#s peter dance

[siryl]

Some years ago a lady brought to the Royal Scottish Museum in Edinburgh a trout covered with a fine coat of white fur. It was pleasingly mounted on a wooden shield and was labelled as follows:

FUR BEARING TROUT Very Rare Caught while trolling in Lake Superior off Gros Cap, Near Sault Ste. Marie, district of Algoma. It is believed that the great depth and the extreme penetrating coldness of the water in which these fish live has caused them to grow their dense coat of (usually) white fur. Mounted by ROSS C. JOBE, Taxidermist of Sault Ste. Marie, Ont.

Visiting the museum to find out more about her unique fish, the lady was told that it was undoubtedly a trout (either brown or brook) and that its fine white coat was undoubtedly from a rabbit, whereupon she immediately presented the fish to the museum. She had bought this fake in good faith which indicates that the idea of a fur-bearing trout did not seem outlandish to her.

―Stanley Peter Dance, Animal Fakes & Frauds, 1976

[zippocreed501]

Peter Gordeno - Fever

Having featured Ayshea Brough in these posts before, it's only fair we give fellow UFO cast member Peter his own special. I'm sure he found his stage clothes much more comfortable than the nipple-teasing string vests he wore in the 70's TV show.

[w-i-m-m]

[andthebeanstalk]

Homophobic that I have to record and edit a whole video in order to share the songs I write in a visual medium tbh

I need a wizard to just magically broadcast how good I made this cover of a song from The Last Unicorn. Beam it directly into the hearts and minds of the nation and also the author Peter S. Beagle, whom I googled just now and who is still alive AND WOULD SURELY GIVE ME THE RIGHTS TO USE HIS LYRICS IN MY GRAPHIC NOVEL IF HE ONLY KNEW HOW SICK MY UKULELE SKILLS ARE

[esonetwork]

Monkeeing Around Episode 22 - Your Friendly Neighborhood Kidnappers

New Post has been published on https://esonetwork.com/monkeeing-around-ep-22-your-friendly-neighborhood-kidnappers/

Monkeeing Around Episode 22 - Your Friendly Neighborhood Kidnappers

This week the Monkeeing Around gang discusses the fourth aired Monkees episode, Your Friendly Neighborhood Kidnappers.

Monkeeing Around is a part of the ESO Podcast Network, Executive Producer Mike Faber.

[bob-the-movie-man-film-reviews]

I Wanna Dance With Somebody (12): A long film for a short life.

#onemannsmovies review of "I Wanna Dance With Somebody" (2022). #wannadancemovie. Overlong but solid biopic of Whitney Houston. 3.5/5.

A One Mann’s Movies review of “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” (2022). My last film of 2022, “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” is the occasionally uplifting but ultimately sad story of Whitney Houston. In the most blindingly unnecessary example of marketing mansplaining, the film company seemed to see fit to add “Whitney Houston:” as a prefix to the title. But I have chosen to omit this! It’s striking…

[sinsin1016]

SinSin1016@Tumblr

SinSin1016@TikTok

•••NOT MY ORIGINAL CLIP

Dub 4 Fun Only

[kadekeys]

sorry if I'm the last person to have noticed this but

during the beginning and ending sequences, Peter and Steph are MATCHING.

Green flannel on Steph. Green plaid bowtie (and green along with the blue on his suspenders) on Pete.

Then, during Homecoming, they're matching again - which is easily explained in-universe as, like... it's a school dance. They're going as a couple. It's not uncommon to color match. But still!

Though it's a stretch, there is something to be said about the choice of red at the end. The blood is proverbially on their hands, after all. They've got to feel at least a little guilty about Richie and Ruth (and, to an extent, Max)'s deaths.

In the middle, they don't really match in any real way. Their dominant colors do become brown and white though.

[twiisted-king]

♢ Spider-Man Noir BF HC’S ♢

➟ Spider-Man Noir / GN!Reader 🕸️

➟ SFW / NSFW

➟ TW : 1930’s Attitudes, The Great Depression, Injuries/Blood, Sexual Content, & Smoking.

————————————————————————

— Let’s set one thing straight, he is husband material.

— The moment y’all start dating is when he starts thinking of marriage. Obviously he’s from the 1930’s so he probably thinks more in terms of “ I Man, I Husband “. I don’t think it’s to the point of being toxic though :)

— Peter has a gun, yes a gun, that he is not afraid to use especially when it comes to you. He’s always clutching you close to him whenever y’all go outside and keeping a close eye on the environment around him. He already lost Uncle Ben, he is NOT losing you too.

— A total gentleman : flowers, taking your coat, kissing your hand, he goes the whole nine yards.

— It’s hard for him to just be comfortable sometimes. Experience the Great Depression and being Spider-Man has left him a nervous wreck who just can’t calm down. He’s always expecting the worse. In other words, please treat this man like he’s the best thing in the whole world, he needs it.

— A music lover who would be even more smitten if you danced with him. He’ll hum to the tune and spin you around the livingroom with this big, goofy smile on his face.

— Peter runs off of coffee, cigarettes, and adrenaline. He doesn’t have the easiest line of even as a civilian and often works late into the night. He’s always exhausted when he gets home and just wants to fall into bed beside you.

— Is pretty always big spoon. It’s just easier since he’s more then a likely taller than you plus he likes taking on the protector role.

— A decent chef. He can definitely make a mean dinner and has learned a few tips/tricks from Aunt May.

— Patch up his wounds! He’s a good patient who just sits there with this glint of admiration in his eyes as you clean up any blood or stitch close a deeper cut. He’ll absolutely tease you by asking if you can “ kiss it better “.

— He writes sappy poetry. It’s mostly just for kicks and giggles though he can definitely whip out something that really touches your heart. He gets flustered if you thank him for the poetry and just hides his red face behind his hat Jotaro style.

— Peter wants to eventually move away from New York to somewhere much quieter. He wants to marry you and have a big house. If you want kids that’s more than okay with him and if you don’t he’s content on settling for a dog. He absolutely loves dogs.

♢ NSFW ♢

— While not the most experienced person sexually he still knows how to have a good time.

— Peter’s libido isn’t the highest and sex is more of a celebratory/occasional thing. You got a job promotion? Cool! Peter wants to bang you on the couch until the walls are white and the multiverse rips apart.

— I think Peter definitely gets aroused a lot he just doesn’t act on his feelings. He doesn’t exactly have time to take an hour away for some much needed love making.

— But when he does get that hour away? Oh boy howdy prepare yourself.

— I already discussed that there is more than likely a height difference and he takes that to his advantage. It’s easy to just scoop you up no matter how heavy you are and have sex with you right against the kitchen wall.

— Like he’ll rip your clothes off in the heat of the moment then promise to buy your another shirt later.

