes against your lips.

“Okay okay yeah, so we’ll get it in dark grey” he chuckles, accepting defeat as he presses a kiss to your temple, you continue to walk through the aisle and he watches as you jog over to something that clearly has caught your attention and Leon knows that this might be a long day but there’s no one else he’d rather spend it with.

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[bump1nthen1ght]

A Very Monstrous Kinktober: Day 29 (Breathplay)

Kink: Breath Play

Pairing: Male!Octomerman x Male!Reader

Other kinks: Choking, Gagging, Tentacles

Warnings: Non consensual, Implied kidnapping, Mind Break

Word Count: 1057 words

Kinktober Masterlist

A/N: In the true spirt of halloween I got too drunk last night and forgot to queue this piece up. But can y'all believe were almost done with Oct/Kinktober?!! I'm gonna miss it (´��Д；`) But I still have 2 more days of smut just for y'all! Have fun~

“Aww, does that feel good?”

Muffled moans echoe across cavern walls, broadcasting shame and ecstasy down to the underwater entrance. At least it could act as a warning, tell others that no matter how tempting those pearls and jewels look, stay away.

If you couldn’t help yourself, you could at least help others.

“Oh, I guess thats as close to as a ‘yes’ I’ll get.” A long, purple nail trrails down the side of your cheek, opal eyes admiring the bulge his tentacle makes shoved down your throat. “Considering your mouth is otherwise…” Mortimer giggles, laughing at his own stupid joke, “...preoccupied.”

You wish you could bite down, sink your teeth into this gummy flesh and make him bleed. But the tentacles so big, so deep down your mouth that you can barely move your jaw. It doesn’t help that you have another shoved up your ass and another stroking your cock, thoroughly twisting your thoughts and inebriating your brain. Tears run tracks down the side of your face and it takes all you can to just focus your eyes, nerves alight with treacherous pleasure.

“But I do like that voice of yours.” Mortimer taps his chin, a thoughtful pout on his face. “Hmm, decisions, decisions.” He twists a lock of his hair between his fingers, coiling the white curls as he ponders. Then he snaps his fingers.

“Ooh, I know!”

The tentacle slithers out of your mouth and it takes everything you have to not gag around it, instead scrambling to get a full breath. But that tentacle doesn’t move far, coiling around your neck, though not constricting as you think.

Your throat bobs agaisnt the slick muscle and you can see Mortimer shutter, his tentacles shaking as he watches your chest heave.

“Yes, yes, I think this will be perfect.”

Before you can mutter a “fuck you” the tentacle in your ass starts moving at a brutal pace. You squeak, biting down hard on your lip as the tentacle around your cock squeezes hard, circling your glands and sending shockwaves up your abdomen. After what must be hours of teasing back and forth, your body accepts the pleasure no problem, despite how your conscious protests.

Mortimer continues to watch, a smug grin on his face, the kind that should have a pit forming in your stomach. But the slow climb of your orgasm has you preoccupied, hips jerking into the smooth touch of the tentatcles, trying to chase it down. Maybe you’ve convinced yourself that when you come, this’ll be over. That you’ll wake up from this sex nightmare and be done with this.

Almost, almost-

The tentacle around your neck constricts, a shock across your sense. Your sure your eyes bulge out of their sockets, taken aback by the sudden lack of oxygen. They wander to Mortimer, who has a wicked smile on his face.

I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe.

There are spots across your vision, blood rushing to your face, but the pleasure doesn't go away. No, if anything you’re more aware of the tentacle pressing against your prostate, or the other massaging your balls. It feels…good?

Your noose relaxes, delicious oxygen flowing back to your brain as you gasp, trying to process what just happens.

You were so close!

“My my, now that is a pretty face.” Mortimer’s manicured hands cup your jaw, thumb running across the apple of your cheeks. “I think it might be my favorite of yours, dearie.” Mortimer licks his lips, eyes darting down to your bobbing throat, still encircled by his tentacle.

All you can do is whine, tentacle back to brutalizing your insides while the other plays with your slit. That ascent is almost there again, tightening the coil in your belly.

Mortimer must see it, because his smile grows wide and that tentacle constricts once more. Even prepared your brain still sets into a panic, nervous signals shooting down your body. They tingle, setting your skin buzzing, tightening that coil. It's almost like when your leg goes numb and you try to flex your feelings back into it. It hurts, sort of, but it’s a good sort of pain.

Please, please.

You whine, producing a keening sound from your chest. You’re so fucking close.

The tentacle relaxes. As oxygen rushes into your mouth, so does disappointment.

Damn it, what is happening?

“Isn’t this nice?’ Mortimer laughs, admiring your delirious face. “To just relax, let someone else take the lead once in a while?” Mortimer sits up, propping himself on some tentacles so you’re face to face, noses almost touching. “One squeeze and I decide if you breathe or not. So much easier than putting that silly, unconscious mind behind it.”

Your voice chokes in your throat. A million hateful thoughts brew on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t even imagine what they might sound like. All you want is closure, to finally hit that high and ride it out.

Please.

“What was that?” Mortimer taunts, leaning in for good measure.

“Ple-” You cough, throat desert dry, almost fighting to produce any noise. “Please.”

“Please what?”

No objections come to your mind, no thought of dignity or pride.

“Please, choke me.”

Mortimer’s joy is palpable, crawling up his face, shining in his jewel-like eyes. He steals a sloppy, passionate kiss, pulling away with saliva dripping down his jaw.

“Okay.”

He winks, the last clear slight before the tentacle constricts once more. The corner of your vision fades into black and you feel your face grow hot with blood. But none of it matters, because it feels so good.

Your body unconsciously chokes and gasps, fighting for air. Your cock twitches in his tentacles, your asshole clenching around the offending muscle. Your skull feels stuffed with cotton, your stomach dropping as you finally near climax, finally tasting salvation.

“Aah!” You pant out, hips spasming as your cock spurts out jets of cum, decorating Mortimers tentacles.

It's with your sweet release that oxygen rushes back to your brain, the tentacle uncompelling from your neck and sliding down your chest, petting you like a prized animal.

Your head lolls forward, unconsciousness brimming in the base of your skull. It may be the oxygen deprivation, it may be the overstimulation, you don’t care. You’re tired.

A calloused palm caresses your cheek.

“Yes, what a pretty face indeed.”

[septimusmoonlight]

Anonymous: I think you might be the reason i'm into ear/brain fucking. It's not something I've ever thought about before but now I'm obsessed with it. Specifically with it being long, drawn out and painful. It should hurt having someone stuff their cock in your ear. Something forced into your brain against your will. but it would hurt in a good way As it fucked you (cock tentacle doesn't matter), it would obviously damage your brain. making you dumber and dumber they more they fuck you. Your eyes start rolling back, your tongue hangs out drooling. Once they're done they cum in your head leaving basically braindead, but now you're ready for the next cock to fuck your head. Now it's all you can think about.

Ooh, yes, it should be painful~ It should hurt, and the pain should only make the entire experience better <3

Ears aren't meant to accommodate cock, which honestly has its appeal already. A tight hole, not designed for penetration and yet oh so ripe for it? That's a target. And it's one I unfortunately find out about when someone talks me into trying it despite my reservations; I'm interested enough for it to be an intriguing prospect, even though I know it will be uncomfortable. A cock forcing its way deeper into my skull hurts, of course, but there's just something, something about it that gets me throbbing. The person fucking me holds my head still as they push deeper, ignoring my uncomfortable shifting to resolutely spread out a hole never meant to be fucked.

Eventually, painfully, they stuff enough of themselves inside to reach their target. The sensation of cock meeting neurons is something I'm entirely unprepared for. A jolt of undiluted input, just sheer physical feeling rattles me to my core, followed by another; the pain is reduced to a dull ache, a current in the background that serves to elevate the rest of the experience while the person fucking my skull works their way deeper. Brain matter gives way so easily that it's almost like I was meant to take something like this - a thought that comes out of nowhere. Or maybe a thought that comes from the literal cock on the mind I'm experiencing.

Shoving aside connections and chunks of matter to slide deeper, the person at my head doesn't take long to get hilted. They groan in satisfaction, adjusting positions slightly while my consciousness starts to wriggle uncomfortably, aware that I'm in danger, somehow; unfortunately for the lucid part of my brain, the part currently yielding to sexual pleasure is much louder, and much more in control. The first thrust does away with almost all of my reservations, and the next serves to wipe away what remains of my trepidation. It's all too easy to start fucking my soft, warm brain, the matter in my skull cavity squelching and sloshing as it's pulverized into a useless sludge that used to make me human.