— RIDE 👏🏻 THIS 👏🏻 MAN 👏🏻 - He doesn’t mind just kicking back and letting you take control for a bit. He lets out the hottest noises and when you’re thighs are aching from bouncing on him? He just manually fucks you on his cock all while telling you about how nice you feel tensing around him.

— No surface in your place is safe. Kitchen counter, bed, couch .. you’ve been banged on all of them.

— Wants to stuff you full of as much of his cum as possible. He’ll cum into over and over again until your stomach is bloated with his release.

— He’s big! It can be an adjustment taking his dick and he’s fully aware of his size. He’s always whispering encouragements to you, telling you about how good you look taking him like this. His balls are big too lmao.

[spideytingley]

my fic recs!

marvel

peter parker

identity crisis by @heliads

bucky barnes

time after time (on-going series) by @intrepidacious

heal me, baby by @intrepidacious

first date, last night by @intrepidacious

little lion man by @wkemeup

these ties that bind by sweetascanbee on ao3

steve rogers

no other shade of blue by @barnesafterglow

love bites (series) by starfleetstgmgr on ao3

invisible string (series) by gracehateseggnog on ao3

pietro maximoff

hole in the wall by @sebsbarnes

realign by @astxrwar soulmate au

percy jackson and the olympians

luke castellan

a place with you by @supercutszns

fighting chance by @supercutszns

rotten to the touch by @supercutszns

bleedin’ me dry by @atlabeth

i beg you (and you don’t understand) by @emiliehornby

daylight, part 2, part 3 by @tangledinlove

percy jackson

anti-curse by @kamaluhkhan

dc

dick grayson

the moon will sing (on-going series) by minnieears on ao3

jason todd

window pains by @sanguineterrain

reflections of you by dizarys on ao3

romantics by @yourlocalcringydaydreamer

suds and buds (yeah, sure) (series) by sbambs on ao3

baby steps (on-going series) by @lightwing-s

she hates me (series) by minnieears on ao3

damian wayne

flowers (series) by stargazer_lily_1996 on ao3. soulmate au

tim drake

late night park walks by @lightwing-s

sleepless nights by starkk on ao3. soulmate au

who we are (on-going series) by minnieears on ao3

the hunger games

finnick odair

our song and dance (on-going series) by @mrs-kmikaelson

one for the road by @libertyybellls

lover/fighter (on-going series) by aurabella on ao3 @bluemidnightmelody

cato

supernova (on-going series) by glossyybabie on ao3

it might kill me (on-going series) by frick6101719 on ao3

grishaverse

kaz brekker

bejeweled by @reve-writes

dense by @reve-writes

nikolai lantsov

come on back to me by @atlabeth

bad luck by @atlabeth

nine long years (on-going series) by @ellewritesalright

enchanted by @in-my-feels-probably

a familiar melody by thehistoriangirl on ao3

bridgerton

benedict bridgerton

drunk sketches by @delehosies

a lady’s guide to surviving the ton by @atlabeth

ACOTAR

azriel

the green emotion by @utterlyazriel

love will unravel me (so please keep your hands held tight) by @utterlyazriel

daughter of autumn by @writingcroissant

nightlight (on-going series) by @azsazz

cassian

flames and embers by @hellodarling1357

star wars

anakin skywalker

shifting gears by awritesthings1 on ao3

the handmaiden (on-going series) by rufflesandbows on ao3

my very soul (on-going series) by skywalkerog on ao3 @anakinskywalkerog

obi-wan kenobi

fleeting moments (series) by fitzfiles on ao3

[siryl]

Here's another scan from Dance's Animal Fakes & Frauds, since the first one was so popular. The White-Russian shore-muddler was exhibited in the Gothenburg Natural History Museum at the beginning of April for a number of years starting in 1963. It was the brainchild of the museum's director, Dr. Bengt Hubendick, but no source seems to record the name of the taxidermist who made it a (false) reality.

[jaidens]

Only Bought This Dress (So You Could Take It Off)

pairing [s] : miguel o’hara x reader

warnings [s] : smuttyyy | miguel is big af | spanking, jealousy smut!! mamas favorite treat. | ripping of clothes | miguel is a jealous daddy teehee | name-calling | oml this mann

a/n : guys i really don't know.. except i want him..so

Whenever Miguel invited you to the Spider-Ball, you had no idea what to wear to be completely and totally honest. Your designer was confused whenever you showed her a picture of Miguel's suit and told her to work her magic. And your designer did such.

The colors of blue and red were prominent and it had a collection of dark-orangey red to compliment his webs. It was completely perfect and what you were thinking of without even explaining it. It was a soft silk fabric with lace covered around with strings of pearls.

You had found a matching lingerie set that would have surely made Miguel lose his mind. When he picked you up in front of your apartment you saw how when you walked down the steps in your long, stiletto red bottom heels and that dress he was anxiously moving in his seat and holding only small talk with you.

The limo stopped at a humongous, absolutely gorgeous building the event was being held at. Spider-Men and Women from all over were dressed to the Tens. The driver opened your door and held his hand out for you to grab. You thanked him graciously as you tangled your arm with Miguel's as he straightened out his suit and he looked down at you. “You look absolutely gorgeous tonight. I love this dress.” His hand touches your hip, rubbing across the delicate fabric. You smile up at him, tracing across his features and the moonlight that colors his face with beautiful carvings.

He helps you up the stairs, letting you use him as a guide to getting up with such tall heels and concrete steps aren't the best mix. His hand stays on your lower back, holding you closer to him when more and more people start to show up. When you walk into the beautiful ballroom, the white marble floors are covered with people and you look up at the expressive paintings that reside on the ceiling with admiration.

“Look at that ceiling. My goodness, it's absolutely gorgeous." Miguel looks up at it, and you get a sight of his neck, as it stretches “It’s pretty amazing." Miguel leaves to speak with another caterer of the party and you go talk to sweet Mary-Jane. Her bright red hair strikes you as she turns around quickly and drops her mouth open.

“Aren’t you just gorgeous? Oh my wow... I love this dress!” Mary-Jane compliments you while running her hand down your arm. “Look at you! I'm obsessed with those earrings." You and MJ hold small talk before Peter walks up behind her and pulls her away to the drink and food tables.

You find a conversation with Peter. You ask him about why he decided to come to the event. “It’s for charity, love. I'll always go to these types of functions if it's about charity.” You turn your head and see Miguel staring at you and Peter, and you're in for the game. You put your hand on his shoulder and you start laughing when he makes a joke about robbing banks.

But as the night reached its climax, a shadow was cast over the euphoria. My heart skipped a beat as I glanced toward the entrance, meeting the gaze of a familiar face. There he stood, his eyes narrowed with a simmering mix of anger and hurt. It was him—the man I had left behind, Miguel consumed by jealousy.