On the outside, the damage to my head is clear. I'm already moaning wordlessly, my eyes rolled back in my head as my hand works furiously at my cunt. I'm so dripping wet that I can stick three fingers inside myself with ease, jamming a fourth in with little hesitation while I slouch to the side, into the grasp of the person reducing me from a human being into a moaning fleshlight. It still hurts, on some level, but I've stopped caring about the pain; in fact, I welcome it at this point. It's just a part of the experience, and the experience is one I'm relishing at every turn, now that I don't have any other choice. Now that I don't have the presence of mind to do anything else.

With a moaning slut under their control and a tight hole milking them dry, the person fucking my skull doesn't take long to cum after I start drooling, my tongue lolling out and my eyes rolling back in my head like I'm getting railed normally instead of brainfucked. That's really the nail in the coffin for what remains of my psyche. Once able to complain and think for myself, the only thing I'm capable of now is begging to have a cock in my head at all times, something to get rid of the rest of that pesky gray matter leftover. I only want cock and cum to fill my empty skull cavity.

Luckily, there are plenty of people willing to oblige. All it takes is a few phone calls.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hello I’m back! Just wanted to say I really enjoyed the request 🥹💖 How about Muichiro, Mitsuri, and Tanjiro with a s/o that has a bad habit of biting their nails?

Heya! Welcome back, my love! Thank you! Ooh! I happened to do this too so it feels right to write about!

Tokito Muichiro

Muichiro frowned a bit, staring at your chipped nails as he holds your hands in his. They looked really bad, you just kept biting. Despite the fact it hurt and a bit of the red muscly mess underneath the keratin has been revealed with how badly you meddle with your own nails

You blushed embarrassed, suspecting Muichiro to yell at you for chirping your nails. Just like everybody else in your life has, they yelled at you for your stress “eating” and basically semi self-harm. It didn’t make fuming, it simply hurt him. Why did you like damaging your cute fingers so much that the muscle was bleeding, doesn’t that hurt a lot? It hurts him to even look at. What does he have to do to stop you without hurting your feelings?

“I know… it’s hard, my love. You’re stressed out… but please, try to not do this. It’ll be much worse in the future and it’s ruining your beautiful fingers…”

Kanroji Mitsuri

Mitsuri sobbed wholeheartedly as she brushed your knuckles against her warm plush cheek. She couldn’t stand it, she needed to cry out her concern and outrage over your nail biting habit. She caught you doing it again for the fourth time this week and the keratin is so damaged and chipped, it was a angled mess between bloody muscle and remaining nail

Don’t you see how beautiful your nails are? She has had so many plans to paint your nails with her, to give you cute accessories on your nails. And it always gets ruined because of your stress needs winning a fight with your rationality. You flinched a bit, believing Mitsuri will scold you for the chewing like everybody you loved always do

“Babycakes! Please stop! I beg you! You’ll hurt yourself long-term and I can’t stand the idea of you not being able to use your cute fingers anymore!”

Kamado Tanjiro

Tanjiro is so worried and terrified for you and your finger’s conditions, that the amount he is plagued with might just give him gray hairs at twenty. You constantly tear off strips of your own nails out of stress and it’s stressing him out. The consequences can be dire and the idea of you being in pain hurts him. So he intervenes as you two eat, cuddling your hands and kissing the knuckles

You knew Tanjiro would never be angry. He is simply too loving but you figured he was annoyed with you, how wrong you were as his eyes sparkle with fear for you. His heart couldn’t take it anymore, he needed to stop this habit before it gets worse. He loves you, everything of you and your fingers should be protected, not beaten up. He leans back from kissing your fingertips to speak

“Little diamond, don’t you see what the problem is? You’re hurting yourself and it just needs to stop. Can’t you come to me? I’m here to help you after all”

[astro-inthestars]

*spawns in your inbox* hello if you feel like it could you tell me tales and folklore and traditions from the philippines?

OOH OOH OOH i can do that for sure!! We've got some pretty funky tales around here! First thing that came to mind was the creepy monster folklore we have here though <333 One of the main things people might know about us!! (besides our amazing food <33)

Okay okay SO first up, over here there are things we call Aswang. It's basically like... a category almost, due to the amount of interpretations. It's the typical witch/ghost/demon around here! Sometimes it's seen as a beautiful woman, or a monstrous dog, or a elusive ghost with sharp nails and teeth!

Something that may or may not fall under this category, is one of my favorite folktale monster from over here: The Manananggal! Ohhhh this one is soooo messed up and I love it-

It's a creature that sometime appears like a normal woman, but transforms into a horrific creature, with huge bat wings, sharp teeth and nails, and a longgg tongue! Basically our equivalent of a vampire- BUT what makes this motherfucker special??? This bitch can DETACH its torso from its lower body, and flies into the night sky!! And it usually ain't pretty, with its stomach guts or bloody ripped torso flailing in the wind! Its main prey (or the target audience of this cautionary folktale) are pregnant women. Also!! Fun fact; its name, Manananggal, is from the root word "tangal" which means "remove" and with the prefix "ma" it makes the full word mean "remover" or "seperator," orrrr "one who seperates itself" quite literally in this case <3

Enough of the horrors though! Hmmm, let me tell you some traditions we have, though some may not be "official" traditions, and are just some habits we're taught throughout our life- So much so that I actually had a hard time trying to think of some 'traditions' due to thinking these are all normal... and not knowing if other countries actually did them so. . . aahaha- well anyway!

First most notable one is obviously our signs of respect, AKA the uses of the words 'po' and 'opo' and our (probably?) well-known sign of pagmamano! First of all, 'po' is a word used in sentences that indicate respect, like when you're talking to someone older than you, or someone with notable authority! Like "Excuse me po, can I use the restroom?" And with 'Opo,' it's just the "respectful" version of our "Yes" which is just 'Oo' (when you say "oo" to someone older than you or someone with authority, it's regarded as disrespect or that you treat this person casually or are very close and familiar) And pagmano? Well that's also a respectful gesture, like po and opo! But unlike the phrases, this one is a gesture, and is usually only used for older people! Usually elders, actually. The gesture is you taking the older person's hand and gentle placing their knuckles on your forehead, like this in the image!

And along with it you usually say "Mano po" or just any variation of a greeting!

Oh, here's something more "traditionally" a tradition,a nd one of my favorite ones... guess what??? Us Pinoys? We celebrate FOUR MONTHS of Christmas!!!! THAT'S RIGHT!! We celebrate that shit early <3 It's mostly because the Filipino are SUPER duper religious, but also... CHRISTMASSSSS!! We call them "Ber Months" because for us, as soon as September hits... well? That's already CHRISTMAS BABEY!! Christmas lights UP, trees READY, christmas songs BLASTING, parols SELLING- wait. hold on- DO YOU GUYS HAVE PAROLS???

I just looked it up and CHRISTMAS PAROLS ARE A UNIQUELY FILIPINO THING?? OKAY OKAY parols are basically christmas lanterns! THey're bright and colorful and AWESOME and stalls for them line the streets at Ber Months- HERE HERE LOOK!!!

These are what the big and bright ones look like!

And these are what the smaller and simpler ones look like! They're all made from bamboo sticks and japanese paper!! it's AWESOME!

Okay okay, this is probably wAyyYYY too long already but here's some honorable mentions: -Us Filipinos' daily meal ALWAYS include rice. Unless its snacks or dessert or appetizers, I guess- but every main meal, Breakfast, Lunch, and Supper, we have rice! We cook an "ulam" which is what is paired with the rice! It's like rice is the default, and whatever the food is will be eaten with the rice! Like, fried chicken is ulam! Then we eat it with rice! -We've got impeccable hospitality!!! Like, if ANY stranger comes into a Pinoy's home, they WILL offer to eat with them! No matter who! They'll always tell the guest "Kain po!" ("Come eat!") and usually the person would be modest and decline, but eat anyway! It's truly interesting how hardwired these things are... -Our modes of transportation are WAY different from American ones, I find!! Over here we've got Jeepneys, Tricycles, and Pedicabs! So i don't have to explain, here's what they look like:

Jeepneys, tricycles, and pedicabs respectively! Not much to say about the last two, but the jeepney seems REAL notable- They're from military jeeps, but longer and redesigned for transport. And yes, all jeeps have weird designs and briht colors, and most likely has anime on them. Don't ask, I don't know either. These are our main forms of transport over here!! But that doesn't mean we don't have the usual bus or taxi, of course! -Every region and town here has its own fiesta!! we've got SO many fiestas in this country!! and it all varies from region to region.. They usually span a week long or even a month!! Festivals here are typically held to honor patron saints or to display the region’s primary local harvest!

Well, anyway, that's all I've got a- ......what do you mean it's 1 am.

[bloodsalted]

— FIVE SONGS. FIVE QUOTES. | b.j.h edition. (tagged by @fireheld)

COME DRINK THE WATER by justin cross: it's not a sin if it don't make me cry. he's not the devil 'less there's fire in his eyes. it ain't the Ghost if it don't speak in tongue. it's not a victory until the battle's been won. an'all God's people said amen.