You continue such actions, just being more calm and touchy. You really only saw Peter as a brother and nothing more. Even after stating that multiple times, Miguel still got worried about him. The live concert band showed up and you got giddy and grabbed Peter's hand and asked him to dance. You were casually dancing with Peter until the switch partners part of the song began and someone grabbed your hand and pushed you close.

“Such a slut aren't you? We're going home after this dance.” Miguel is angry and you can tell. His words are cut off and you see his eyes slowly darken with lust and jealousy. You stare down and rest your head on his chest. “Acting all innocent now too.” You really weren't trying to act innocent. You were worried about beginning to do it because you knew how Miguel would act.

As we made our way through the crowd, I cast one last glance over my shoulder, yearning for the stranger who had stirred something within me. But all I found were empty eyes, longing for freedom that now seemed like a distant dream.

The sleek, midnight-black car cut through the city streets like a predator on the prowl. Inside, the air crackled with a mix of desire and jealousy, swirling around Miguel and me, creating an intoxicating tension. The dimly lit cabin was suffused with a primal energy that mirrored the storm brewing between us.

Miguel's hands gripped the steering wheel with an intensity that betrayed the seething jealousy consuming him. His jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, but I could feel his eyes flickering with a fiery mix of possessiveness and resentment.

Earlier that evening, we had attended a glamorous social event, where attention naturally gravitated toward me. Miguel had watched as I conversed and laughed with other men, his strong facade cracking with each flirtatious exchange. The allure of his jealousy fueled my desire, and now we found ourselves alone, confined within the intimate space of his car.

The engine's growl mirrored the tension pulsating between us, as Miguel's grip on the wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white. The silence was heavy, pregnant with unspoken words and simmering emotions, as we hurtled through the city streets with dangerous haste.

Unable to bear the weight of the unspoken, I ventured, my voice a gentle tremor, "Miguel, what's wrong?"

His gaze pierced through me, his eyes smoldering with a mixture of frustration and vulnerability. "You know damn well what's wrong," he muttered, his voice laced with a hint of accusation.

A shiver ran down my spine as I felt the air grow thick with his possessive aura. Miguel's simmering jealousy took on a life of its own, threatening to consume us both. I could sense the hunger in his touch, the burning desire to claim what he believed was rightfully his.

With a sudden swerve, the car veered into an empty parking lot, its tires screeching against the pavement. We came to an abrupt stop, the stillness amplifying the intensity of our emotions. Miguel turned to me, his dark eyes staring into mine, his breath shallow and uneven.

"What were you doing back there?" he demanded, his voice low and charged with a mix of anger and longing. "Flirting with Peter, teasing him with your charm."

A flicker of guilt danced across my features, mingling with the thrill of his possessive rage. "Miguel, it was harmless. Just a bit of fun."

His hand shot out, capturing my chin in a firm grip, his touch simultaneously tender and controlling. "Fun? Do you think I find pleasure in watching Peter vie for your attention?" His voice dropped to a husky whisper, laced with a possessiveness that sent a jolt of desire coursing through me. "You're mine, and I won't stand for it."

In that charged moment, the confines of the car became an arena for our desires and frustrations. The boundaries blurred as Miguel's lips descended upon mine, claiming me with a ferocity that matched the fiery jealousy burning within him. The car's interior became a sanctuary for our entangled bodies, as we surrendered to the intoxicating dance of lust and possessiveness, each touch igniting a passionate blaze that threatened to consume us whole.

In the passenger seat, you, a tantalizing and spirited woman, brace yourself for what you sense is about to unfold. The air is thick with tension as you exit the car, your heart pounding in anticipation.

Miguel storms around the vehicle, his movements exuding authority, and yanks open your door. Without a word, he seizes your wrist and pulls you out, his grip firm yet electric with desire. He gracefully opens the door to the large house and he starts angrily dragging you to the bedroom that you shared together. He flips the lights off and presses a button. The LED lights that sat above turned a dark red. His tan skin is even more beautiful and tantalizing than it was in the sunlight. 

He pulls his tie loose and he throws you onto the cleanly made bed. You bend your elbows to catch your fall. You put your knees up and close your thighs together, giving a sort of pleasure that was becoming single-handedly harder to hold back from Miguel.  He begins to kiss your neck, sending a tingling sensation through your body. His hands move to your waist, feeling the curves of your body before he presses his body against yours. You close your eyes, surrendering to the pleasure that Miguel brings.

His lips travel down to your collarbone, creating a trail of butterflies that spread throughout your body. You can feel the heat of his body against yours and your heart racing. His hands move to your back as he leans in closer, sending sparks through your soul. He looks into your eyes and your lips meet in an electric kiss. You're lost in the moment, feeling alive and full of passion. You never want it to end. You're stuck in this dream before you remember what got you into this mess. He pulls away angrily and rips the perfectly made dress off your body. You stand there, feeling exposed and embarrassed. "Flirting with Peter wasn't a good idea, was it? Or would you rather him fuck you? Your heart raced as he said those words. You felt ashamed. You knew you had to face the consequences of your actions and you were not looking forward to it. He pulls off his tailored suit and you have a full look at his strong chest.

Miguel crawls back onto the bed and he bites your neck. You moan out and grab at his back, your manicured nails scratching red marks on them. "Please.. touch me." You're completely embarrassed that you're begging for him after getting yourself stuck in this situation. He smiles, a wicked glint in his eye as he presses himself against you. His hands roam your body as he kisses your neck, his breath hot on your skin. You feel a wave of pleasure wash over you as you surrender to his touch. His hand runs down your body, tracing over the delicate lace that you were adorned in.  Miguel's hand travels just under the waistband of the panties, teasing you further. "You like the taste of your own medicine? I bet you do." 

His fingers skim the lace and travel further until they reach your core. He teases and tantalizes you until you can't take it anymore and you cry out in pleasure. Miguel smiles, satisfied with the power he holds over you. "Such a slutty baby. Bet you'll take anything anyone gives you?" You blush and shake your head, unable to find the words to respond. He grins and presses his lips against yours, letting you know he doesn't need your answer. Instead, he just wants to show you how much pleasure he can give you. You feel his fingers rub your clit in figure-eights. You're rubbing your hips against his hands. You're so close before you feel it; he rips his hands away and lays his fingers against your lips.

You accept his fingers into your mouth and suck them off your pleasure. You moan as he moves his fingers in and out of your mouth, savoring the taste of your arousal. His hands return to your clit and you're soon overcome with pleasure, arching your back as you reach your peak. He flips you over and pushes your head down into the soft pillows and pulls your ass up. You're staring at the mirror at his gorgeous body as he pulls his pants down and throws them on the floor.

You can feel his hand rub against your ass before you feel it, a harsh smack against it. You cry out and hear him speak, "I want you to count how many times I spank your ass. If you do it correctly, I'll treat you." You take a deep breath and start counting, determined to do as he asked. As the spanks continue, you feel a strange mixture of pleasure and pain. You grit your teeth and keep counting until he stops. You feel one last rub in a circle over the burning marks. "You did well, baby." He flips you back around and your head it sat between your pillows and he grabs a pillow next to your head.