BARTHOLOMEW by silent comedy: oh my God. please, help me knee-deep in the river tryin' to get clean. He says, "wash your hands. get out the stains, but you best believe, boy, there's hell to pay." yeah, you best believe, boy, there's hell to pay, sayin'. come on. oh my God. please, help me waist deep in the river, can you hear my plea? He says, "son, you come like a beggar in the street. you might make it, boy, but by the skin of your teeth."

SOMETHING I CAN NEVER HAVE by nine inch nails: in this place it seems like such a shame. though it all looks different now, i know it's still the same. everywhere I look you're all I see. just a fading fucking reminder of who i used to be. come on, tell me. you make this all go away. you make this all go away. i'm down to just one thing. and I'm starting to scare myself.

BROTHER by alice in chains: frozen in the place i hide. not afraid to paint my sky. with some who say i've lost my mind. brother, try and hope to find. you were always so far away. i know that pain. so don't you run away. like you used to do.

BOTTOM OF THE RIVER by delta rae: if you get sleep or if you get none. the cock's gonna call in the morning, baby. and check the cupboard for your daddy's gun. red sun rises like an early warning. the Lord's gonna come for your first born son. ooh, baby, it's a long way down to the bottom of the river (long way down).

lay your weary head to rest. don't you cry no more. -kansas

tagging: @qapsiel , @murderdeals (crowley!) , @hostiae (john!) , @sclvged (your pick!), @ghstfacr , @snnynatural , @imundus , @gatekeepcr , @xxgotthedevilinsidexx (ruby!) , @eyeless-smiles , && anyone wants to groove. i'd love to tag all of you for music recs alone but that'd be a long list! so tag me!!

[crybaby-bkg]

Week Four, Day Four of Kinktober 2022

Hate Fucking: Boku no Hero Academia: Shinsou Hitoshi

Word Count: 1.3K

Tags: hate fucking, enemies to fuck buddies, frottage, mean insults to each other, mentions of blood and violence

Shinsou tries to ignore the quick pattering of feet behind him, but it’s hard when you’re practically fuckin’ gaining on him. He doesn’t stop his long strides though, just waits for you to catch up to him, which will hopefully be never once he ducks into his office and locks the door. But of course, you catch him right as he steps inside, shoe in the door to stop him from closing it in your face. 

Ooh, and what a mean face it is, he thinks to himself as he looks at you tiredly. He already knows what the issue is, what your personal issue is, and he can’t say that he really feels like hearing about it right now. He should be celebrating this, this win, this promotion of his own office space and becoming head of the underground heroes department. A promotion in which you thought you were more deserving of. 

“You know I should’ve gotten that fuckin’ promotion, dead eyes.” You spit up at the man, unafraid to poke your finger into his hard chest. Shinsou only looks down at where your finger is still on him before only flicking his eyes up, staring at you through his purple fringe. 

“And what makes you think that?” He asks sarcastically, tone leveled and dry, giving you nothing to combat against. That makes you even madder though, as you take a step forward, expecting him to step back, but he only stands his ground, so now you’re barely two feet apart. 

“You stole that fuckin’ villain from me last night, and now because of that, they think you’re more qualified for the position but you’re not.” You sound like a petulant child, he thinks, as he stares down at you from the bridge of his nose. It’s cute though, your little tantrum, as you try to puff your chest all up and convince him that you’re just as big and bad. His little smirk only infuriates you more, as you take another step to him until you’re chest to chest. 

“So what are you gonna do about it?” Shinsou drawls lazily, mouth quirking up on the side as he watches you damn near blow smoke out of your ears. You’re so goddamn cute, like a fucking chipmunk with their cheeks stuffed, with your hands balled at your sides, and your feet stomping quietly in place. 

He doesn’t know who makes the first move, but suddenly his mouth is on yours and you’re kissing him with so much anger and passion, he fears it might knock him off of his feet. Shinsou drags you into his office, slamming the door and then slamming you against the back of it, securing the lock as you both devour each others mouths with an intensity that’s so great, it could make fires burn bright, melt the building, create an explosion to be seen across continents. 

“I fuckin’ hate you.” You mutter to him when he bites hard at your lip and pulls until it snaps back in place. You can taste copper on your tongue, and it only fuels you more, diving in for his mouth once again, bringing him into you by clawing at his nape. Shinsou hisses when he feels you draw blood under your nails, and vows to kiss and bite you harder until you’re the one that bleeds the most, until your crimson mixes with his own and he can’t separate the two of you. 

“Feeling’s mutual.” He groans against you, hiking your leg up until it rests on his hip, humping his cock against your clothed mound until he hears you moan under your breath. He chuckles at that, at how you’re such a fucking spitfire and hate him so fucking bad, up until you can feel his cock rubbing against your desperate little pussy. 

“Fuck is so funny, dickhead?” You snarl at the purple haired man, leaning down to bite at his neck, sucking at the wound until you’re sure a bruise will form in the shape of your mouth. Shinsou throws his head back and groans, one hand under your knee, the other pulling you closer to him by your ass. 

“How desperate you are for my cock.” He huffs, feeling impatient enough to just rip your pants down, taking your panties with him until they bunch up around your thighs. “Try to act so mean and nasty to me, but you’re humping my fuckin’ leg like a—”

“Say bitch in heat and I’ll bite your fucking tongue off.” You spit to him, eyes lit aflame as you pull back to stare at him. Is it bad that Shinsou almost cums at the sight of you? At the sound of your mean and nasty words? Is it bad that it only makes him groan and rip his cock out before he bullies it between your thighs and starts humping in between your slick lips before you can even register what’s happening?

“Fucking me is a privilege,” you sneer in his ear, where you fit your mouth against the lobe, holding on tight to his shoulders as his rocking hips keep pushing you back into the door. You wrap your thigh even tighter around him so that he can have a smaller and wetter space to fuck his cock against, rubbing the head and shaft of it on your clit cruelly. 

“Like how having my position is a privilege to you, too? Only thing is, I’ll be in this pussy sooner than you would get your stupid fuckin’ promotion.” His words are mean and it makes you bite at his shoulder so hard, he has to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep from howling. You practically want to maul the man, want to shred at his skin until there’s nothing left and they’d have to put you in his position. 

But his cock feels so good and his mouth fits so well against your skin, all you can do is hump his cock thrusting between your folds and take your anger out on him by sucking another hickey onto his bruising neck. 

“I’m gonna get that fucking position, asshole.” You snap at him, pulling back so that you can breathe against his mouth without properly kissing it. Shinsou only chuckles at you before he groans, fucking his hips against you quicker as you can tell he starts to chase his orgasm. 

“And I’m gonna fuck you raw.” He grins, watches how your eyes widen before you glare at him, despite your cunt telling him all that he needs to know. 

“Like hell you would.” You sneer at him, clawing at his nape again as you can practically taste your orgasm on your tongue. Shinsou looks downright evil now, as his eyes glow some ominous purple before he whispers against your soft lips, 

“I could say the same to you, sweetheart.” Oh the fucking bastard, you think to yourself, glaring at him again before your eyes roll back from your orgasm. Shinsou crashes his mouth against yours to quiet your noises, grunts spilling into your own mouth as he cums and paints your inner thighs and clit and the door white with his cum. His hips stutter against your own for a few seconds before he finally slows, pulling away from your mouth with a sigh as strings of saliva slap against your chin and his bottom lip. He looks at your sweet little fucked out face, smiling at you, before you both seem to come to your senses. Hurriedly, clothes are pulled back on and you’re scurrying out of his office, not after throwing a final comment over your shoulder,

“This isn’t over, dead eyes.” And shit, Shinsou really hopes this won’t be the last time you guys do this. He could get used to your mean insults and sweet little whines. 

[elizabethplaid]

daily notes - june 26, 2024

-- Ooof, my senses are iffy tonight. Good thing I know it's just my anxiety ramping up for tomorrow's dental appointment. Little woozy-dizzy in the head, a fav-food smelled too strong, fingertips hurt as I rest them on the keyboard.

-- Went to bed after 8:30, on my phone til after 9:30am. I don't know exactly when I fell asleep, but it took awhile, so we'll say 10:30am? Woke around 6pm, surprisingly. If I did wake up in between, it wasn't for very long.

-- Tonight, I'll shower and then go straight to bed; try to avoid using my phone. Gotta leave by 9:45am, so I'll set my alarm for like 7.

-- This appointment will be a test of "how far will it set me back if I'm already feeling bad?" Remember, I'm still in this state from early-May, which is already a level-up from the Feb-March depressive point.

-- --- Might bring my bear Since with me, especially since she's a perfect signal that I'm feeling bad. Already bringing a water bottle, might pack some extras in a cooler. Ooh, ice packs would be a good stim toy, too.