You twist your body around to be on your back. You're staring into his dark, beautiful eyes. Miguel takes the pillow and sticks it under your ass. You're on display for him. Your legs spread wide to give him room to relax. His strong arms wrap around your thighs and you feel his breath on your core. He looks up at you with a smirk and then explores you with his mouth. His tongue and lips dance around your sensitive areas.

His lips move faster and faster, sending shockwaves through your body that cause you to arch your back and thrust your hips into his face. His tongue is like a warm, gentle wave, caressing you and making you feel more alive than you ever have before. You can feel your muscles tense up as you get closer and closer to the edge, and when you finally reach it you let out a loud, intense moan that echoes through the room.

"So good for me." He groans out as he comes back up from your core and your slick is on his chin and lips, shimmering in the light. Miguel sits up and you notice how tense his body is. He's hard, his tip is dark purple had gotten so worked up from eating you out and hearing your pleasurable moans that echoed throughout the room. You sit up and your hand travels down his abs and to his cock, stroking it. He leans back against the bed; his hands holding him up from falling, and you press your lips against his, tasting yourself and him. You can feel his heartbeat racing as you kiss him passionately. Your hand strokes him as he humps into your hand. "For how dominant you had been earlier... this is different."

Miguel looks up at you. His eyes have tears as you continue to stroke him. You can sense the vulnerability in Miguel as he looks up at you, his eyes glistening with tears. You can feel the emotion radiating off of him as his heart beats rapidly in response to your touch. He is letting you in, allowing you to see a side to him that he usually keeps hidden. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close. You whisper comforting words to him, assuring him that it's ok to let it all out. He relaxes in your embrace, feeling safe and secure in your presence. After a couple of quick thrusts, his abs tighten and he cums in your hand. 

He holds you and you lay in his arms. “You did so good baby. Let’s go get you in the bath.” Miguel picks you up under your aching thighs and carries you to the bathroom that was in your room. He sets you down on the chair that sat in the bathroom. He turns on the bathtub and the water begins heating up. Miguel picks you up once more and sets you into the bath. Your body stretches out and you relax. You share I Love You’s and you lay down for the night.

[tsyvia48]

Author & Mensch: Reflections on the impact of @neil-gaiman on my life, in essay and doodle

As a woman of a certain age, I am a well-practiced overthinker. Nerd, geek, know-it-all, intellectual, the names have been biting or praise depending on who wielded them. They’re all true, and I embrace them. 

In the early days of adulthood, when I was a wee 20-something overthinking nerd, geek, know-it-all, intellectual (20+ years ago), I became deeply interested in image and text and text-as-image. While friends were watching and arguing over Survivor, I was obsessing over Peter Greenaway’s The Pillowbook and Prospero's Books and Neil Gaiman’s Sandman. (To this day my copies of the Sandman graphic novels and the English translation of The Pillowbook of Sei Shonagon are proudly displayed on the good bookshelves—you know, the ones I want people to peruse.)

Sandman isn't merely good storytelling and good art, it teases at some of the fundamental questions to which my religion-major heart was consistently and reliably drawn. It modeled a way of rendering the questions—and suggested answers—I would never have imagined on my own.

In those days, I created an artist's book: an altered gift edition of Hamlet. I explored Ophelia’s femininity and the inevitability of her break with her mental health, caught as she is between Hamlet and her father. I imagined her story if she’d had true agency. I investigated the way art (fan art?!) had shaped my understanding of the play and my relationship to it. I layered in my story—my resonance and dissonance with hers—and my art, along with images of famous and not-so-famous paintings of Ophelia. I proudly named Greenaway and Gaiman as influences. 

I imagined myself an artist. And, truthfully, I suppose I was one. 

I read Good Omens back then, too, delighting over the religious tropes and subversions, the humor, and the fundamental faith in humanity that shone through. 

In the two decades since then, below the din of “responsible” choices (that have mostly moved me away from imagining myself an artist) there has been a melody quietly bringing me comfort, shifting my perspective, and reminding me who I want to be. When I stop to listen for and name the music, I realize much of it generates from Neil Gaiman. 

The Graveyard Book gave me comfort and hope as a new parent. 

Ocean at the End of the Lane reminded me of the layers and the depths⏤the archetypes and metaphors⏤present in everything around me, if I am willing to seek them.

Neil’s anecdote about meeting Neil Armstrong has been a talisman against imposter syndrome. Or, more precisely, it has been a permission slip for forgiving myself when the imposter syndrome inevitably surfaces.

The episode of Dr Who he wrote (“the Doctor’s Wife”) changed the way I understand the entire Dr Who experience before and since. 

Lucifer (tv), which his work inspired, gave me joy, comfort and distraction through a tough time in my life. 

When, a few years ago, I realized he is Jewish, I had that swelling of pride and resonance that I always get when someone I admire shares that identity with me.

And now there’s the Good Omens tv series. It has opened something in me I didn’t realize was closed. Crowley and Aziraphale are helping me better understand myself, and love, and gender, and storytelling, and, believe it or not, Torah. I am writing again for the first time in ages. I'm drawing more often and with more joy than I’ve known maybe since childhood.

I’ve been getting back into my gratidoodle practice, drawing and writing what I’m grateful for. And when I decided to add Neil Gaiman’s face and some words about my appreciation for his work to my sketchbook, I realized he’s brought me full circle.

Text and image and text-as-image + Neil Gaiman + story is an old constellation for me. And once again, I find my thoughts dancing, shifting, blossoming to the quiet melody of (one of?) the greatest storyteller(s) of this generation. 

And now that I am actively engaging with other Gaiman fans, I see how responsive and kind and encouraging he is to those of us who love his work, and his name is permanently etched on my heart: a benefactor, a teacher, a role model.

How satisfying and fitting that such a powerful and resonant voice, miraculously, thankfully, beautifully, also seems to be a genuine mensch. 

B”H (thanks to God) that I am alive at the same time as such a one.