-- I've been alternating drinking tap water and my usual soda. (Water has to chill in the fridge to be tasty, so I drink soda in the interim.) If my senses aren't too fussy, I'll try to pick up 2nd water bottle tomorrow.

-- Cleaned the bowl section of my sink, but not the countertop part. Just negotiating with myself to clean tiny bits of things at a time. Better to nibble than bite off more than I can chew, so to speak

-- Will also remove nail polish tonight and trim nails. Probably not going to repaint them until after my appointment, if I do.

========

-- I noticed tonight that I'm having a stronger reaction of joy to funny things. While watching D20 and talking with my dad, I was clapping my hands at jokes - more frequently than I usually do. I had to switch to shaking out my hands, so my dad could keep talking. Clapping makes noise and is disruptive to the flow of conversation.

-- --- Dad said it was good that I felt joy, even if I had to express it like this. I'm feeling more comfortable using more stereotypical autism stim-actions to cope with things and express myself lately.

-- In my dream today, I was utilizing more stim-actions and not trying to "act normal" (eg masking) by hiding my reactions and feelings. I was with a new group of people, but they were accommodating of my needs. Maybe a room had been too noisy or I was getting overwhelmed with something. Can't remember the specifics, but I felt supported by others. Not outright confident, but mostly comfortable.

=========

-- I've combed through my music archives and listened to some older things recently. AFI's "Sing the Sorrow" has quite a stronghold on my brain, surprisingly. The album isn't emotionally significant, but I guess I played it a lot in a short period of time? A few songs from Nicole Dollanganger's "Curdled Milk" and "Flowers of Flesh and Blood" are sticking out, as I listened to them heavily before and around the time my mom passed. Taps into some heavy feelings, in a good way.

-- --- Tried Coldplay's "Parachutes", but the whole album still hurts, 20+ years later. I had gotten it right before something big and bad happened to me - a big factor into my anxiety development. Like, if it had gone worse, I wouldn't be here today. I can listen to some of the songs out-of-context, but the album as-a-whole brings no joy.

-- Why am I breaking out the big guns of nuclear earworms? Desperately fighting NSync's first album, which I haven't listened to in yeaaaars. My streaming friend played some of their music, along with her usual outro song being "Bye, Bye, Bye". Yep, time for the scorched earth approach for these monsters.

[mab1905]

GOOD OMENS SPOILERS AHEAD !!!!!

I made another playlist ehehe

Crowley's Breakup Mix

I made a list of all the songs and the most important lyrics:

Denial

“It’s A Hard Life” – Queen I don't want my freedom / There's no reason for living with a broken heart / It's a hard life / To be true lovers together / To love and live forever in each others hearts / It's a long hard fight / To learn to care for each other “Cool About It” – Boygenius  But we don't have to talk about it / I can walk you home and practice method acting / I'll pretend being with you doesn't feel like drowning / Telling you it's nice to see how good you're doing / Even though we know it isn't true “Moon Song” – Phoebe Bridgers You are sick, and you're married / And you might be dying / But you're holding me like water in your hands / When you saw the dead little bird, you started crying / But you know the killer doesn't understand “I Want Someone Badly” – Jeff Buckley  Now I want someone badly / To burn in here with me / Better listen baby / 'Cause I cry all over madly / Don't do anything to it with me / Ooh I wanna know / Am I sure that I have your love / I want know / If you're leaving just make sure it's right

Anger

“Too Much Love Will Kill You” – Queen I'm just the pieces of the man I used to be / Too many bitter tears are raining down on me / I'm far away from home and I've been facing this alone / For much too long / Torn between the lover and the love you leave behind / You're headed for disaster, 'cause you never read the signs / Too much love will kill you every time “Drink” – Destroy Boys Heavens send someone down / I'm about to turn this confession to a smoke cloud / Who put me here it's hard to say / Nails bleed as I claw out of the grave / She understands me like you did / She really loves me / I'm a saint living in sin / She really loathes me / She really loves me “Vampire Empire” – Big Thief I see you there rejecting all your earthly power / Protecting and dissecting 'til you've emptied every hour / I wanted to be your woman, I wanted to be your man / I wanted to be the one that you could understand / I walked into your dagger for the last time in a row / It's like trying to start a fire with matches in the snow / Well, you can't seem to hold me here, you can't seem to let me go / You wanna be with me, you wanna be with him “Letter To An Old Poet” – Boygenius You think you're a good person / Because you won't punch me in the stomach / And I love you / I don't know why / I just do / You don't know me / I wanna be happy / I'm ready / To walk into my room without looking for you / I'll go up to the top of our building / And remember my dog when I see the full moon / I can't feel it yet / But I am waiting “Salt In The Wound” – Boygenius You put salt in the wound / And a kiss on my cheek / You butter me up / And you sit down to eat / You add insult to injury / You say you believe in me / But you haven't decided / About taking or leaving me / Neck full of mockingbirds / All calling your name / I tried to sing it all back / Like I heard it, it don't sound the same / I'm gnashing my teeth / Like a child of Cain “Francesca” – Hozier Do you think I'd give up / That this might've shook the love from me / Or that I was on the brink / How could you think darling I'd scare so easily? / Now that it's done / There's not one thing that I would change / My life was a storm / Since I was born / How could I fear any hurricane? / If someone asked me at the end / I'll tell them put me back in it / Darling, I would do it again

Bargaining

“Lover, You Should've Come Over” – Jeff Buckley Broken down and hungry for your love with no way to feed it / Where are you tonight, child you know how much I need it / Too young to hold on and too old to just break free and run / So I'll wait for you and I'll burn / Will I ever see your sweet return / Oh will I ever learn / Oh lover, you should've come over / 'Cause it's not too late “Dreamers Ball” – Queen Oh, take me, take me, take me / To the dreamer's ball / I'll be right on time and I'll dress so fine / You're gonna love me when you see me / I won't have to worry / You make my life worthwhile / With the slightest smile / Or destroy me with a barely perceptible whisper / Gently take me remember I'll be dreaming of my baby “Shrike” – Hozier I couldn't utter my love when it counted / Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now / And I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted / I had no idea on what ground I was founded / All of that goodness is going with you now / Then when I met you, my virtues uncounted “Silver Springs” – Fleetwood Mac Time cast its spell on you, but you won't forget me / I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me / I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you / You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved you

Depression

“From Eden” – Hozier Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago / Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword / Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know / I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door “Your Best American Girl” – Mitski You're the sun, you've never seen the night / But you hear its song from the morning birds / Well, I'm not the moon, I'm not even a star / But awake at night I'll be singing to the birds “How I get Myself Killed” – Indigo De Souza Did you say anything on the night of my first hit / On the night of my first kiss / On the night of my first runaway / Something must be up, I have never felt so dumb / I have never gone so numb / I have never been so late before / This is probably how I get myself killed “Me And My Dog” – Boygenius I wanna be emaciated / I wanna hear one song without thinking of you / I wish I was on a spaceship / Just me and my dog and an impossible view / I dream about it / And I wake up falling “Lilac Wine” – Nina Simone When I think more than I want to think / Do things I never should do / I drink much more that I ought to drink / Because it brings me back you… / Lilac wine is sweet and heady, like my love / Lilac wine, I feel unsteady, like my love / Listen to me... I cannot see clearly / Isn't that he coming to me nearly here? “Promise” – Laufey I made a promise / To distance myself / Took a flight, through aurora skies / It hurts to be something / It's worse to be nothing with you “Not Strong Enough” – Boygenius I don't know why I am / The way I am / Not strong enough to be your man / I tried, I can't / Stop staring at the ceiling fan and / Spinning out about things that haven't happened / Always an angel, never a god / I don't know why I am the way I am / There's something in the static / I think I've been having revelations / Coming to in the front seat, nearly empty / Skip the exit to our old street and go home

Acceptance

 “Unknown/Nth” – Hozier You know the distance never made a difference to me / I swam a lake of fire, I'd have walked across the floor of any sea / Ignored the vastness between all that can be seen / And all that we believe / So I thought you were like an angel to me “Waiting Room” – Phoebe Bridgers And I can wish all I want, but it won't bring us together / Plus I know whatever happens to me / I know it's for the better / I want to make you drive all night just because I said maybe you should come over / I want to make you fall in love as hard as my poor parents teenage daughter / She'll be the best you ever had if you let her / I know it's for the better… “Night Shift” – Lucy Dacus Am I a masochist, resisting urges to punch you in the teeth, call you a bitch and leave? / Why did I come here? To sit and watch you stare at your feet? / What was the plan? Absolve your guilt and shake hands? / I feel no need to forgive but I might as well / But let me kiss your lips so I know how it felt / Pay for my coffee and leave before the sun goes down / Walk for hours in the dark feeling all hell / Don't hold your breath, forget you ever saw me at my best / You don't deserve what you don't respect / Don't deserve what you say you love and then neglect / Now bite your tongue, it's too dangerous to fall so young / Take back what you said / Can't lose what you never had “I Guess” – Mitski I guess, I guess / I guess this is the end / I'll have to learn / To be somebody else / It's been you and me / Since before I was me / Without you I don't yet know / Quite how to live

[sibillascribbles08]

Very into 41 for the writing prompt thing : 3

Finishing this so late at night WHATEVS You probably wanted something angstier than this but then I was like wait what if I wrote another follow up to this

Maybe there will be more in the future

Jason took a deep breath as he closed the door to his bedroom. His heart kept racing, so he kept breathing, praying he could keep his anxiety under wraps long enough to have half of a normal conversation. 