#I didn't realize I was going to write AND draw when I started this #but I felt I needed both #I wish I had a flatbed scanner #this photo doesn't do it justice #there's greater nuance in the color in person #Stories matter #Art matters #like, really matters #Neil Gaiman is a gift to this world #Good Omens #Crowley and Aziraphale #Ocean at the End of the Lane #The Graveyard Book #Neil Armstrong and imposter syndrome #The Doctor's Wife #So grateful for tumblr

[elorday]

— ✪ valerie's may fic recs

thank you so much for all of these writers for making me smiling with a lots of butterflies in my stomach, making my mouth hanging agape, or crying so hard and sweating hot. i really can't thank you enough<3

some fics contain nsfw (✦)

𖥔. SCREAM—

⭒ — ETHAN LANDRY

✦ title taken : @astermath

20/20 vision : @echnated

slyther-in to my heart?! : @ghostfacd

✦ “it's okay, i'll show you.” : @messylustt

sleepy : @corpsebasil

bejeweled : @xyzstar

𖥔. ENOLA HOLMES—

⭒ — SHERLOCK HOLMES

we'll be alright : @love-strawberry

✦ exactly what you need : @delicate-moon-princess

bewitched : @cinebration

what happens after death : @hannibals-favourite-meal

𖥔. HOUSE OF THE DRAGON—

⭒ — AEMOND TARGARYEN

would you love me if i were a worm? : @chiss-and-crackers

valentine's day : @vhagarlovebot

you belong with me : @mybeautifuldelirium

⭒ — CREGAN STARK

among dragons and wolves : @fairysluna

✦ dissolve : @vermithorn

the snow fairy : @wackapedia

⭒ — HARWIN STRONG

✦ i am his and he is mine : @procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics

keep you save : @auroraborealyss

✦ princess : @faith-forgxtten-land

𖥔. BRIDGERTON—

⭒ — BENEDICT BRIDGERTON

drunk sketches : @delehosies

little things : @inpraizeof

⭒ — ANTHONY BRIDGERTON

✦ right in front of me : @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

✦ melt away : @healmydesires

𖥔. F1—

⭒ — DANIEL RICCIARDO

meet me at midnight : @fleetwooods

don't wipe away my love : @avisgrace

memories hold me hostage : @libraryofloveletters

it's okay, i'm here : @norrisleclercf1

still into you : @starkwlkr

⭒ — CHARLES LECLERC

when you're missing me : @silverstonesainz

name(s) of love : @kiwisa

𖥔. SPIDERMEN—

⭒ — TASM!PETER PARKER

lean in, lean out : @literaila

i know : @vivwritesfics

✦ hold you here, my loveliest friend : @p3mybeloved

clingy : @bruisedboys

⭒ — MIGUEL O'HARA/SPIDERMAN 2099

i need you to stay : @intoxicated-chan

mid night : @eyelessfaces

⭒ — PAVITR PRABHAKAR

dance with you tonight : @foreverwiththeunknown

⭒ — MILES MORALES

cheesecake : @ichorai

first kiss : @moralesie

𖥔. DC—

⭒ — ADRIAN CHASE / VIGILANTE

five times vigilante definitely does not have feelings (and the one time he does) : @tropes-and-tales

now or never : @whirlybirbs

⭒ — BRUCE WAYNE / BATMAN

talk : @ichorai

𖥔. JOHN WICK—

⭒ — JOHN WICK

one-sided love : @desoolate

remember me : @arece

⭒ — MARQUIS VINCENT DE GRAMONT

stay : @unreliablesnake

✦ something wrong with me and you : @fonteyn

𖥔. LOCKWOOD AND CO.—

⭒ — ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

the language of longing looks and stolen glances : @fleetingvow

just another love song : @tangledinlove

public displays : @vi-trying-to-survive

ain't a life many splendored thing? : @wellgoslowly

[literaila]

still here 

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: there’s an ache in me, put there by the ache in you

(for @elysian-chaos)

warnings: angst, fluff, feeling unworthy, feeling useless, you know, seperation 

a/n: ‘tis the damn season is the best song ever. dont argue 

*

there's this little thing called stress baking. 

typically, stress baking is referred to as coping by making something delicious to scavenge on, instead of dwelling on the feelings scavenging you. and typically, it's done with a certain type of elegance--one that is made up of chaos. completely insane, yet completely in control. it's a messy dance, but perfectly choreographed. 

stress baking is a very reviving task. filling up the house with muffins and pies is not only good for distracting yourself, but also for making friends when you run out of room. or smiling at the cashier every time you have to go to the store for ingredients. 

it's something you've practiced for years. something you've become somewhat addicted to. 

but then there's baking while stressed. which, you swear, hadn't been your intention. 

brownies from a box were supposed to be easy. they were notoriously easy. a couple of eggs, some oil, and some water. the hardest part of your job was mixing, but you'd done it so many times that you zoned out while doing all of it. 

box brownies were supposed to be non-stress and quick. but when you burn the brownies and batter rises over the top of your glass pan, and the oven is dirty, and the apartment smells like burnt batter and oven cleaner--well, you have to reread the directions. 

you're a good baker. you've been making cookies and cakes for parties for years. you pride yourself on not needing measuring cups because you can eye a recipe by the gram. 

not that these brownies would agree. 

and it's already five-forty-five. peter is going to be home in the next fifteen minutes and this was supposed to be a treat. something good. 

"surprise! i ruined our oven, and now we're going to have to spend the next few nights at your aunt's house in your twin-sized bed until the smell of death goes away!" doesn't typically bring out any smiles.

and peter's been stressed lately, and you've been stressed about him. 

and now you're making brownies from scratch without butter--because you used it all on the last batch, oops--and the number of candles you've lit is a sure fire hazard. 

but if peter would just smile at you, pull you in by your waist and laugh while he kissed you with a chocolate mouth, it would all be fine. 

if there wasn't so much riding on this one (two) pan(s) of brownies. like being able to sleep comfortably tonight. 

you turned the oven down, found a new pan--threw the other one out because it was nothing but a source of disappointment--and cleaned the oven just enough to not draw any suspicions. but you could still feel the failure lurking. 

peter was going to come home to a chaotic house, and it was your fault. 

so you scrubbed at the counters. fixed the stack of bills on the table so that you couldn't see any of the stamps, folded the blankets, and even swept the kitchen floor. 

still, you knew peter would know. because he always knows. and maybe that was why he was acting so weird lately--maybe that's why you were acting so weird. 

the door opened when the timer on the oven went off. 

you'd wanted to watch peter walk through the door--so you could gauge how tired he was, how miserable--but maybe it was better not to know. to let him put on a mask while your back was still turned. 

"hey, baby," he said, as you were pulling the brownies out of the oven, setting his house keys on the counter and sighing. "i'm home." 

you peeked over your shoulder, giving him a hint of a smile--the same type he was giving you. "hey, honey," you said back, "you're home." 

peter walked around the island to stand right behind you, kissing the back of your head and stealing a look over to the stovetop. he clears his throat. "brownies?" 

you shrug. "thought you might like something sweet when you got home." 

you take off the oven mitt, not really wanting to look at him--maybe because you're scared of what you'll see, or maybe just because you can already feel his eyes tearing down your skin. 

but you can feel his breath on your neck as he chuckles. his exhaustion as he leans into your back. 

"i've already got you, though," he whispers one peck at the edge of your jaw, another by your ear. 

you snort and pull away, turning so you can look at him. and then you pretend to throw up. 

he laughs and pokes your forehead.

you're not looking at him and he's not looking at you. 

you turn back to the brownies. 

"did you drop something in the oven?" peter asks, leaning his chin on your shoulder. 

"no," you answer, a bit too defensive. 

"sure?" 

"am i sure that i didn't burn something in the oven, peter? yes." 

there's a beat. "...cause it smells like it." 

you headbutt him. "you smell like it. go shower. you can't eat these yet." 

"yes, ma'am," peter takes a step back, and you look at him again.  you can see the question in his eyes, and see your own reflecting the same question. 

what are you hiding? 

"we have some ice cream, too." 

peter moans, his head back. you roll your eyes at him. 

and you start cutting the brownies, worries, and chocolate chips sticking to the knife, listening to peter's footsteps, feeling his presence sticking to you like sugar, sticky and rich, his eyes keeping you on edge. 

you know you shouldn't feel stupid--peter doesn't actually know what happened, or care--but you do. because he knows, and because even from the split second you looked at him, you could see the strain on his skin, the pressure weighing him down, dragging his feet across the floor. 

you feel stupid just because you don't know what to do. so before he can close the door, you turn around. choosing reaction instead of pretending. 

"peter?" 

he pauses, his head whipping towards you. his eyes are as soft and loving as they always are--his attention remains the same, even when his energy doesn't. like he's wasting himself away just to take care of you. 

he swallows. "yeah?" 

"are you--" you blink, look away, try not to taste burnt brownies. "are you okay? you seem tired. was work… alright? 

peter smiles, shaking his head. "just the usual, bub. work and... work. i think i'll go to bed early tonight?" 

you raise a brow. 

peter clears his throat. "i mean, i think i'll take a nap tonight before i go out." 

you nod. "okay." 

you both stare at each other for a moment. he's far enough away that it's easier. you don't have to feel his emotions as he processes them. don't have to see them from up close. 

you hate yourself for being afraid of him. for being afraid for him. 

“d’ya want to join me?” peter asks, whisper slipping from his mouth, smile taunting from his lips. “we can cuddle and eat brownies.” 

you lick your lips, shaky smile enough. “you sure? i’ve heard i can be a bit distracting…”

peter’s laugh makes his shoulders shake. “you heard correctly,” he says eyes crinkled, “but i don’t mind.” 

you nod. you’re grateful for his ease. the careful reveal of his true face, the peeling of a mask. the admittance that not everything is perfect, no matter how small. 

“go shower. i’ll get the sugar.” 

peter kisses you on the cheek before he goes.

and at least you got a couple of smiles out of him. at least you can feel his kiss lingering on your skin. 

* 

it's not that serious. honestly. 

you hardly even think about it. you're not thinking about it. 

you're not dwelling on the smell of soft skin and the feeling of calloused hands running up and down your back, the tickle of a breath against your neck. 

you're not thinking about it at all. 

and if it's been a week--or a week and a half, or two, or three--since you last spoke, or shared the same space with peter, then it's fine. 

this is something you've grown used to. something you're supposed to be used to. 

peter has obligations. 

he has things he needs to fulfill--not just for himself, but for others, for the guilt that you can see rocking his bones all of the time, the shame in his eyes when he comes home a bit too early. he has places that he needs to be, if only because he won't be able to live with himself if he's not there. 

but then again, you're not sure how to live when he's not here. especially when the sink breaks. 

still, as long as you can feel him pull you into his chest every night, imagine him kissing your forehead before falling asleep, then it's fine. 

you're not thinking about any of it because it's fine. 

but you miss him. if only momentarily. 

he'll come back--you repeat this like a promise, like it's his voice whispering it to you--because he always does. 

space is good for the heart, some part of you swears. though you don't think you could think of peter any fonder than you already do. 

he comes in too late at night and is already gone when you wake up. he texts you updates--because you've talked about communication before--and tells you that he loves you through sweet little notes he sends during the day. 

if the thing he wishes to share about his life is the worm he found in his apple, then you're perfectly happy to listen (read). 

it's normal to miss the person you love most in the world. 

and it's normal for your boyfriend to disappear for fourteen hours each day, just barely cuddling with you for three hours before he's gone again. 

it's normal for you, at least

he’ll come back. 

and so, instead of thinking about peter, and wondering when he might notice the frayed edges of your relationship, you make sure that he doesn't have to worry about anything. 

you clean up after the two of you, running the dishwasher and cleaning the bathroom, and packing him lunch on days you know he'll be gone for the office. making sure there's always something he can eat in the fridge when he gets home late at night, and texting him to know what he wants from the store. 

you make the bed and wash his clothes and hope that maybe it'll keep him from burning out. 

you hope that maybe it will keep you distracted enough to not ask him for anything. like love or support or a five-minute conversation. 

if taking care of him is the only way to keep him going--the only way to keep yourself going--then you'll do it. peter takes care of you enough. 

but even if you're not thinking about it, it's there. 

because you've just fallen asleep--which is extremely rare recently, mostly because you like to wait until you hear the window and then slow your breathing until you feel peter crawl into bed with you--and just woke up. 

woke up with sweaty skin and a headache. it's night ten and you're getting nightmares again. 

it's ridiculous that you can't even last two weeks without peter there. without him kissing you to sleep. 

and when you burst out of bed, you almost fall into him--almost scream because you're sharing the bed with someone else. 

tears are running down your face. your heart feels split open--like your dreams have revealed something inside it. 

but you look over to peter and he's there; he's still here. 

so you take a deep breath--chest caving in, body following--and you rest your head in your hands. 

if there's anything you want right now, it's for peter to wake up. 

it's for him to know all of this. 

you want him to appear next to you, leaning over your back like he's going to shelter from the world if that's what you need. rubbing your back and whispering in your ear. you want him in your house and laughing when you break the shower rod again. 

you want him to cuddle with you before he leaves, and cross his heart when you scold him while he crawls out the window. 

you want him in more than just your memory. 

but peter is snoring next to you, and so you sit there in silence until the tears begin to ease.

*

peter's not supposed to be home. 

he works until five, and then takes the subway home--and you're not expecting to see him anyway. he's been shoving his suit into the bottom of his backpack right as you pull it out of the hamper.

so it's not that unusual for you to be laying in bed, shoes and socks kicked across the floor, hands gripping for some stability, and eyes puffy and red. 

and it's not that unusual for you to squeak when the window opens, and spider-man's head peeks into your room. 

you can feel peter's wide eyes behind the mask. 

you're quick to wipe your face, throw on a clumsy smile. "peter," you say, exhaling. "what're you doing here?"  

a body crawls into the window, dirt and grime on clothes finger-tips reaching out to you. "what's wrong?" he asks, voice only slightly muffled. 

but you take a step back, moving away from him when he lands on the floor, leaving spots for you to vacuum up later. 