Maybe this was a bad idea. He told Donnie to stick around, that they might as well have him meet his father while they had the chance, but he kept dreading where this conversation would go. 

Jason headed down the stairs, hand gripping the railing far tighter than necessary. His dad was in the kitchen, no doubt looking for an afternoon snack to tide him over until dinner.

Jason stood at the base of the stairs, once again debating this whole situation, when his father emerged from the kitchen. He had a bag of chips in his mouth while he stirred some flavored water in his hands. 

His father tried to speak around the bag, but when it didn’t work he finally pulled it out of his mouth. “There you are. Did you not hear me get home?”

“Was just busy.” Jason rushed the words out. 

“Ooh, working on that new model you got right?” His dad took a few steps back to put the water on the counter so he could open the chip bag. “Is it done yet?”

“Uh, not yet. I’ve… had a lot on my mind.” Jason kept a death grip on the stair rail, sometimes wringing his hand around it. 

His dad immediately picked up on his mood, the munching of chips coming to a quick halt. “Everything okay? Not another anxiety flare up, I hope.” 

“Nah it’s um…” Where did he even start with this. “Look you know um, all those mutants and things that pop up on the news?”

His father returned to eating chips as he glanced at the ceiling, thinking. “Sure. There’s the ex-chef, those comedy brothers, oh, and the extremely handsome hippo.” 

Jason blinked. “Huh?”

“You know. I think he used to be a magician? Or still is? He really makes it look good.” 

“Dad, are you suggesting you have a crush on the magic hippo?” 

“Why not?” He finished off the chips and crumpled up the bag. “I have functioning eyes.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately for you, he’s not single.”

“He’s not? Who’s he dating?”

“The guy who used to anchor for the news. Warren… something? Steels?” 

“Don’t know him.”

“Yeah he got turned into a worm.” 

“Really?” His father put his hands on his hips. “That whole mutation thing really could just happen to anyone, huh?” 

Jason squinted, getting that sensation of realizing you’ve been walking down the wrong street for the past ten minutes. “How did we even start talking about this?”

“Well,” His father returned to his water, stirring it once again before taking a sip. “You mentioned mutants. Did you meet some of them? No wait, you must have.” He grinned and pointed at Jason with his spoon. “That’s how you know the Hippo isn’t single.”

Jason groaned and ran a hand down his face. “You could certainly say I’ve met some of them.” He squeezed the railing again.

His father frowned. “Jase, what is this about?” 

“Look, you know…” His nails dug into the wood. “I figured I should… We figured…”

His phone buzzed. He took the distraction and checked it just to see a message from Donnie. 

>You don’t have to do this. 

Jason swallowed and put it away. He didn’t have to. He could make an excuse and save this for another day, try and plan the conversation out.

But they were already here.

His father kept watching him, waiting. 

“You know my boyfriend, right?” Jason forced the words out. 

“The one you’ve mentioned but still haven’t shown me? Sure.” His dad took another sip of water. “I’m really getting worried that the reason you won’t show me his face is because he’s ugly.” 

Jason glared at him. “He’s not.” 

“Then what does he look like?”

“Well that’s… something I wanted to show you but uh…” Jason finally let go of the railing and put his hands by his sides. “Promise you won’t panic?” 

His father squinted at him. “Jase, words like that never instill confidence.” 

“Fine, promise you’ll keep it at a minimum then.” 

“Very well. Show me a picture.” 

“Oh I don’t uh, exactly have to do that.” 

Donatello must have been listening the whole time, as if the text wasn’t already an indication, because he chose that moment to open the bedroom door and simply step out. 

Jason really wished he’d waited for a signal. 

“Um…” Donnie practically squeaked, hands behind his back and standing straight as a board. “Hello, Mr. Song.” 

Jase’s father stared up the stairs. Eyes wide, the glass hanging so limply in his hand it looked like it would drop any second. 

“D-Dad.” Jason cursed his stutter for coming back. “This is Donatello… my boyfriend.” 

His father just kept staring, and every passing second made Jason feel more and more sick. He wanted to run. Sprint up the stairs and shove Donnie back into his room and pretend it was just a prank. A costume. Tears burned at the corners of his eyes and his lungs hurt and he couldn’t breathe and— 

“Well then.” His father finally spoke. While he still looked stunned, he was smiling and put the rest of the water on the counter. “I think I need a glass of gin before having this conversation. You boys want a drink?”

Donnie came down the stairs, slow. “Sorry, I don’t really drink alcohol.”

At least the irritation snapped Jason out of the threads of anxiety that snared their way around his limbs. He spun around just as Donnie reached the last step. “He wasn’t asking if you wanted alcohol, just a drink” 

Donnie glared at him. “That could mean anything!”

“Neither of us are over twenty-one.”

“Rules like that barely apply inside a private household.” 

Jason groaned and dug his nails into his cheeks. “Are you doing this on purpose? Because this is not the time for—”

Laughter from the kitchen interrupted him. For a half a second he worried that his father snapped, but it sounded too light hearted for that. 

Jason headed toward the kitchen, leaning through the door. “Everything okay, Dad?” 

His dad finished filling up his glass and screwed the lid back on the bottle. “I’m fine. Just relieved to see you two get along so well.” 

“Pardon?” Donnie poked his head in right behind Jason. “Most people would not interpret such a discussion as ‘getting along.’” 

“Jase only bickers with people he feels comfortable around.” Mr. Song took a sip of his drink before heading over the kitchen table. “Okay boys, from the top. Starting with how Donnie here got mutated into a turtle.”

“Technically,” Donnie held up a finger. “I was a turtle mutated into a human… sort of.” 

“What?”

Jason let out a long sigh and gave Donnie a shove toward the table. “Like he said, from the top.”

[peaseblossom-and-cobweb]

Weighing of the heart on 87th street

You are handsome in a way that women like me like. You have a nose that might be better suited on a larger face, and long, delicate hands that speak to a life of academia. Your mouth is wide and inviting. I know the shape of the back of your teeth by now, those sparks of memory send electricity through me intermittently as the day progresses.

You’re Italian, or Sephardic, or something that gives you angular features and dark eyes, undulating curls that are kept and unkempt in a way that makes me want to run my fingers through them. You don’t have great taste in fashion, leaning more towards bland than any other signifier, though you find it to be a point of pride that you care-dont-care about your appearance and still have women like me staring up at you starry-eyed.

And I am. Besotted, that is. There isn’t another word for the gut-punch terrible feeling at the pit of my stomach that makes me want to turn and vomit every fifteen minutes. It’s not my first time in love and it is an unwelcome friend. Get ready, It says. I clench my fist against the nausea.

You know a lot about geological features. I have a taste for men with a touch of the absurd so I’ve chosen you- you who can recite the Geologic Time Scale like numbers on the clock. ‘One before two and Carboniferous before Devonian, you know.’ I nod. I’ll remember this information years later to pull out at a trivia night that you are not involved in. I can’t help but absorb these pieces into my personality like some sort of cloning device.

You are really getting going as you point to the Book of the Dead at the Met. I suggested it because I enjoy looking at the history of ourselves, and have stupidly hoped you would want to hear what I have to say. The scrolls span across the room like broken wings. I wander closer wishing that we hadn’t given up logographs all those centuries ago in exchange for letters. ‘Imhotep was much more than a priest…’ you’re saying and I nod along, making the appropriate oohs and ahs. I sew my mouth shut, you don’t want to hear that I know this already. That I spent a year of my adolescence pouring over Egyptian history after I learned about Hatshepsut and that women were pharaohs and still hated too.

I’ve done this before — I try to be you and you get bored and I just get tired.

So I nod. I’m hopelessly in love with you and you love the way I treasure your knowledge. I’ve spent years in relationships like these before and I worry that I am going to find myself circling the same drain for the rest of my life. You look like every man I’ve ever loved before, give or take a few inches.

I’m not a manic pixie but I am interesting. And I’m smart. And being an interesting smart woman feels lonely in an eternal sort of way. The more educated a woman is the less likely they are to get married. I can see it- it’s not want for trying on my part. I just feel so damn lonely with each sentence I utter to you. You with your degree that somehow weighs more than mine like we’re weighing our characters on Osiris’s balance. I don’t think I’d win. Every woman pharaoh had been colored by appearance or wiped from existence in a way that tells me they hated us too, in every era.

I’m tempted to ask you which geologic time period women would be accepted as equals but then you might refer to us as ‘females’ and I’d have to reckon with myself about loving you in tandem with knowing that word sits in your vocabulary.

It’s not that I’m against loving you. It’s just that I feel so separate from your love —  like I’m a cheerleader to your intelligence. I have to treat every interaction with you as if you were on a pulpit and I was a fanatic and it makes me fucking empty inside.

Your nails are neat as you point out The Weighing on papyrus. I like your fingers. They reach good spots inside me and sometimes that feels like loving me too. All these excuses I use to make up for the fact that you only love your voice and the way I understand the nuances of your dissertation.

Here you think, here is someone who gets me. I keep wishing you would get me too.

I’m watching you on the other side of the balance. Your collar is stuck up in a funny way and I want to fix it for you and I also want to disappear. Actually, I want to tell you about the Egyptian creation story where the god of the universe ejaculated on a rock and made the world because I think it’s funny and interesting and that is what I am too. I know you don’t want to hear things like that because I’ve said them before and it made you think of something else you knew and could tell me.

I wonder what it would be like to be there, in the underworld with Osiris. I wonder if the scales are obsidian if it would be hot like I imagine hell would be. I would see you on the scale far far below me. You weigh so much. I look down, I’m on the other side with the feather. It’s obvious — to you, I’m barely even there.

[rnebbie]

Hey! If you are taking request can you do one where the teen reader brings their partner on set and they aren't good news? Sebastian and Evans are very protective and try to make you see it and you end up believe them after an incident

Sebastian stan x teen!reader, chris evans x teen!reader, Sebastian stan x coworker!reader, chris evans x coworker!reader, Sebastian stan x platonic!reader, chris evans x platonic!reader

Requested by @youre-amazing-say-it

Readers pronouns: she her :P

Warnings: ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP!!! A lot of gaslighting, he hits her at one point, mentions of killing small lil animals but not explained graphically just mentioned in passing, also mentions of aggression and hitting ppl for no reason… underage sex mentions a few times.. mentions of parents being divorced.. yea… longest list of warnings I’ve ever written!

(A/n): this wasn’t proof read as usual soooo yeah and I don’t really read my fics through so lmk if there’s a mistake or anything. lmk if u wanna be added to my taglist as well! I’ve been mindblowingly stressed lately and might get grounded soon so if I drop off the face of the earth yk why. But I’ll write as much as I can before then. Notes r appreciated, enjoy <3

Filming has felt like it’s been going on for ages. It honestly felt never ending! And as much as you loved your co-workers and never wanted to leave them, filming a superhero movie is hard work.

You even had your 16th birthday on set. Sebastian Stan and Chris Evans were the ones to set up this whole surprise impromptu sweet sixteen for you. Well, as sweet as a sweet sixteen can get on a professional and incredibly expensive set. But the cheap dollar tree birthday decorations fell off all of the surfaces long before anyone had to worry about damaging any props by taking them down.

They even invited your boyfriend! You avoided talking about him on set because you don’t want to appear unprofessional. It’s difficult enough being a teenage girl in this industry. However, Chris and Sebastian are different from anyone you’ve ever worked with before. And definitely different from your average man.

They dragged it out of you after they saw you smiling at your phone. And you told them all about it, Sebastian literally sat on his stomach on the couch in your trailer, kicking his feet back and forth. And Chris sat on your ottoman smiling fondly as you spoke about your boyfriend, the love of your life.

“We met in middle school. In detention,” You mutter quietly, your cheeks flushing pink.

Chris widens his eyes and side glances at Sebastian. You keep your gaze averted to your hands in your lap, playing with your old, chipped nail polish. “Ooh, a bad boy,” Sebastian lightly teases, sensing the shift in the once comfortable environment. “Why were you in detention?” Chris offered with a light smile.

You glance up shyly. You've missed this, being able to be a normal teenager who could sit around with her girlfriends and gossip. Well, Sebastian and Chris weren’t the ‘girlfriends’ you’d made in high school, but they definitely would make do for however long it took to film this godforsaken project. “He spent every Friday after school in detention. He was aggressive, he was a bully, and he would hit his friends just for fun. During free period, my classmates would tell me he killed frogs and rabbits and stuff,” You gush about him with an aura of such delight, but as you progress further into your love speech, you become disgusted with the things you’re saying, and your blind love starts to wear off.

“Anyways, I told off my PE teacher just to be with him in detention. Also, I was just starting my period and he wouldn’t let me sit out, so,” you trail off awkwardly, looking down to your hands to play with them again. An attempt to avert the attention away from your possibly psychopath boyfriend.

Chris and Sebastian are quiet for way too long, but you’re too scared to look up and meet their eyes, scared you’d said something wrong. “How long ago was this?” Chris finally questions quietly, you look up at him and Sebastian, seeing their concerned eyes fall upon your unknowing gaze.

“We were fourteen. He’s not a bad guy. He just had… issues as a kid. His parents were getting divorced and stuff…” you reassured them, guessing what they were thinking from the looks on their faces. You’ve had this talk a hundred times before. With your parents, who have never approved of him. And your friends, some of whom you lost because of your boyfriend. But you figured it only brought the two of you closer together, even if you painfully lost some of your best friends in the process.

“Aren’t your parents divorced?” Chris hesitated softly, you nod with a confused look on your face. “Did you ever punch your classmates in the face?” Sebastian adds. Suddenly you feel very defensive over your boyfriend. He’s had hard times in the past, but no one knows him like you do. No one understands him like you do. No one loves him like you do.

But you can’t articulate any of those feelings, nothing comes out. You open and close your mouth several times to say something, like a fish. But you can’t think of anything, your mind draws a blank. Finally, something; “This is unprofessional. I’d like you to leave.”

…

At your sweet sixteen, Sebastian and Chris had the pleasure of spending time with your boyfriend before you had arrived. Inviting him a little earlier than the rest of the guests. You spoke so highly of him, they figured he felt the same way about you. So they figured he’d know you so well, and he’d like to help set your party up. Only the best for their collective y/n.

When he strolled onto set with both hands free, shoved into his pockets, Sebastian nodded up to gesture and show Chris he was approaching. No words were shared, but the silence said enough as they watched the boy approach them, looking judgemental and smug as he glanced around the room at the cheap decorations.

He nodded his head to the men as he approached them, as his way of greeting them. They glanced at each other before Sebastian spoke, “hey, I’m Sebastian. This is Chris. You’re Jacob?”

“Yeah,” Jacob simply spoke. Not meeting the man’s eyes, seeming extremely bored and uninterested with this conversation and this environment.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, man. It’s great to finally meet you,” Chris added happily, holding his hand out for Jacob to shake. Jacob pressed his lips together in a smile and nodded.

Chris furrowed his brows and held his hand out for a moment longer before bringing it down to grab a piece of tape to attach to a streamer. He kept his mouth closed for the time being.

Sebastian scanned the boy, “gifts or cards or whatever…” he paused, his eyes searching for any sign of anything that could be your type, “you can put them over in that basket.”

Jacob finally opened his mouth to form a sentence, a very bold one at that, “Oh, I’ll give her a present tonight. At her hotel.” He smirked, meeting the both of the men's eyes.

They both paused what they were doing to stare at the boy, speechless. Sebastian’s mouth agape, “We stay in our trailers on set, we don’t have hotels,” Chris explained as he narrowed his eyes and stood up straighter, confused by what this young man might be insinuating.

“Well then, when the trailers ‘rockin…” he courageously esponded, with a daring and fearless tone in his voice. Sebastian bit back the urge to allow his entire body to shiver at the conversation they were having with this boy, who’s conversation could only be held by the topic of sex. And in the context of y/n? They weren’t liking this, not one bit. Especially with the prior knowledge you had informed them of.

Thankfully not long after, more guests started to arrive, and they had other things to focus on, more people to greet, and Jacob moved onto Better things. Tormenting other people.

Further into the night, neither Sebastian nor Chris could shake whst Jacob said to them about you. Neither of them mentioned it to each other, but they had a hard time focusing on anything else.

When you arrived, completely shocked and so thankful, they put on a beautiful front. You didn’t suspect anything was wrong with them. Perhaps because you were so wrapped up in the beauty, the happiness, and the thankfulness because of your coworkers, but also the stress you were automatically filled with when you locked eyes with your boyfriend.