"what're you doing here?" you repeat, voice a bit harsher, a bit faded. 

"i need--" he reaches his hand out toward you again, retreating when you do. "i needed some more web fluid. i don't--" he shakes his head. "what happened?" 

"i, um," you wipe traitorous tears away again. "i think there's some more in the closet. i keep moving it when i'm cleaning, sorry." 

"you're crying," peter scolds. like you're being ridiculous. like you're not trying to save him the effort it's going to take to fix this irrational piece of you, these lonely broken bits. 

you bite your lip and look away. 

because although you can't even see his eyes--they are still scolding. they are quick and cruel reminders that you haven't talked to peter in two weeks. 

you turn towards your bedside table, pretending to organize the contents on top. 

you can hear peter moving. 

"what's going on, bub?" he says, soft enough for the words to crawl under your skin. he's taken the mask off. his voice is clear. 

"oh, nothing, you know," you pause, shrugging. "just the usual sad movie type of cry..." peter's hand reaches your back and you flip around, almost knocking over your lamp. 

"c'mon," he whispers to you, far closer than you'd been expecting. 

you try and take a step back, only meeting a dead-end. he's cornered you. "you should go, peter. you were just--" 

"this is more important."

you laugh. "some silly tears are more important than a collapsing building?" 

"you're more important," peter swears, his eyes so focused on yours, "to me." 

you blink and shake your head. gesture back towards the window. "go and save some people. you don't have to help me too." 

peter swallows, brows furrowed. "will you tell me what's wrong?"

"i can take care of myself, peter. you don't need to worry about it." 

"well, i'm going to." 

you roll your eyes. and then you break free of his hold, moving away from the table, from the cage he's built around you. "move along, spider-man." 

peter doesn't move any closer, but his limbs are tense. his face is concerned and hurt--you try and shield that out.

"i'm not leaving you when you're crying."

"i'm not crying anymore." 

peter scowls. "stop deflecting." 

you take a deep breath, throat dry and aching. "i'm not--" you clear your throat, shaking your head and looking away from him. "i'm fine, peter. but some people actually need you. go and save the day," you tell him. "i'll still be here when you come back." 

*

and you are. 

you're sitting on the couch, staring at photos peter took on the wall, wondering how to explain any of it. 

how to explain yourself without digging the two of you any further in this hole. 

you've been trying to prove just how little you need peter--just how useful you could be--and by doing so, you've put yourself in this situation. 

because you do need him. you just hadn't wanted peter to know that. 

so you're sitting on the couch, trying not to flinch every time the air conditioning comes on, or there's a footstep from the apartment above you. you're waiting for peter to climb in through the window, waiting to see how exhausted he is before he has to deal with you. 

and you've bitten your lip raw. completely eliminated any evidence of fingernails you once had. 

your heart stutters with every minute that comes by. 

and when you finally hear peter hop in from the fire escape, your heart stops completely. 

you wonder if he's going to change before he comes and finds you. before the inevitable happens, and you give him another reason to work so late. 

your restlessness must be audible because it only takes peter forty seconds before walking into the living room. he's wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. 

he's wearing a frown like a well-tailored suit. known and made for him. 

you're trying not to frown back. 

"hey," you say, putting on a smile, voice flighty and an octave too high. "everything okay?" 

"no one got hurt," peter says, the antonym to your tone. 

"good." 

apparently, your tight-lipped smile isn't enough to ease the tension in the room. 

"are you ready to talk?" peter asks, slowly stepping toward you, just barely meeting your eyes. 

you'd scrubbed your face after he left. sobbed in the shower as you washed away any of the shame you hadn't meant for him to see. you'd made sure that your eyes weren't puffy, and your eyelashes were dry before he'd got home. 

so when peter scans your face--as he's doing now--he shouldn't notice anything unusual. 

besides the facade you're putting on. 

you clear your throat, eyebrows lifted like you're unconcerned. "there's not much to talk about." 

peter's sullen face doesn't move an inch. "why were you crying?" 

"i already told you. i watched a sad movie," you wave a hand, "you just came in at the wrong time." 

peter sighs. he sits down on the couch next to you, keeping his distance. "don't lie." 

you frown. "i'm not lying." 

"you've got some pretty obvious tells, you know," peter whispers, giving you a hint of a bittersweet smile. "you don't have to talk to me. but i'd like it if you did. i just want to make sure that you're... okay." 

"i'm fine, peter." 

he looks away. "and if you're not then we'll figure it out. i just want to know." 

"well, you do." 

peter opens his mouth, then closes it, shaking his head. 

he's sitting three feet away from you, but his hands are clasped together, his legs are opposite of yours, and he can't even look at you. 

you can feel it, as you push him away. as you try so desperately to hold him close without touching him. 

"okay," peter says, eyes meeting yours again. "i don't want to push you." 

no, but he should pull you off of this ledge. should keep you from falling any further than you already have. 

you shake your head, laughing. it's not funny. 

"what?" 

you close your eyes. count to ten. forget how to breathe, or how to speak to the person you love most in this world. 

"what?" peter repeats, but softer. 

you open your eyes. 

and then it all crumbles. 

you scoff. "can you stop looking at me like that?" you plead, breaking away, physically distancing yourself from him. 

"like what?" 

it's his fault, really, for coming home so early in the day. 

"like you can't deal with this. like this is exhausting." 

the tears sneak up on you, knocking you out before you even notice that they're there. 

peter's eyes are wide as he stares at you. "you're not--" he swallows, frantically reaching towards you. "this isn't exhausting--i'm not--" a moment, tears beginning to fall. "what do you--" 

you sigh, shaking your head. "you're always gone, and you come home exhausted every night after you think i've fallen asleep, and you only talk to me through text, and even now you just--" you stop, voice breaking. "if you can't do this," you say, softly, "then you should just tell me." 

peter is closer than he was a moment ago. "what?" 

"i know this is a lot of work, okay? and i know that you're already pushing yourself, so it's fine if i'm too much. if--if loving me is too much." 

there's a moment of silence, and you're almost sure that peter has already left. 

but then there's a thumb wiping a tear from your cheek. you can't open your eyes, can't face the reality you've been desperately holding off. 

"you're not too much." 

peter moves closer to you, his leg touching yours, his hands moving so that he can hold you closer. 

you couldn't push him away if you tried. 

"you're not too much," he repeats, the words sinking into your skin, his breath meeting yours. "i can't believe you would think that." 

you half laugh, half sob. peter wipes away those tears too. 

"you're the only thing keeping me going," he tells you, kissing your forehead. "i'm sorry i haven't been there. i didn't realize..." he shakes his head. 

"you shouldn't have to take care of me as much as you do," you whisper. 

peter nudges his head against yours. "hey. you take care of me way more than i take care of you. you clean up after me and stay up with me when i can't sleep. you help fix my suits, and do all of the laundry. and you never complain. you're practically my guardian angel." 