Jacob walked over to you, as you stood in the middle of the room, and he grabbed your waist tightly. He instantly shoved his lips into yours, and forcefully kissed you in front of everyone, all your coworkers, your friends, And the staff and directors and those alike. Those you tried so hard to be professional around.

So here you were, in quite the predicament. You loved your boyfriend, and knew what would happen to you if you made him unhappy or said no to him. But you also had a job to keep, a reputation to withhold, and you were only a teenager, in a very vulnerable state in front of all your coworkers, who you’ve previously done a good job at keeping aspects of your personal life from in the past.

After a shocking second of aggressive making out, you pull away softly, looking up softly into his eyes. You hadn’t seen him in so long, you missed his pretty eyes. You’d rather appreciate him, not his saliva in your mouth. But when you pulled away from the kiss, he looked at you confused, and as you looked at him with happy, innocent eyes, he forcefully pulled his hand off your waist, and for lack of a better word, shoved you off of him, walking away to the drink table.

You would have followed him like you usually do, to console him and apologize and make sure he’s okay. But that reputation. You’re worried that only made it worse. So you attempt to act as if nothing just happened, plastering a large, toothy grin to your face. Walking over to Sebastian and Chris and giving them a huge group hug. The party continued without the awkward silence, and moved on as if there wasn’t just a make out session right in the middle of the room.

You socialize with the party guests, and blush as everyone wishes you a happy sixteenth birthday. You wait until the cake is served and you’ve taken a bite or two of your slice, giving your compliments to the chef, before setting your place down since you couldn’t stomach any more, and walking over to Jacob. Who’s spent the remainder of the party sitting in the corner looking utterly betrayed.

“Hi Jakey,” You softly whisper as you approach him. You place a small kiss on his lips in an attempt to redeem yourself for before.

He shoves you away from him again, not kidding you back, “oh, so now you’re comfortable with kissing?” He asks sternly. You watch his angry figure with dad and confused eyes.

“I just didn’t wanna do it in front of all my coworkers. Jakey, that’s weird, we’re barely sixteen.” You attempted to comfort softly, but he rolled his eyes, stomping out of the party. You were thankful not many people noticed, at least that you could see.

He stomped off of set, you following him quickly behind, attempting to preserve this relationship in any way you can. You figured the downfall was coming soon enough, but you would rather it not be today.

“You never want to kiss me in public. You’re embarrassed of me!” He yells at you. Tears sting your eyes as you accept the fact that you’re back in the toxic environment you worked so hard to leave. This is why secretly you’ve been loving all the production delays and how long it’s taken to wrap filming. You love being away from home, because it means you don’t have to deal with this.

“Jake, I have no problem displaying affection in public! I’m not embarrassed of you, I just don’t think everyone needs to see what we do,” you start strongly, before he cuts you off in annoyance and impatience, “so you’re admitting you think I don’t deserve to be seen with you in public! What, is it because you became an actor? So I’m not good enough for you now because I’m just a high schooler? I’m just Jacob, and ‘oh, look at me I'm big time actor big deal y/n’, huh!? That’s all I am to you!?”

He scoffs angrily, his volume increasing, “And, I was going to give you birthday sex too. Yeah.”

You quietly let his words sink in as you weigh your options and try to think of what to say. Once again your brain is failing you, you have no clue how to react in this situation.

“Get off my set,” You quietly mumble after nearly a minute of silence. He scoffs.

“Get, off of my fucking set,” you growl at him, not moving a muscle. Your brain initially made you consider stepping up to him, but you’re significantly shorter than him, so you decided against that. But it didn’t matter anyway, because he approached you and slapped you directly across the face. You don’t react. Not at all, it barely even phases you and you simply blink.

You don’t have to say anything else, as he slowly makes his way off the set and out of the parking lot, towards the bus station. But you don’t care where he’s going or how he’s getting there. You just hope he stays gone.

As you watch his silhouette fade into the street lamps and surrounding scrambling bodies going in all different directions, you hear two people running up behind you. You don’t need to turn around or hear their voices to know they’re Sebastian and Chris.

“Are you okay?” Sebastian worried, cradling your cheek. “That little shit slapped you,” Chris huffed angrily as he watched his body emerge.

“He does that to me all the time. It’s just because we watched it in a movie together, it’s just an inside joke.” You quietly stare into the distance blankly.

“Y/n,” Sebastian says, looking into your helpless innocent eyes.

“No, it’s not,” Chris says softly.

“No, it’s not.” You whisper quietly.

That’s the first time you came clean, the first time you realized something was wrong. The first time you stopped lying about the things he did to you and how he made you feel. The first time you stopped letting him isolate you from everyone else.

You reconnected with the friends you lost because of him. The first time in a long time you had an open, honest conversation with your parents. You spoke in passing about things he did to you, and didn’t rush to excuse his behavior. You let speculation be speculation, because the speculation was fact. And you had the trauma to prove it.

You talked to Sebastian and Chris about it a lot. They were there to listen to it all, they welcomed you In with open arms. Lucky for you filming didn’t wrap for several months after your sweet sixteen, after your sophomore year of high school ended, during summer break. So you didn’t have to worry about seeing Jacob or purposely getting yourself sentenced to detention to make out with him much to the dismay of the detention supervisor of the day.

And lucky for you, when junior year started, after weeks of freaking out and crying and calling Sebastian and Chris, you found out that Jacob had moved upstate to live with his mother, because she got custody.

…

Taglist: @ohworm-writes @spidyyparker @littlemortals @americaarse plz lmk if u wanna be added x <3 have a great day. Love u

[anenbylittlepotato]

The Bros + side dateables (Minus Luke) React to You Comparing Your Hand Sizes

Warnings: Very fluffy. Not for the faint of heart. You might die of cuteness. You have been warned.

You're sitting with this person just kind of chilling while you're both doing your own thing when you glance over at their hands. You wait a long enough pause in what they're doing before reaching over and taking their hand, holding it so that you can gently press your palm against theirs. Also, this is an MC who has relatively small hands so-

Lucifer

You're sitting beside him as he works, scrolling through your D.D.D.

After several hours of both of you sitting in silence, each doing your own thing, you finally look up from your D.D.D. 

You look over at Lucifer, who's still completely absorbed in his work. 

Then your eyes drift to his hands, the pen he's gripping gliding across the paper in front of him.

As you watch, he sets the pen down and starts stretching his fingers. You aren't surprised his hands are cramping. He's been writing for a long time now. You're probably the only person he would show this kind of weakness to, which makes you feel kind of special.

As you watch, an idea pops into your head. You set down your D.D.D. and gently grab his hand.

He's a little startled at first and gives you a quizzical look, but he doesn't stop you. At least it's a distraction from all of the bills Mammon has piled up.

You hold his gloved hand so that you can gently press your palm to his, lining your fingers up with his as well.

He has pretty big hands. They're not huge, but they're somewhat significantly bigger than yours.

He lets out a low rumbling laugh.

"What, exactly, are you doing, MC?"

"Comparing our hand sizes. You have really big hands."

He lets out another small laugh.

"Or perhaps you just have small hands."

And at that, he gently folds his hand over the top of your smaller one, almost as if proving his point about your tiny hands.

He then smiles and brings his other hand over to cup your cheek as he gently plants a kiss on your forehead.

Afterward, he lets go of your hand and goes back to work.

Mammon

You two are sitting together on the couch in his room.

You're both on your D.D.D. sending each other random memes that you find and giggling together. 

And during one of the moments of quiet moments where you're both scrolling, you look over at him.

He's still absorbed in his D.D.D., a big, goofy grin plastered across his face as he scrolls through the memes.

Your eyes drift to his hands as his thumbs move, pausing every so often to read a meme, then moving on when he deems it unsuitable to send to you.

As you watch, he pauses on a particularly long meme. You take this chance to reach over and gently take the hand, pulling it toward you.

He immediately tenses and looks over at you, his face flushing bright red.

"H-Hey, just what do ya think you're doin', MC?"

Instead of answering, you move his hand so that the palm is facing upwards and you gently press your palm against his, making his fingers flatten out as you line your fingers up with his.

He watches you, his face red, his heart racing, and his fingers trembling ever-so-slightly.

His hands are probably not that big, only being a little bigger than yours.

"M-MC? What are ya doin'???"

You look at him and smile a little.

"Comparing our hand sizes. Yours are bigger than mine."

"H-Huh? Oh! W-well, of course, they are! Just shows how awesome I am! After all, I'm the GREAT Mammon!"

You laugh a little at his words.

"Yeah, yeah. It's just hand size. Doesn't make you any better or worse than me."

Then, without giving him a chance to respond, you curl your fingers between his, holding his hand.

That's it. He's dead. You've killed him.

His whole face is red and he's a flustered spluttering mess.

He literally cannot form a single coherent sentence. He's dying, help him.

It takes him a full 10 minutes just to calm down.

When he finally does, he turns his head away before gently holding your hand back.

You laugh a little at how flustered he is.

Leviathan

You guys are just chilling in his room together, sitting side by side. You're watching anime on your D.D.D. while he plays video games on his handheld console.

At the end of one of your episodes, you look up and glance over at Levi.

He's so entranced by his game that he doesn't even notice you looking at him. His brows are furrowed and his tongue is sticking out slightly in concentration.

You smile when he lets out a small cheer when he beats the level he's on. He leans back a little and lowers the game as he relishes in his victory.

Out of a random whim, you reach out and gently take his hand, pulling it toward you.

He jumps in surprise and lets out a small yelp as you turn his hand so you can flatten your palm against him.

His whole face turns red as you closely study your hands pressed together.

His hands are actually surprisingly big. Not big like Lucifer's but definitely bigger than yours.

"M-MC! Wha-what are you d-d-doing?!"

In response, you look at him and smile.

"I'm comparing our hand sizes. Yours are actually pretty big."

He covers his face with his other hand, not moving the one you have away.

"Wh-what a normie thing to do, MC… I guess it's to be expected from a normie like you…"

You were literally just watching anime but okay-

When he notices you look a little downcast at his insults, he frantically tries to apologize.

"W-wait no! I- I didn't mean that I'm sorry!"

When you look back at him, he smiles at you a little.

He was so focused on trying to apologize, he didn't even notice that you'd curled your fingers around his hand. 

When does realize, though, he's immediately back to being a flustered, stuttery mess.

You broke him.

Leviathan.exe has stopped working.

Satan

You're both sitting in his room, on his bed together.

Both of you are reading books. You're reading a really interesting fantasy book he'd recommended to you. Meanwhile, he's reading a book about cats.

At the end of the chapter you're on, you sigh and lower the book, processing what you just read. You cannot believe that just happened to the main character.

While you're doing that, you glance over at Satan. He's still very much absorbed in his book. 

As you watch, he takes one hand away from the book, shifting it so that he can balance it in one hand, and brings the other up to his chin, rubbing it as if he were deep in thought.

Then, just as he's reaching back down to turn the page, you set your book down and reach out and gently grab his hand.

He blinks, shocked, and looks over at you curiously as you gently press your palm to his. His cheeks flush a little.

His hands are only a little bigger than yours. They're still a little bigger than Mammon's though.

"MC? What are you doing?"

"Comparing our hand sizes."

He looks down at the two of your hands. 

"I see. It seems my hands are a bit bigger than yours, huh?"

You nod a little, smiling at him.

Then he glances at his book before looking back at you.

"Now… I can't exactly turn the pages with one hand, can I?"

You laugh and reach over with your other hand, turning the page of his book yourself.

He chuckles a little and thanks you as he curls his fingers around yours.

Asmodeus

You're both sitting on his bed while he's looking at his reflection in a mirror, applying makeup.

He's going to do yours next, so you're scrolling through pictures on his D.D.D. as you try to decide what look you want.

When you finally find a look that you like, you click the image and set the D.D.D. down to wait for Asmo to finish his own makeup. While you wait, you look up and watch him apply his makeup, carefully applying the pink lipstick.

When he's finished, he caps the lipstick and sets it down on the bed beside him while admiring his work.

Then, just as he's bringing his hand back up to the mirror, you grab his hand, careful not to touch his freshly painted nails.

He looks over at you quizzically at first, then he smiles at you.

"Aw, do you want my attention~? Don't worry, I'll get to you in a moment, darling."

Without responding, you press your palm to his, lining up your fingers.

Asmo has pretty small hands, being about the same size as yours, maybe even a little smaller.

He looks a little confused as he watches you study your hands.

"What are you doing, dear?"

"Comparing our hands' sizes. You have small hands."

He laughs at that.

"Oh, you are just so cute!"

He takes his hand from yours and gently taps your nose with his index finger.

"Come now, show me what you have picked out there."

He picks up his D.D.D. and looks at the image you have up.

"Ooh! Good choice! Now come here, love."

And with that, he starts working on your makeup.

Beelzebub

You're sitting in his lap on his bed. He has his chin resting on top of your head as he munches on one of the many bags of chips you two had bought earlier. You're looking at recipes online, trying to figure out what to make for breakfast tomorrow since it'll be your turn to cook.

Soon, Beel has finished his current bag of chips and he sets the empty bag aside. You glance at his hand as he reaches out to grab another bag.

You smile a little and set down the D.D.D and gently take his hand, laughing inwardly at the feeling of his greasy fingers.

He's a little shocked by this action.

"Huh? MC, what is it?"

You gently press your palm against his.

"Comparing our hand sizes."

Oh boy, does this boy have some big hands.

Very large hands.

Definitely bigger than yours. By quite a bit, actually.

You giggle a little as he moves his head down to rest on your shoulder to get a better look at your guys' hands.

"Your hands are so big, Beel."

He laughs, and you can feel the sound in his chest, vibrating you a little bit.

Then he closes his hand around yours.

"Well, yours are pretty small. At least compared to mine. I like that. It's easier to hold them."

Then, he cups your cheek and gently kisses your lips before taking his hand away from yours and finally grabbing that next bag of chips.

Belphegor

You and Belphie are sitting on your bed together. He's sitting beside you with his arms wrapped around your middle and his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, half asleep. Meanwhile, you're in the middle of sewing up a hole in his pillow that he'd somehow managed to tear. Not surprising, seeing as he carries it everywhere. And, of course, it was Mammon's fault, even though you have a sneaking suspicion that it was everyone's fault. So now you're his new pillow until it's fixed. You have no choice. Deal with it.

After a while, you have to set down the needle and thread and stretch your cramping fingers. Sewing is painful-

He notices your pause and lifts his head, looking at you. 

"Is it done yet?"

"Not quite. I still have a little ways to go. But I need a little break. My hands are starting to cramp."

He then grabbed the pillow and peered at the mostly sewn tear.

"Huh. You weren't lying when you said you could sew. That's actually pretty good."

You laugh a little as you watch him start to pull his hand away. Without thinking, you gently grab his hand.

He blinks and looks at you as you press your palm to his.

His hands are a decent size. Not big, but decently bigger than yours.

"MC… you're being weird again."

"No, I'm not. I'm comparing our hand sizes."

He looks back down at your hands.

"Hehehehe, mine are bigger. You have small hands. Baby hands."

Baby Hands is your nickname now.

You have no choice.

He will now call you Baby Hands any chance he gets, just to see how frustrated you get with him.

He is pure evil. A gremlin man. Stinky bastard man.

Diavolo

You're sitting in his lap as he works. You're drinking tea made by Barbatos.

You watch as he writes papers and signs forms while sipping your tea.

Soon he's finished a full stack of the papers. He leans back with a sigh, wrapping his arms around you.

"I think it's about time I could take a break now. I made quite a bit of progress."

You lean your head back so you can look up at him, smiling. Big man

He grins right back at you.

Then you look down at his hands placed gently on your belly. One of his thumbs is moving, gently rubbing your belly.

You softly grab one of his hands. He's a little surprised, but he's more curious and leans down to watch what you do.

You gently press your palm to him. He tilts his head like a confused puppy, trying to understand what, exactly, you're doing.

BIG HANDS. BIG HANDS BIG HANDS BIG HANDS.

This man's hands. Are Fuckign. Enormous.

He has such big hands. The biggest. Bigger than Beel's.

They fucking engulf yours.

Big hands for a big man ig

"Is this some kind of human world tradition?"

He asks that question so earnestly I can't-

You laugh.

"No, no. I'm just comparing our hand sizes. Yours are huge."

This time it's his turn to laugh.

"Yes, I suppose they are."

He then brings your hand up to his lips and kisses the back of it.

Barbatos

You're sitting beside him while he folds laundry that just came out of the dryer. You're sipping some milk tea that he'd made you.

You're watching him as he works. Every fold was so meticulous and pristine. It's almost mesmerizing.

As you watch, he pauses briefly to let out a breath before immediately reaching to grab another article of clothing.

Before he can though, you gently take his hand.

He looks at you, not really surprised, as he likely saw this coming.

He watches quietly as you gently press your palm to his.

His hands are bigger than yours but they're not particularly large.

He smiles softly as he watches you.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

You look at him and smile a little.

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"I'm glad. I really do like seeing you enjoying yourself."

You look back down at your hands. 

"I was comparing our hand sizes! Yours are bigger than mine."

"I can see that."

He takes his other hand and places it on top of yours, smiling softly. He rubs the back of your hand with his thumb.

"Now, I must get back to work. I have many more things I must get to."

He kisses the back of your hand swiftly before returning to his laundry folding.

==

Don't worry, guys, I'm still adding Simeon and Solomon, I just... Couldn't fit them in this post. I'll be adding them in a reblog