"that's all easy." 

"not for me," peter says, voice lighter than before. 

you shrug. 

"but you do all of that cause you love me," he adds, kissing your forehead again. "or, i hope that's why." 

"it's the sex." 

peter laughs, nuzzling his head into you. "well, at least you're honest. but, it's the same reason that i take care of you. you shouldn't feel... guilty because of that. you're no burden on me." 

"no?" 

"absolutely not." 

you bite your lip. try and believe peter. but honestly, you're most lovesick from how close he's holding you. how you can feel his skin and listen to him speak somewhere that isn't your bed. you're not quite sure that this isn't a dream. 

"hey," peter moves his head so you're looking at him. "we suck." 

you laugh, leaning your forehead against his. 

"i'm sorry it's been so long since we've... anything. it's been a rough couple of weeks." 

"for me too. it's not your fault." 

"you have to tell me if it's not enough, okay? i don't want you to suffer through it by yourself. if you need to talk to me--even for ten minutes--then you have to let me know." 

"okay." 

"do you promise?" 

you nod against him, nose brushing his cheek. "i promise, peter." 

peter smiles, satisfied. he groans, pulling you even closer to him. "i love you, bug. so much." 

you can barely hear him because of how tight he's hugging you. it sort of hurts, but mostly heals. 

"i know," you say back. but peter probably can't hear you, because you say it right into his shirt. 

*

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf  @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon  @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @hollandweather @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan @valvlry @imthatcoolmom @spideysimpossiblegirl    invisibletrolleyson-jeremy  @sharkswaters  @rowniebow @anaislfbv @take-my-hand-time-boy @mileyc111 @starsval @ratsys

[angelltheninth]

NSFW Masterlist Part 4

DC COMICS

Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader - Roger That, Over

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader - Sweet Smoke

Being Friends with Benefits with Bruce, Nightwing, Red Hood and Oliver Queen

MCU

Dom!Druig Makes You Beg

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader - Wall Crawling Lover Boy

Namor x Fem!Reader - On the Waves of Pleasure

Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader - Warm on the Inside

Edging the Moon Boys

Moon Boys + Breeding and Creampies

CALL OF DUTY

Domestic Smut Headcanons with Ghost

Ghost Can't Keep Quiet

Sub!Ghost with a Mommy Kink

Ghost's Mask Stays on During Sex

Ghost Stamina Headcanons

Ghost Using Sex Toys

Ghost Marking You

Ghost + Condoms

Ghost with a Breeding Kink

One Night Stand with Ghost

König with a Breeding Kink

General NSFW Headcanons with John

Bondage with John

Task Force 141 and Alejandro being Overstimulated

Size Kink with König

Ghost and König + Primal Kink

First Time with Task Force 141 and Alejandro

KIMETSU NO YAIBA

Wedding Night with Tengen Uzui

Kidnapped by Akaza

Fun Under the Table with Tengen Uzui

Breeding Kink Blurb with Tengen Uzui

BUNGOU STRAY DOGS

Cockwaming Dazai

Overstimulation with Fyodor

Fyodor Punishes You

Worshiping Fyodor

Pain Play with Nikolai

CRITICAL ROLE

Grog Strongjaw x Fem!Reader - Rough Around the Edges

NSFW Letters D, E, I, K, R with Percy de Rolo

First Time with Percy, Scanlan and Grog

Scanlan x Fem!Reader - Sing Me Your Song of Pleasure

Percy de Rolo with a Baby Fever

A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE

Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Reader - Put on Display

Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Reader - Conquest in the Sheets

THE WITCHER

Geralt x Fem!Reader - Bad Influence

First Time Having Someone as Big as Geralt

BLUE LOCK

Bachira Using Your Panties to Masturbate

Friends with Benefits with Sae Itoshi

Chigiri Rails You Over the Table

Breaking up and Getting Back Together with Sae Itoshi

Bachira Going Feral on You

NSFW Letters B, F, J, K for Sae Itoshi

Praise + Cockwarming with Mikage Reo

Chigiri Blingfolding You

Reo and Nagi + Facesitting Headcanons

Rin Itoshi Wants You to be Loud

Threesome Blurb with Sae and Rin

JUJUTSU KAISEN

Sukuna x Fem!Reader - In the Eyes of God

Yuuji Itadori x Fem!Reader x Sukuna - The Mirror Effect

JJK Men when You Have Big Boobs

AVATAR

Miles Quaritch x Fem!Reader - Alien Needs

Jake, Quaritch, Tsu'tey, Tonowari + Mating Season

Tonowari x Fem!Reader - How It Should Be

Aonung x Fem!Reader - Under the Surface

TWISTED WONDERLAND

Leona Kingscholar x Fem!Reader - Hate You Fuck You

Malleus Draconia x Fem!Reader - Green Colored Lust

Leona Chases You Down

Malleus Draconia x Fem!Reader - Wedding Night Frenzy

GENSHIN IMPACT

Al-Haitham, Childe and Ayato when You Fake an Orgasm

Genshin Men when You Call Someone Else's Name During Sex

Dainsleif and Kaveh with Sex Pollen

Pantalone x Fem!Reader - Just Say Yes

Genshin Men with an S/O who Loves Their Big Chest

Ayato, Childe, Al-Haitham and Zhongli when Their S/O Cries After an Orgasm

Genshin Men with an S/O who likes to Hold Hands During Sex

Dottore x Fem!Reader - His Greatest Achievement

Closet Sex with Bodyguard!Capitano

Pregnancy sex with Childe, Al-Haitham and Zhongli

Genshin Men when You Laugh in the Middle of Having Sex

Scaramouche x Fem!Reader - Sit Down and Shut Up

Fatui Harbiger Men + Size Differance

Being Cumdrunk and Cockdrunk with Genshin Men

Threesomes with Genshin Men

Make-up Sex with Diluc, Xiao, Scaramouche and Al-Haitham

Diluc x Fem!Reader - Darknight's Undoing

Shower Sex with Childe, Dottore, Pantalone and Al-Haitham

ARCANE

Sneaking Around with Vander

Finn x Fem!Reader - Within These Halls

Vander with a Breeding Kink

First Time with Cassandra, Grayson and Ambessa

Vi x Fem!Reader - Brawler Who Got the Cream

STRANGER THINGS

Billy, Eddie, Steve Fingering Headcanons

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader - Like Fire in My Skin

Steve Watches You Masturbate

Missionary Sex with Billy

Eddie, Steve and Billy + Being Loud or Quiet

BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA

Dabi x Fem!Reader - Dirty Dancing Through Life

BNHA Men Fingering You

Izuku "Deku" Midorya x Fem!Reader - Disciplinary Action

STAR WARS

Din Djarin Blindfolds You

Darth Maul Catches You Masturbating

Din Djarin with a Baby Fever